The Virgin Queen's Daughter - Ella March Chase (33 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Later That Day

I
WAS NO LONGER NAïVE ENOUGH TO HOPE ONE OF THE
other maids had been prying about my desk. They would not bother taking a scrap of fabric. Only one man could know its significance. Sir Francis Walsingham.

Eppie must have told all when he tortured her upon the rack.

Oh, God, why had I not burned the scrap the way I knew I should?

I closed up the desk’s compartment and stowed it back in my trunk. Shutting the lid, I paced the chamber, trying to think what to do. I could not run, but neither could I wait here like a helpless fool. I could not solve this puzzle on my own. There was only one person who might be able to help me find a way to escape. I must go back to Gabriel. Warn him.

I started toward the door, glimpsed my face in a looking glass, my eyes wild, my face flushed. Step one foot outside the chamber looking like this and I might as well light a signal fire to alert Walsingham I knew what he had stolen from me. I had already made enough of a spectacle of myself today, racing out to the lists when Gabriel fell.

I leaned closer to the looking glass, smoothed my hair, but no matter how I tried to pinch color into my cheeks, my eyes still held images from hell. I forced myself to walk with some measure of decorum, even paused to greet Thomas Keyes when I stumbled across him. But once I reached Gabriel’s room all my subterfuge seemed absurd. Two guards dressed in crimson stood at the door with halberds in their hands.

“We have strict orders from Lord Robert that no one may enter,” one said.

“Please,” I begged. “If you would grant me but a moment.”

“I am sorry, Mistress. Perhaps you may see Sir Gabriel when he is better.”

I bit my lip. “Has the physician seen him? Is Sir Gabriel well?”

“I am only the guard, Mistress. I cannot say.”

My knees shook as I forced myself to move away. Was it possible that Gabriel had taken a turn for the worse after I left him? I could remember mother explaining that sometimes there were torn places deep inside the body that bled until the injured person died. Hard as the lance had struck Gabriel, violently as he had landed upon the ground, was it not possible he would suffer such a fate?

I blinked back tears. I wanted to flee the palace. I wanted to storm into Gabriel’s rooms. I wanted to turn back time, give Gabriel my favor, somehow make things turn out differently. But how could they? Dudley knew I was with child. He guessed it was Gabriel Wyatt’s. Walsingham had Eppie’s confession. There could be little question of that now. He would not have presented his report to Elizabeth until he had every fragment of information gathered. Hadn’t Walsingham told me he did not allow anything to distress the queen? But now he had the scrap of bed curtain that could extinguish any shadow of doubt if Elizabeth was indeed my mother. And it was no one’s fault but my own. How long had he had it, I wondered. Had he discovered it long ago? Before Kat Ashley grew ill? Had he kept it, biding his time until the queen’s private anguish was over? Sparing me until he could see Her Majesty was recovering? I would never know. I only knew I had not opened the compartment since the night I first hid the scrap of bed curtain away.

Despair overwhelmed me as I thought of Gabriel, injured, trapped in his chamber, under guard. The thought of him suffering imprisonment, even death, because of my folly was unbearable.
You need not fear he’ll suffer once he sees he cannot save you,
I could almost hear Mary say.
He escaped the headsman’s axe when his own father died.
That was his mother’s doing. It was not Gabriel’s fault! I argued with myself, fierce, frightened. Gabriel would not betray—

That depends on whether you want an unfaithful husband or a dead one . . .

Gabriel’s words from the day we were wed. What would I give to keep light in his eyes, that devil’s smile on his lips? What would I give? Anything. The truth jolted me. Anything except our child. But how could I protect our child? Get us away from here? That is what Gabriel said he would have done. Gather my small belongings and flee . . .

And where would you run?
reason demanded
. Walsingham will hunt you to the end of the earth. A woman with a belly full of child cannot keep ahead of pursuing hounds for long.
No. I could not run. I could only go back to the palace, make my way to the Maids’ Lodgings, and wait.

When I reached the chamber, Mary was there, her headdress askew, her spaniel whining at her feet. “Nell, I wished to tell you first before Lettice or Douglass, the nasty cats! The queen is furious over your display at the tiltyard. She has ordered you to stay in these rooms until she summons you.”

“It will be a relief not to have to face the rest of the court.” I collapsed onto a carved wood stool. I did not care if Mary saw me shattered.

“Lord Robert and the queen were closeted a full hour together alone. Then Walsingham entered. When they exited—I have never seen the queen so angry.” Mary hugged her arms tight about her. “It frightened me. I came right away to warn you.”

I could imagine her, skirts caught up, tiny legs flying as she tried to outdistance Lettice. At the best of times, Mary sometimes had difficulty breathing. Running like that, it was little wonder her face was scarlet, dripping with sweat. That she had pressed herself so hard for me touched me deeply. I blinked back tears, knowing she would not welcome that brand of gratitude. “You would do better to keep away from me, Mary. Join the other maids wherever they are. I do not wish the queen’s anger to fall on you.”

Mary trembled, scooping up her frantic spaniel. Polly snuggled against her mistress, close as she could get. “I would not leave you even now, except I fear for Thomas. He thinks Walsingham’s men have searched his rooms.”

So they were spying on Thomas Keyes as well as on me? “Walsingham must have been very busy indeed,” I said.

“Nell, I am sorry to leave you. But Thomas . . . Please understand.”

“I do, Mary. Go. I would not have you caught up in this.”

Mary hesitated, obviously torn. She crossed to me, thrust Polly into my arms. “You must take care of Mistress Nell now,” Mary told the little spaniel. “I would not leave my friend alone.”

I should have protested her sacrifice. I knew how great it was. Instead I gathered Polly to me. I could feel the spaniel’s heartbeat, the warmth of her small, silky body.

T
HE NEXT DAY
the queen sent guards to escort me to the Council Chamber.

The place where Gabriel and I had danced so many times was deserted now, a vast, hollow cave that magnified my fears like a malevolent echo. Within stood the dread triumvirate I knew I would have to face. Lord Robert paced the room like one of the Tower menagerie’s lions, his auburn hair disordered as if he had torn at it in frustration, his handsome face sharp with suspicion. Walsingham waited a few paces away from his queen, and I could not forget what he had said the day he questioned me about Eppie—that he had a daughter like me. But the sorrowful, almost fatherly expression he had regarded me with was gone, the spymaster’s face was now as grim as the portraits of death painted on church walls when plague first decimated England.

Most daunting of all, the queen stood by the tiny window, her face terrible in its stillness, every fiber of her being under fierce control.

I crossed to this woman whose hair I had rubbed with a length of red silk to bring out the shine, this scholar I had debated with long into the night. I had known the most intimate details of her existence, but the hard-eyed monarch before me seemed like a stranger. I stopped before her, dropped into the deepest curtsey I could manage. But my swollen breasts and my thickening waist made me awkward. Or was it something else that unnerved me? The familiar sound of Gabriel’s tread as he approached the chamber from the corridor beyond. I fought the urge to go to him. What shelter could we give each other now? Instead I determined to hold myself with the dignity befitting even secret royal blood.

Gabriel entered the room and attempted to sweep Her Majesty a bow. He winced and clamped his arm against his left side. His lips compressed in a tight line. No trace of empathy softened the queen’s disgust. “Sir Gabriel, you have much to answer for.”

He straightened his shoulders in spite of his pain. “Yes, Majesty. I do.”

“Half the men on the tiltyard overheard you make a most infuriating claim. When I questioned the Earl of Leicester he confessed he has known for some time you planted your bastard in Nell de Lacey’s belly.”

“Strange my lord Dudley never mentioned the subject to me. ”Was he trying to incite the queen to fury? I held my breath, knowing what storm would come.

“Do not try any of your sly evasions with me, Sir! Debauching a maid of honor in my care is a transgression I will not tolerate!”

“Your Grace is to be commended for tending to their virtue with such care. Just let me say I hold the lady’s honor as precious as my own. She is my wife.”

“Your wife?” Dudley exclaimed. Hectic color flamed in Elizabeth’s cheeks. Any hope we had of softening that revelation or of enlisting Dudley’s aid was gone.

“I married Nell some months ago,” Gabriel said.

“Married her?” Walsingham turned to me. His brows lifted a fraction, betraying a faint hint of surprise. It was an experience I would wager he had not had often. “Mistress Elinor, is what he claims true?”

“It is.” I fidgeted with my astrolabe, hoping its familiar gold weight would steady my nerves. How could Gabriel seem so calm?

He regarded the spymaster with a steadiness that astonished me. “I have witnesses to prove we were wed if Her Majesty requires them.”

“Do not you dare address me with such insolence!” The queen’s temper blazed. “You deceived me. Plotted against me. How dare you make a fool of your queen?”

“I am the fool, Your Grace,” Gabriel said. “Mistress Nell made one of me. She tempted a man who has prided himself on being a masterful courtier to do something he knew was inexcusable. Her virtue was unassailable and I was most taken with her. I have no resistance when it comes to temptation.”

“You can save your fairy stories, Wyatt! I know the kind of man you are! Where is this priest who married you against my will? I vow he will suffer the consequences of his actions.” Father Ambrose’s features rose in my mind, so gentle as he told tales of the boy Gabriel had been. Fear for the old man filled me. Surely Gabriel would not name him! The Angel softened his voice.

“I can hardly produce the good Father if he is to face your wrath, Majesty. The fault in this matter is mine alone.”

“Produce him or suffer the punishment for fornication!” the queen roared. “Both you and your whore.”

Gabriel’s smooth facade cracked. “The lady is my wife.”

“The lady is a fool! I warned her to beware of you! But no. She did not listen. Instead, she plotted against me.”

“No, Majesty!” I protested, clasping my hands to keep them from shaking. “I swear on my soul I did not.”

“Quiet, you stupid girl! And make me no oaths! You have already shown you are willing to deceive me!” The queen swung back to Gabriel. “Tell me, sir. What did you hope to gain from this marriage?”

“What most men do: A handsome dowry and God willing, an heir.”

“Do not toy with me, you treacherous whoreson.” Gabriel went still. I knew he was thinking of his mother. How he held back a sharp retort I would never know. “Walsingham claims you have been plotting treason!” Elizabeth accused.

“Treason?” A muscle in Gabriel’s jaw ticked. “Never, Majesty. I am your most loyal subject.”

“Then it is a miracle I still have a country to rule! Did you hope to blackmail a queen with some wild story a madwoman spread before she died?”

Panic dug cold fingers into my chest. “No one believes the ramblings of a mad woman,” I protested.

“Perhaps not,” Elizabeth countered, “but you seem quite sane, Mistress. In fact, all my court raves about your intellect. That is what makes you all the more dangerous. Tell me, Elinor de Lacey Wyatt. Exactly who do you think you are?”

I searched for words to calm the queen’s fears, perhaps elude the snare closing all about me. “I am a country-bred daughter from Calverley Manor.” I forced myself to meet her gaze. “I wish only to go back home.”

“Surely there is more to you than that!”

“There is.” I glanced at my husband. He was watching me, steady as a wolf with a band of huntsmen circled around him. “I am Sir Gabriel Wyatt’s wife.”

“God’s blood!” Elizabeth dashed the candelabra from the table. It clattered to the floor. “Would I could wrench a straight answer from you with my own hands!”

“It is true, Majesty. I would not trade the title of wife. Not even for a crown.” I prayed she would see the truth in my eyes.

“Traitors are never in danger of enjoying either marriage or a crown,” the queen threatened. “And as for your
husband
, do not count on him to hold loyal. Men are most unreliable when the right pressure is applied, and Sir Gabriel is my most pragmatic courtier. I do not have to search far to find a charge to level against him. He has broken the law, dueled twice against my express warning.”