Isabel wanted to decline, but the queen would take it as an affront. “Thank you, madam.” At least the color was her favorite, a deep aubergine. To her relief, Mary moved away from the clothing and sat on a chair. “Are you looking forward to the move, Your Majesty?”
Mary shrugged. “A change of scene is always beneficial. Provided Sheffield will be warm and clean, I have no objection. The journey will be enjoyable. Shrewsbury is allowing me to ride the entire distance.”
Isabel smiled. Mary loved riding, and she had not been granted that privilege in a long while. It would be more work for her guards, but of course the queen did not consider that. “I am glad you will be able to enjoy one of your favorite pastimes. I don’t relish the journey. I’ll be riding in one of the carriages, and I suffer from motion sickness.”
Mary made a sympathetic face and got to her feet. Isabel rose, too. “The journey will not be long. Compared to others I’ve undertaken in Scotland, it will be nothing. Unless, of course, the weather turns.” She walked to the door and whirled around abruptly. “Where is Gavin these many days, Bel? We have not seen him in nearly a fortnight.”
If only I knew.
“He said nothing to me about leaving. His departure was a surprise. I assume Shrewsbury knows where he is.”
“You are probably correct in that assumption, but I will not ask him. Nor his foolish wife. Bess has decided that Shrewsbury has le beguin pour moi. He is attracted to me. I cannot help it if that is so. Men seem to like me, and there is nothing I can do about it. Regarding the earl, I certainly do not return the sentiment.”
“No, Your Majesty.” At this point, Isabel was merely mouthing words, saying what she thought Mary wanted to hear.
She paused, then said, “You did not speak to Gavin of what I discussed with you, Bel?”
That was unanticipated. And it rankled, after Isabel had given the queen her assurances more than once. “No, Your Majesty. I swore to you I would never betray your confidences. Do you not trust me?”
Mary, her eyes hard, studied Isabel, and at length said, “I trust you. Forgive me.”
And then she went on her way. It had been a strange conversation. Isabel had the feeling the queen wanted something from her, but she couldn’t fathom what that was. She had hoped Mary would offer help in the form of Frances, or one of her other ladies, but for whatever reason, she had not. Isabel felt as if she were being punished, but what she had done to deserve it was a mystery.
That evening, Gavin mysteriously reappeared. He strolled into the queen’s presence chamber as though he’d been gone several hours rather than days. Isabel was playing with Bisou, which gave her a good reason to ignore him. Philip slapped him on the back and said, “Well met, coz,” and the others greeted him just as effusively, as though he were the prodigal son. Perhaps they would eat the fatted calf tonight to celebrate his return. Ugh.
They did not speak, but she stole glances at him whenever the opportunity arose. He was as wickedly handsome as ever, but his face was wracked with fatigue. And worry. His broad forehead displayed lines she swore hadn’t been there before, and she had a crazed urge to take him into her arms and smooth his brow. At one point, he caught her looking. Instead of that roguish grin he’d given her the last time he’d caught her staring, he frowned and then looked away. And did not look back.
Isabel wangled a seat next to Philip at dinner and flirted shamelessly. “If you require a dancing partner tonight, Master Blake, do think of me.”
“Truly? I thought you would be saving all your dances for Gavin.”
“He seems careworn and distracted, does he not? I do not believe he is fit for dancing.” She had tried to convey her disinterest, and apparently succeeded. A light sparked in Philip’s eyes, and Isabel worried about what she’d set in motion. When the dancing began, he grasped her elbow and led her out. As they performed the honor, Isabel felt Gavin’s gaze on them, sharp and pointed as a dagger. She was beginning to feel guilty, but he had hurt her, hadn’t he? It was time to let him know she no longer cared.
Gavin did not dance, even though both Alice and Dorothy urged him to partner them. Rather, he hovered on the edge of the rectangle cleared for dancing, arms folded across his chest, and watched. He was present, and yet he wasn’t. Obviously, his thoughts were a thousand miles away from Tutbury. Isabel wished she knew what preoccupied him. But she was not meant to care. That was what she kept telling herself as she performed dance steps with Blake, who eyed her with an eagerness that made her heart lurch uneasily.
…
After a few dances, Gavin had seen enough of Isabel’s flirting with Blake. If he stayed much longer, he might drag his friend out by his ruff and beat him senseless, and that would serve no useful purpose. He exited quietly, not bidding anybody a good evening.
The last few weeks had been an exercise in futility and frustration. Add apprehension into the mix, and that accurately summed up Gavin’s fortnight. After the meeting with Shrewsbury, Simon had climbed up behind Gavin for the ride to Derby and revealed a bit about his family. At eighteen years old, he was the eldest of eight siblings and responsible for keeping them all from starvation’s door. His father, from the sound of it, came around only long enough to get another child on his wife and steal what little money they had to satisfy his craving for drink.
“Does your horse have a name, sir?” Simon asked.
Gavin patted the animal’s neck. “He does. It’s Brutus.”
“I’d like to have a horse like him one day. A good-looking hack like him must be worth a lot,” he said. Gavin could hear the longing in his voice and wished he could make that happen for the boy.
When they had reached the outskirts of town, Simon climbed down to walk the rest of the way. Gavin handed him a parcel of victuals he’d had the kitchen prepare. If he’d known Simon’s circumstances, he would have asked for a great deal more. As it was, the meat pies, loaf of bread, cheese, and strawberry tarts would not go far. Before the lad resumed the journey on foot, he and Gavin shook hands.
“If the foreign man asks why you were delayed, say that Lesley kept you overnight while he completed work on the documents. And get word to me at the castle if you feel threatened by him,” Gavin said. “I don’t want you risking your life.”
“He’ll probably have more messages for me to deliver to the bishop.” He’d hesitated a moment, then said, “Say, Master Cade, would you be wantin’ to read ’em before I delivers ’em?”
Gavin pondered this. Since they suspected Ridolfi would immediately ride for the coast, there most likely would be no further messages. But if there were, learning exactly what the Italian was communicating to Lesley would fill in part of the puzzle. “Aye. But wait until dark. Then come to my residence. Understood?” When the lad nodded, Gavin handed him a shilling and said, “Now, go.”
Simon’s eyes widened, then he threw himself at Gavin and embraced him awkwardly. When he started to walk away, Gavin called out to him. “Wait!” The lad stopped and spun around. “Give the man the packet and be on your way,” Gavin said. “Don’t tarry, for any reason.”
“But I got to wait for my coin,” the lad protested.
“I gave you a shilling, lad! Hand over the packet and get as far away from him as you can.” Unease pricked at Gavin. He wished there was another way to get the documents to Ridolfi, but he couldn’t think of one that would not raise suspicion. “Off you go, now.”
He hadn’t told Simon about his plans to follow Ridolfi, judging it best the boy knew as little as possible. Gavin let his horse graze and waited. He didn’t want to follow too closely on Simon’s heels. He sat on a fallen log and drank from a wineskin he’d brought along. Having given all the food to Simon, it would be some time before he’d have the luxury of eating.
Gavin had been avoiding thoughts of Isabel, but now they flooded his mind. Remorse over the way he’d treated her hung heavy on him. The memory of his arrogance made him cringe, and he hadn’t had time to apologize before leaving T
utbury. Now that he’d separated from Isabel, he found that what he truly desired was to know her better. To learn the workings of her heart. He knew her brain well enough. She could not hide her intelligence. But it was now clear she’d never revealed anything personal, about her home, her family, or herself. Probably because he hadn’t asked.
With a sigh, he got to his feet, mounted, and rode into Derby, and that was when things began to go awry. He stabled Brutus at an inn and walked toward the square, which was where Simon said he was meant to meet Ridolfi. It was a market day, and throngs of people were milling about the stalls, the women looking at the mercer’s and haberdasher’s offerings, the men lining up at the stalls selling ale. Children ran to and fro, chasing each other and bumping into people. Ordinarily, Gavin would have enjoyed the hustle and bustle, but now he was worried he wouldn’t be able to spot Simon. Then he spied a set of stairs leading up to a church off one end of the square. If you were short and needed to be seen by someone, it would make sense to wait there. Edging closer, but not close enough for Simon to catch sight of him, Gavin kept his eyes trained on the steps. Sure enough, before much longer, the boy came into view, wiping his hands on his doublet. Gavin chuckled. He’d probably been devouring some of the victuals.
Simon was glancing around, looking wary, and Gavin’s level of concern grew apace. So unobtrusively he nearly missed it, the man Simon had described—dark, curling hair, tipped cap, elaborate coat—emerged from the crowd like an evil spirit and grabbed the lad by the scruff of the neck. Simon tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but the Italian was too strong.
Gavin wanted to intervene, but if he did, everything they’d planned would be for naught. Continuing to watch them, he followed at a discreet distance. As they walked, the man spoke heatedly to Simon, whose face had turned red. The boy looked frightened. Eventually, Ridolfi led him to a lodging off the square, and they disappeared inside.
Jesu, Gavin hated this. A young, naive lad should not be dealing with a rogue like Ridolfi. But at least he knew their location. It would be wise to prepare himself for a long wait. He found a stall selling meat pies and purchased a few. After obtaining a tankard of ale, he rested on a ledge while he ate and drank, never taking his eyes off the lodging. It was a half-timbered dwelling, listing a bit toward the square.
He waited in vain, for Simon never came back through that door. Gavin finished eating, got to his feet, and mingled in the throng of people, all the while keeping one eye on the house. But he never saw the boy, nor anybody else, emerge. When it began to grow dark, he found a room for the night, intending to resume his watch in the morning. Frustrated and worried, he drifted to sleep imagining the worst and powerless to do anything about it.
For three endless days, Gavin returned to his vigil, varying his location in case Ridolfi had underlings who might be keeping their own watch. He paid a small boy to investigate and inform Gavin if there were any means of exiting from the rear of the house. On the fourth day, a man he recognized as Ridolfi finally emerged from the house. Gavin, by this time, had begun to think the entire endeavor would need to be scrapped. When he glimpsed the Italian, he leaped to his feet and followed him. The man headed to the same livery where Gavin had left Brutus. After Ridolfi led his horse out, Gavin saddled Brutus himself and followed.
He trailed the man most of the day, a safe distance behind him. When the Italian stopped for a meal, Gavin did likewise, carrying his trencher outside so Ridolfi would not notice him. Both changed horses once. Gavin disliked leaving Brutus, but he would rescue his beloved mount on the return trip. By day’s end, they’d gone far enough for Gavin to determine the other man was riding to Hull, where he could board a ship to Europe. His final destination was Rome, most likely, but Spain was also a possibility. In truth, it made little difference. He would be carrying the documents either to the Pope or to King Philip.
Gavin spent the night in an alehouse with a clean room. A buxom tavern wench, after treating him to a tempting display of her bosom, tried to entice him to her bed, but Gavin politely declined. He provided a generous tip instead, and the next morning he was off at dawn. He had a day’s ride just to make it back to Derby. Once there, he intended to find out where Simon lived and make sure he’d returned to the fold.
When he arrived, it was too late to do anything about finding the lad. He was forced to spend another night at an inn. After breaking his fast on cheese, bread and butter, and ale, he walked out into the square. The good citizens of Derby were not lingering, but were hustling toward their day’s work. Gavin figured the best people to ask about Simon were his peers. The other lads hanging about looking for work. In fact, he was soon approached by one.
“Sir, you got a job for me?” the lad asked.
“I don’t, but I’ll give you a twopenny in exchange for some information.”
The morning was wintry, the threat of snow in the air. The boy’s nose was running, and his near threadbare garments were not sufficient to protect him from the cold. He glanced suspiciously at Gavin. “What you want to know, then?”
“I am looking for a friend’s house. He helped me with something and I want to reward him, but I don’t know where he lives. His name is Simon. Do you know him? He’s about your age.”
“I know him, but not where he lives. George might know.” He walked quickly toward another boy and Gavin trailed behind him. “Ho, Georgie, this man wants to find Simon’s house. You know where it is?”
“What you want him for?”
Gavin went through his explanation a second time.
“He hasn’t been round here lately. Maybe his mum needs him. They live about two or three miles that way, outside of town. You got to cross the river, then keep following the road.”
Gavin nodded. “In a house? A cottage? What kind of dwelling? How will I recognize it?”
The two lads looked at each other and laughed. “You’ll come to a village. Well, it ain’t really a village, just a few houses, if you can call ’em that. Simon’s is the worst of the lot.”
Gavin thanked the boys and flipped both a twopenny coin. Returning to the livery, he asked the stable boy to saddle Brutus, then headed toward Simon’s house. He crossed the Derwent River on the stone bridge and followed the road out of town. Eventually, trees near the river gave way to low scrub. Fields and meadows were withered. Last year’s brutal winter had been hard on the land, and Gavin prayed, along with everybody else, for an easier time this year.
It did not take long to find the village, a settlement of four or five broken-down hovels. Children ran about, mongrels on their heels. No adults were to be seen. It was difficult to determine which of the dwellings belonged to Simon’s family. Gavin chose the likeliest one, based on the description he’d been given. A heavily pregnant woman answered his knock, several young ones clutching at her skirts, and he thought he must have chosen correctly. “Sir?”
Gavin removed his hat and bowed. “Pray, mistress, are you Simon’s mother, by chance?”
“Aye. The boy isn’t here. He’s not been home in a sennight or more.”
“May I speak to you? It’s important,” Gavin said.
“You’d best come in, then.” The woman seemed predisposed for bad news. Fear had crept into her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. She gestured to a chair, the only one in sight.
“Pray madam, be seated. I’ll stand.” She shrugged and did as he said.
The youngest of the children climbed into her lap, and Simon’s mother summoned one of her older children. “Peg, take the little ones and play with them for a while.”
“Is Peg your eldest, next to Simon?” Gavin asked.
“Aye, and she’s a good girl. But we need Simon. He’s the only one who earns money. Do you know where he is, master?”
“I was hoping to find him here with you. I’m from Tutbury. I was on my way to Derby and gave him a ride. After I left him, he went off with a man he’d said he was working for.”
The child in her lap was now suckling at her
breast. “What do you want with him?”
“Nothing other than to make sure he returned safely home.”
“Well, as you can see, he hasn’t. And I don’t know what we’ll do without him. How we’ll live.”
Gavin glanced around. Some effort had been expended in keeping the place clean, although it was dingy and sparsely furnished. “I’ll help you,” he said. And he spent another week doing just that. Chopping wood and repairing holes in the roof kept his mind off Isabel. At week’s end Simon still had not appeared. Where was the lad?
Before leaving, Gavin gave Simon’s mother enough coin to see the family through the winter, at least. But he continued to feel uneasy about the boy’s whereabouts and whether he was safe.
Earlier, when Gavin arrived back at Tutbury, he’d reported to Shrewsbury. The earl had heard from Cecil, who ordered them to take no further action until they received word from him. He and his staff were going to decrypt the cipher and possibly interview the Duke of Norfolk.
Gavin was frustrated with the inaction. He didn’t like what he’d seen in Derby. He didn’t like the fact that Simon was missing. And now Isabel was provoking him with her blatant flirting with Blake. What had he expected? That she would be pining for him, waiting for his apology? It seemed too late for that now. He’d told her matters between them could progress no further, or some such nonsense, and she’d accepted it and was bestowing her favors elsewhere.
All was over between them.
Chapter Fifteen
At last, the move was upon them. The queen and her entourage would be progressing to Sheffield Castle in the morning. Since Gavin’s return, Isabel had kept busy with last minute details, conferring with Mary and Bess Shrewsbury, who seemed to have composed lists of everything. Upwards of thirty carts were laden with the queen’s wardrobe, wigs, shoes, curatives. Her embroidery supplies filled one cart alone, and her personal belongings, several more. Then there were the carpets, hangings, plate and cutlery—it was boundless. Other carts held wine and barrels of ale, foodstuffs, and table linens, and Isabel was grateful she bore no responsibility for these goods.
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