The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [21]
All of a sudden, I felt the urgent need to act, get the errand done with. I wanted to deliver my part of the bargain, make my excuses, and go to bed. Whether or not I could retrace my steps to the Dudley chambers remained to be seen, but at least I could rest easy knowing I’d done as ordered. After a good night’s sleep, I’d be in a better frame of mind to ascertain how best to navigate any future role I might have in Robert Dudley’s schemes.
I continued to watch the girl for an appropriate time to approach, following her with my gaze as she turned to a group of passing women. Before I knew what was happening, she’d blended into their midst. As they sauntered past, she cast a smile over her shoulder. It was an invitation only a fool would pass up.
Master Shelton chortled. “There’s a comely wench. Why not see what she has to offer?” He gave me a pat on the back. “Go on. If Lord Robert comes looking for you, I’ll tell him I sent you away, the hall being no place for a squire alone.”
I was momentarily flummoxed. I might have been mistaken, but I had the distinct impression he wanted to get rid of me, which suited me fine. Forcing out a smile, I squared my shoulders and strolled off. When I looked back over my shoulder, I saw he had turned to the wine decanter behind him.
I trailed the girl at a distance, admiring her confident air and that lustrous hair rippling like a banner down her back. I wasn’t inexperienced when it came to women, and I thought her far more enticing than any primped or powdered court lady. But I had so taken to her pursuit, I didn’t pause to consider she might have another end in mind than facilitating our acquaintance.
She made an abrupt maneuver, and, like smoke, vanished into the crowd. I turned, searching, turned again, and came to a stop.
I couldn’t believe it. I’d never seen anyone disappear thus. It was as if she’d taken flight.
Only then did I take stock of my surroundings and realize with a belated curse that she had, in fact, brought me around the hall to the other side. Now I stood closer than before to the royal dais, the company of nobles, and the princess.
I sought to make myself small. Close up, they were an intimidating group: privileged and glossy, with the air of unassailable primacy that characterized the nobility. Elizabeth had left Jane Grey and sat, bemused, listening to the person opposite her. All I could see of this person was a gross, ringed hand clutching a cane.
I began to sidle backward, wary as a cat, praying the princess would not catch sight of me. All I needed was for her to single me out and cast the remainder of my already doubtful future into ruin.
So intent was I on my retreat that I almost failed to see the person bearing down upon me. When I did, I froze in my tracks.
It was Lady Dudley, Duchess of Northumberland.
The sight of her was like cold water flung in my face. Lady Dudley, Lord Robert’s mother. Could it get any worse? Of all the people I might have come across, why her? In her world, lackeys always knew their proper place. And mine was certainly not lurking in this hall.
She was like marble, her austere beauty enhanced by an exquisite garnet velvet gown. As I stood there, paralyzed to my spot, I was plunged back to a day, years ago, when she’d come upon me smuggling a book out of the Dudley Castle library.
I’d turned thirteen and was grief-stricken over the sudden loss of Mistress Alice. The book was one of French psalms, a favorite of Alice’s, bound in calfskin, with a French dedication on its frontispiece: A mon amie de votre amie, Marie.
Lady Dudley had taken it from my hands, told me to remove myself to the stables. An hour later, Master Shelton arrived with a whip. He had been in the Dudley service less than a year; he scarcely knew me and thus delivered the punishing strokes