That was what had changed hands. Lesley was passing coin to the guard who’d left the door unlocked!
Isabel stepped back inside and hurried to her chamber. No doubt the guard would need to lock the door, and she didn’t want to be caught lurking about. Should she report this to someone? Tomorrow, she would seek counsel from Lady Shrewsbury and do as she advised.
Chapter Ten
The water, chest high now, held Gavin in its thrall as much as the ropes that bound him. Fearing imminent death, he began to pray. First, he asked God to spare his life. Were he a wagering man, he would say the odds in favor of that were nil. Why should He? Gavin was no exemplar of humanity. He wasn’t truly worth saving, was he?
Given the amount of water flowing over him, he wasn’t worried about being cleansed of his sins, which were legion. His worst, perhaps, was his unforgiving attitude toward Anna, his wife, after he’d discovered her perfidy. He forgave her now. Gavin had always thought she loved him, and it seemed he would go to his death never knowing what he’d done that had caused her to be unfaithful.
Suddenly, his left boot came free and floated away, allowing him a few inches of extra space to work both feet from the bindings. Feeling a glimmer of hope—maybe the Lord thought better of him than he’d guessed—he began the slow, arduous work of pushing himself up the bank. Unfortunately, when he reached the top, he was still tethered to the stake. Hunkering down with his back to it, he was able to grasp it with his bound hands. Whoever masterminded this foul deed had been in a hurry. The stake had not been pounded in very deep and, once he had hold of it, came loose easily.
Cautiously, Gavin got to his feet. Dragging the stake along behind him, he moved away from the weir and made his way to a little-used trail, deeming it safest. His greatest fear was that someone was keeping watch, to make sure their plan to kill him succeeded. But Gavin refused to give in to that fear. Hiding until morning was not an option. He needed to get to the earl as quickly as possible and report the evening’s shocking discoveries. After he’d walked for some time, he stopped, frustrated with his slow progress. The heavy stake was continually catching on fallen branches and foliage. But with his hands bound, he couldn’t rid himself of it.
As he neared the castle grounds, the first trace of dawn faintly lit the eastern sky. Gavin looked around for sentries. He did not dare enter through the main gate, because it was too close to the receiver’s lodging. Chances were good that the Duke of Norfolk and his men were long gone, but Gavin didn’t want to risk it. Some sections of the outer precinct were in ruins, and he headed for one of them.
When he reached it, he paused and surveyed his surroundings. A couple of sentries were walking around the perimeter of the inner bailey some distance away, so it was an opportune moment to reenter the castle grounds. He would rather not be forced to explain what had happened to him. The fewer people who knew, the better. He climbed through the ruins toward the old fortification, no longer in use. An opening into the inner bailey existed there, one very few people knew of.
Once in, Gavin moved as swiftly as he could across the expansive area to the earl’s residence. He waited until the sentries had reached the farthest point in their rounds before kicking the door. That should buy him some time before they came to investigate the commotion. Just when he feared they’d be upon him before he was safely inside, the earl’s man opened the door. “Will, it’s Gavin Cade. Pray let me in. ’Tis urgent.”
Astonished, the servant stepped aside, Gavin entered, and the door slammed shut in the nick of time.
“Cut these ropes off me.” He looked up to see Shrewsbury, clad in a nightshirt and cap, hastening toward him.
“By God’s light, man! What has happened to you?”
Safe at last, Gavin began to shiver with cold. “Before we talk, may I trouble you for a hot bath and a change of clothes?”
…
Isabel woke up later than usual. A bit bleary from her restless night, she poured water into her basin and, after washing her face, felt better. She called for Ann to help her dress. As usual, Frances did not stir, and Bel wondered when the other woman had come to bed.
The queen was at her usual spot in the dining chamber. Before her rested a tankard of ale and a plate of bread, butter, and dried apples. But she was not eating, only staring toward the far wall at an embroidered hanging she and Lady Shrewsbury had recently completed. It was mystifying to Isabel—two women upon the wheels of fortune, one holding a lance, and the other a cornucopia, with the inscription Fortinae Comites. Companions of fortune. Mary did not look at Isabel, but seemed almost hypnotized by the embroidered work.
Finally, Isabel said, “Bonjour, Your Majesty.”
“Bonjour, Bel.” Mary gestured to the tapestry. “My cousin, the queen of England, holds my fortune in her hands.” Suddenly, she snapped her head toward Isabel. “Why does she keep me here, in this forbidding stronghold, as though I were someone of no consequence? And why will she not see me?”
Unbidden, one of Mary’s gentlemen attendants set a plate of bread, cheese, and fruit in front of Bel, and she nodded her thanks. “Perhaps she is afraid of you, madam.”
Mary waved an impatient hand through the air. “Bah. It is I who live in fear. Why would she fear me?”
“You are beautiful, younger than she, and have a claim on the throne. Considering all that, she may not only fear you, but be jealous of you, too.”
Mary’s eyes lit up at Bel’s compliments. “Merci, ma chere Bel. But I am no threat to her presently. If I succeed her, so what? She will be dead.”
Even though it was true, Isabel drew back from the harsh pronouncement. “But the queen cares a great deal about who succeeds her.”
“Precisely! By rights, it should be me. Why does she hate that?” The queen sighed deeply. “If it weren’t for all the unfair and unjust things that have been done to me, I would be in Scotland, ruling over my people, my three children by my side.”
Three children? Isabel thought she had but the one son, the little king, James.
“I have shocked you again, Bel. I was with child when I was taken prisoner in Scotland and sent to Lochleven Castle. I lost the child, which turned out to be not one child, but two. Twins. It is sad, oui?”
“I-I didn’t know. I am heartily sorry, Your Majesty.” She wanted to ask who the father of the babes was, but that would be impertinent.
Mary ignored Isabel’s expression of sympathy. “It was not my choice to abdicate. I was forced to sign the paper someone else—my brother, Moray, no doubt—had written. If only I could return to Scotland as monarch, perhaps I could be reunited with my son and find happiness. I would not obsess over my cousin Elizabeth.”
From what Bel knew of it, the political situation in Scotland was fraught, the little king’s supporters sparring constantly with Mary’s. Bel thought Mary’s return would be unlikely in the near future. Possibly never. But she held her tongue.
Just then, a man Bel had never seen before approached. A bit stooped, he stiffly bowed to the queen, and she kissed his ring. “May I join you, Your Majesty?”
“Pray, do,” Mary said. When he went off to fill a plate, she said, “That is John Morton. He is my priest and confessor.”
Isabel, who had just bitten off a piece of bread, choked. A Catholic priest, in residence at Tutbury? Of course, there was the bishop, but his job was envoy to Queen Elizabeth. Nobody thought of him as a priest.
“Do not be alarmed. Shrewsbury has given permission for me to practice my religion.”
Upon his return, Mary introduced Isabel to Father Morton. He greeted her politely, but focused all his fawning attention on the queen. Isabel quickly finished eating and excused herself.
She intended to visit Lady Shrewsbury without delay.
…
“Someone tried to kill me.”
Robed in a dressing gown belonging to the earl, Gavin sat on a comfortable, upholstered chair, sipping hot spiced wine. He’d had a bath, and Shrewsbury’s man had b
andaged his head. Right after his arrival at the residence, before his bath, Gavin told the earl that Norfolk had been on the castle grounds. The earl sent guards to the receiver’s lodging, but the duke had already departed on his fine stallion. The men guarding Mary said nobody had been in or out all evening, and the queen was still sleeping. Somebody was lying. They would question Mary in the morning, and Gavin wanted to be present to gauge her reaction.
While Gavin had bathed, the earl dressed, although his hair was rumpled and his beard was unkempt. “You’re sure?”
Gavin chortled. “I’d been knocked unconscious. When I regained my senses, I was staked to the bank of the old weir. The culprit had opened the dam, and the water had risen all the way to my chin before I worked myself free.” He paused for a swallow of wine. “So I think there can be no doubt that whoever did this wanted me dead.”
“God’s breath. How did it happen? You’d better tell me everything.” He tugged at his beard, a habit he engaged in during anxious moments. “Do you know who ‘they’ are?”
“I could speculate, but it would be guesswork at this juncture.”
Gavin related the story of his discovery of Norfolk and Mary. “They discussed marrying, deposing Elizabeth, and ruling together. They had only just mentioned Ridolfi when I was struck on the head. Norfolk said Lesley had brought the man twice to the duke for consultation. Unfortunately, I missed learning the particulars.”
“Treason! I’ll send a messenger to London immediately. But I am afraid without proof, nothing will be done. Norfolk will have arrived back at his home along the Thames before our man can get to Cecil. He will say he never left, and his minions will affirm it.”
Gavin nodded. “I gathered that. But sir, I believe if we are vigilant, we may discover more right here at Tutbury.”
“Explain.”
“I did not mention my concerns yesterday because I was not yet persuaded. But now I am. First, does it not strike you as odd that the attack at the river occurred on the same day of the duke’s visit?”
“Speak plainly, Cade,” Shrewsbury said.
Gavin leaned forward. “The attack was a smokescreen. A distraction. No real harm was done. No men lost, or badly injured. But what were we all preoccupied with last night? The attack. And, it’s my belief the duke timed his arrival here with the outing, even with the attack, so that he might sneak in without being seen.” Gavin paused to collect his thoughts. “In fact, I would not be surprised to discover the attackers were Norfolk’s men and had no intention of taking Mary. When I asked her if she recognized any of them, an odd look passed over her face, and I had a strong sense she was lying.”
“Which means—”
“She could be passing messages to Norfolk through one of these men.”
Shrewsbury’s brows zigzagged together. “But we read all her correspondence.”
“So we do, all that we’re aware of. This was all timed too perfectly for it not to have been prearranged.” Gavin’s head was beginning to ache. He badly needed sleep, but there was one more argument he wished to present. “Sir. Rather than questioning Mary, I believe we should keep this to ourselves for the time being. They—the architects of all this mischief—have no way of knowing what I heard before I was rendered unconscious. If we interview Mary, of necessity we’ll lay bare all we know. Mary, Lesley, and whoever else may be involved will deny everything, and we’ll learn nothing more.”
“Whereas if we simply go about our business, we may catch them out.”
“Precisely.”
Shrewsbury chuckled. “When you make an appearance this evening, let us see who turns pale with shock.”
“Indeed,” Gavin said.
…
Isabel was admitted to the Shrewsbury residence by a servant, who said he would inform Lady Shrewsbury of her arrival. He showed Isabel to a small anteroom to wait. The chamber she occupied was adjacent to a withdrawing room, and she heard voices emanating from it. One was the earl’s, and the other belonged to Gavin. It was early for him to be here, but then the same could be said of her.
While she waited, Gavin’s words about Mary echoed in her mind. That she played fast and loose with the truth. To Isabel, it appeared that she sometimes told partial truths, possibly unaware she was doing so. Previously, Mary had spoken to Isabel about her son, James. But she’d never mentioned the children she’d lost until this morning. And thus far, she had said very little about the Earl of Bothwell, who must be the father of the dead babes. Were lies by omission actual lies?
Lady Shrewsbury swept into the small chamber. “Good morrow, Isabel. Be seated. Why have you come?”
Isabel had assumed they would adjourn to a larger, more comfortable room, but evidently, the lady wanted the interview to be of short duration.
“I could not sleep last night,” she began.
“Understandable, after what you endured yesterday at the hands of that villain.”
“Aye.” Isabel described her chance sighting of Frances and Lesley and her discovery that the door at the end of the hallway was unlocked. Then she waited for a response.
Bess’s brow furrowed, and she said nothing for a time. At last she spoke, hesitantly. “Frances and Lesley, as unlikely as it may seem, are…involved, for lack of a better term.” Fussing with her skirts, Lady Shrewsbury continued. “I believe Frances is quite smitten and would do whatever he asked to gain his affection.”
Isabel was shocked. She’d caught Lesley with Cecily and Ann, but Frances had not been part of the menage. Most nights, she was aware that Frances crawled into bed in the small hours of the morning. Was she spending all those nights with John Lesley? Bel could hardly credit it. “I see,” she choked out. So it had simply been a romantic liaison she’d come upon, nothing more sinister than that. Recalling it, Bel believed their demeanor suggested conspiracy rather than romance. But if Lady Shrewsbury wished to discount it, who was she to argue?
“Does the unlocked door not disturb you, madam? And the fact that the guards did not stop Lesley and Frances?”
“I imagine Lesley requested it remain unlocked until he alerted the guards he was safely inside the lodging. I’m sure they locked it then.” Twisting the wedding ring she wore, she paused a moment. “As for the guards, Isabel, they are probably accustomed to seeing the two together and do not suspect them of any nefarious deeds.”
“But the door would have been unlocked for some time.” Bel wasn’t sure why she was persisting in this, but after what had happened yesterday, weren’t unlocked doors simply inviting trouble? Bess herself, on the way to Tutbury, had urged Bel to come forward if anything untoward occurred. Now it was as if she’d never said it.
Ignoring Isabel’s last statement, Lady Shrewsbury rose, saying, “If there is nothing else…”
Isabel got to her feet and curtsied. “My lady.” The same servant who’d let her in escorted her to the door. She walked out into the bailey, pondering her strange encounter with the earl’s wife, and smack into Gavin. Before she could apologize, he’d spun around and knocked her to the ground.
Chapter Eleven
Isabel struggled for breath, for the great lummox had knocked it right out of her. “Gavin! What do you mean by this? Get off me!” He raised up, and she could see right into his penetrating blue eyes.
“Isabel! God’s mercy. I beg your pardon.” He quickly rolled off her. “Have I injured you?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Can you sit up? Allow me to help you.”
Chuckling, Isabel said, “I am not sure that is a good idea, Master Cade.” She examined his face, still close enough that she noticed he sported a few cuts and bruises. Crouching down, he slid an arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her to a sitting position.
“Stay there until you catch your breath,” he said. “Your head—” He ran his fingers over her scalp, and she fought the desire to burrow into his chest. “I don’t feel any wounds, and there is no blood.”
“I’m fine. The ground was soft
. It was only that I couldn’t breathe for a moment. And of course, you scared me to death.” She inhaled deeply and exhaled a long breath. “Why did you attack me?”
He raised a quizzical brow. “Why did you bump into me?”
“You have me there. I had a meeting with Lady Shrewsbury, and I was mulling over what we discussed. Her reaction to what I’d told her.”
Gavin held on to her arms and helped her to stand. “Which was?” Glancing around, he said, “Do you feel well enough to walk?”
“I think so.”
“Then let’s move on.” Wasting no time, he steered her toward the ruins of the old fortification.
“Where are we going? I should return to the lodging.”
“Pray come with me for a little longer. We’ll be quick about it.”
Isabel wondered why they couldn’t talk on the way to the lodging, but she wasn’t in a mood to argue. Gavin looked a bit worse for wear. Aside from the cuts and bruises, his clothing did not fit well—his shoulders were straining his doublet. They sat down on a set of crumbling steps.
“Why were you meeting with Lady Shrewsbury?” he asked.
“It was nothing of any import. She did not believe so, in any case, and who am I to gainsay her?”
“It was important enough for you to think so hard about, you crashed into me.”
“And you tackled me as though you thought me an assassin.”
At that he put his head in his hands and did not look up for some time. “Gavin?” Maybe she’d better answer his question. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I left my chamber to walk a bit, but no sooner had I taken a few steps than I heard voices. For some reason, I was frightened, so I ducked behind that bust of Caesar.”
She had his attention now. “Go on.”
“It was Frances and Lesley. They were talking rapidly, as though excited about something. They’d come in through an unlocked door at the far end of the hall. I expected Frances to enter our chamber, but instead, after stopping to speak to one of the guards, they went downstairs together.”
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