The Queen's Dwarf A Novel (40 page)

I stood beside Will as we watched his future bride dip and sway, her arms like willow fronds, her legs long and graceful, and her bare feet seeming too fragile to hold her.

No wonder Will was besotted. She did not look human, as if one touch would go right through her. A woman no man could catch or hold. Was he afraid that Buckingham might try to?

“You know I’ve had concerns about you and Dulcinea,” I said. “But I’m beginning to think that Sara knows better. Dulcinea cannot help warming to you when you love her so much.”

“She smiles at me more often.” He grimaced. “Unless His Grace is around.”

“Buckingham is a pompous arse,” I said. “Do not heed his nonsense.”

“It is not
all
nonsense,” Will said. “Sometimes even His Grace is right.”

“The devil he is!” I cuffed Will in the shin, trying to jar some of that infuriating reasonableness out of him. “I vow, you’d say Judas Iscariot had a point or two worth defending.”

“Actually, if Christ’s death was ordained by God Himself, someone had to betray—” He stopped. Doubtless for fear I’d hit harder. His voice softened. “I must be careful not to hurt her when I take her to bed, Jeff. I am such a hulking, clumsy thing, while she is made of fairy wings.”

I grumbled under my breath, knowing the truth. Fairy wings like Dulcinea’s were far stronger than they looked—far less likely to be torn than Will Evan’s wide-open heart.

Boku slid silently up beside us. Was the next act his? Buckingham had unsettled my mind so, I could not remember. I set my mouth, determined. I was not sure how I was going to do it, but I was going to find a way to make Buckingham turn his attentions elsewhere. The palace was full of women ripe for his philandering. There was only one lady who had captured Will Evans’s heart.

The music quickened, drawing my attention back to the performance. The rope gave just a little, absorbing Dulcinea’s weight. Was Sara right? Dulcinea had been missing steps, wavering just a little more than I had ever seen before. The babe in her womb was bound to change her point of balance, her breasts growing heavier, pulling her shoulders forward. I could not imagine any other woman performing as she did six months gone with child.

How long will she still be able to dance upon her rope? I wondered. Will she have the wit to know when it grows too dangerous? She craves an audience’s admiration. What will it take to stop her from seeking it out?

I heard a creaking noise, a strange twanging as Dulcinea’s right foot bounced upon the rope, her hand catching the basket handle. She dipped one hand into the silken butterflies, skipped one step nearer the queen. My irritation flared as one of the maids of honor caught Her Majesty’s attention, drawing the queen from beneath the rope just in time to ruin the effect.

“Will Evans, you must stop this,” Boku said. “Something is not right.”

“What would you have him do?” I asked in irritation. “Go haul the queen and her lady back to their seats?”

“Now!” Boku said, his voice suddenly strident. “Get Will’s lady down.”

I saw Will hesitate—a player’s instinct not to disrupt the performance. But he sensed something amiss, as well. He barked an order to Simon, then plowed through the courtiers, drawing cries of protest as he tried to reach the far side of the room.

I started after him—to do what, I could not say. The scaffolding above the queen’s seat was listing now, Dulcinea struggling to gain her balance. Her arms flailed, turning my blood ice-cold. She screamed. I heard Will bellow in alarm, lunging beneath her as a hideous crack split the air. The structure smashed down, Dulcinea plunging earthward, as if the king’s falcon had struck her from the sky.

T
WENTY-
F
OUR

I will never know how I was not trampled in that chaos of panicked people, shattered scenery, and tangled rope. I clambered over the maze of upended tables and chairs, clawed past whoever stood between me and the far end of the room.

“The queen!” I heard King Charles shout. “Where is my wife?”

“Safe, Majesty!” Buckingham yelled. Relief she had escaped surged through me. I could see Boku and Rattlebones with Dulcinea. No one save me rushed to the pile of planks and rigging that buried Will.

I could see him through the wreckage, his green shirt torn, blood smearing the frayed edge. Slivers of wood could pierce right through a man. I had heard the commanders returned from France say those shards killed more men than the cannonballs that sank the ships.

I clawed off the first plank, calling Will’s name. “Help me!” I screamed. “For God’s sake, somebody!” Splinters drove into my palm, but I barely felt them.

The pile of wood shifted, and I saw his craggy face, his deep-set eye. “Dulcinea…”

“Boku and Simon are with her. She’s moving.” He seemed to sag, his eye drifting closed. “Goddamn it, Will, for once think of yourself!”

“Jeffrey, leave off.”

“The devil I will! You great blockhead! I’m going to get you out of there.”

“Not … enough time…”

I felt as if my heart was ripping from my chest. “Don’t you dare die! Try it and I vow, I’ll—I’ll torment every serving girl I meet! I’ll tip over their buckets and … and Archie will seem the soul of kindness.”

The pile of wreckage shifted. “Not dying. Need to get to Dulcinea. Not time to have you dig me out.” The wood shifted beneath me as if an earthquake were hitting the palace. Will—shoving himself up onto his hands and knees with a groan.

“You’re bleeding,” I said, scrambling out of his way. “You should not move.”

“It would take more than this to crack a head as hard as mine. Just the wind knocked out of me and a few scratches.”

He pushed to his feet. The rest of the broken scaffolding clattered to the ground. He swayed, dizzy. I grabbed hold of his leg and braced myself in an effort to steady him. He was already staggering toward Dulcinea, dragging me along.

By the time we reached her, he’d gotten his balance. She moaned, her eyes at half-mast, her hands clutching her belly. “Fetch a surgeon!” Will bellowed, wild-eyed. But what medical man would bother with a rope dancer when aristocrats were in need of assessment?

Boku knelt beside Dulcinea, lifted her eyelids, and peered intently into the green depths. “I will tend her. In Spain, they burned books filled with more methods for healing than you can imagine.”

“Heathen places!” Rattlebones objected.

“Allow me to work on this girl that she may live. Let these barbarians with their unclean ways care for Dulcinea and she will be dead before she can be your bride.”

“Will, this is madness.” Rattlebones said. “Why should you trust this man?”

“The Spaniards did burn medical books not written by Catholics,” I said. “Called them works of the devil. People say the same thing about us.”

Will stared into Boku’s black eyes, his mouth curved into a frown.

“If you care for Dulcinea, will she be all right?” he asked.

“
She
will be.” Boku gestured to the dark stain spreading upon the gauzy fabric between her legs. “Some things are not meant to be.”

Will sucked in a shuddery breath, tears filling his eyes. “Can I move her?”

“Away from here, where I can help her.”

“Easy now, love,” Will soothed as he scooped her up. “I’ve got you safe.” Dulcinea twisted against him, cried out in pain, and went still. For a moment I feared she had stopped breathing, but her chest still rose and fell as he carried her through the halls to his chamber. He laid her on the big bed with its bridal linens.

No one spoke of propriety as he undressed her to her shift, slipping one of his big shirts over her head as a nightgown. Boku glided in and out like a shadow, applying poultices, pouring physics down her throat. Will kept vigil, changing the rags Sara brought him to catch the flow of blood.

“How could the accident have happened, Jeffrey?” he asked as he sat beside the bed, holding the unconscious Dulcinea’s hand. “I checked the rigging three times this morning to make sure it was secure. I had Inigo Jones and Robin check it, as well. Dulcinea even practiced upon it. You know how particular she is if there is even the slightest question about the rope.”

I stole out a little later to see what remained of the scaffolding myself. I was not the only one. Inigo Jones was examining the broken wood, grumbling under his breath as he showed the piece to a cluster of people beside him.

“Master Hudson!” the surveyor of the king’s works called when he saw me.

I gave a light bow of greeting. “Master Jones. Did you find what made the tower fall?”

“Some flaw in the wood. I might have missed it had Master Ware not discovered the evidence.”

Two of the onlookers turned, Buckingham smiling while Ware observed me with his single eye. “I am glad Ware’s years of examining my ships for seaworthiness could be of use to the palace,” Buckingham said, all traces of drunkenness gone.

“How is Sergeant Evans?” Ware asked.

“He claims not to be hurt. He wouldn’t tell us if he was. He’d rather sit by Dulcinea’s bedside.”

“Ah, the rope dancer,” Buckingham said. “How is Evans’s lovely bride?”

I gave the duke a cold stare. “She suffered a grippe in her belly. It is over now, but there is still much bleeding.”

Did the duke actually look grieved? “I am sorry for it. It would have been a beautiful…” His voice tracked off. “Performance,” he finally said.

“That performance might have cost the queen her life if that little maid had not drawn Her Majesty off to one side,” Ware said. He nudged the basket that had held Dulcinea’s butterflies with the toe of his boot.

Jones frowned. “What I am trying to understand is how this wood split so cleanly. Across the grain.”

“I’ve heard you talk to Will about the wood you choose for support beams,” I said. “It does not split against the grain unless the design is flawed. Could you have put too much weight on it?”

“There was nothing wrong with my design!” Jones roared, and I saw real fear in his face. “Do you think I’m fool enough to make such a mistake with the queen sitting beneath the frame?”

My stomach knotted at the stark truth. But if Jones had designed it and Will had inspected it, what could have caused the disaster? Unless someone had sabotaged the structure on purpose. If so, who was the target? Dulcinea? Or the queen?

“I beg pardon for Jeffrey’s ill manners, Master Jones,” Buckingham said. “He was briefly a member in my household and should know better. Master Ware, could you escort him back to the Freaks’ Lair and remind him of lessons you attempted to teach him when first he came to Burley House?” The patronizing bastard laid a hand on my head. I jerked away.

“Oh, I’ve learned many lessons at your hand!” Rage blinded me. But at the last instant, Samuel’s face flashed in my mind.

Ware stepped between the duke and me. He gave me a shove toward the door. “Friend Jeffrey, let us start refreshing our lessons by recounting the respect due a peer of the realm.” I started to balk, but Ware said beneath his breath. “You will not like it if I grab you by the collar and heave you out of here like one of your father’s dogs.”

I swore under my breath and strode out of the room. Ware thrust me into the nearest empty chamber. He grabbed me by the arms, lifting me up to eye level. He thumped me against the wall. “What do you think you were doing in there? Stirring up mischief where there is none!”

“The queen could have been killed! Will Evans almost was! And Dulcinea—”

“It sounds like the little bird is lighter by the weight of a bastard.”

“You knew about the child?”

“Of course I did. She’s lucky she fell!”

“You mean Buckingham is lucky! Did he want to get rid of the child? Is that what this was all about? Or did you sabotage the beam for him and get carried away? Did he mean for the whole structure to fall, or was that part accidental?”

Ware slapped me so hard, I saw stars. “Buckingham could have you killed for spouting such rot, and I would not blame him. What does Buckingham care about fathering one more bastard?”

“He’s plotted against the queen from the moment he placed me in Her Majesty’s service.”

“Intrigue is one thing, regicide another! The queen is Buckingham’s greatest ally at present, the only thing standing between the duke and disaster!”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“It is the truth!” Ware said. “At least with her around, people can divide their hatred between the French queen and the duke who squandered the fleet!” I clutched my aching jaw, hating that Ware was right.

“You want to do something useful? Discover who would benefit most from an accident befalling the queen.”

“Lady Carlisle wishes to become the king’s mistress,” I said. That much was true. But could the countess be involved in this debacle? I could see her employing love potions, or plotting masked seductions. But toppling a scaffold seemed more a scheme that a man would think of.

“Whatever her role, no woman would know how to sabotage that scaffold,” Ware said, and I squirmed at the feeling he could read my thoughts. “It was too complex an undertaking to keep it standing, seeming safe. Everyone knows that Will Evans scrutinizes any structure you curiosities perform on.”

I sorted through the guests at the performance, those closest to Lucy Hay. Sir Tobie Matthews, the toady who adored her, countless other men dazzled by her beauty and charm. James Hay, the upstart Scotsman she had suffered two years in the Tower for and had defied her terrifying father to wed.

“What about the earl of Carlisle?” I said. “If he was willing to ally himself with his wife’s lover to gain power, would it not be even more valuable to pander her to the king?”

“Even if Carlisle was subtle enough to conceive of such a plan—which I doubt—he is too indolent to carry it out. He has friends who might help him, but they are inept, as well. No. This plot nearly succeeded. We are seeking a more cunning foe. You were behind the stage. Is it true that black devil knew something was going to happen?”

A chill ran down my spine. They needed someone to blame. Who could be more convenient than Boku? The mysteries of the “black devil’s” cupboard had given rise to wild imaginings even in the menagerie. I thought of Boku’s care of Dulcinea, the falcon’s trust in him, the way he had saved Mitte. Most of all, how Pug had clung to the illusionist the first night I had taken Boku to the menagerie’s lodgings.