Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [69]
At first she gripped the packet without tearing it open, deferring the moment, euphoric only that he had written, and so must be safe. Then she cut the strings and unfolded the outer paper to find, surprised, that inside there was less than she thought: a small note of one page for herself, and a larger one folded in half, and covered with a very fine drawing of a fox and a dog and two hares, signed by T. Cochrane, and obviously destined for Jodi. Well, thank you, Tam Cochrane. Without you, he would have sent a much smaller package. She unsealed the note to herself.
It was in code. Busy Nicholas. Market secrets already?
She was good at codes, and hardly had to look up anything. It was one particular to themselves, so that she translated the last few lines first, which proved to be the only personal ones in the note, but which could hardly have been more specifically personal. She flushed, and choked to herself as she read them, because he would know very well the disturbance he was causing. She hoped he felt as frustrated himself when he wrote it. Then she deciphered the rest of the letter and sat, deep in troubled thought, for a long time. Finally she turned back, with rather more care, to Master Tam Cochrane’s generous drawing.
It consisted of more than one folded sheet. Sealed between them, and freed only by a very sharp knife, was another note, addressed, in handwriting she did not recognise, to Anselm Adorne, Baron Cortachy.
Gelis rose and went to find Tobie’s wife Clémence, whose wisdom she respected, and who could keep a secret, as he could, to the grave. Clémence went out. Later that day, it became known that Lord Cortachy seemed unwell, and Dr Tobias had undertaken to visit him. His visit was short. Leaving, he made his way, as might be expected, to the Hôtel Jerusalem, to reassure the sick man’s niece, Katelijne.
To Kathi he said immediately, ‘He isn’t ill. It was a ruse, to let me hand him a letter from someone. This letter. Your uncle wants you to see it.’
He watched her read it: young Kathi, whom he knew so well, and who had shouldered the burdens of others all her short life. And then Robin. And now, this.
He had found before that men of a certain class, of a certain birth, were careless in the matter of bastards, as servants were not. Or were hungry for heirs, even base-born ones. Or sometimes a girl would fib about taking precautions, in the hope of a child. Or yet again, sometimes love, or lust was so intense that the experience was supreme; the consequence nothing.
Whatever the cause, the consequence now was painful to contemplate. Phemie Dunbar of Haddington Priory was with child by Adorne, and would give birth in July to a bastard child whom everyone would know to be his. Dispensation could not be summoned in time, even if it were deemed proper to give it. And support from Adorne there would be none, for he was here, and on trial for his life.
Kathi said, ‘Where was he when he read it?’ She hadn’t looked up.
‘Alone,’ said Tobie. ‘I paid for a room.’ He had been inescapably there as Adorne read the letter. The doctor had stared hard through the bars of the window until he heard Adorne force his breathing under control. Then Tobie had turned and said, ‘What do you want done?’
‘Or undone?’ Adorne had said. His lashes were wet, but his face was as disciplined as his voice. And had added, ‘I would have nothing undone. I would have made her my wife. I will do it still.’
And Tobie had said, ‘Then will you give me a letter for her? And do you want Kathi told? No one else knows, but Gelis and Clémence.’
‘They should all know,’ Adorne had said.
After that, he had written a letter, a short one, with the writing materials that Tobie had brought. Tobie had been shown it. A formal acknowledgement of the child, and of responsibility for its upbringing. A promise to marry. And words of love, no less believable for being restrained. When he had finished, Tobie had said, ‘I have some bad news. Barbesaen has confessed on the rack, and has been condemned. He is to hang.’
‘And so may I?’ Adorne said.