The Lady and the Poet (23 page)

‘You cannot mean…?’

Mary looked at me, her eyes narrowing and her voice as hard as the clang of the hammer on the anvil. ‘There is only one currency I know of where such debts can be settled in private and without money.’

‘When does he bid you meet him?’

‘Tomorrow afternoon. At an establishment called the Castle upon Hope Inn.’ She smiled bitterly. ‘I would wager an angel it will not be a royal castle.’

‘But I know it! Our aunt’s woman, Joan, showed it to me when we were walking in Southwark. Mary,’ I tried to take her hand but she pulled it from me, ‘according to Joan it is a bawdy house.’

‘I did not imagine it was a place of religious devotion.’

‘Your husband, Nick, surely he would never countenance such a transaction?’

Mary grabbed my hands and held them so tight she almost crumbled my bones. ‘Nick must never know aught of this. He would either die or kill me if he had the merest suspicion of any such action.’

‘Mary, I beg you not to follow this rash course. There must be other ways of avoiding disaster.’

‘There are. I have examined them all. This is my last resort.’

‘You are the kindest of women,’ I forced her to look me in the eye, ‘and the bravest. Yet surely it cannot be worth this?’

‘No, Ann,’ Mary replied as if her determination had been sharpened like a knife on the whetstone. ‘I am neither kind nor brave. But I refuse to lose all that I have and forfeit my children’s inheritance because of my husband’s fondness for gambling and a stupid letter I should never have written.’

‘So you are going to meet this man tomorrow?’

‘I am. I came today for two reasons.’ Her clear green eyes seemed strangely calm now that her mind was made up. ‘First, that once I had made the announcement to you, I would have to go on the morrow. Second, I may jump fences at the gallop and never think twice of my safety but I thought one close to me should know of my venturing alone into Southwark to see him.’

I saw that beneath her calm Mary was frightened indeed. ‘I am glad you trusted me. But I beg you, do not follow this road. Surely it would be better to importune Father? He is a rich man after all.’

‘And let him see the weakness of the man I have chosen? Never!’ She held me briefly against her heart. ‘Men risk blood and death in battle. Lying on a feather bed, no matter with what distasteful company, can hardly compare with that. I will not lose an eye or a limb in this combat.’

‘You might lose a soul,’ I wanted to say, but kept my peace. Besides, I had not yet conceded that it must come to this. I needed to think if any other way were open to us.

After Mary left I slipped quietly down the back staircase to the gardens beneath. I needed a moment alone to think before my aunt called me to my tasks.

All around the weather mocked my unhappiness with its perfect beauty. Every bird in London seemed to be singing his heart out under warm May skies of heavenly blue. Without noticing where my steps led me, I followed a path towards the river.

Whom could I apply to, I asked myself, for wisdom and wise counsel? My aunt had been so kind to me, I wondered if she could be trusted? The bitter truth struck me of a sudden that it was to Mary herself, certain, brave Mary, that in times of trial I would most often turn, and now she was applying to me, and I had not been able to save her.

Bett, too, was lost to me; could I bear disaster to befall another of my sisters?

‘Mistress More…?’ A quiet voice broke into my thoughts.

I turned to find Master Donne standing but a few feet away. I put up my chin, waiting for him to make some jest about the rudeness last night to my lady Straven.

Instead his voice held only gentle concern. ‘Is aught distressing you? Forgive me for intruding but it seemed to me you stared towards the river like one seeking its watery embrace.’

The kindness in his voice took me aback and again I felt a temptation to explain the whole to him, and seek his advice. Yet the display last night with the Countess had rocked my judgement in him. Perhaps his soul was not the shining beacon I had begun to think it. ‘Not I. I was listening to the birds sing and thinking of Loseley where I grew up. The birdsong there is louder than anywhere I have ever heard it.’

‘Louder even than the cooing of amorous London doves?’

I blushed at this reference to our first meeting and changed the subject lest he see me blush further.

‘Tell me, Master Donne, how is Wat faring?’

Master Donne’s answer was a laugh. ‘He is a fast learner, I grant you. Already he knows at what time I want my morning beer, the way my clothes are to be hung or folded, and he has found his way round the palace of Whitehall faster than a dog hunts out a juicy bone.’ His eyes sought my face. ‘Do you enjoy the country so much better than the Court, then, Mistress More, that you pine so for its birdsong?’

‘I do. And you? Do country pleasures appeal to you, Master Donne?’

‘Alas, no. I am a Londoner born and bred. To me the cry of the costermonger is far lovelier than the call of the cuckoo.’

Despite my worries I laughed at that.

‘That is better. Yet your merry brown eyes still seem clouded. Are you sure there is nothing for which I could offer my humble services?’

This time the temptation to unburden myself was too strong and I would certainly have confided in him had not from the far end of the garden a vision appeared in palest cream satin, worked with golden threads, her long hair loose about her shoulders like some Grecian goddess.

The Countess of Straven had come to claim her due.

And already my companion’s tender concern was fixing itself elsewhere.

‘Master Donne,’ her voice, so steely in command, now tinkled like the brook in the mead at Loseley, ‘I am glad to find you here. I seek a classical allusion for the poem I am engaged in writing. It tells the story of two maids vying with each other in love.’ To my surprise, she looked at me slyly. ‘One is far nobler than the other, and loves with a pure bright fire. The other, knowing she is not worthy, stoops to tactics that are ignoble and underhand to trick him into loving her. What think you of the notion of Atalanta’s balls?’

I had meant to say farewell and leave them to their versifying, but there was that in the Countess’s manner that brought out the sinful Eve in me.

‘Why not the Judgement of Paris?’ I suggested, my voice as cloying as sugared almonds in a sweet bag. ‘For I have often found that even good men are blinded by beauty into choices they later discover to be mistaken.’

I took my leave before the Countess thought up a rejoinder or had time to conclude to whom I might be alluding.

But Master Donne, who had followed my thinking entirely, watched me depart with the smallest ghost of a smile.

THAT NIGHT I
slept not at all but twisted and turned like a soul in torment. As the sun rose over the misty reaches of the Thames I had my answer.

I would go myself and visit Master Freeman in her stead.

I knew the risk this would mean to my reputation, how my reluctance to go to Court would be as nothing compared to this if I were discovered. A young woman’s reputation was as important as her portion or her parentage. And yet it seemed to me my very innocence would be a protection. Yet, dared I risk all this for my sister?

The memory of Mary, ever brave and resourceful, reduced so low and desperate persuaded me. Despite her foolishness I could not see my sister lose all.

And yet, how would it be accomplished?

And then I remembered what Wat had once told me, about the high-born lady passing herself off as her lover’s page. I had heard tell, also, of a wild young woman who rode about the country dressed in a gentleman’s clothing and who had once had the audacity to hold up a noble coach on the Hertford road.

And yet, what if I were caught and unmasked? Women might pass themselves off as men in Master Shakespeare’s plays, yet these same women were played by boys while real women would never dare go on a stage.

I turned to my coffer, to hold in my hand my mother’s amethyst ring. Beneath it, wrapped in cloth, was a lock of Bett’s brown hair. I touched it against the chill of my cheek. Yes! I would do this for Mary, who had done so much for me.

And so I summoned Wat.

I had done him a good turn, and I knew he was both loyal and grateful, and if applied to he would not let me down.

I found him playing jacks with another boy in a closet not far from the kitchens. ‘Wat!’ I called to him softly. ‘I have need of your help. Come with me, quick.’

He shrugged to his friend and followed me through the winding corridors of York House. ‘Do you have a spare set of clothes, Wat?’

‘Aye, my Sunday best. Bought especially for me by my master.’

‘Lend me them. You shall have them back by evening.’

‘Why, mistress, what need have you of a groom’s clothes?’

‘I have a task to do that requires me to wear men’s garb.’

‘What is this task, mistress?’ he enquired, concern clouding his shrewd blue eyes.

‘Never you mind. Just remember the favours I have done you and keep your counsel.’

As slow as a snail, Wat trailed miserably off, returning with a neat pile of clothing. ‘I thought you might need this also.’ He handed over, in addition, a long black cloak.

‘Thank you.’ I took the cloak gratefully. ‘Now, off you go and I will return your belongings later.’

‘Take care, mistress,’ were his final words as he ran back to find his jack-playing friend.

‘I will, Wat,’ I said, trying to convince myself that the task ahead was not as daunting as I feared.

I pulled my bodies so tight that my breasts were rendered as flat as a board, then drew on the white lawn shirt, plain black doublet and hose, and finished all with a plain cotton ruff. Then I tied up my hair with a shoelace and stuffed it into a large black hat I had discreetly lifted from the row outside the wardrobe. Later, one of my uncle’s advisors would find himself hatless as he went to see some great minister of state and wonder if he was losing his memory.

One quick glance in the glass on the great landing told me that if I kept my head down and tried not to speak I would pass muster. Willing myself not to look behind me after every step, I scuttled down through the endless passageways of York House until I reached the river. Here I turned left until I came to the nearest public stairs, so that I would not be remarked, and put out my hand for a wherry.

Yet before I could shout ‘Oars!’ a figure emerged from the shadows and grabbed me bodily by the arm.

It was Master Donne, his eyes blazing with fury.

‘What lunatic charade is this?’ he demanded. An approaching wherryman watched us, then pulled his hat down and rowed away, not wanting to be involved in trouble with his betters. ‘Wat has come to me with some tale of your borrowing his clothes. And here I find you wearing them, alone, and bound for Southwark or some such wild place. Have you lost your senses entirely?’

He marched me away from the river. ‘Speak! Before I throw you into the Thames and be damned to you!’

I stiffened mutinously. ‘I can swim.’

He ignored this rebellion. ‘What were you dreaming of?’

My instinct was to bluff. What matter was our private business to him? Then, cold and frightened, suddenly fearful of my face being known, my stout heart faltered and I told him all. ‘My sister is in trouble. Her husband has been gambling and a certain gentleman has acquired his notes of debt and a letter she foolishly sent to another gentleman, which fell into the hands of this Master Freeman. He promised to return them all to her if she met him alone. I elected to go in her stead. He means no harm to me.’

‘He does not need to, for you harm yourself!’ He half dragged me down an alley between York House and the Strand, which was mercifully empty. ‘And where had you undertaken to meet this Master Freeman, pray?’

I turned my head, unwilling to divulge.

‘Where?’ He pushed me roughly against the wall.

‘The Castle upon Hope Inn.’

‘God’s nails! You were going to a stewhouse! You might as well parade naked in Whitehall, for none would believe your innocence after that!’

‘Thank you, Master Donne.’ I tried to wrench myself out of his grip. ‘Yet I do not remember asking your assistance in this matter.’

‘And you will get none! How did you imagine, when you faced this Master Freeman, that you would persuade him to release your sister’s husband from his debts?’

‘By threatening to expose him for the corrupt man he is!’

Master Donne laughed and shook his head. ‘I had thought you a gentlewoman of unusual sense. Especially for your years. Did you think it would be brave to sacrifice yourself for your sister? A Joan of Arc at Orleans? You are not brave, but criminally foolish!’ Master Donne’s eyes were still dark with fury as he looked into mine. ‘What crazy madness makes you think you can don a boy’s clothing and go down alone among thieves and ruffians and argue with a greater villain than any of them! He might have slain you or…’

‘Or worse? Forced me to pay my sister’s price?’ I knew he was right, that I should be thanking him, but there was that in his tone which summoned up my blood.

‘Yes. Even by going there, if it were known abroad, or gossiped about in jest, your good name would be blemished forever and your
word dismissed—how much good would that have done your sister?’ I made no answer so he turned me round to face him. ‘And thought you of the risks others must take to help you? Wat, who could be dismissed for lending his clothes. And I, too, who risk my position and my rank if I go not now this moment and betray you to the Lord Keeper, for he would expect no less of me? You are happy enough to visit stewhouses and threaten the safety of others for your own ends, I see…’

I pulled my wrist out of his grasp, as angry now as he was. ‘There speaks one who dallies with the wife of an absent earl! And seduces the wives of good and honest men then sets his victories to verse! From such a one should I take my moral counsel?’

‘Madam, you overstate my talents.’ His eyes sparked with anger at my accusation. ‘What I write in my verse is not for such as you—unless you are so desirous to read of the promptings of the flesh that you bid your cousin secretly acquire it for you…’