Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [169]
Members of reigning houses have no need to introduce themselves. This was Lord James Stewart, the Scots Queen’s half-brother; and his uplifted hand, discreetly steadying, proved that Lord James was not in the right place by accident.
If he was going to be ill, as he was, almost immediately, it might as well be under royal auspices. Lymond said, ‘I gather we share the acquaintance of a lady named Martine. Thank you.’
Someone with apparent authority moved forward and spoke to his escort. A pair of double doors opened and closed behind him and his mare was brought to a halt in the peace of a small, silent courtyard. He left the saddle with what seemed to be a great deal of expert assistance.
‘I should be obliged,’ said Lymond, ‘if you would take that horse off and shoot it.’
He had understood he was going to be sick. It was much to his surprise therefore, that before they could help him, he fainted.
Chapter 4
La verge en main mise au milieu de branches
De l’onde il mouille et le limbe et le pied
Un peur et voix fremissent par les manches
Splendeur divine, Le Divin près s’assied.
Philippa, who was rarely favoured with the more dramatic ailments of this world, had a head cold of historic virulence.
It assailed her the morning after Francis … Mr Crawford had proposed in public to catalogue the bodily features of his Russian mistress; and by the time she reported for duty had thickened into a turgid, throat-rasping affair which recalled all Gideon used to say, cheerfully, about avoiding claret if your name began with a letter of the alphabet. Madame de Brêne quite rightly turned her away from the little Queen’s chamber, and she returned to blow her nose in her room, where Adam Blacklock presently found her.
He, too, was pale, presumably from Marthe’s wine and not the Hôtel de Ville claret, and the hesitations both in his walk and his speech were more marked than she had seen them recently. He spoke politely to Célie, who let him in and then retired to the window with her sewing. Then, crossing the room, he said without any preamble, ‘Philippa. Have you heard any news yet this morning?’
Francis … Mr Crawford, she thought. No. Madame de Brêne would have told her. Not Kate, either: that would have to come to her direct. Then someone else from the Séjour du Roi: Marthe? Jerott? Danny? Or Austin …?
To her extreme irritation Adam, a diffident man, was still standing looking at her. She said, ‘I haven’t heard any news. I’ve got a cold. Out of his Nois the meldrop fast can rin. What news do you have? I’d prefer something soothing.’
‘Francis has gone to Dieppe,’ Adam said. ‘He left last night, after a false report that his mother and brother had drowned.’
Because he was kind, he had put it clearly. But still she said, ‘False?’ And then, when he nodded, ‘And you have sent someone after Mr Crawford to tell him?’
‘It was too late,’ Adam said. ‘He will find them at Dieppe with the other Commissioners.’
Last night, distressed and exhausted, she had been granted at least rest and privacy. While Francis, his condition no better than hers, had taken to the road, with that news for company. And at the end of it, Sybilla. And Richard.
She remembered, looking at Adam, that he knew all about that. The elderly maid had her head bowed. Philippa said, ‘The shock might mend affairs between them. Surely, when they see him, they’ll be careful.’
Adam said, ‘If he is tired, and they put a foot wrong, he will choose the one unmentionable response and make it. He did it last night. I don’t know if you or Austin can forgive him. Marthe never will.’
Philippa sat down. ‘Marthe’s troubles can wait. Tell me what you are afraid of?’
Adam sat down also, his face drawn in the cold light. He also, one would guess, had slept very little last night. He said, ‘So far, Richard knows nothing of Marthe. I know, from