The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [59]
Barnaby’s voice caught. “Edward is dying.”
I was silent. Then I said, “I am sorry to hear it. Not only for his sake, but because Her Grace hoped to see him again. Now I fear she never will. I can only pray she’ll heed me.”
“She’ll heed me,” Barnaby said, with a certainty I found comforting in the extreme. “Her Grace, His Majesty, and I were raised together. She and I shared Edward’s lessons. In fact, we first taught Edward how to ride.” He smiled briefly. “Old King Henry would laugh out loud whenever Edward’s tutors went running to him, squawking that we must be punished for putting His Highness at risk.”
He shifted his dark blue stare to me. His smile became a taut grimace. “She knows I would never leave Edward’s side unless I was forced to. And she knows that even in exile, I’d find a way to watch over him. She’ll heed me, especially once I tell her about the duke.”
We reached the gardens. I’d never been more grateful for fresh air in my life. Above the palace, fiery jettisons and wheels careened and exploded, showering multicolored glitter over rapt figures crammed together on balconies lining the hall windows.
I started to attention. “The fireworks! Quick, which way to the pavilion?”
Peregrine sprinted to the left. Crossing an overgrown thicket of hedges and topiaries, I saw the pavilion ahead. The lake’s still waters reflected the artificial spectacle, so it seemed bathed in glittery fire. As we approached, I spied a silhouette in black standing at the balustrade. Another figure stood paces away, looking into the gardens.
“Give me a moment with her,” I said to Barnaby. “I don’t want to overwhelm her at first.” He nodded, and he and Peregrine crouched down as I walked forth into the splashes of moonlight and counterfeit fire.
The figure in black turned to me. I came before her, bowing. At her side, Kate gave a startled gasp. I hadn’t stopped to consider that besides my considerably soiled clothing, I must look a mess of bruises and cuts, blood caked on my face.
To her credit, Elizabeth did not comment, though her concern was plain. “Squire Prescott, please rise.” She paused. “Isn’t it rather late in the day for swimming?”
I smiled. “An accident, Your Grace. It looks worse than it is.”
“Thank God for that.” Her eyes gleamed. Her hair was seeded with pearls, coiled at her nape. She looked disarmingly young, the severity of her black gown with its banded ruff and lace cuffs emphasizing her willowy figure. Only her hands gave her away, those exquisite ringed fingers twisting and untwisting a handkerchief.
“Well?” she said. “Will you speak? Has an accident also detained your master?”
“Your Grace, I’m afraid I bring news of His Majesty your brother. And of your cousin, Lady Jane.” I paused, wet my parched lips. In that moment, I realized how fantastic, even ludicrous, my tale would sound, let alone lacking in any proof. I also had the disquieting sensation she knew exactly what I was about to say.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“His Majesty your brother is dying,” I said quietly. “The duke keeps his illness a secret so that he can set Lady Jane and his son Guilford on the throne. He plans to capture you and your sister the Lady Mary, put you both in the Tower. If you stay in Greenwich, no one will be able to vouch for your safety.”
I went silent. Without taking her eyes from me, Elizabeth said, “Kate, is this true?”
Kate Stafford stepped to us. “I fear so.”
“And you knew about it? Cecil … knew?”
“Not everything.” Kate didn’t avoid my stare, though she had just confirmed she did report to Cecil. “But I do not doubt Squire Prescott’s word. It would appear he has good reason for saying this.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I don’t doubt it, not for a second. I’ve suspected something of this nature was afoot from the moment Northumberland refused my request to visit Edward. I suppose I should consider myself fortunate I haven’t been arrested yet.” She paused, her gaze still on me. “Do you know why I haven’t been arrested?”
“I believe his lordship does not dare risk it,” I replied, “lest word