The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [25]
The next minutes passed like years as I stood waiting to see if anyone would follow. The courtiers began to take their leave. No one seemed to notice that Elizabeth had left. I started to move to the door when I espied the princess’s attendant sidling up to a stark figure I failed to recognize at first. When I did, my heart lurched. It was Walsingham, Cecil’s associate. He and the girl exchanged a few words before they parted, Walsingham turning pointedly away. Neither showed any intention of following the princess.
I slipped to the door. I didn’t see Master Shelton before he suddenly blocked my way. “I thought I told you to stay put. Or haven’t you found enough trouble for one night?”
I met his bloodshot stare. He’d never given me cause to mistrust him. Yet he answered to Lady Dudley for everything he did; and in that moment all I saw was a reminder of the powerlessness I had felt all of my life. “Since you seem to know more about this so-called trouble than I do,” I retorted, “maybe you can explain it to me.”
His voice turned ugly. “You ungrateful whelp, I don’t need to explain anything to you. But I’ll tell you this much: If you value your skin you’ll stay far from Elizabeth. She’s poison, just like her mother. No good ever came of the Boleyn witch, and none will come of the daughter.”
He flung the words at me like filth. It was a warning I knew I should heed, but at that moment all I wanted was to get away from him and the Dudleys, no matter the cost.
“Be that as it may, I have my master’s bidding to fulfill.”
“If you go after her,” he said, “I’ll not be responsible for it. I’ll not protect you from the consequences. Do you understand? If you go, you’re on your own.”
“Perfectly.” I inclined my head and walked around him. I did not look back, though I could feel his eyes boring into me. I had the uncanny sensation that despite his threats, he understood what I was about to do, that somehow, in a distant past, he’d felt the same compulsion, and was, in his belligerent way, trying to save me from myself.
Then all thought of him left my mind as I hurried into the passage in search of Elizabeth.
Chapter Eight
I thought I was too late, for she seemed to have vanished into the labyrinth of halls and galleries. My heels struck hollow echoes on the floors as I dashed down one corridor, paused, and turned into another. I was following my instinct, avoiding the line of sputtering sconces spaced unevenly on the walls, braving the darker twists and turns in the blind hope that she would not take so easy a route.
I nearly sighed aloud when I finally came upon her, standing in an archway that led into an inner courtyard, bunching handfuls of her gown. She’d removed her filigree net; her hair coiled loose, like fire, over her taut shoulders. Hearing my approach before she saw me, she spun about. “Ash Kat, get word to Cecil at once. We must—”
She stopped, staring. “By God, you are bold.” She looked past me. Panic colored her voice. “Where are my women? Where are Mistress Ashley and Mistress Stafford?”
I bowed low. “I haven’t seen Mistress Ashley,” I said, using the tone I’d learned to wield when dealing with a volatile foal. “If by Mistress Stafford, you refer to your other lady, she didn’t follow you out. In fact, I saw her go in the opposite direction.”
“She must have gone to ready my barge.” Elizabeth paused. Her eyes were unblinking, riveted on me as if she might truly divine my purpose under my skin. She abruptly gestured, moving on swift steps into the courtyard, where the shadows lay thick. Glancing back to the doorway, she said, “Why are you still following me?”
My hand went to my doublet. “I’m afraid I still have my master’s orders to complete.”
Her face hardened. “Then uncompleted those orders will remain.