Queen of Ambition (17 page)

I obeyed him, joining Ambrosia in the kitchen. She looked pallid, as well she might. But no, she said, he hadn’t struck her. “I pushed the peppers and mushrooms behind a crock of lard,” she said, “and pretended I thought we’d run out. I think he believed me.”

“Your letter is on its way,” I said.

“Thank God,” said Ambrosia. Then, miserably, she said: “Sometimes, I’d give anything to have my mother back again but I wouldn’t want her to come back to be used as she was, and Barley told me that she couldn’t have me with her wherever it is she’s living now—this place Brent Hay, I suppose. I don’t know why. I know I’ve got to do without her. She’s not dead,” said Ambrosia, with sudden and startling bitterness, “but sometimes I think that she might as well be, as far as I’m concerned.”

I had a troubled night, thinking things out, trying to make sense of them. The next day was Wednesday. On
the day after that, Cecil and Dudley would arrive. I would lay whatever I knew before them and then the responsibility would be theirs and not mine.

I only wished I could tell them more. What, after all, did my discoveries amount to so far? There had been two unlikely coincidences. Thomas Shawe, who had suspected that something was amiss with the playlet, had been thrown from his horse and cracked his skull, and through the playlet, a runaway wife was to be brought within reach of her husband, apparently by chance.

In addition, a sick, elderly retired tutor had suddenly died, an event that could have stopped Ambrosia from warning her mother of her peril.

Assuming, of course, that Mistress Smithson really was Sybil Jester, and that someone had reason to think that Ambrosia knew it, and was also in touch with her mother. It didn’t add up to very much. If the someone was Woodforde, why on earth hadn’t he just
told
Roland Jester where his errant wife was? Neither Woodforde nor Jester could have killed Thomas, either.

As it happened, I managed not to irritate Master Jester that morning, and in the afternoon I was able to go out as usual. I went first of all to the river where Brockley had said he would meet me if he could. His duties had evidently kept him, however, for he was not there, though the woman in the mourning garments was, alone as before. This time she was not lingering by the riverbank but merely strolling, and as before, she turned away into the town. Newly bereaved, I supposed, pitying her, for I feared for
Matthew and still at times remembered Gerald, and I knew what the loss of a husband was like. In time, one hoped, she would heal, as I had done. I could not tell her age but I didn’t think she was very young. If she had some wealth, a new marriage might present itself in due course but in the early days of bereavement, one didn’t believe that.

I didn’t wait long, for I also wanted to see Dale. Presently, I set off into the town to visit our lodgings. The landlady let me in without protest this time though she still bristled with disapproval. I found Dale sewing again, sitting where the sunlight could fall on her work. I startled her by coming in unexpectedly and she exclaimed and sucked her finger where she had pricked it. “Ma’am! I didn’t expect you today.”

“Don’t be silly, Dale! Naturally I want to know how your errand to Brent Hay prospered. Did you get the letter there?”

“Yes, ma’am. Yes, I did. Oh, there now, I’ve dropped blood on this work …” Dale found a handkerchief and furiously scrubbed at a minute fleck of red that no one would ever be able to see when the curtain was hung unless they went right up to it and peered at the material with a magnifying lens.

“Just put your work down for a moment. I want to make sure of this. You found your way to Brent Hay and delivered the letter personally. I take it you found someone to tell you the way. I hope it wasn’t too long a ride. What sort of a place is it?”

“I didn’t take it in much, ma’am. There now, I’ve made a knot in this thread, and it’s real silver thread,
silver leaf wrapped round silk. I was told to be so careful with it …”

“Dale, will you please put that needle down and attend to me?”

Dale stabbed her needle into the curtain fabric, and laid it all down on a table beside her. “It wasn’t so very far, I suppose, only it seemed as if it was. I can’t abide riding alone like that …”

“I know, Dale, I know. There are all sorts of things you can’t abide.” That phrase was all too familiar. “But you got there?”

“Yes, ma’am. It was a big house, like you said. I found someone along the road who directed me. A woman like a housekeeper said she would give the letter to Mistress Smithson. I couldn’t press to see her in person. I didn’t like to, in a big place like that, and besides, I was needed back here. There’s this silver embroidery to finish repairing and then a cushion cover that has to have white flowers embroidered on it …”

Dale sounded thoroughly fussed. Her eyes looked tired and I noticed with disquiet that there was a big box of candles on the window seat. “Dale, have you been stitching at night and spoiling your eyesight? What are all those candles for?”

“Oh no, madam, I haven’t been doing that, at least not much. But I get nervous, sleeping in this room all alone. I know there’s others in the house, but still, I never could abide being alone at night. So I have a lot of candles. But I put them out before I go to sleep; I’m careful.”

“All right, Dale, all right. But why don’t you ask our
delightful landlady if one of the maids can share the room with you till Brockley comes back?”

“I thought of it, ma’am, but I’d feel foolish. She’d make me feel foolish.”

“I daresay!” I could believe that. “Well, Brockley will be back with you in a few days. All our pretenses will end when the queen arrives. But you are not to sew by candlelight. You don’t have to worry about neglecting that stitchery. I’m your employer, not the harbingers. Have you seen Brockley since yesterday? I hoped to meet him by the river before I came here, but he wasn’t there.”

“I haven’t seen him either, ma’am,” Dale said in a miserable tone of voice. I looked at her anxiously, realizing that she was probably lonely, probably missing her husband badly, and certainly being bullied by the harbingers.

“You had better finish the silver stitching,” I said, “but after that, you are not to work for anyone else but me. Leave the cushion cover and its wretched white flowers. They’ll have to be done by someone else who will at least be paid for it. I’ll have a word with Master Henderson … oh, Rob, there you are.”

I had left the door open behind me and Rob had come quietly in. He was dressed, and looked decidedly better.

“I heard,” he said. “I’ll see to it. I agree with you. I think Dale has been put-upon. Never mind, Dale. The queen’s visit begins on Saturday. The inquiry must end then, for good or ill, so whatever happens, you will be reunited with Roger by the end of the week. I am glad to see you, Ursula. My fever has completely
gone. I feel a trifle weak but nothing worse and I feel the need of the open air. I intend to walk over to King’s College Chapel to look at the retiring room before the Gentlemen Ushers get to it. They are going to inspect it later on today. I daresay you’d like to come?”

We left Dale stitching again, still with a despondent air even though she admitted that she had only an hour or so of work to finish and was glad to be told that she need not do the cushion covers.

We were going out on the queen’s business, and although I hadn’t much spare time, I thought it worthwhile to exchange my dull gown and unbleached kirtle for something more dignified. Dale interrupted her task long enough to help me into a decent tawny overgown and cream kirtle, and fasten a neatly pleated ruff into place. The overgown, of course, had my usual hidden pouch and I transferred my lockpicks and dagger from my cookmaid’s dress. I wasn’t likely to need them in the chapel, but I was rarely without them.

I made her hurry. “The minutes slide away when one is rushing here and there round Cambridge,” I said to Rob. “But I’d like to see the retiring room. I would
rather have been a real harbinger, you know, than an imitation one, using it as a cover for these inquiries that lead nowhere.”

It took longer than I liked to reach King’s College because Rob was still shaky from his illness and did not walk fast. However, when we did get there, we were pleased with what we found. The chapel was much quieter and cleaner than when we viewed Thomas Shawe’s body there. The workmen had gone, taking their saws and hammers with them. The dust had been swept away, the dark, richly carved timber of the rood screen glowed with polish, and on top of it, the retiring room in the rood loft was complete. The air now smelled of beeswax rather than wood shavings. Two men on ladders were still busy cleaning some of the intricate carving over the west door but otherwise the work was finished.

“That’s better,” said Rob thankfully. “I have been going nearly mad, lying on my bed and wondering if the chapel would ever be ready on time. At one point, when the fever was very high, I had a terrible dream about Her Majesty arriving and being all mixed up with workmen. I’m not really here as a harbinger, any more than you are, but all the same, in spite of all the Yeomen of this and that and the Gentlemen Ushers, I still feel responsible.”

“Here
are
some Gentlemen Ushers, I think,” I said, as the south door opened, letting in a stream of sunlight and a group of dark-gowned personages. “I know what you mean. I feel exactly the same. Rob, when exactly is Cecil due to arrive tomorrow?”

“He and Dudley should both be here by midday.
They’re expected to dine with Hawford, the vice chancellor.”

“I must see Cecil as soon as I can. He’ll be expecting a report and if there isn’t much that adds up there are certainly some interesting factors …”

“Dear Ursula, you sound like a mathematician!”

“I’m serious, Rob! The last time we were here, we were looking at a young man’s body and …”

“What’s the matter?” Rob demanded as I dropped my voice to a mutter and moved hastily around to the other side of him.

“Woodforde’s with those ushers,” I hissed. “He’s in his university gown but that’s Woodforde all right. He mustn’t see me. He might come to the pie shop at any time and he mustn’t realize that there’s a court lady there in disguise.”

Peering around Rob, I saw that the new arrivals had turned to look up at the carvings that the workmen were cleaning. For the moment, they had their backs to us. We were close to the rood screen. Stealthily, we retreated into the shadow of the deep arched door through the center. “We can go through and into one of the side chapels off the choir,” I whispered. “If we kneel down and hide our faces in prayer …”

“Stop!” said Rob, peering warily out of the arch toward the choir. I peered too and saw that the choir wasn’t empty. A stage had been set up there and a dais built, with a thronelike seat on it for Elizabeth to occupy during the disputations and the Latin plays, and three men were examining it. I recognized them and they would recognize me. They were the Yeoman Purveyor, the junior Gentleman Usher, and the junior
Officer of the Wardrobe with whom we had traveled part of the way to Cambridge.

“What are
they
doing here?” I muttered.

“Everyone’s been panicking. People are doing jobs that aren’t really theirs, just to get things done at all,” Rob whispered. “Like Dale.”

“What are we to do?” I glanced back and saw that Woodforde and the ushers were now moving toward the rood screen. We were trapped in the archway.

“Up here!” said Rob. “Into the retiring room. Quick!”

I saw now that there was a door in the side of the arch. Softly, Rob opened it, revealing a stair. We slipped through, closing the door after us, and climbed quickly up. “I just hope,” I said as we emerged at the top, “that we haven’t made a horrible mistake. If they come up here as well …”

I found that I was frightened, which in itself was interesting. It told me just how sure I was, in the depths of my mind, that Thomas Shawe had not died by accident. It also told me that although neither Jester nor Woodforde could possibly have killed him, I nevertheless believed that they had arranged it.

If they thought I was a menace to whatever schemes they were laying, well, accidents could happen to cookmaids, too, especially in kitchens. In kitchens there were fires and meat cleavers and …

We looked around us. On one side of the room there were glassed windows overlooking the choir. From these, we at once moved cautiously back. The room held a press for fresh clothes, a settle-cum-chest, upholstered in blue and silver brocade, a small curtained
bed where the queen could rest, a toilet stand with a modern glass mirror, and a padded stool in front of it. There was some more curtaining at the far end, but when I looked behind this, it revealed only a privy.

From where we were, we could hear the approaching footsteps of Woodforde and the ushers. They reached the rood screen and then, to our horror, we heard Woodforde’s voice, which I recognized by its high-pitched tone, suggesting that they should inspect the retiring room. “They
are
coming up!” Rob said. “Well, officially we’re harbingers. We’ll have to brazen it out and hope no one connects you with that pie shop.”

I had no desire to do any such thing. The bed curtains were drawn back, but the bed itself was gracefully draped with a shimmering blue cloth of silver coverlet on which red and white Tudor roses had been embroidered. The edges of the coverlet swept the floor. “Just pray they don’t look under the bed in case someone’s hiding there as Woodforde hid under Lady Lennox’s,” I said, and dived into concealment.

“Did he?” asked Rob in a bemused voice, stooping and lifting the hem of the coverlet to talk to me.

“Yes, he did, and Rob, try to get into conversation with Woodforde and see if you can find out whether or not he knows who Mistress Smithson really is. Probably is, I mean.”

“You give orders like Her Majesty in person!”

“Rob! It isn’t funny.
Please!
”

There was no more time. The Gentlemen Ushers and Woodforde were climbing the stairs. Rob let go of the coverlet and straightened up. A moment later I
heard him say: “Good day, gentlemen! Master Robert Henderson at your service! I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you before as I have had to keep my bed for a few days, but I am one of Her Majesty’s harbingers. As you see, I am about my duties again. I have just been making sure that all is clean and orderly.”