Deception (5 page)

I walked boldly up to her. “Ellie, I want you to look at my sleeve,” I said aloud, then bent forward and whispered, “I have a new mystery and I must tell you about it!”

Ellie's eyes lit up. Then she looked worried. “I can't, Grace,” she whispered back. “I have these sheets to rinse and drape on the bushes tonight so the frost can make 'em white.”

“I'll help you,” I replied. “Get Masou and meet me in the laundry garden as soon as you can.”

I raced back up to my chamber and pulled on my gloves and two cloaks—mine and Mary Shelton's. I didn't think she'd mind. Then I remembered the
sugared plums I'd bought for Ellie. I stuffed them into a pocket and made my way quietly through the palace and at last out to the laundry garden. I must have walked ten miles tonight with all the toing and froing.

It was bitterly cold outside. If anyone had seen me going out into the frosty night air they'd have sent me to bed convinced I was mad with fever. I peered through the dark towards the bushes where the laundry was usually spread to dry, wishing I'd thought to bring a light. Then out of nowhere a lantern appeared and, hovering next to it, a disembodied head!

It stared menacingly at me, wailing like a fiend from hell. For an instant I believed it to be a traitor's head from one of the pikes on London Bridge. I would have taken to my heels in terror if the head hadn't started grinning in a way I knew all too well.

“You can't fool me, Masou!” I exclaimed, pretending I wasn't scared at all. It was a good job he couldn't see me quaking.

Masou took the lantern from his face and held it up with one hand as he made a flourishing bow with the other. In the flickering light I could see he was wrapped in a heavy wool blanket to keep out the cold. Masou must feel the cold more than us,
because he comes from Africa, which, he says, is very hot.

“And I know you're there, Ellie!” I laughed as I heard giggling from behind a hedge.

Ellie appeared, dragging a big wicker basket full of wet sheets. She was shivering in her thin clothes so I put Mary's cloak over her shoulders.

“Your face was a picture, Grace!” she chuckled, gratefully snuggling into the warm cloak.

“Now tell us of this mystery,” demanded Masou eagerly.

“I'll tell you in a minute,” I said as I rummaged in my pocket and held out the sweetmeats I'd brought for Ellie.

Ellie grinned with delight and popped a sugared plum into her mouth, but Masou snatched the rest from me and started juggling them skilfully with one hand. I knew we needn't fear that he would drop them—but Ellie shrieked and chased him round the hedges, trying to grab the plums. Laughing, Masou gave up and tossed the sweets to her one at a time. Ellie stuffed them quickly in her mouth before anything else could happen to them.

Then Masou helped Ellie to carry the basket over to the laundry hedges. “Out with it, Grace,” he said.

“Tell us your story.”

“A corpse was discovered at the Frost Fair!” I told them as we spread the sheets out.

“There was talk in the laundry that someone got froze in the ice,” mumbled Ellie as she swallowed the last plum.

“Where's the mystery in that?” asked Masou, looking puzzled. “Many die of cold in the winter. And I shall be among their number if I do not seek the solace of a fire soon.”

I ignored him. “This was no ordinary death,” I said, and I told them how the waterman, Will Stubbs, had been found in the boat. Ellie and Masou grew wide-eyed as I got to the bit about two of the Queen's new coins being bound to Will Stubbs's eyes—and how these coins had proved to be counterfeit. “The Queen has given me just five days to solve the mystery of the counterfeiting,” I finished. “So you see I need your help.”

“Ever at your service, my lady,” declared Masou with an elaborate bow.

I hate it when he reminds me of the gap between our stations in life, and I made to give him a shove.

But he jumped nimbly out of the way. “The Queen's Troupe is to perform at the fair tomorrow,” he said. “I do not relish the notion and if Mr. Somers thinks I am going to stand on my hands on
the ice he can think again. However, if by some happy chance I have not frozen solid, I will mingle with the crowd afterwards and keep my ears open.”

“And I'll listen to all the talk in the laundry,” promised Ellie, picking up her empty basket.

“And I shall go to my uncle,” I said. “He may have discovered something important about the body.”

We agreed to meet up again as soon as we had any news to share.

Now I must finish, as my candle is spluttering.

THE TWENTY-FOURTH DAY OF NOVEMBER,
IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1569

I am writing by the first light of day. I am in my chamber and although Mary Shelton and Lady Sarah have not yet stirred, I have been up for more than an hour. My writing is rather wobbly as my fingers are freezing and may drop off at any moment. No one has been in yet to rekindle the fire.

As soon as I awoke this morning, I arose, hastily put on my kirtle, my shirt, and my warmest gown over my nightshift, and went to see my uncle in his chambers. Perhaps he would be able to throw some light on my mystery.

I had trouble waking him. I knocked on his door until my knuckles were sore before he appeared. When I saw him my heart sank. It was clear he had drunk too much mead at table the night before, and his eyes were bleary and bloodshot. I followed him
into his living chamber. It was strewn with papers and forgotten meals and it stank! I wanted to open a window. My Uncle Cavendish is a fine doctor, but the mead and wine dull his wits.

“What's amiss, Grace?” he slurred. “Why d'you call on me so early? Are you ill?”

He looked concerned. He is very fond of me and I of him, but I cannot confide in him about my investigations as he might let something slip when in his cups. I wish he wouldn't drink so much.

I had my excuse ready. “It's about the corpse in the boat, Uncle,” I said. “It was a Maid of Honour who discovered it and she has it in her head it was a murder. Now the others are in such a twitter about being stabbed in their beds it has quite ruined my sleep, for they stayed awake all night in terror.” I had my fingers crossed behind my back at such a lie. I was glad he could not hear Lady Sarah snoring like a wild boar or Mary snuffling like a spaniel. “I was hoping you might help me set their minds at rest, Uncle.”

Uncle Cavendish frowned with the effort of thinking so early in the day. “Corpse?” he muttered. “Boat?”

“Yes, Uncle,” I prompted him. “You must remember! It was but yesterday. The body of the waterman, Will Stubbs, was brought in from the Frost Fair.”

He rubbed his beard. “Ah, yes …,” he said at
last. “The poor waterman. I'm afraid I cannot reassure your young ladies. The death was no accident. Will Stubbs was strangled—probably with his own neckcloth.”

I sucked in my breath. “How do you know, Uncle?” I asked.

“There were marks of strangulation on the poor wretch's neck, and the cloth was pulled and strained. I am told it was the same cloth that was used to bind coins to his eyes.” Uncle Cavendish squeezed my shoulder. “You are a sensible girl, Grace, and so I have told you the truth. But tell the other Maids it was an accident if it will give you back your sleep.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” I said. “But what happens now? Will there be an inquest?”

“Yes, but it is a mere formality, Grace. There is no clue as to the murderer, so death by foul play will be pronounced and Will Stubbs's body returned to his family for burial.” Uncle Cavendish went over to a table and poured himself some wine.

It was time for me to take my leave.

I have come back to my chamber with a heavy heart. I am sorely disappointed that I've learned so little. I am no closer to discovering why Will Stubbs was murdered, or indeed, why two forged coins were bound to his eyes. I feel they must have been meant
as a message to someone, for why blindfold a dead man in such a way? But a message to whom? And what can be the connection between poor Will Stubbs and the counterfeiters? These are the questions I must answer if I am to solve this mystery and find out who these counterfeiters are. I hope Ellie and Masou hear something today.

Hold fast! My uncle mentioned Will Stubbs's family. His widow may know more. Why did I not think of it before? I can go to see her and look for clues to the counterfeiting. I was the highest-ranking person (with her wits about her) at the scene when the body was discovered, so it would be quite natural for me to go and offer my condolences. Though Mrs. Champernowne will have an apoplexy if I go alone.

Mary Shelton is stirring now. I will ask her to accompany me.

We have returned from our visit and scarcely in time for me to fetch my daybooke and penner and slip into the back of the chapel just as daily prayers began. I have kept my head bent devoutly. If I look up I'm bound to see someone glaring at me for being late!

We are receiving a long, droning sermon from The Book of Approved Sermons. I can't imagine how anybody could approve of such lengthy texts! But at least I can write in peace for a while.

After breakfast, Mary and I got ready to skate along the river to Will Stubbs's cottage. It is on the north side of the Thames, at Myll Bank, just past the old Palace of Westminster. I asked Lady Ann Courtenay, one of Her Majesty's Ladies-in-Waiting, if she would arrange the necessary escorts for us, since it is quite improper for ladies to leave Court unattended. There is always a flock of gentlemen around, usually doing nothing and just waiting.

Lady Ann gave me a little hug and hurried off. Many of the Queen's Ladies knew my mother and have been very kind to me since her death.

Although I was most eager to discover more about the counterfeiting and the murder, I also wanted to bring some succour to the poor widow. So I decided to take a large basket of foods for the waterman's family.

When Mrs. Barnes, the pastry cook, heard what I was about, she bustled around filling the basket. It made me feel quite hungry. There were raised pies, manchet bread, dried fruits, and salt-fish fritters. I would love to have added an orange or two but
unfortunately it is too early for oranges. Hopefully some will arrive from the lands of the Mediterranean in time for Christmas.

The basket looked most tempting when it was full, but then I remembered the poor fatherless children, so I added some of my ribbon sweets. I am very proud of myself for thinking of it.

Soon we were ready to set off with our escorts, Sir John Martin and Nicolas Bulmer. I wanted to giggle when they rushed over, very eager to please. They made a valiant attempt not to look too disappointed when they realized that Lady Sarah was not to be of the party.

We agreed to skate to Westminster because it would be much more fun than going by horseback down King's Street. We were quite a merry group in spite of the biting cold and the sad event that had led to our trip. Sir John and Nicolas Bulmer were most entertaining and we passed a pleasant time on our journey. Although I'm not sure the servant carrying the heavy basket agreed.

“I know you're up to something, Grace,” panted Mary as we went. “You have that determined look in your eye. Are you doing something secret for the Queen?”