Murder at Hatfield House (21 page)

“Very possibly. He is said to be in France now, but he was one of the jurors who convicted Lady Jane and her husband.”

“And surely Lord Ambrose knew Lord Braceton. Yet another question to answer.” Kate added it to the bottom of her list. “I will think on this more tonight. Surely there must be somewhere else we need to go after Leighton.”

After she sanded and blotted the list and tucked it away in her purse, she left Anthony to clean up the last of the papers from the office and right the furniture as best he could. They promised to meet outside the village the next morning to make their way to Leighton Abbey, and she hurried back to Hatfield before it could grow dark.

But at the kitchen door, she found a sight that had become too familiar of late. Maids weeping, and guards everywhere.

“Oh, Mistress Haywood, thank heavens you have returned safely!” Cora cried, wringing her gnarled hands on her apron.

“I only walked into the village on a few errands,” Kate said. “Why, what has happened?”

Cora gestured toward Peg, who sat on a bench by the door, crying into her sleeve. Her hair was in disarray, her skirt stained, and Kate feared that something bad had indeed happened. Again.

“Peg went into the woods to gather some mushrooms for the princess’s dinner,” Cora said, her face drawn and creased with worry. “And she found Master Cartman’s body under a pile of leaves. The poor man was stabbed right through the heart.”

CHAPTER 17

“I
don’t think it is a good idea for you to look for this man alone, Kate,” Anthony said with a scowl.

Kate laughed, even though this was all far from a lighthearted matter, what with Rob needing to be informed about his uncle’s death. But she couldn’t quite help it when she saw the black frown on Anthony’s face. He had insisted on going with her to Leighton Abbey when he learned of her intentions to find Rob and tell him herself, and also take the opportunity to look for clues. To see Rob’s reaction to the news.

“I am not alone, Anthony,” she said as they turned a corner on the lane and found themselves just at the edge of Leighton’s stone walls. “You are with me. I feel quite safe.”

And she did feel safe, with him beside her. His presence seemed to comfort her. And she had to admit she would like to hear his reactions to whatever they found at Leighton.

“Only because I discovered what you intended and insisted on going with you,” Anthony said, still scowling. “You should not be alone with that actor. I do not trust him, especially after this nasty business with his uncle. How can you be sure the nephew is not also involved?”

Kate shook her head. She could
not
be sure—of course she could not. But she wanted to be sure. “I don’t think—”

“Who goes there? Show yourself!” someone suddenly shouted from beyond the wall, cutting off her words.

Kate peeked around the corner of the garden wall, but Anthony held on to her arm to keep her back. The sun was sinking below the chimneys of Leighton Abbey, and they had only just found where the actors were staying. The cart was lodged just beyond the formal gardens in a copse of trees, its paint brilliant red and yellow against the dark gray gloom. Trunks and cases were scattered around it, and a recently doused fire smoked, but it seemed most of the troupe was already in the house. Only Robert and a couple of others were still there.

“I demand that you show yourself!” Rob called out again. His fist closed around the hilt of the sword at his belt.

Kate tossed a reassuring smile at Anthony and slid away from his restraining hand to step around the wall. “’Tis only me, Master Robert.”

Rob’s gaze narrowed and he drew his sword free. “Who are you? What do you want here, lad?”

Kate had forgotten she wore a disguise, a boy’s hose and doublet she had borrowed from one of the Hatfield pages. She quickly snatched off her cap and let some of her brown hair fall free. “It’s Kate, Rob. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“Kate! What are you doing here?” Rob quickly put away his sword and hurried toward her. “And dressed like that. Not that it doesn’t become you very well.”

“We had to travel fast, and it seemed we would attract less attention if I was a boy. And we didn’t know if you would really be here. We had to be very careful.”

“‘We’?”

Kate gestured toward Anthony, who moved to stand close behind her, watchful and protective as always. “My friend, Master Anthony Elias. He brought me here.”

A crooked smile touched the corner of Rob’s mouth. “Ah, yes. The lawyer’s boy. Quite the lady’s squire, I hear.”

Anthony scowled. “’Tis more meet to find honest work in the law than roam the countryside like a vagabond. Kate insisted on coming here, and being her friend, I would assist her.”

“And you took a most eager interest in her—insistence, I see.”

Kate glanced between them. They watched each other with a taut, tense wariness that made her think of a bearbaiting. She didn’t understand it at all. Surely they hardly knew each other? Yet they showed every sign of wanting to duel.

Kate gave an impatient sigh. There was no time now for such manly nonsense.

“Never mind that now,” she said, stepping between them. She felt a bit silly, considering they were both so much taller than she was. “We have much to do and very little time.”

Rob turned away from Anthony to smile down at her. “Why are you here, fair Kate? Dare I hope you missed me?”

“None of that now,” she answered sternly. “I fear we bring you unwelcome news.”

“Unwelcome news?”

“Aye.” Kate took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Rob, I am afraid there is no sweetened way to say this. It concerns—well—your uncle was found dead in the woods near Hatfield. He was murdered. I am so very sorry. I insisted on coming here to tell you myself.”

Rob’s teasing grin vanished and his eyes went dark. After a long moment he said, “I feared as much when he did not return.”

“And Braceton too was killed. Which makes four deaths in only a few days.”

“And you came all this way to tell me this? That was kind of you, Kate.”

“She came because the Lady Elizabeth wants to be sure you had naught to do with these crimes, Master Cartman,” Anthony interjected in a hard voice. “Your appearance at Hatfield, the play you performed—”

“Do you dare accuse me?” Rob said, his hand going again to his sword hilt.

“We wish only to find out all we can to discover the murderer,” Kate said. She wished she could box both their ears. Time was wasting, and there was much she needed to discover. “Your uncle is dead, Rob, and my father and Anthony’s employer have been arrested. The princess is confined to her rooms. We must find out what is happening, and quickly, before anyone else is hurt.”

Rob fell back a step and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “You’re quite right, Kate. Yet I fear I’m baffled.”

“As are we all,” Kate confessed. “Was your uncle in some sort of trouble, then? In debt to someone who could force him to show that play?”

“I know nothing about the play, except what I’ve already told you,” Rob said. “My uncle brought the manuscript back from one of his journeys to London and seemed most insistent we learn it quickly. But once we were here, he seemed to change his mind. He was restless, angry. He had always been quick-tempered, but was more so than ever.”

“Yet he did have you perform it in the end.”

“And you saw what happened.”

Kate nodded. “It infuriated Lord Braceton. And seemed to frighten him as well. Most strange. Had he anything to do with Jane Grey?”

Rob shrugged. “He knew our patron, Lord Ambrose, I think, but Ambrose has been in France for some time now.”

“And Lord Ambrose was on the jury that convicted Lady Jane,” Anthony said.

“We had naught to do with any of that,” Rob insisted. “We are merely vagabond players, as you so aptly point out, Master Elias. We can’t afford to be mixed up in court plots.”

“Yet it seemed your uncle was, in some way,” Kate said. She carefully studied Rob’s face. He did seem baffled and saddened by his uncle’s death, but he
was
an actor. And he had been in too many places at too convenient a time.

Rob’s face suddenly darkened, as if he sensed her suspicious thoughts. “I had naught to do with any of this. I did my best for my uncle because he took me in when my parents died. But I could not be a traitor.” He reached inside his loosened doublet and took out a ripped and smeared note, holding it out to her. “I was meeting a lady when my uncle was killed, a lady whose company I have enjoyed before. She sent me this, and others, to tell me when it was safe to meet her. If needs be, she will vouch for me to your princess, but I would rather not involve her in any of this.”

Kate felt a most unwelcome stab of what seemed horribly like jealousy as Rob told her about his mistress. But she made herself glance at the note, which was written in a pretty hand that surely meant the lady had some education.

“It does seem as if he was at an assignation,” she murmured. Rob tucked the note away with a curt nod, and Anthony’s frown eased the merest amount.

Kate turned to study the house, outlined by the setting sun. It was typical of a grand house built from monastic structures, its gray stone austere and chilly. The church was gone, but the living quarters were built over the old cloisters, which still stared out with blank arched windows. Two new octagonal towers stood at either end, no doubt built for banqueting and festivities. Not that people like the Eatons had found much cause for merriment since Mary became queen. She must get in there somehow.

“The Eatons are of a different mind than men like Braceton and Ambrose, I hear,” she said. “They are associated with the Cecils and the Greys. How did your uncle come to be engaged here?”

“We’ve performed for the Eatons before,” Rob answered. “At their house in London, before they left to live quietly in the country. My uncle never subscribed to any faction or ideology, Kate. He only knew the language of money, and would perform for any who would pay. Lady Eaton, as well as being rather sickly, is of a romantical sort of mind and enjoyed my uncle’s performances.”

“Lady Eaton—who was once lady-in-waiting to the Duchess of Suffolk,” Kate mused. “I assume he had no plans to perform his
Princess of Carthage
here.”

“Not that I know of. We were set to do
The Shepherd and His Lass
, a pastoral romance of the sort her ladyship prefers.”

Kate turned back to Rob with a cajoling smile. He could be of use now, and she needed him, no matter what her old suspicions were. Or her new jealousies. “And is there a part among the shepherds for a poor musician, perchance?”

*

“This is some of the finest clover ale I have ever had, mistress. Truly the flavor is most—unique.”

Kate sat quietly by the kitchen fire, listening to Rob as he charmed and flattered the Eatons’ cook. And flattery it assuredly was, she thought as she took a sip of the bitter concoction in her mug. But—as she had told Rob and Anthony—the servants were the place to go for information in any household, so they were waiting in the kitchens for the time to begin the play. As Kate was meant to be a boy, she tried to stay silent and unobtrusive, observing everything.

But that meant Rob had to lead the conversation, and watching him tease and laugh with the maids, making them all blush, was quite annoying. There was no time now for such silliness.

That was the only reason for her irritation. Surely.

Kate stared down at the cloudy liquid in her mug and listened as the cook, a portly elderly lady who should have known better than to be taken in by such flattery, giggled. Kate hoped Anthony, who, posing as a well-to-do traveler, had been taken in as a guest abovestairs, was having a more sensible conversation.

“Aye, ’tis my own recipe,” the cook said. “A secret blend of herbs. I’m glad you like it, young man. You must taste many a blend of ales on your travels.”

“We do visit a great many fine houses, mistress, in our line of work,” Rob answered. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs in their particolored hose out before him, as lazily as if he had hours to kill. The maids stirring the pots over the fire looked at him from under their lashes and fell into whispering together. “But few as fine as this one. You must be a very organized housekeeper, mistress, to keep it all running so smoothly.”

The cook’s cheeks turned bright pink. “I work hard—that’s true enough. We’ve been shockingly short-staffed these last few years, and it’s not easy to make do. But I’ve been here since I was a scullery maid, and won’t leave now.”

“These last few years?” Rob asked.

The cook poured more ale into his cup. Luckily, she seemed to have forgotten Kate was there and left her mug alone. “Aye. Lord Eaton was a privy councilor in young King Edward’s day, as his father was before him for King Henry. Well-favored the family was then. But they left the court when the queen was crowned. Fortunes have been meager since then.”

“Was it King Henry who gifted the Eatons with this estate?”

“So it was, for their good service. Their estate before was much smaller, but this was part of the old monks’ holdings.”

A former monastic demesne, just as Kate had thought. One Braceton and his men wanted? Just like Gorhambury?

“Times must have been merry back then,” Kate said, keeping her voice low and rough, her cap tugged down over her brow.

The cook glanced at her, as if in surprise she was there. “Oh, aye. There were hunting parties and dancing all the time; we even had a cook from London who made only sugar subtleties, and four boys to turn the spits. It was especially fine when Lady Eaton served the Duchess of Suffolk. Grand people were here often. We prepared suppers of thirty removes at least, and I had a large staff of maids. Good, hardworking girls.” She looked at the giggling maids, who were letting the contents of their pots burn while they whispered, and sighed. “We haven’t seen a play in a year at least. Hopefully it will cheer my lord and lady to see you.”

“There hasn’t been company here of late?” Rob asked.

The cook suddenly frowned. “We had company of a sort only a few weeks ago. But he wasn’t cheering in the least. Lady Eaton was ill with worry after he left. She’s just now out of her sickbed.”