The Tudor Conspiracy - Gortner Christopher W. (книги онлайн без регистрации полностью .txt) 📗
Jane screamed. “No! Stop him! The fire!”
Hearing her young lady-in-waiting’s outburst, Mary frowned, half-rising from her chair to peer at the creature running past her. With her compromised eyesight, the queen seemed unable to identify the reason for the commotion and let out a startled gasp-“God save us, a rat!”-for with his small size, shadowy color, and furtive speed, Blackie was indeed rodentlike.
I started to regret having let him loose. Clearly I had overestimated Blackie’s ability to get through the crowd to the princess and thus gain me the opportunity I needed to approach her. As I saw Renard make a disgusted moue and step aside, opening a path to the hearth, I ran forward to cut Blackie off before he reached the painted screen shielding the fire and found himself trapped between the hearth and the queen’s company. He swerved again-and this time, to my relief, Elizabeth stood and called out to the dog.
His ears perked as if he’d heard the clarions of salvation, Blackie flew to her. She scooped him up, murmuring as he went limp in her arms, his tongue lolling. I moved rapidly to her through the guffawing courtiers, knowing Jane Dormer would be right behind me. I had only seconds. As I neared, I extracted the folded note from my doublet.
I held out my hands. Elizabeth extended the dog to me; our fingers touched. Her eyes widened slightly when she felt the note, and then she took it. Cradling the panting dog, I bowed to her and took a step back.
Jane hurried up to us. “Oh, thank you! I’m so sorry! I had no idea Blackie would slip his lead. If it hadn’t been for Your Grace…” She seemed to have forgotten her prior disparagement of the princess, who regarded Jane with an impassive expression. I gave her Blackie. Jane clutched the dog, tears of relief spilling from her eyes. “Naughty dog!” she scolded softly in its ear. “You are a very naughty little dog! You scared me half to death.”
Elizabeth did not speak. She shifted her regard to me with the impersonal courtesy she might have shown any well-intentioned stranger before she turned to her chair.
Jane murmured to me, “I am indebted to you. If it is ever within my power to help you, I promise you need only ask.”
“He was hardly in danger,” I said. My heart’s erratic hammer subsided. It had worked. Elizabeth had my note.
I did not hear the queen’s approach until her voice startled me. “What is the meaning of this unseemly ruckus?” Jane and I reeled about, and I saw Mary lift her virulent stare past us to where Elizabeth stood, as if frozen, by her chair.
“You have our leave to retire, madam,” the queen said coldly. “We’d not wish for such excitement to aggravate your already delicate constitution, nor, God forbid, induce another illness. And I suggest you think hard on what we have repeatedly asked of you. Remember, while we may be sisters, our patience is not without its limits.”
Elizabeth’s entire face hardened. For a second, I forgot to breathe. I half-expected her to retort something inflammatory enough to truly seal her doom. Instead, she performed a curt curtsy and, with her hand closed over my note, strode without a word toward the hall doors, her slim black figure scything through the whispering courtiers.
Beside me, Jane started to stammer out an apology.
“Mistress Dormer,” cut in Mary, silencing her, “I’m not interested in your excuses. You are to make sure that lead is fastened henceforth. I only let you bring your dog into the hall tonight because you were so worried about leaving him alone. As both Mistress Darrier and I advised you when she gave you that dog, owning a pet is a responsibility. If you cannot care for it, then tell us now and we will find another person who can.”
“Oh, no,” said Jane, with genuine concern in her voice, “I can care for him, Your Majesty. I promise you, it won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.” Mary eyed her. “Now, pray return to your seat.”
Jane clutched Blackie to her chest. With another grateful look at me, she scurried back to her stool. I only had a moment to wonder why Sybilla Darrier would have given the dog to a girl who so clearly disliked her before Mary turned the full force of her gaze to me.
“I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness,” I said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Her face was inscrutable. “Master Prescott, you’re quick on your feet. It is an admirable quality I have come to appreciate, as it often averts disaster. But it seems to me that you need reminding of your proper station here. You are my servant. So take heed: I expect my servants to remain as far as they can from my sister. Do I make myself clear?”
She did not wait for my reply. With a lift of her chin, she returned to her chair, as if I had ceased to exist.
Chapter Six
Dwarves tumbled in. The entertainment had begun, and Mary’s entire countenance lightened. She clapped her hands in delight as the dwarves, clad in spangled suits and belled caps, wrestled each other with abandon, slapping each other’s buttocks and exchanging ribald jests. I’d not have thought she’d enjoy this rambunctious display, but she seemed thoroughly pleased, shouting encouragement and tossing coins from a purse held by Lady Clarencieux even as the knot of black-clad Spaniards gathered about her frowned at such undignified behavior.
I retreated to the cover of a shadow-drenched wall and seized a goblet from a passing wine server. I drank it down in a gulp, my hand trembling. Elizabeth had my note; now all I had to do was get through my appointment with Renard. It was clear to me that whatever was happening at court, the princess was indeed a prisoner. Mary had denied her leave to depart and treated her with a palpable disdain. I didn’t know for certain that Renard was responsible for all of it, but I’d seen him whisper in the queen’s ear moments before Elizabeth arrived. He’d alerted Mary to her sister’s absence, knowing it would infuriate her.
Shifting my thoughts from the princess, I turned my attention to the company, focusing on Sybilla. She had glided to Lady Lennox’s side to exchange polite conversation, leaving Jane with her dog, now fully leashed and curled, exhausted, under her stool. Sybilla seemed at ease with the sour-faced Lady Lennox, whose Tudor blood made her someone of importance at court. It stood to reason Sybilla was therefore in high favor with the queen herself, as Lady Lennox seemed unlikely to squander her time on menials.
Yet Sybilla had just helped me. Audentes fortuna juvat, she had said. Fortune favors the bold.
My curiosity burned. She had expressed compassion for Elizabeth’s plight and somehow guessed what I was going to do, of that I was certain. She had known I needed to create a distraction so I could get close to Elizabeth, and it was why she had alerted me to Renard’s jealous scrutiny, warning me I didn’t have much time.
Did she know something of the ambassador’s intent toward the princess?
Was she a potential ally?
My ruminations were interrupted by the sight of Courtenay. He had remained at the hearth, insolently leaning against the lintel, nursing a goblet, but now he was bowing low before the queen, as if requesting her leave to depart. I straightened up. I had deliberately stayed in the hall to ease any suspicions, but as the earl strode past me with a scowl plastered across his face, I realized the time had come for my next engagement.
I beckoned Peregrine. “Go back to our rooms. I’ve some business yet to conclude.”
He gaped at me. “Business?”
“Yes. Now do as I say.” I had started to move past him when he suddenly grasped my arm. I stared at him. “I know what you’re going to do,” he said. “You’re going to follow Courtenay, aren’t you? Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not safe.”
“Peregrine, let go of me-”
“You don’t understand! While you chased after that stupid dog, I saw someone!”
