The Other Countess (23 page)

Will hid his grimace: the last thing he needed was more expenses. Burghley’s purse was looking less generous now.

‘Were there no others in the household arrested – servants and so on? Often they know more than their masters and mistresses suspect.’

Will opened his mouth to deny the presence of maids when Henry was there before him. ‘There’s an old alchemist – the man who blew up Lord Mountjoy’s close stool, my lord.’

‘Him? So this is where he ran to! A dangerous fellow as I told your father, Cecil.’

‘He’s got a daughter too. By her own admission, she seemed to know March quite well.’ Henry gave Will a smirk. Cecil sat up in his chair as he sensed danger in the air for Ellie.

What was Perceval up to, Will wondered. Did he have some greater stratagem against Ellie?

‘The girl is quite innocent of any involvement. I’m quite convinced of that,’ Will said quickly.

‘You have the pair under arrest then? Questioned them? Searched the house?’ asked Walsingham.

Will paused by the window, watching Walsingham in reflection, the fire flickering behind him giving the illusion he was already on the bonfire he feared. ‘No, sir.’

Walsingham got up and took a step to the door. ‘Then that was not well done of you. We must proceed immediately. Who knows what evidence they have had a chance to destroy?’

‘But, sir …!’

‘It must be your inexperience speaking, Dorset. You will
never catch the Catholics if you are not as clever and ruthless as they. They pass our surveillance by seeming innocent and ordinary – never forget that.’ He turned to Perceval. ‘Where’s this house?’

Henry stood. ‘I’ll show you.’

The situation was spinning out of his control. The last thing Will wanted was Walsingham to march into Ellie’s house and turn the place upside down. What would she think of his promises then?

‘Sir, this is still my estate – my land. I will show you the house if you insist, but I am convinced your suspicions are wrong. Sir Henry here, Master Cecil too, will vouch that the Huttons are harmless, the girl especially.’

Walsingham slapped his riding gloves in his palm. ‘I sense a partiality here, my lord, one that is clouding your judgement.’

‘No, sir.’

Walsingham gave a bitter smile. ‘You are, how old? Eighteen? Your knowledge of the world must needs be limited. You should let me guide you in this.’

‘I will show you the house. You may make a search, but that is where it ends. The priest is the man of interest in this affair, not the innocent bystanders.’

‘We shall see.’

For Ellie, it felt like a repeat of the previous night, though this time she was still up, reading quietly by the fireside as her father scratched away at his manuscript. First came the sound of hooves, then the firm knock at the door.

‘I will answer,’ her father said, indicating that she should stay in her seat.

She nodded wordlessly, marking her place in the book with her finger as she strained to hear all that was said outside. A blood-red ribbon trickled from the book’s spine, spilling on to her lap.

Her father returned, accompanied by Will and a stranger. More people crowded into the corridor beyond. Ellie stood and dipped a curtsy, looking to the earl in askance.

‘Apologies for the interruption to your evening, my lady,’ Will said stiffly. ‘This is Sir Francis Walsingham – you have heard of the gentleman before?’

‘Indeed, yes.’ Ellie put the book aside. The Queen’s chief minister – not a welcome visitor in any household under suspicion.

‘How may we help you?’ her father asked.

‘The Lady Eleanor, Sir Arthur.’ Will completed the introduction without the use of her Spanish titles.

Sir Henry shouldered his way past the earl. ‘Come now, Dorset, give the lady her due: the Lady Eleanor Rodriguez, Countess of San Jaime. She had a Spanish mother, Walsingham, who bequeathed her the courtesy title. Sir Arthur lived in Madrid for many years.’

Alarmed by this obvious attempt to discredit them, Ellie’s heart began to race. What was going on? Henry was stirring up trouble, but to what purpose Ellie couldn’t fathom. She had not hidden her parentage but it was now treated as a mark against her.

‘A countess, eh?’ The Queen’s minister turned on Will. ‘Why did you not mention this fact? That changes everything.’

‘How so, sir?’ Will asked curtly. ‘The lady’s mother is long
dead; there is no doubt in my mind that Sir Arthur and his daughter are loyal to the Crown.’

Ellie’s father finally caught up on the message underlying this exchange. ‘Indeed, sir, I wish to assure you of my honest and heartfelt admiration for our sovereign lady, gracious patron of the arts and renowned scholar, as well as wise ruler.’

Walsingham sniffed at this pretty speech. ‘Fine words butter no parsnips, sir. I look to a man’s deeds, not his protestations.’

Sir Arthur went to Ellie’s side and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. ‘We will withstand any scrutiny, sir. I’m ashamed of nothing I have done. I am a man of learning, an alchemist, seeking to unlock the mysteries of God’s universe and bring honour and riches to this realm.’

Ellie felt pride in her father’s words: for all his wrong-headed notions, his motives had ever been pure – purer than any gold he would be lucky to extract from the ingredients of his craft.

‘Then you have no objection to the examination of your papers?’

Her father stiffened. ‘None, sir. I merely ask that nothing be destroyed. I have laboured hard over the account of my methods and practices.’

Walsingham carefully pinched off his gloves, finger by finger. ‘I too have my methods and practices. The enemy can use even the most innocent seeming vessel in which to pour the poison of Catholic rebellion.’ He moved to the desk. ‘These are all your papers?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Sir Arthur let go of Ellie’s hand and moved to hover at Walsingham’s shoulder like an anxious parent over a child’s cradle as a wolf prowled.

‘And books?’

Sir Arthur gestured to the teetering pile. ‘I have some few others in my saddlebags.’

‘There is too much for inspection now. I’ll take these with me.’

Sir Arthur clenched his fists in frustration. ‘But how will I work?’

‘Take a holiday, sir. They will swiftly be returned if they prove to be of no interest to this matter.’ Walsingham flicked at a paper. ‘Do you record here how to make explosions such as you carried out in Windsor?’

Sensing he was treading boggy ground, Sir Arthur rubbed at his throat before answering. ‘No, sir, I have not yet reached the section I projected on the application of phoenix tears.’

‘Good. I advise you never to commit that to paper. Far too dangerous in the wrong hands, would you not agree?’

Uncertain, Sir Arthur nodded.

‘But I’d be interested to hear how it was done. It may have its uses in our fight against Spain and Rome.’

‘I am at your service, sir,’ Sir Arthur vowed, giving him a shallow bow.

Ellie shrank back to the wall. She didn’t like this Walsingham. He would have her father either on suspicion of treachery or caught by his loyalty to the realm: either way he would end up his creature. Did her father not realize the danger he was in? He so rarely saw beyond the matters pertaining to his craft so she doubted he had the political astuteness to see how he was being pressed into service.

Henry sidled up to her, placing a hand against the wall
behind her head. ‘Looks like things are not going too well for you, doesn’t it, sweeting? Feel in need of some protection? My offer still stands,’ he said softly.

She glanced towards Will but he was busy overseeing the collection of papers, handing them to a servant under the fluttering presence of her father. Walsingham had turned his attention to the other books in the room – the dame’s meagre collection on a single shelf and the one she had been reading when they entered, the
Eclogues
March had lent her.

‘No use looking there for any help,’ Henry continued. ‘The earl is Burghley’s man in this county, charged with ensuring that the peace is kept, so he can’t oppose Walsingham on this.’ He caught one of her loose curls on his fingertip and pulled it straight to let it spring back against her neck. ‘But I can look after you. I’ve been trying to do so for some weeks now and I’m getting tired of coming away with nothing.’

Ellie tried to shift out of his reach, but he kept crowding her as he had done in the garden. She could feel the almost feverish heat of his skin only inches from hers. ‘Am I accused of anything, sir, that I would need a defender?’

‘Well, you tell me, sweeting.’ He smiled, tapping each point out with a fingertip. ‘Living under the same roof as a priest, having a father who blows things up, bearing a Spanish title when this nation is fighting an undeclared war with that country: it doesn’t look good, does it?’

Walsingham glanced up from the
Eclogues
, seeking her out. ‘Lady Eleanor, is this yours?’

Henry moved away, pretending he had only been reaching for another candle to light.

‘I … I was reading it, sir,’ Ellie admitted. ‘Master March gave it to me.’

‘Gave it to you?’

‘It is a loan.’

‘Are the annotations on pages four, eight, twelve, sixteen and so on, in your hand?’

‘Annotations? No, no, I would not presume to write in his books.’

Walsingham took a step closer and thrust the volume under her nose. ‘So what did you understand by them?’

All other activity in the room ceased as attention fastened on her. Stomach clenching with foreboding, Ellie turned her eyes down to the page he had on display. She’d seen the faint markings when she was reading, but they had meant little to her, just a list of names.

‘To tell the truth, sir, I paid them no heed.’

‘Did you not find it strange that these names only appear on certain pages and not on others?’

‘Now you mention it, I suppose it is.’

‘Looks to me like someone is trying to hide a message. What do you think the names mean?’

Ellie bit her lip and raised her gaze to his implacable face. ‘I … I don’t know, sir. Previous readers of the book perhaps?’

He snapped it shut, making her jump. ‘Or a list of traitors? If so, why would he entrust it to you? Is your name among them? Is your father’s?’

‘Why would it be?’ She looked to Will and found he had moved much nearer. ‘My lord, of what is it that I am accused?’

Will took her hand and pressed it comfortingly. ‘Nothing. Walsingham means only to test you.’

‘Is Master March truly a priest?’

‘I fear so.’

Walsingham tucked the book inside his doublet. ‘Very productive. An excellent night’s work. I’m sure you will agree, my lord, that these two must also be taken into custody. We would not want either fleeing the county before I have had a chance to sound this matter to the bottom.’

Will stood between Ellie and Walsingham, his back rigid. ‘What do you mean by that, exactly?’

‘There is enough here to warrant more rigorous questioning, my lord. The moment I heard about the priest, I sent for Thomas Norton.’

‘The rack master? I’ll not have innocents put to torture, sir – not on my lands.’

‘Ah, but they’re not innocent, are they?’ Walsingham picked up a pile of Sir Arthur’s letters and let them drift back to the desk like autumn leaves. ‘Even at a glance I see here correspondence in foreign tongues – Latin and Spanish to name but two.’

‘Hutton is a man of learning – surely it is no crime to exchange letters with fellow scholars?’

Ellie could feel her knees shaking, a damnable weakness but she couldn’t help it. The man meant to torture them for information of plots that they did not have. She’d heard tales of the rack – the cruel instrument that stretched a body beyond the point of all bearing: snapping sinews, dislocating bones. Many confessed to anything and everything just to be free of it. It was too much. Her heart pounded and her vision seemed to narrow down a dark tunnel. ‘Will, please!’ she said faintly.

Hearing her distress, Will turned quickly towards her and caught her just before she crumpled.

‘Ellie!’ her father cried, rushing to her side, but she felt too distant to reply.

Will lifted her to his chest, catching her legs behind her knees. ‘All will be well,’ he said calmly. ‘I won’t let them touch you. Walsingham, I cannot allow you to distress a lady with your threats. I’ll take the Lady Eleanor to my mother. If you wish to question her further, it will be done in the countess’s presence and without force.’

Ellie burrowed her head into the soft velvet of his doublet, not daring to open her eyes again. She was a coward to take refuge in such frailty, but right now it did seem her best and only strategy.

Walsingham snorted with derision. ‘Eve’s wiles, Dorset. Young as you are, you do not see them for what they are. Woman first brought man to sin.’

‘By my thinking, sir, man’s weakness brought him to sin. He had a duty to protect and care for his wife, not blame her for his own fallibility.’ With that, Will strode from the room and took Ellie into the fresh air.

The evening cool revived her a little. Pride reasserting itself, she struggled to get down but Will held her more closely.

‘Wait a moment, darling. I want you safe and out of that man’s sight before I release you. I had no idea what he had in mind. He really is a snake – I’ll not trust him within six feet of you.’

She snuggled closer to him, fingers stroking the soft nap of the maroon velvet, seeking comfort in his confidence as her own had been sapped. ‘What’s going to become of us, Will?’ The horrifying threats had left her feeling completely exposed, at the end of all her resources for survival. She knew she should
be embarrassed for collapsing – letting him haul her out like a bolt of cloth – but she didn’t.

He sat on a wooden bench in Dame Holton’s hawthorn arbour tucked into the thick hedge that bordered the road. Ellie could hear the others seeing to the loading of the horses beyond the thicket, stacking papers and books into panniers to be taken away for examination. She tried to slide down beside Will but he tightened his grip, keeping her on his lap.

‘Please, let me hold you,’ he murmured.