A Pawn for a Queen: An Ursula Blanchard Mystery at Queen Elizabeth I's (Ursula Blanchard Mystery at Queen Elizabeth I's Court) Read Online Free Page B
window. The winter dusk was already gathering. I said: “Today is nearly over. But I can leave at first light tomorrow morning.”
I had better reasons for agreeing than they knew. I knew a good deal about the current political situation. A young man called Henry Lord Darnley, a Tudor descendant and a cousin of both Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary, was due at any moment to start out for Scotland, ostensibly to see his father, who was visiting the familyestates there, but in reality to present himself to Queen Mary as a potential husband.
He was being allowed to go only because he was a slightly less lethal prospect than a marriage between Mary and some Catholic prince with armies at his command. Even so, a Mary Stuart reinforced by a Tudor-bred consort could be very interested indeed in having up-to-date details of people who might help her to raise an army on English soil. It was my duty to get my hands on that list if I could and destroy it.
And I had another reason for agreeing. I didn’t say yes simply because it was my duty or even because Edward was family (though I did have a glow of satisfaction over my own good-heartedness).
It was the excitement that drew me. I did not have the kind of nature that could be satisfied forever with well-planned dinners and linen rooms full of faultlessly folded sheets interleaved with dried lavender. Plenty of people considered that wrong in a woman—there were times, indeed, when I thought so as well—but it was the way I was made. Queen Elizabeth and Cecil had recognized it and made use of it.
This particular opportunity had come to me in a time of grief and loneliness like a summons back to life. It was like the call of the wild geese in the cold, wide sky, a sound that I loved.
Or so it seemed when I was sitting by the hearth at Faldene. The mood didn’t last through the cold early start next morning. Then, as I rode reluctantly through the gatehouse arch of Withysham, I wonderedat myself. On more than one occasion in the past, I had determined to give up my perilous way of life. Every time I made such a resolution, I seemed to break it five minutes later. A new task, a new set of challenges, would call to me, like the siren voices of the wild geese. It seemed that I would just never learn.
3
Lying to a Friend
“I can give you money,” said my uncle Herbert. “A hundred and fifty pounds in sovereigns.”
An anguished spasm, which had nothing to do with gout, crossed his face as he spoke. My uncle hated broaching his coffers. His anxiety about Edward must be intense. “A horse could go lame,” he explained. “You might need to buy another. Or you might get into some kind of trouble and . . . need to bribe someone.”
Edward, annoyed at being pursued and alarmed at being threatened, might arrange for me to get into trouble, he meant. We both knew it but neither of us spelled it out.
“I’ll take it and return what I don’t need.” I was thinking rapidly. “I’ll have to make arrangements for Meg,” I said. Aunt Tabitha started to say that Meg could come to Faldene but I looked at her, and she fell silent.She knew that I would never consign Meg or any other child to her.
“What I do need,” I said, “is all the information you have. All. Everything that you can tell me about Edward’s journey and the people he intends to visit in Northumberland and Scotland.”
My cousin, it appeared, had not been indifferent to the risk he was running. His sense of duty had sent him northward but he too had been alarmed by the incident of the valet and the fate of the two couriers. His decision not to travel fast was partly because he wanted to be unobtrusive. For the same reason, he was riding his own horse rather than attempting to hire as he went along.
“Hiring makes a traveler more noticeable. He didn’t want that,” Helene said. A strand of mousy hair slipped out of her cap and she pushed it aside with a tremulous hand. “He’ll have to be careful even in
I had better reasons for agreeing than they knew. I knew a good deal about the current political situation. A young man called Henry Lord Darnley, a Tudor descendant and a cousin of both Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary, was due at any moment to start out for Scotland, ostensibly to see his father, who was visiting the familyestates there, but in reality to present himself to Queen Mary as a potential husband.
He was being allowed to go only because he was a slightly less lethal prospect than a marriage between Mary and some Catholic prince with armies at his command. Even so, a Mary Stuart reinforced by a Tudor-bred consort could be very interested indeed in having up-to-date details of people who might help her to raise an army on English soil. It was my duty to get my hands on that list if I could and destroy it.
And I had another reason for agreeing. I didn’t say yes simply because it was my duty or even because Edward was family (though I did have a glow of satisfaction over my own good-heartedness).
It was the excitement that drew me. I did not have the kind of nature that could be satisfied forever with well-planned dinners and linen rooms full of faultlessly folded sheets interleaved with dried lavender. Plenty of people considered that wrong in a woman—there were times, indeed, when I thought so as well—but it was the way I was made. Queen Elizabeth and Cecil had recognized it and made use of it.
This particular opportunity had come to me in a time of grief and loneliness like a summons back to life. It was like the call of the wild geese in the cold, wide sky, a sound that I loved.
Or so it seemed when I was sitting by the hearth at Faldene. The mood didn’t last through the cold early start next morning. Then, as I rode reluctantly through the gatehouse arch of Withysham, I wonderedat myself. On more than one occasion in the past, I had determined to give up my perilous way of life. Every time I made such a resolution, I seemed to break it five minutes later. A new task, a new set of challenges, would call to me, like the siren voices of the wild geese. It seemed that I would just never learn.
3
Lying to a Friend
“I can give you money,” said my uncle Herbert. “A hundred and fifty pounds in sovereigns.”
An anguished spasm, which had nothing to do with gout, crossed his face as he spoke. My uncle hated broaching his coffers. His anxiety about Edward must be intense. “A horse could go lame,” he explained. “You might need to buy another. Or you might get into some kind of trouble and . . . need to bribe someone.”
Edward, annoyed at being pursued and alarmed at being threatened, might arrange for me to get into trouble, he meant. We both knew it but neither of us spelled it out.
“I’ll take it and return what I don’t need.” I was thinking rapidly. “I’ll have to make arrangements for Meg,” I said. Aunt Tabitha started to say that Meg could come to Faldene but I looked at her, and she fell silent.She knew that I would never consign Meg or any other child to her.
“What I do need,” I said, “is all the information you have. All. Everything that you can tell me about Edward’s journey and the people he intends to visit in Northumberland and Scotland.”
My cousin, it appeared, had not been indifferent to the risk he was running. His sense of duty had sent him northward but he too had been alarmed by the incident of the valet and the fate of the two couriers. His decision not to travel fast was partly because he wanted to be unobtrusive. For the same reason, he was riding his own horse rather than attempting to hire as he went along.
“Hiring makes a traveler more noticeable. He didn’t want that,” Helene said. A strand of mousy hair slipped out of her cap and she pushed it aside with a tremulous hand. “He’ll have to be careful even in
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