The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [225]
‘And the Queen of England approves of her husband making war on the Pope?’
‘If you’ll believe that, you’ll believe anything,’ Wharton said. ‘But who’s going to stop him? He’s coming to England in Lent. And then the fun will begin. He’ll want English help.’
‘Will he get it?’ said Lymond.
But Tom Wharton was not quite drunk enough to go on. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Time will tell. The Council doesn’t babble its business in England, you know. You have to be under the table to know what goes on in England. Austin could tell you, but he’s a nice, discreet boy. Your little wife could tell you, and a lot more than I could, I fancy. The secrets of that bedchamber would be well worth knowing, if you were a man of affairs. I say that woman will never breed. Not in her forties, not in her thirties, not any time. Nor will her sister. Men mistaken for women. Like the widow of Binche. Not what a proper man fancies. Now——’
‘I have a message for you,’ said Austin Grey directly to Lymond.
With some regret, having brought his other companion to simmering point, Lymond turned back to the youth. Austin Grey of Allendale, a diffident man of quiet and obstinate purpose, lifted his chin a trifle and looked into the cold face of authority, faintly marked, faintly impatient, which had surprised and shaken him so profoundly. He said, ‘It is from Philippa’s mother.’
‘Mistress Somerville,’ Lymond said. Someone, in the centre of the room, was rendering an English folk song, with indifferent success. Against the noise, he added, ‘From my home in Midculter?’
‘No. Here in Berwick,’ Allendale said. ‘She heard you were coming. She has taken rooms at an Ordinary.’
‘With the child,’ Lymond said. His voice was amused; his face chiselled with fine contradictory lines; of irony, entertainment, even, possibly, of a scathing anger which might have been stronger than any of the rest. ‘Whom she wishes to transfer to my keeping. Along with my loving wife Philippa?’
‘She said,’ Allendale said levelly, ‘that you were certain to suppose she had demands to make on you. I was therefore to give you this letter. ‘
Without speaking, Lymond received it. He read it then and there, in such a way that even Tom Wharton peering beside him could see nothing. It began without preamble; without his first name which she, of the vanishing handful of those closest to him, had earned the right to employ.
From what Richard has said, and more from what he has not said, I know what you wish us to understand about your intentions. I will not speak here, or at any time, about my personal wishes or anyone else’s. I am mentioning the name of Kuzúm only to assure you that it will not be referred to again.
All I wish to put to you is that here, on neutral ground, it is necessary for us both, as her elders and, I hope, her well-wishers, to make what arrangements are needful for the future of Philippa.
I have heard the circumstances of the marriage, and I understand your desire to give her a standing after what she had done on behalf of you and the child. Since a legal step was taken, and matters of law and finance are now involved, simple consultation of some kind seems necessary. Should you agree to this, Austin will bring you to where I am staying this evening. If he brings me your refusal, I shall try to understand, and at least you may be sure there is no possible ill will between us.…
There were no conventional greetings. Only her own Christian name, KATE.
Across the table, watching the Voevoda read his letter, Edmund Roberts was reminded of something. ‘My God, I nearly forgot. Crawford!’
Lymond looked up.
‘I’ve got a letter for you as well. Remember Chancellor’s chest?’
‘Yes,’ Lymond said. To Grey’s watching face he said shortly. ‘I shall