The Queen's Lady (4 page)

‘The latter I think. Gil’s putting up fifty pounds as well.’

Gil winked at James, tapping the empty pocket in his doublet. ‘You have to spend some to make some.’

‘Indeed.’ James scrubbed his hand over his face. There was some undercurrent here that he hadn’t quite grasped. ‘Well, this is all very interesting, but as I barely have two shillings to rub together my name is unlikely to appear on the list of sponsors.’

Will pushed up from the desk where he had perched. ‘It’s not money I’m thinking about. I admire Ralegh’s vision but I still find I doubt the man.’

‘Hardly surprising, seeing how he’s an ill-natured upstart only where he is now because he’s got a pretty face and over-stuffed codpiece.’

Will smiled. ‘Jamie, please, don’t feel you have to hold back on my account.’

‘Yes, well, you know what I think about him.’

‘Same as I do. But, leaving that aside, he’s clever and indisputably a man of action. One day, unless he’s very unlucky, one of his ideas should bear fruit.’

‘And you think this might be it?’

Will shrugged and unfastened the hooks of his doublet, letting himself relax after a day on duty before the gaze of his tenants and guests. ‘It’s worth looking into – North America might have a future. But we need a man on the inside to protect our investment. I wouldn’t put it past Ralegh to hide half the gains he makes.’

James began to guess what was coming. ‘And this means?’

‘You. Volunteer yourself for the voyage.’

James picked his drink up again and swirled it in the firelight, hints of gold flashing against the glass. ‘So now you have Wilkins, I really am expendable.’

Will folded his arms. ‘That’s a low blow, Jamie.’

James knew it was but he would be damned before he apologized. He gave a bitter laugh. ‘I fear my thirst for roving has been quenched by the Low Countries.’

‘Not roving, Jamie, but exploring – building a settlement in a new land. A fresh start. I thought that would appeal to your sense of adventure. We used to play at sea captains, remember?’

Indeed, they had and fought many a battle of command over their tree-house ship. Poor old Tobias had always been the Spanish prisoner fed to the sharks. ‘I’m wiser now, Will. It would very likely kill me – you know how few return from the sea.’

‘But aren’t you dying by inches staying here, Jamie?’ Will asked softly.

Ever tactful, Gil got up and moved further off to allow the brothers some privacy.

Jamie felt a strange sensation in the back of his throat. He wasn’t going to cry, dammit.

‘We can all see that you are on the rack, and I would give anything I own to get you off it. Even your servant thinks you are haunted – he was the one who suggested a voyage as a cure.’

‘Remind me to dock his wages.’

‘He meant to help.’

James stared at the flames rather than meet his brother’s eye. Was Will right? Was he killing himself slowly, languishing in a self-built hell? But how could he break free of it? He couldn’t sleep, had no appetite, felt so alone even when among those he loved. Men were supposed to be stronger than this – not crack under the first trial of their character. Thousands had seen much worse, experienced harsher torments, yet he was the one plagued by nightmares and barely able to control his violent urges. If he hadn’t caught himself, would he actually have struck his sister? The thought terrified him. Maybe it would be best for his family if he did take himself away. So much the better, perhaps, if he never came back.

‘All right, Will, all right, you’ve persuaded me: I’ll do this. What do you have in mind?’

His brother unfolded his arms and leant forward intently. ‘Go to court and present yourself to Ralegh. I’ll write to him to explain our interest in his project. He’s so eager for backers he won’t scorn my money. Involve yourself in the preparations and, if you think it a sensible scheme, maybe you should take part in the expedition. It’s due to leave this April.’

‘You want me to go to America? What, permanently?’ James felt the sting of hurt that his presence had become so insupportable to his brother.

Will shook his head adamantly. ‘No, you halfwit. We want you to come back and report. This voyage is merely to locate the most promising site for a colony – it should only last the summer. This risk is as low as it can be for any voyage of discovery. ’Swounds, the last thing I want is to lose you to some savage land!’

Feeling a little placated, James nodded his assent. He found the prospect of a voyage into the unknown neither excited nor terrified. What did it matter what happened to him?

Will frowned. ‘I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm from you.’

James tossed back the last of the wine. ‘It’s your plan, my lord, not mine.’

‘Still –’

Gil intervened before they could fall to arguing. ‘Good, my lords, I’m for bed.’

Will stood and stretched. ‘Excellent idea. Ellie will be wondering what’s become of me. Jamie, are you retiring now?’

And lie sleepless staring at the ceiling? No thanks. ‘I’ll sit here a while.’

Will was reluctant to leave him. ‘Shall I stay? We could play chess if you like.’

James had had enough of Will’s well-meant concern. ‘Heaven’s sake, Will, your wife is not yet safe from her lying-in. She needs you more than me. Get thee gone.’

Finally, he had the study to himself. He threw another log on the fire and watched the sparks fly up the chimney. Midnight. Never his best time – too many hours to dawn, no chance of fooling yourself that the night was almost over. He half rose to refill his glass, then sank back knowing that there was no comfort to be found in the bottom of a flagon. He didn’t want to be around his family with drink-sodden wits.

‘Jamie?’ While he’d been brooding, a little mouse had crept in.

‘Sarah.’ His guilt rushed back as he remembered how he had snapped at her earlier.

His little sister came closer, her bare feet peeking out from the bottom of her ankle-length smock. Her long red-gold hair hung in two braids from beneath her white bed cap.

‘I’m sorry I pestered you,’ she whispered, looking at his toecaps.

Now if that didn’t make him feel a hundred times worse, knowing he’d spoiled his little sister’s day.

‘No, no, sweeting, don’t apologize to your grumpy bear of a brother. I should never have lashed out at you like that.’

She knotted her fingers in her skirt. James knew she had embroidered the loose long-sleeved bodice herself, covering it with stylized figures of knights-in-armour bearing the Lacey colours, one for each of her brothers. Now she would realize that one of her heroes had feet of clay.

‘Oh, come here, Sarah.’ He beckoned her to squeeze in the chair beside him and put an arm round her shoulders, relieved when she did not hesitate. ‘Feet warmer now?’

She nodded, settling against him with a dig or two of her sharp elbows. A gangly thirteen, she seemed all thin limbs and bony angles. ‘I love you, Jamie.’

‘I love you too, grasshopper.’

‘Love you best.’

‘Love you most.’ He tweaked her nose. ‘Don’t worry if you go to sleep – I’ll carry you up.’

She relaxed against his side, swinging her toes lazily. James let out a deep sigh, strangely comforted by her acceptance of him and his moods. After only a few minutes, she was asleep. Carefully, he lifted her into his arms and took her up to the chamber she was sharing with her maid. Tucking her in bed, he sought his own room and lay fully dressed on the cover, waiting for morning to arrive.

3

Whitehall, Westminster

The court had moved to Whitehall so Milly did not have far to come to deliver Jane’s new clothes. She arrived just after the noon meal, riding pillion behind her watchman, Old Uriah, with an exciting collection of parcels in her basket panniers. Jane watched out of her chamber window as her maid greeted the needlewoman and conducted her upstairs. Clothes had always been something of a weakness for Jane and she could barely wait to see what Milly had brought her.

‘My lady.’ Milly dipped a curtsy in the doorway, her quick eyes taking in the plain room, evidently disappointed that it wasn’t dripping with gilt and velvet. The palace at Whitehall, while finely painted on the exterior, was a ramshackle place within; many a lord lodged in chambers that a tavern would have been ashamed to offer for hire.

‘Mistress Turner,’ Jane replied formally, waving her servant away after she had piled the parcels on the bed. The door closed.

‘Oh, horrid!’ Milly blurted out, wrinkling her nose at the cracked plaster and lack of fireplace.

‘Isn’t it – and this is one of the better rooms.’ Jane blew on her chilled fingertips. ‘So now you know, being the Queen’s lady is no bed of roses. At least here I have my own chamber. We all dread the summer progress where they say we are frequently lodged like soldiers in a military camp.’ She gave an impish grin. ‘That is why I need you to add some sparkle to my life. Show me, show me!’ Expertly dodging Milly’s restraining arms, she darted to the bed and began unwrapping the parcels.

‘Uh-uh,’ Milly scolded, and tapped her chest. ‘You can’t rush the work of genius. Let me open them for you.’

Jane flopped back on the pillows. ‘Very well – but hurry.’

Milly laughed and unfolded the first of the two suits of livery: a white gown that nipped in at the waist and fell to the floor in a simple skirt. ‘Master Rich and I have had a wonderful time creating these – he really is a marvel at cutting fabric. You wear this with a high-necked chemise.’ She held up the lawn garment with frills at the neck and cuffs embroidered with gold thread. ‘And your brocade petticoat.’

‘Oh, it’s lovely – so unfussy.’

‘You’ll need a farthingale and a French roll round your hips if you wish to give it more shape.’

‘I like it like this,’ Jane admitted, fingering the smooth satin.

‘And we made this sable-edged sleeveless coat to wear over the top – good news seeing how you’ve no fire.’ Milly displayed a black velvet garment with pearl buttons and a trim of fur cut to a similar line as the gown so Jane’s figure would be well displayed.

‘But I didn’t ask you –’ Jane began to protest.

Milly pushed it into her hands. ‘You don’t need to – I’ll take it out of your share of the profits from my workshop.’

Jane danced round the room with the coat. ‘I love it! What else?’

The second outfit was a dream: a full skirt in cream split down the middle to reveal a pearl encrusted forepart, a stomacher embroidered with spring flowers, white bodice and sleeves.

‘What happened to the rest of my white satin?’ Jane asked, looking suspiciously at the much nicer cream damask Milly had used.

‘The mice ate it?’ tried Milly.

‘No, really, you must tell me!’

‘I interpreted my orders a little creatively. I told Master Rich it was too tedious for you to have two dresses in the same fabric, and the Queen won’t mind as long as you are wearing a pale colour to complement her, so there we are.’ She frowned, having second thoughts. ‘You won’t get into trouble will you?’

Jane chuckled and shook her head. ‘Oh no, there are rules here but it is not quite as strict as that. I’m going to be the envy of all the ladies – and you and Master Rich will be rushed off your feet with new commissions when I tell them who made my clothes.’

‘That’s the idea – see, I did it for purely business reasons.’

‘And not to cheer up an old friend?’

‘Absolutely not.’

Jane held the dress to her. ‘How does it look?’

‘Beautiful – but I knew it would.’

‘I’ll wear it to the masque tomorrow.’

‘What masque is that, pray, and why haven’t you told me before?’

‘I only found out about it yester eve. It’s our last chance for some frivolity before Lent. I’ve been given the role of Diana. The Queen’s been drilling us all day like a fearsome general.’

‘You in a masque?’ Milly snorted. ‘Do they know you can’t hold a tune to save your life?’

‘It’s a non-singing part,’ Jane replied, biting her lip to stop her following Milly into a painful fit of the giggles.

When Milly had recovered, she helped Jane fold the clothes into her trunk and then sat with her in the window, sharing a blanket to keep out the chill. A light frost dusted the roofs opposite, the white slowly retreating as the sun reached the shaded tiles. The maid brought in two tankards of warm spiced ale then left again. Milly cradled hers and breathed in the steam.

‘Ah, heaven.’

Jane just gave her a secretive smile.

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, my dear friend, but you seem in extreme good spirits,’ Milly probed. ‘Even before I came into the room you were buzzing like a bee in springtime. What has brought this upon you? I can’t believe it is just the prospect of participating in the masque.’

Jane hugged her edge of the blanket tightly. ‘There’s a newcomer at court.’

‘Oh, do tell. Who?’

‘James Lacey.’

Just in time, Jane covered her ears as Milly squealed. ‘No!’

‘Yes!’

‘Have you spoken to him yet? What did he say? Did he kiss you?’

Jane held up a hand. ‘Slow down, slow down! We’ve not met yet.’

Milly thought for a moment. ‘But he’ll be at the masque, won’t he?’

‘Oh yes, undoubtedly.’

‘So you’ll have a chance to explain.’

‘I think so – I hope so.’

‘Oh, Jane, this is good news.’ Her eyes turned to the trunk. ‘Shall I lower the neckline – Master Rich made it widow-modest, not maidenly alluring.’

Jane pulled Milly back down before she could chop up what Jane considered perfection. ‘Widow-modest is just right.’

Milly thumped her forehead. ‘Oh course, sorry. I was just getting carried away.’

‘As usual.’

‘As usual.’ She held her peace for two seconds. ‘But the chemise is semi-sheer if it gets that far.’

Jane found herself blushing. ‘Stop it, you hussy.’

Milly sucked in her cheeks in a vain attempt to forestall a smirk. ‘Don’t say you weren’t thinking it too.’

Durham House

On arrival in London, James had lost no time in presenting himself at court then travelled the short distance downstream to Ralegh’s Thames-side home of Durham House, a recent gift from the Queen to her favourite. The residence had the appearance of a castle from the outside, with thick stone walls rising from the river. Damp and gloomy as a dungeon, Ralegh had spent a fortune on hangings and furnishings to make it fit for his role as first gentleman in the realm. As Will had predicted, Ralegh was more than welcoming when he understood the Laceys were backing his venture. James had immediately been invited to lodge there as if no bad feelings stood between the Earl of Dorset and Ralegh.

‘How is your brother?’ Ralegh asked casually as James joined the gathering in the turret-room study overlooking the river. The chamber was lined with books and navigational instruments; water reflections danced on the ceiling enticing the occupants to plot this voyage into the unknown. The other speculators in the American experiment turned out to be an eclectic mix of merchants and scholars, leavened by a few noblemen like James. They were all currently studying the best maps yet made of the coast they intended to explore. Even to James’s untrained eye, there were far too many blanks to be filled in. The north, Newfoundland, was fairly well-known to the cod fishermen; Florida and the Caribbean familiar to the Spanish and French; but the middle stretch was truly a mystery.

James ran his finger over the spot that marked the Gulf of Mexico. ‘He is well, sir. Celebrating the arrival of a son.’

‘The lovely countess has given him an heir. I see.’ Ralegh’s shrewd dark eyes narrowed. ‘And he’s sent you on this voyage.’

How like the Queen’s favourite to turn the knife in what he thought was a wound. ‘It is an honour to serve my family’s interests, Master Ralegh.’

‘Naturally.’ Ralegh seemed quite cheered by the hint of another’s unhappiness. He caressed his black beard to a dagger point. ‘We are eager to welcome the bold on our venture. I won’t be going myself this time, but my captains are both good men. You’ll be in the best hands. What skills can you offer us?’

James had given this some thought on the journey to London. ‘Like yourself, sir, I’ve military experience. I can advise on the security needs of a future colony.’

Ralegh removed the map from under James’s hand. ‘I have not heard of any distinguished service in Her Majesty’s armies on your part, sir.’

James steeled himself not to take offence. ‘That is because I spent most of my time in enemy territory – my presence was not bruited abroad. I suggest you ask my lord Leicester if you want confirmation.’

Ralegh’s expression brightened as he was quick to understand the hint. ‘Ah, you were a scout. Excellent. You will know then how to survive in a land held by hostile forces. We have need of trackers too. You can do this?’

‘I have some talent for it, I think.’

‘Good. You may turn out to be a more valuable investment than your brother’s stake in this affair.’

‘I’ll endeavour to be of use,’ James said drily.

Ralegh stood up from the table and stretched as a nearby church bell struck the hour. ‘My lords, gentlemen, we must adjourn for this day. Those of you invited to the masque this night are welcome to travel in my barge if you so wish.’

The city men tactfully excused themselves, leaving only the courtiers to discuss their evening plans.

‘Lacey, are you going?’ Ralegh asked.

James would have preferred to stay in his room but knew he would be expected to show his face, if only for an hour. ‘Aye, sir.’

‘Then we’ll meet you at the landing stairs anon.’

Ralegh swept out to consult his famous wardrobe for a suit to impress his mistress. James ambled off to his small chamber to unpack a clean shirt – the best he could do in his straitened circumstances.

Waiting in the cold passageway for her entrance, Jane shivered in her new dress. Despite the layers of chemise, farthingale, petticoats, kirtle, bodice, sleeves and stomacher, the February chill still managed to creep into her bones. Mary Radcliffe, another of the Queen’s ladies, rubbed her arms.

‘I swear I have goose pimples,’ Mary muttered, craning her neck to peek through the doorway. ‘When is it our turn?’

Jane listened for the musical cue. The courtier playing Jupiter was concluding his speech to the sovereign and then it would be their chance to process across the stage, each wearing a mask and carrying a symbol of their divinity. Hers was a bow and arrow for the huntress; Mary Radcliffe bore a basket of apples, symbolizing love and temptation for Venus.

‘If that windbag doesn’t hurry up, I’m going to pelt him with my fruit,’ grumbled Mary.

‘No need, I’ll have shot him with my arrow before then,’ whispered Jane, frowning as she spotted her brother, Henry, seated not far from the Queen. Two rows down from him were her least favourite courtiers, Richard Paton, the new Marquess of Rievaulx, accompanied by his usual shadows, Otho and Lucres. How had Jonas managed to produce such an unpleasant crop of sons? Stout-bodied Richard was arrogant beyond all bounds; lank-limbed Otho never happier than when tormenting someone weaker than him; and Lucres, sharper in features as well as in brain, the one who plotted the most fiendish mischief. She could only suppose that Jonas’s long periods of absence from home while attending court had allowed his boys’ characters to run to seed and it was too late to prune them into shape now.

Another party of gentlemen came into view and Jane felt a delicious tingle of excitement: James Lacey had just entered with Ralegh and taken a seat near the Queen. James looked very serious in his black doublet and long venetians compared to the spangled finery of Ralegh in his gold velvet jerkin worn over a white pinked doublet and puffy satin trunk hose.

The musicians struck up their tune. Jane took a breath to steady her nerves, then entered in her place in the procession of gods and goddesses. The sequinned mask gave her the confidence to display herself before James after eighteen months apart. Would he recognize her? she wondered. She had never been entirely sure of his regard, but thought he had liked her when she had been a guest at Lacey Hall. She had certainly felt a spark between them, but had he?

The gods did a complete revolution of the room, bowing or curtsying on every count of twelve. Finally, they came together to hold a dramatic pose before the Queen, Jane in the front row holding aloft her bow and arrow as if to shoot the ceiling. She slid a look to the spectators and noticed with chagrin that James was studying his toecaps, seemingly indifferent to the performance.

The Queen led the applause. The actors dispersed to make way for the dancing to follow. Jane moved to one side, handing her bow and mask to a waiting page.

‘La volta,’ demanded Elizabeth, signalling the musicians to play the strenuous dance that was one of her favourites. Though past fifty, she still reigned supreme as the foremost dancer at court. Ralegh immediately offered his services as her partner, lifting and turning Elizabeth as the steps demanded, her crimson skirts swishing as she leapt with the energy of a much younger woman. After they had completed a circuit of the floor, other couples joined the dance. Jane hovered at the edge, hoping James would look up and notice her but he was still sunk in a brooding inspection of the floor.

‘You wish to dance, Marchioness?’ Jane’s brother, Sir Henry Perceval, appeared at her elbow. A large built man with her fair colouring, he was never usually short of partners, despite not being the heir to their father’s earldom – that honour rested with their staid eldest brother, David, who rarely ventured out of Yorkshire. Henry had served with Ralegh in Ireland and been knighted for his military prowess.