Love's Labyrinth (8 page)

Olivia met the Queen’s gaze squarely, knowing instinctively that Elizabeth would recognize any kind of prevarication or dissembling.

“Welladay, mistress,” Elizabeth was saying, tapping her fan against the arm of her chair, “your song pleased me greatly. Can you give us another?”

Olivia drew a deep breath. “It would be my very great pleasure, Your Majesty.” Nicholas had withdrawn to the side, where he stood watching with folded arms. She glanced in his direction. His expression was wary. Here goes nothing, she thought. With a deep breath, she launched into one of her favorite songs from
Twelfth Night.

Oh, mistress mine, where are you roaming?

Oh, stay and hear, your true love’s coming,

Who can sing both high and low.

Seek no further, pretty sweeting,

Journey’s end in lovers’ meeting—

Every wise man’s son doth know.

In delay there lies no plenty,

Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty,

Youth’s a stuff ’twill not endure.”

As she began the second verse, she was startled to hear other voices chiming in, picking out harmonies and embellishing the top notes with trills and little vibratos. Her gaze darted among the crowd of courtiers, most of whom joined in the singing enthusiastically. The song went on and on, with Elizabeth herself joining in, her voice a surprisingly strong contralto, rich and sure. As the song ended, Olivia dared a peek at the sour old Puritan whose eyes seemed to bore through the flimsy fabric of her costume. She felt a hot flush creep up her neck, and she shifted her gaze to Dudley, burly and balding. He was sitting next to the Queen on the opposite side from the Puritan, watching Olivia with amiable interest. He winked and she automatically smiled back as all the voices faded into silence. She glanced at Nicholas, who had not moved. The Queen smiled and applauded enthusiastically, and the entire company followed suit. Olivia remembered that Elizabeth was known for her gracious reception of all the entertainments offered for her pleasure on her visits to her subjects, and she sank into another curtsy as the Queen spoke. “A pleasant, if melancholy, tune, maiden, but well sung.”

Olivia rose, wondering how long she would be required to stay before the Queen, but Nicholas was there, stepping beside her, bowing with that same polished grace even as he said, “If Your Gracious Majesty will allow, Mistress Lindsley will retire. She is yet fatigued from the journey, and her sister is unwell.”

Elizabeth smiled fleetingly and raised her hand in dismissal, her attention diverted by Leicester, who leaned upon her arm and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. Olivia saw the Queen glance at the sober Puritan and laugh again, but the meaning of the byplay was lost, as Nicholas once more took her arm and escorted her from the pavilion.

When they were safely out of earshot, he said gruffly, “Thank God you pleased Her Majesty well enough. Now stay out of sight, until either my brother or I come for you.”

Olivia looked up at him in disbelief. She’d saved both of them with that performance, and he couldn’t even offer so much as a simple thank-you? She didn’t speak as he strode into the house, his long strides practically forcing her to scamper just to keep up. He marched her into the house and up the steps. At the door to the room he paused. “Remember, stay here and don’t leave this room.”

Olivia raised her chin. “You forget, Lord Nicholas, that neither my friend nor I am any happier than you are that we find ourselves here.”

Nicholas shook his head and looked over his shoulder, as though he feared someone listened. “My brother is a heedless fool who thinks only of his own interests. Give me your word you will not leave this room.”

Olivia met his eyes fearlessly. “You have my word. There is no need to lock us in.”

Nicholas hesitated, clearly torn. “Very well, mistress. I will trust your good sense not to risk your own lives.” He pushed the door open and waited for her to walk through. Without another word, he pulled it shut behind her, and she heard his footsteps echo down the stairs.

Nicholas breathed a sigh of relief as he pounded down the stairs. His footsteps echoed in the silent hall. Thanks be to the God who’d made them all that the one woman, at least, had the presence of mind to understand his need. Which was more than that fool of a brother did. He’d known exactly what had happened the moment he’d seen the two women standing beside the maze, dressed in their bizarre clothing, Geoffrey beside them with a sheepish look all over his face. It was bad enough that Geoffrey and his eccentricities, as Nicholas preferred to name them, should ever put them in danger of the Tower or worse. Fortunately, with the execution of Queen Mary of Scotland, Elizabeth seemed to have lost her taste for punishing Papists. But nothing would save them from a charge of witchcraft—and Geoffrey would be hard pressed to explain how the two women had appeared if he were ever dragged into a court, ecclesiastical or otherwise.

He ran a hand through his dark hair and tugged his doublet into place. Just a few more hours and the Queen and her retinue would be gone. And then he would have to deal with the women and his brother. Pray that the maze was as effective in reverse, and the two women could be returned to wherever they happened to come from. Without warning, a vision of Olivia’s face rose before him, her expression the soft and earnest one she’d worn to sing before the Queen. Then it rapidly changed to become the determined look she’d had when she confronted him about their unexpected appearance. Fleetingly, he wondered what it would be like to talk to her about her time, and then he instantly dismissed such a dangerous thought. The less he knew about the whole appalling episode the better. And as soon as it was safe to do so, he’d have Geoffrey dismantle that damnable maze. God only knew who—or what—might come stumbling out of it next.

A soft cough from the side of the room startled Nicholas out of his reverie. He glanced around to see a simply dressed man sitting on one of the long benches that lined the walls of the hall. With a start he recognized the man as Master Christopher Warren, someone he’d assumed was one of Elizabeth’s gentlemen pensioners, the male equivalent of a lady-in-waiting. But the man was dressed nearly as plainly as the Puritan Sir John Makepeace. The thought of Sir John brought an unpleasant taste to Nicholas’s mouth, and he forced the image of the man out of his head even as he walked slowly over to Warren, who clearly waited for him.

“May I help you, sir?” Nicholas asked, puzzled as to why the man would have followed him into the house, and cold all over at the thought that perhaps he’d noticed the suspicious behavior of Geoffrey and the two women.

“I wondered if we might have a word, my lord.” Master Warren smiled, and Nicholas noticed that his lips merely folded, and that the expression did not reach his eyes.

“As you will, sir. Master Warren, isn’t it? Is there something you require?”

“Not I, my lord, but the Queen.”

Nicholas frowned, genuinely perplexed. “The Queen is well served, I trust. She seems quite pleased.”

“Ah, by the feast, yes, of course. Your hospitality has pleased her greatly, and your choice of entertainment is most—most charmingly unconventional. But that’s not what I meant, my lord. There are other matters—matters in which it’s come to our attention that you might have an interest.”

“What sort of matters?” Nicholas asked.

“You know of the work of Sir Francis Walsingham?”

Nicholas’s lip nearly twisted in a grimace, but he forced himself to keep his face smooth. A chill ran down his spine. There had been talk that the Babington plot and the executions that had followed it had been a concoction of Walsingham’s ferocious determination to see Mary of Scotland dead. Any member of any Catholic family, no matter how loosely connected to the Roman faith, knew of Walsingham and his fanatical hatred of Catholics. “Who doesn’t?”

“We know how hard you’ve worked to establish yourself as a loyal subject of Her Majesty.”

Nicholas began to frown at the implication that he’d been under scrutiny and just as quickly forced the expression off his face. “Then you know of my implicit and absolute allegiance.”

Warren spread his hands. “Your valor with Lord Leicester in the Low Countries was remarked upon far and wide. And thus we turn to you, in hope that you will perform another service for Her Majesty, such as can only be performed by a man of courage and discretion.”

This time Nicholas did frown. There was something about the man that made him wary, something about the flat look in his dark eyes that made Nicholas’s blood run cold. “What sort of service?”

“Please, my lord. Will you sit?” With a broad sweep of his hand, Warren indicated the empty space beside him on the bench.

I’d sooner sit beside a snake,
thought Nicholas, then instantly suppressed the feeling. Walsingham’s crew might be fanatical but he knew that the Queen and Cecil, her secretary, trusted them implicitly. If he had merited the favorable notice of Sir Francis, it could only be a positive thing. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“We have reason to believe that the King of Spain continues in his plots against our most gracious Majesty. An agent of the Spanish government has been intercepted in London—an Englishman, I might add. He was to meet a member of the Spanish government in Calais and receive the plans for an invasion of England. But we have him in our custody now. Still, we would like to have the plans. So—”

“You would want me to masquerade as this Englishman and go to Calais?”

Warren smiled. “You understand perfectly, I see.”

“Who is this English traitor?”

“A man of no consequence any longer, I assure you. But you will travel under his name to disguise your true identity. You bear a certain resemblance to this man, you see. That’s why I have been instructed to come to you.”

Nicholas stared into the empty hearth, his mind racing furiously. “I will think on it.”

Warren’s expression did not change. “An you will, my lord. But think on it quickly, I pray you. Time grows short, and all who endeavor to keep our shores free of the Spanish threat will be amply rewarded.”

“I’ve not refused.”

“I leave for London at dawn. I had hoped to return to my master with an affirmative response.”

Nicholas took a deep breath, considering. There was no reason why he shouldn’t agree. Except, perhaps, Geoffrey and his damnable interests. The thought of the two women waiting in the upstairs bedchamber flashed through his mind. If Walsingham had any suspicion…

“I’ll do it.” He turned back to face Warren and met the man’s inscrutable eyes.

“Excellent,” Warren replied. He got to his feet. “My master will be well pleased, and your efforts on Her Majesty’s behalf will be well rewarded, I assure you.”

Nicholas rose as well. “Then if you’ll excuse me, Master Warren, I must return to my guests. Are you coming?”

Warren smiled again, another smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just on my way to the jakes, my lord. I’ll be there in a trice.”

Nicholas nodded. He inclined his head in a brief bow and left the hall, fighting the urge to turn back, and wondering why he felt as though Warren watched him like a hawk poised to kill.

Olivia let out a deep breath as Nicholas’s footsteps faded out of earshot. Her shoulders sagged with suppressed tension as Alison turned from the window.

“Liv! Are you okay? What happened?”

Olivia shrugged. “I sang another song. One from Twelfth Night, this time. I hope I haven’t caused some disruption in the time-space continuum.”

“What are you talking about?” Alison was looking at her as if she’d suddenly grown an extra head. “What time-space continuum?”

“You know.” Olivia grinned. “The one they’re always talking about on TV—Dr. Who, Star Trek, that sort of thing. Whenever anyone goes into the past, there’s always concern about whether or not they’re going to change the future by their presence in the past.”

“Good grief, Liv.” Alison rolled her eyes and sank down into her chair. “Don’t you think that’s the least of our worries right now? How soon do you think we can try to go back?”

Olivia shook her head. “I guess if Elizabeth and the court are gone by tonight, there’s no reason we couldn’t try once everything quiets down. But it’s a huge undertaking out there—you should see all the people.”