Mistress to the Crown (44 page)

‘To join the Woodvilles, you mean?’

‘To join anyone. I expect your brother has told you there have been isolated risings. Tudor’s off the south coast with a fleet from Brittany, so we know his mother, Lady Margaret, has been involved. As for Dorset …’ He paused, his blue gaze rising to fix mine. ‘He is still at large in the West Country.’

The West Country? Well, God be thanked! But I dared not show my relief in case this was Lynom’s trickery. He was certainly watching me like a mouser poised to pounce. Was I supposed to fling my wrist to my forehead and swoon in disappointment that Dorset was no longer in kissing distance?

‘Well, I daresay he’s hoping to get funds from his wife,’ I muttered.

‘You think he’s gone to Shute?’

‘Pray don’t get excited, Master Lynom. He may have gone to the moon for all I care.’

‘Is that the jilted mistress talking?’

‘No, it’s the prisoner passing the time of day.’ I smothered a yawn and received a scowl for my pains.

‘Tell me the truth and I’ll pester you no more.’

I folded my arms. ‘You wouldn’t believe it, anyway.’

‘Try me.’

‘I’m sorry, sirrah,’ I announced. ‘You’re too much like Doubting Thomas and I don’t do miracles.’ I turned my back and to my dismay heard the door slam behind him and the key turn.

Lynom gave orders that I was to receive no more visitors and he left me to stew in my own company for the whole of next day. A long time when you have nothing but walls to stare at and one pannikin of gruel. I was not used to hunger.

He came next morning just before noon.

‘There is a hot beef pie outside the door.’ Yes, I could smell it.

‘Yours if you will answer my questions, Mistress Shore.’

I smiled sweetly. ‘Oh, I’ll answer questions exquisitely, but you’ll need three pies. I do nothing by halves.’

My answer was calculated to throw him; he would not know whether I was playing games or going crazed. What threw me was that he was actually assessing me like a diligent physician with that damned, feigned caring mask that could disarm me if I did not keep my guard up.

‘You’re looking too pale.’

‘Yes, it’s all the fashion in Westminster sanctuary.’

He was scratching his forehead. ‘Three pies?’

‘Yes, conjure me three pies this instant and I swear I’ll sing like a thrush.’ I laughed, knowing full well that there was only one.

He took a deep breath and slapped his gloves against the door. There was a rattling outside and a guard came in with a tray. Upon it was a large platter bearing – a napkin, two mazers and a flagon of wine. And three pies. I looked at the pies, my lips open in astonishment.

‘You gave your word,’ he pointed out. ‘Eat your fill and then we’ll take a walk upon the ramparts.’

I shaded my eyes against the dazzling daylight as we climbed the dog-leg of stairs. This was a calculated cruelty on Lynom’s part. Feed the bitch, take her out on a leash then chain her up again. Except that he longed to pet this contrary creature. I could sense he was paying attention to my ankles as he followed me up the steps. That male perusal had been evident from the first time we met – a weakness I could deliciously exploit.

As if they agreed with my fresh purpose, my fellow prisoners down in the yard were watching our progress. When lewd suggestions began to accompany their whistles, Lynom imperiously
flicked his fingers and in an instant his escort had their halberds horizontal and were shoving our whooping audience into the shadow of the building. And just to be certain of privacy, his hand beneath my elbow urged me further along the rampart that led onto the gatehouse.

That gesture of power, that flick of command, left fingerprints on my spine. I missed my powerful protectors. Not just the security their authority gave me, but their air of possession, too. Oh how fickle we women are, delighting in the command a man may have over us, but only if we will it so.

When his hand left me, in mutual agreement we stood side by side, like two foreigners gazing out upon the city. I tried not to be conscious of the man beside me, to wonder what it would be like to lie with him. Was that his purpose? To seduce me? But he made no such move. I should have known he was subtler than that and so we lingered, quiet with one another.

Above my beloved London, the sky was April in October, huge cushions of cloud flung across a pale blue coverlet shot with smoky threads. The air was chill or was it my unused limbs that had cooled too much?

I could not bear to look east; towards the Tower where Ned’s poor boys were just embarrassing remnants locked away, unloved. Did poor Hastings’ blood still stain the cobbles? I shuddered, trying to keep my wits. Yes, safer to look out across at the Holborn rooftops. Count the chimneys and … God in Heaven! How could it have all ended like this?

Did I want to live? Is that why this mind-gaming lawyer had brought me up here, to whisper that he could release me into the pack-horse queue, the bustling river of life flowing through Ludgate? At what price? It did not need a sideways glance beneath my lashes to know he was observing me with speculation just as Hastings had that first time.

Tomorrow shall be my dancing day

To dance to Lynom’s playing or dance on the gallows, was that my choice?

‘I do not know London like you,’ he remarked, leaning lazily back against the wall. ‘Even more churches than York but I wager you cannot name every spire.’

‘You know I can,’ I said softly. I cradled my body, closing my eyes in pretence of delight at feeling the sun’s warmth kissing my brow.

‘You are still a beautiful woman, Mistress Shore.’

I opened my eyes and beamed at him. ‘And you are still a lawyer.’

He laughed. ‘We could pretend.’

‘What, that I am ugly and you are a man without an agendum?’

‘I cry you mercy. Suppose for a few moments that we are two pilgrims met by chance upon the road to Walsingham. We might walk and talk.’ He held out his ungloved hand to me.

After playful hesitation, I placed my hand upon his wrist. He spread his hand, curled his fingers to entrap mine. I did not comment but I let my free hand scuff the wall as we walked, letting the rough stones remind me this was a prison. Otherwise, it was too luxurious: that womanly feeling beside a tall, fit man.

Ned, Ned! If I close my eyes, can I imagine your hand beneath mine?

I tried, but my breath encountered the scent of cedar, leather and spice. Through my fingertips pulsed the energy of an attractive man and my body was already lighting candles to welcome him. Was this his conscious purpose? Or an alchemy beyond phials and measurements?

‘Well, sir pilgrim,’ I said huskily. ‘We must discuss the weather, the state of the road, the expense of hiring horses. I should ask you where you are from.’

‘Sutton-upon-Derwent, south-east of York. And you, madame?’

‘Oh, a London hatchling. And your wife, sir? She is not with you.’

‘I have no wife, madame.’

‘A widower then? How sad. But children, I presume?’

‘Nor children.’

‘I cannot believe that. At your age?’

‘What?’ he replied indignantly, losing his part. ‘Why am I supposed to have children at my age?’

‘You’re good looking. Ah, you must be a priest. I did not notice your habit beneath your mantle, sir, forgive me.’ I snatched back my hand in despair. ‘What’s the point of all this? Make me feel safe before you interrogate me again? Oh, stop your wretched games, sir. Take me back to my cage and shut the door! No, I’ll save you the bother.’

I ran back to the stairs and hurtled down. Back inside my cell, I slammed the lock shut and burst into tears. When Lynom tried to open the door, I shoved it against him.

‘Stop behaving like a damned shrew,’ he snarled, heaving the door and me back sufficiently to ensure his access.

I let go the door timbers, grabbed up the last pie and hurled it. This time Lynom ducked. ‘Leave-me-alone!’

Then, because he refused to obey, I slumped down the wall and dragged my knees against me. ‘Go and get the stake organised. I’ve always known I’d be burned one day.’

‘You’re being ridiculous.’ But the way he said it had a hollow ring and he couldn’t look at me.

‘Oh God,’ I whispered. He was going to take his copies of Ned’s letters to the King.

‘You’re a difficult woman to help, but why am I surprised.’ He let me stew in the corner and took a turn about the cell, his steepled hands tapping against his lips as he arranged his process.
‘Let’s begin yet again, shall we. You’ve had your three pies so keep your promise. And make it honest. Are you listening? Do you understand?’

I nodded reluctantly.

‘Very well.’ Taking my arms, he assisted me up and sat me on the stool.

‘The beggar in the churchyard? Did he give you a message?’ I shook my head.

‘Who was he, then?’

‘Dorset.’ I saw Lynom’s body jerk as though I’d punched him.

‘What!’ he yelled. ‘That was Dorset?’

A lawyer flagellating himself? Now there was a wonder! ‘I gave him food, sir. That’s what you do with beggars, isn’t it?’

‘Is it or do you fuck them?’ Now he was looking at me as if I was a dog’s retching. I didn’t like it. ‘You’re not just a whore, you’re a human flea. High odds, Mistress Shore, but such rewards, and I daresay the danger quickens you, too – the aphrodisiac that gives the extra edge. King Edward, then Hastings, and if the Lord Bastard had remained king, you’d have been Dorset’s mistress, ever at the hub of power.’

That hurt like a lash. Had I been standing I’d have slapped the cur. Instead, I smoothed my skirts. ‘Unfortunately your arrows fall short, Crown Solicitor. I thought you wanted honesty but it seems you prefer the fable.’

‘Really?’ The cynicism was forced through clenched teeth. Why was he being so vehement? Ah yes, the royal tap on the shoulder was no longer likely. Or had he expected kisses on the battlements?

‘I’m a one-man-at-a-time woman.’

‘Are we talking by the day or the hour?’

Why so hot? ‘By the reign, sirrah,’ I answered. ‘King Edward, then Hastings, but never both. And never Dorset in a million
years.’ But Lynom turned away, tossing back his head in disbelief.

‘Upon Ned’s soul, I swear it.’ I protested, springing to my feet. ‘Dorset and I were always enemies, although God forbid he will suffer a traitor’s death.’

The Crown Solicitor was scowling, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to bend the truth to his liking. My answer had not met his ripe hypothesis.

I sat down again. My head ached. Lynom’s venom was preferable to Catesby’s cruelty, but I was still a creature in a cage to be poked and teased.

‘I’m sorry if I insulted you, madame,’ he apologised, but the swift bow of head was arrogant. He paced towards the door, his left thumb tapping his clasped hands behind his back. ‘You say you and Dorset were enemies?’

‘Yes,’ I confirmed wearily. ‘He and his uncles were forever slandering Hastings and I. He tried very hard to lure Ned’s love away from me.’

Lynom swung round to face me. ‘You mean he loved the King?’

‘Not that kind of love. Dorset never loved anyone but himself. Mayhap adversity has whittled him into a better man. I can tell you it is not doing much for me.’

He ignored that tantrum. The gloves of the interrogator were comfortable once more, fitting without a wrinkle. ‘Let us return to you and Dorset, shall we? Why has your name been coupled with his?’

‘Has it? I hope not. Ah, maybe in Yorkshire. Your master was always under the misapprehension that I was one of Dorset’s intimates, beguiling Ned into debauchery, but, believe me, it isn’t true. Ned and Hastings kept me safe from him. I was never in the Woodvilles’ camp.’

‘But Dorset asked you to sell the sapphire necklace to raise money?’

‘No, it was mine, the Queen ordered it to be stolen from my house in King Street after the King died. Princess Bess gave it back to me when I visited her. And there was a witness to that, Captain Nesfield. She told him it was rightly mine.’

‘I know Nesfield. He can make a deposition.’ Again, I sensed something unspoken. Could I have convinced him at last of my innocence?

‘You are looking as though you’ve walked into a post, Master Lynom. I can swear to all this on the nearest saint’s bones.’

‘Then I had better find some, hadn’t I? For I shall be most disappointed if you can’t, Mistress Shore.’ He took up his gloves to leave. ‘And if it’s the truth, it will not hurt you.’

God willing!

‘Be careful of Lynom,’ Jack warned me when he came to visit next day.

It was a Sunday and because of Will’s commitments and Lynom’s order that only my brothers might have access to me, Jack had to bring me my food and he was not pleased at the inconvenience. ‘I don’t like being searched as though I am some common felon,’ he sulked as I tucked into the cold beef. ‘Crown Solicitor’s orders, indeed! Northern upstart!’

‘That was delicious. Please, thank Eleanor,’ I answered, dabbing my lips with the napkin.

‘It won’t do, Elizabeth. The man’s had agents asking about you all over the city these last few days. What’s more, every poxy alehouse from here to Greenwich is taking wagers whether you’ll let the old greybeard tup you. I can’t show my face in the street I’m so ashamed.’

I was used to scandal but I was truly angry to hear that people were ridiculing Lynom.

‘You’re only worried about your bond,’ I retorted. ‘Perhaps you’d better sell my necklace.’ I didn’t remind him it was evidence.

He folded his arms. ‘More lip from you, sister, and I shall.’

‘And Lynom’s not a dotard, Jack. He’s my age and—’

‘Bah, old, young, why would a high-flying lawyer like him be messing so much with the likes of you if he wasn’t keen to get his leg over? Or is that already done?’ He whirled his forefinger round his left little finger. ‘Got you round here, hasn’t he?’

‘Has he? You underestimate me as always, Jack. If I can beguile a king, I can certainly deal with a crown solicitor.’ I hoped.

He shook his head at me. ‘You’ve really dragged us in the dirt this time. At least they’re calling you Shore on the proclamation, not Lambard.’

I felt an invisible icy fingernail drag down my spine.