The Queen's Lady (10 page)

‘You were there?’

‘I watched from the forest.’

‘I see.’ And he felt that she really did. ‘There were how many soldiers? One? Five?’

‘Fifty, or thereabouts.’

‘Oh, so you think, you, a single English gentleman, could have saved the village on your own?’

He shook his head. ‘No, no, not really. But I didn’t even try.’

‘And now you can’t forgive yourself? Yes, yes, I see how that makes you a coward.’

Her repeating his insult came as a shock. He was so used to people – his brother, other officers, even his servant – telling him he was not to blame.

‘You think me a coward?’ If she condemned him, then he would know his self-hatred was fully justified.

Jane faced him, her blue eyes blazing with a fierce light. ‘Not for standing back, no, I don’t. That was the only thing you could do. No, you are a coward for not accepting your decision and facing up to the consequences. What you did was right. What the Spanish soldiers did was wrong. Your task is to bear witness to that outrage and fight to prevent other villages suffering a similar fate.’

James knew she spoke only common sense but could not bring himself to admit it. He could not pardon himself so easily. Instead he turned it into a jest. ‘Good heavens, madam, you are terrifying – an Amazon like our Queen.’ He reached for the glass, annoyed that his hand was so obviously shaking.

She stilled his arm with a single touch. ‘I’m sure, Jamie, that it is far easier to see the truth from a distance. And, no, I don’t really think you are a coward – I only said that to shock you into listening. I think you are wounded, not on the outside but in the heart, as you yourself said. I would … I would like to help heal you, if you would permit it.’

James stiffened. ‘I am not a charity case, madam.’

‘It’s Jane. And I offer this not out of charity, not unless you mean
caritas
.’ Her eyes dropped to her lap. ‘Or love.’

She was making him an offer he was so far from deserving that he wanted to weep. He could only respond with a clumsy retreat.

‘I see you are a Latin scholar, Lady Jane, another trait you share with our sovereign. Now where’s that man of mine got to? As pleasant as your company is, madam, I have much to do this day.’

Rising quickly, James marched over to the door to the stairwell and wrenched it open. Milly and Diego spilled into the room, locked in an embrace.

James could have kissed his servant himself for providing the diversion from his awkward moment with Jane. He stood, thumbs hooked in his belt, as he watched the pair struggle to their feet.

‘I see your injuries are well on the way to mending with the application of the lady’s physick, Diego.’

He had to hand it to his man; he dealt with the embarrassing situation with aplomb. Diego did not release the fair one’s hand but brought her forward.

‘My lord, may I present Mistress Porter?’

The poor girl was blushing a bright red that clashed with the remarkable colour of her hair. She bobbed a curtsy.

‘Master Lacey.’

‘She is my betrothed.’

‘I am?’ squeaked Milly.

‘She is?’ asked Jane at the same instant. ‘Is this true?’

Diego gave the lady a charming bow. ‘I have been courting your friend for many years, Lady Jane. She wears my gifts.’ He brandished her wrist as evidence, displaying the intricate bead bracelet. ‘In my homeland, that means we are promised to each other. All I need do now is discuss with her father how many head of cattle I must pay for her.’

James recognized that Diego had gone off on one of his occasional stampedes, trying to force the world he was in on to the path of the one he had been forced to leave behind.

‘Um, Diego, the lady herself must agree, you know. And I’m not sure what her father would do with these chimerical cows of yours – unless he’s a farmer, that is.’ He addressed the latter to Milly.

‘He’s a soldier, sir.’ She was worrying her bottom lip, clearly in two minds what she should say to this unorthodox proposal.

Not a proposal – a claiming
, James thought.

Jane stepped forward and disengaged Diego’s hand from Milly’s wrist. ‘Your servant is an unusual man, Master Lacey. He springs out of nowhere and demands to marry her merely because we witnessed the folly of a kiss. I can forget it if you will.’

‘Of course. I saw nothing. Come, Diego, you can return later when your lady has had a chance to consider your offer. And I want to hear about last night. Your adventure brought a most interesting visitor to my door and I wish to know how that came about.’

Still looking at Milly as if she were the last oasis in a desert, Diego nodded. ‘I come, my lord.’

James snapped his fingers. ‘Now, not in the next millennium, Diego.’

‘Aye, sir. At once.’

Seeing Diego’s feet were still firmly planted, James swore under his breath and pushed open the shop door to summon his horse from the boy he had left holding it on the street outside.

‘You will have to walk,’ he called back over his shoulder. ‘Ladies.’ With a final bow, he left, relieved to leave the scene of so many messy emotional entanglements, not least his own.

9

Jane watched her friend exchange a few whispered words with the blackamoor servant before he ran off to catch up with his master. Once Milly returned from seeing him out, Jane arched an enquiring eyebrow.

‘Well?’

Milly clasped her hands to her cheeks. ‘How red am I?’

‘Strawberry.’

‘Oh heavens! And your James saw me like that! I’ll never be able to face him again.’

Jane hooked her arm through Milly’s. ‘I would worry more about him seeing you rolling around on the floor with his servant. What was
that
about?’

The shop door opened and two women entered, baskets over their arms and their eyes bright with avid interest in the comings and goings over the past twelve hours. Milly immediately assumed her business manner.

‘Ladies, good morrow. I will send my assistant to you at once. I must escort the marchioness upstairs for her fitting.’

The gossips curtsied and muttered to each other in low voices, clearly overjoyed to share the chamber, if but briefly, with one of the most exalted in the land.

Milly deposited Jane in her upstairs room and dragged Henny away from her breakfast in the kitchen, her rapid-fire conversation clearly audible in the stairwell.

‘Two women in the shop. Keep them occupied and say nothing about what’s happened!’

Henny giggled. ‘You really getting married, mistress? Me and Uriah heard everything.’

Milly clapped a hand to her forehead. ‘Give me strength, Lord. I can’t talk about that now, just do as I ask and DON’T GOSSIP!’

Jane thought there was less chance of her being obeyed than men voyaging to the moon. Her poor friend had dropped herself into a deep ditch with her antics in the doorway. In her experience, people usually preferred to see you flounder in the mud than offer a hand to help you out.

In a wistful mood, Jane drifted to the casement and stood to watch James ride out of sight, Diego jogging along at his stirrup. Her soul still felt bruised from James’s rejection of her offer. Was her love really so objectionable that he could dismiss it with a jest? Had she been wrong to think they had more than friendship between them? Had she made a complete fool of herself? She rubbed her arms. Milly’s position was enviable – at least her lover had boldly claimed her, riding roughshod over the many obstacles in the way of such an unlikely match.

‘Jane, are you still speaking to me?’ Milly asked from behind her.

She turned and smiled. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Are you surprised?’

‘I admit I am. I’ve met him before at Lacey Hall, but how do you know him? I take it that kiss was not the result of a few hours’ acquaintance?’

Milly was avoiding her eye. ‘His name is Diego. I’ve known him for years. He served my father and was my friend when we lived on the Earl of Leicester’s estate.’

‘Yet you never mentioned him to me? I thought I was your friend at that time too?’

Milly fiddled with a scrap of cloth lying over the back of a chair. ‘Yes, you were. But he was a servant and I a lady. We were all so young then. You would not have approved.’

That was true. Jane knew that she would have thought it beneath her schoolroom friend to have a sweetheart among the lower classes. Time had mellowed her somewhat, but not to the extent of throwing out all social expectations. They could not ignore the fact that he was African.

‘He is … well, he’s different, Milly.’

Her friend laughed. ‘Is he? What can you possibly be referring to? The fact that he’s got dark skin and thinks he can buy me with a herd of cattle?’

‘I mean no disrespect to the man. He is very handsome, if a little short.’ She meant the last as a purposeful tease. Diego was short only when standing next to his master.

Milly blushed. ‘Not too short for me.’

‘True, you must make him feel like a giant. No wonder he loves you.’

Milly groaned and slumped in a chair. ‘Do you think he does?’

‘Oh yes. But it won’t be easy for either of you, you know. You might be closer in rank these days, but he is still so obviously a foreigner. Many will object – think it unnatural.’

‘Do you?’

Jane folded her hands together and took a seat on the windowsill. Did she? There had been something shocking earlier about seeing the fair and dark entwined together, but also strangely beautiful. It was new, but she thought she could become used to the idea over time. What was a man if not his heart? True worth lay inside, as she had discovered with Jonas. She may not be completely reconciled to the notion of a marriage between an African manservant and an English girl, but she owed it to her friend to support her, whatever her decision.

‘I will judge Master Diego on his merits when I have the chance to get to know him, not on his origins,’ Jane promised. ‘I can see already that he is hopelessly in love with you which already puts him in my good books.’

‘Oh, thank you, thank you.’ Milly let out a sigh of relief, the tension easing from her shoulders.

‘Will you accept him?’

‘I think I want to, but there is so much that stands between us. My father is not going to be pleased.’

‘Not even with all those cows to soften the blow?’

Milly threw a ball of wool at her. ‘Diego doesn’t have any cattle.’ She frowned. ‘At least, I don’t think so. He’s a servant after all.’

‘But if he’s the one for you, then you must make it happen, persuade your father. You will have my support.’

‘And the Dowager Marchioness of Rievaulx is a force to be reckoned with.’

‘She is indeed,’ Jane agreed.

Whitehall, Westminster

James took Diego to the fencing hall in Whitehall Palace, thinking it would be good for the both of them to have some physical activity to straighten out their overheated brains. A whitewashed chamber empty of all ornamentation but the pillars supporting the roof, the hall echoed with yells and the clashes of blade on blade. Stripping down to shirts and trunk hose, James selected two rapiers and daggers so they could fight Italian-style, the daggers acting as a block when crossed with the swords.

‘Come on, you lovesick loon, let’s knock some sense into you,’ he told Diego, tossing him a set of leather padding.

With a grin, Diego strapped himself into the protective clothing and took up his weapons. They had both learnt the art of two-handed combat together during their time in the Low Countries. The servant was well matched with his master, having a streak of cunning that counterbalanced James’s reach.

There was no need for further words as they went through their usual patterns of defence and attack. Their concentration was accompanied by the squeak of their shoes on the boards and the rhythmic ring of blades. Around them, other fighters were going through their exercises with noisy protests or groans; James and Diego moved like two dancers perfectly in tune with each other, surrounded by a bubble of silence, oblivious to all else.

When they finished their pattern, James was surprised to find they had attracted an audience. Jane’s brother, Sir Henry Perceval, led the ‘bravos’ and a smattering of applause. A little further off stood the three Paton brothers, watching him with unfriendly intent.

‘Your man has taught you well,’ Sir Henry declared, slapping Diego on the back.

James vowed to repay Diego for his smirk later. ‘We learnt together, sir. We were trained by an Italian gentleman in Antwerp.’

‘Forgive me.’ Perceval’s apology sounded insincere. ‘Then I must beg you to lend me your sparring partner one morning. My skills in the duello are sadly lacking. A good English broadsword is more my style.’

‘Nothing wrong with the old ways,’ complained one moustachioed gentleman with a rubicund complexion, glaring at the Italian-made weapons.

‘Still, I always look to improve. One never knows what an enemy might attempt.’

‘Then it would be my pleasure to make Diego available,’ James replied with matching insincerity. ‘But unfortunately we have other business this day.’

‘But of course.’ Perceval gave a nod of dismissal and moved off with his companions to engage the Patons in conversation. Bearing in mind the state of relations between Jane and her stepsons, James wondered what they had to talk about.

‘Thank you, O glorious master, just what I always wanted – an hour with that cockatoo,’ muttered Diego, putting the weapons back on the rack.

‘Don’t be foolish, man, I was thinking of you. If you want to marry that fiery-haired maiden of yours you will need some other means of supporting her than a servant’s wage.’ James rubbed the sweat from his face and chest with a linen towel. ‘Perceval will pay you – as will any other gentleman who asks for your services as a sparring partner. You stand to make a decent purse if you play your cards right.’

‘You would allow me to keep the money?’

‘Of course. I’m not an ogre, Diego.’

Diego’s face lit up with delight. ‘Then it is safe to tell you, O most generous lord, that I have already been earning a little extra – but only when not needed by you, naturally.’

James rolled his eyes. How had he missed that? ‘Naturally. What have you been doing? Understand, as long as it does not involve dabbling in crime, I’m unlikely to mind.’

‘I have been giving riding lessons. I have money already saved.’

James laughed. Diego was famed in army circles for his skills on horseback. ‘You sly fox! Enough for those cows you mentioned, I hazard?’

‘Yes, I can pay her bride price as long as it does not amount to more than twenty pounds.’

James tossed Diego the towel for disposal. ‘Ods bodikins, man, you’ve more money than I have. What have I been doing wrong?’

Diego laughed at James’s country bumpkin oath. ‘You need to find yourself a rich wench, master, then you would sniff at a mere twenty pounds.’

‘You have the right idea, I see. The lady’s business must be worth a modest fortune.’

‘If she will have me.’

‘She was wrapped around you like ivy on a stone wall.’

‘That does not mean she will welcome my suit. It takes a brave girl to risk marrying a foreigner, especially one like me.’

James was grateful that his man had cooled off now and could see the potential problems in the way of his marriage. There was no need therefore for him to be the one pouring cold water on the idea. Indeed, it left him the far more pleasant role of encourager.

‘If she can see past the disadvantages of your rank and other things, then she is a very sensible girl and you both deserve to find happiness with each other. The Lacey family will back you both to the hilt and use our influence to smooth any objections from other quarters.’ James thought briefly of Christopher Turner; he would not be pleased by this development and could make trouble for Diego. ‘No matter who protests – friend or family – both the earl and I can stand behind you and bear witness to your many sterling qualities.’

‘That is very generous, master.’ Diego did not seem quite sure what to do with such a glowing report. ‘I thank you. If Milly does accept me, we will need your support. Merely waiting at her door last night brought citizens out against me. I do not like to think what they will say when we give notice that we intend to wed.’

‘These citizens, who were they?’

‘Three bawds and their doxies.’

James laughed. ‘Oh well then, what can the Earl of Dorset and his poor brother do to outweigh the influence of such fine upstanding members of the London populace? You’re doomed!’

Diego shook his head, smiling sadly. ‘They are not alone in regarding a foreigner as the work of the devil.’

‘Then we will have to charm them into thinking that you were sent by an angel. Was not one of the early followers of Our Saviour an Ethiope? And the Queen of Sheba must have been a dusky maid and she was a fabled beauty.’

‘First a warrior, now a theologian – you are a wonder, O most learned lord.’

‘And you, Diego, are an impudent servant and a lucky dog to have such a lady.’

‘I know, sir.’

‘If you do marry, then I hope you will stay in my family’s service and come to Lacey Hall. Both of you.’

‘Thank you, my lord. All I have to do now is persuade the lady.’

Jane waited outside the Queen’s bedchamber while Blanche Parry and the other ladies in the inner circle helped the Sovereign change robes for greeting foreign guests at the afternoon’s reception. Jane’s role as the newest Lady of the Privy Chamber was to pass any urgent messages within – never let it be said that any male, even the lowliest errand boy, caught a glimpse of the Queen without her full armour of stunning dress, burnished wig and mask of cosmetics.

Watching the flames leaping in the hearth as she stood by the door to the inner sanctum, Jane grew increasingly proud of her prickly mistress as messengers came and went, revolving round the Queen as moths do the candle. According to Mistress Parry, Elizabeth with her long red Tudor hair had been something of a beauty when she ascended the throne in her twenties and, while no longer in dewy youth, she still made good use of her assets as a woman. She commanded her court with steely femininity, outwitting the male courtiers at almost every turn.

Jane’s attention was caught by a brief challenge over by the door from the audience chamber. Then the guard stepped back, allowing Walter Ralegh into the room. The three other ladies-in-waiting, intent on their embroidery by the hearth, stood up, all of them preening themselves surreptitiously to look their best for the reigning favourite. Jane stood stoically motionless, not even checking the lay of her pearl-edged headdress as her fingers itched to do.

‘Ladies, good morrow!’ called Ralegh cheerfully. He was resplendent today in pale-green velvet doublet and hose, pinked and slashed over every inch, gold sarcenet peeping through the gaps. He looked like a daffodil about to burst from its bud. ‘I understand your mistress is within?’

‘Aye, sir,’ simpered Lady Mary Burnett, fluttering her brown eyes at him like a lovesick cow facing the prize bull. ‘She bade you wait for her here.’

Ralegh held her gaze and smiled into her eyes. ‘And that,’ he said in a rumbling voice, ‘will be entirely a pleasure.’ He kissed her knuckles.