The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [76]
I hadn’t realized I had recoiled until I saw the alarm on her face. “That’s who I saw on the leads. Walsingham. He had a dagger. It’s why I jumped. I remember now. Cecil arranged Her Grace’s escape, but he wanted me dead. He sent Walsingham to kill me.”
“No,” she said quietly. “You have it wrong. Walsingham was there to help you. We would never have known where to look had he not told us he’d seen you leap into the river. He even fetched your sword from where it had fallen into the courtyard.”
“Maybe he had no other choice! The sword was evidence I’d been in Edward’s presence. I might survive the fall, as I did.”
“But you still wouldn’t have been found, not in that current. You had a wounded shoulder. There were rope and riverweeds wrapped about your legs. By all rights, you should have drowned.” She paused. “Cecil entrusted Walsingham with your welfare. He’s been watching over you the entire time. That’s why he was on those leads. When we failed to show up at the postern gate, he followed our trail.”
I let out a harsh chuckle. “I wonder where he was when the duchess of Suffolk and her henchman locked me in an underground cell and left me to drown.” Yet even as I spoke I thought of my jerkin, which I’d left by the pavilion and which had inexplicably materialized near the ruined cloister entrance, where Peregrine found it. What had the boy said?
If we hadn’t happened to find your jerkin, we’d never have thought to look …
“Peregrine told us about that,” said Kate. “At the time you were taken, Walsingham was readying the horses we never took. Surely, you can’t fault him?”
“Not unless you take into account that everyone I’ve met at court, not to mention everyone I’ve known since childhood, has proven false,” I retorted. The instant the words were out, I regretted it. Kate bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. She stood.
I caught hold of her hand. “No. I’m the one who must apologize. I … I didn’t mean it.”
She looked down at our twined hands, lifted her gaze to me. “Yes, you did.” She unhooked her fingers. “I understand. That woman … Barnaby said she was an herbalist brought by the Dudleys to poison His Majesty. He said you knew her, that they lied to you about her death. How could you not be angry?”
My throat knotted. I looked away, tears burning in my eyes. I didn’t see Kate reach into her pocket, only felt her set something in my hand. When I saw what it was, I went still.
“I found this in your jerkin pocket. I took the liberty of polishing it. It’s a strange thing, but pretty.” She took up the tray, went to the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours with your supper. Try to get some rest.”
The door clicked shut.
I gazed at the gift that Alice had given me. It was a delicate gold petal, its jagged edge indicating it had once formed part of a larger jewel. On its tip, like a perfect dewdrop, was a ruby. I had never seen anything like it. It was the last thing I’d have expected her to possess.
I enclosed it in my hand as dusk faded into night.
When grief finally came to claim me, I did not fight it.
Chapter Twenty-one
Kate returned with a bundle of clothes and her tray heaped with meat on trenchers and sauced vegetables. Peregrine was with her, grinning. He carried a folded table. After he set it up, he returned with my saddlebag, and, to my surprise, the king’s sheathed sword, which I’d last seen clattering off the leads at Greenwich. I opened the bag to examine its jumbled contents. I sighed in relief when I found the stolen psalm book, still wrapped in its protective cloth.
I turned to Kate. She’d changed into a rose velvet gown that enhanced the muted gold in her hair. As she busied herself lighting candles about the room, I acknowledged my desire to draw her into my arms and caress away the last of my mistrust. But Peregrine demanded my attention, dancing about like a precocious imp, Elizabeth’s silver hound at his heels.
“You look rather pleased with yourself,” I said as he helped me to my feet and into a robe. “And isn’t that Her Grace