Authors: Eve Edwards
6
‘Daughter!’
Jane stopped, caught on the stairs leading to the river where she had intended to take passage to Milly’s. It was her day off duty, but she had heard from Henry that her father had come to court and thus far had managed to avoid him. Her plan to hide out in the city thwarted, she turned and curtsied.
‘Father, how fare you?’
Let’s try to keep this civilized
, she thought. She signalled to her servants to wait.
Thaddeus Perceval, Lord Wetherby, stood arms akimbo on the top step looking down at her. A stout man with coarse manners, he had a crop of bristling white gold hair, harsh lines bracketing his mouth and hard eyes a paler shade of blue than hers. He had not bothered to refurbish his wardrobe before presenting himself at court, so was clad in a russet tabard coat and mud-coloured doublet and hose a decade out of fashion, proclaiming him every inch the country nobleman.
‘I’m well. I left David and your aunt in good health,’ he replied gruffly.
Jane played with the creamy silk lining on her long sleeves. ‘I’m glad to hear that.’
Her father gestured to the boat waiting at the bottom of the steps. ‘Where are you off to, Jane?’
The last thing Jane wanted was for him to know she was still in touch with Milly Porter; he had made quite clear that she had to cut all ties with ‘that traitorous drab’ when her father was sent to the Tower. The fact that a man the Earl of Wetherby had previously extolled as a fine soldier and better hunter could prove to be guilty of so serious a crime had meant Thaddeus took the revelation as a personal affront.
‘I was thinking of visiting Goldsmiths Row,’ Jane invented quickly.
‘What, so rich now are you, daughter, that you can spend your money on luxuries?’
Jane just smiled tightly in reply, knowing there was no good response to that question.
‘Still, I think that errand can wait when you’ve not seen your old father for almost a year.’ He beckoned her up the stairs.
Jane really had no choice but to obey the summons and get it over with. The prickly kiss he gave her suggested all was well between them – at least as far as he was concerned. Was he so dense as to forget the bitterness with which they had parted? He had volubly resented Jonas forcing a marriage contract on him that ensured Jane retained control of her own dowry should she be left a widow. Thankfully, he had no power over her now, other than the social expectation that children show their parents respect and honour. They both knew that if she stood out against him she would suffer widespread condemnation.
So be it
, thought Jane, steeling herself.
I refuse to be bullied
.
‘Has Henry spoken to you?’ her father asked, walking her back into the palace and seating her on a bench in an alcove near the great hall.
Jane glanced longingly out of the window at the little garden of sandy paths and box hedges, knowing she could not yet escape. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Fine lad, Henry.’
Jane held her peace, watching a gardener painstakingly rake the paths smooth.
‘He’s found a good match for you, second son of a frog duke – a sound man. Shipping and wine interests – big estates near Bordeaux. Eldest son’s a bit feeble so he’s likely to inherit.’
‘Good for me or for you?’ Jane asked quietly, plucking her sleeves nervously.
Thaddeus grinned, mistaking her intent. ‘Both. He’ll help us develop the French market for our broadcloth.’
Jane searched for ways to turn down this interference in her life but could come up with nothing but a straight refusal.
‘My regrets, sir, but I am not willing to wed again so soon after Jonas’s death.’
‘Good God, girl, it’s been months! I can’t believe a young woman like you wants to waste the bloom of her beauty on widow’s weeping. You made a excellent match – well beyond my expectations for you after you know what – but no one expects you to pretend to grieve beyond the month’s mind.’
Jane would have protested his cynical estimation of her but there was no point. He had never believed her capable of emotions he did not feel himself. ‘Still, sir, I must refuse your kind offer to matchmake for me.’
Thaddeus sprang to his feet, dropping the act of concerned father for his more usual one of irate parent. He ground his fist into his palm. ‘Henry warned me you were still as stubborn as ever! You don’t know how lucky you are, girl, being brought up with every luxury. Time you repaid your debt by doing my will for once in your pathetic life!’
Jane closed her eyes, mentally summoning up the image of all her gold stored safely away, a bastion against his attacks. He could lob as many insults at her as he liked from his trebuchet of a tongue, but they would merely rebound from her walls.
‘As it is my marriage we are discussing, sir, I do think my wishes must be taken into account.’
‘Pah! You are a wicked, disobedient girl! What do you want to do? Hide behind your widowhood, taking lovers and bringing shame on the family with your loose antics!’
How he had concluded that she was about to launch herself on a career of lewd behaviour when she had been the very soul of propriety since coming to court, Jane could not guess.
‘That is not my intention, sir. I seek only to serve the Queen.’
Thaddeus looked as if he would very much like to beat her. ‘Henry’s already told me people are whispering about you behind your back – scenes with your lovers on the dance floor – brawls on holy ground – I could have you shut away as unfit for decent company! Your stepsons are already claiming you are guilty of witchcraft, bewitching their father and swindling them out of their inheritance!’
Jane could not sit still any longer. She leapt up, going head to head with the man who had made her life a misery for so long. ‘And you’d use their prejudiced estimation of me against your own flesh and blood? Be very careful, sir: if you go down the path of supporting them in their wild claims, you risk losing every penny I have. They’re intent on stripping my fortune from me – even the dowry you gave Jonas. Do you really prefer the Patons to have it than your own daughter?’
It appeared to be a close run thing in Thaddeus’s mind as he hesitated before answering.
‘What I’d prefer, Jane, is a dutiful daughter who lets her father manage her wealth and marries the man I select. How can you – a chit of eighteen – know what’s best for you?’
‘Jonas believed me capable of making decisions for myself.’
‘Your husband was in his dotage – how could he judge?’
They were in danger of arguing in circles – it had to stop. Jane dipped a curtsy.
‘Excuse me, sir, I recall an errand I must run for Her Majesty.’ She brushed past him, her skirts catching on the buckle of his shoes. She wrenched free rather than stoop to untangle them.
‘This isn’t over, Jane,’ her father warned.
Jane raised her chin in stubborn defiance and left without deigning to reply.
‘If the winds are favourable, I look to the
Dorothy
and the
Bark Ralegh
making the crossing in two months.’ Ralegh tapped the chart spread on the table. ‘We must ensure enough supplies for the expedition to manage until it reaches the Caribbean. I refuse to let the endeavour founder for want of salt pork or fresh water.’
James stood back from the main group clustered around the maps. Most of the gentlemen were wearing thick fur-lined coats for the meeting, making them look something like a gathering of woodland creatures. His eyes drifted to the window where he could see the Thames and the myriad boats plying between the north and south banks. Ralegh’s circular study might be cold but it had one of the best views in the city over to Lambeth marshes and the countryside beyond.
Dr Dee, the Queen’s astrologer, turned back the baggy sleeves of his black robe and thumbed through a thick book full of his tiny scribbles. His long white beard bobbed in front of him like a heron’s beak.
‘Late April – the twenty-seventh – that would be the most auspicious day to begin this enterprise, according to the stars,’ he announced in his reedy voice.
And who were they to argue with him? Dr Dee had decided the very day of the Queen’s coronation and his prediction of a long and glorious reign looked to be coming true – that’s if they could stop Spain from crushing their little Protestant nation on the fringe of Europe. James shivered, the lick of river breeze on his face from the cracks in the casement taking him back once more to the cold Low Countries.
‘Lacey, are you with us?’ Ralegh’s voice cut through his dark memories.
‘At your service, sir.’ James pushed off from the wall to join the men at the table.
‘You are still intending to go on this voyage?’
‘Indeed, I can hardly wait,’ James said drily.
‘For your survey of the terrain for defensive purposes, what equipment will you need?’
James tried to drum up the necessary enthusiasm to answer. ‘A couple of good men to help with the measurements, someone capable of recording our findings – a mapmaker preferably.’
‘I’m sending a draughtsman – I’ve used his skills before: he’s very good.’
‘Then that will suffice. I take it we are not expecting to make a start on fortifying the site we choose for the colony?’
‘No, no, I have no wish of making the mistakes of other expeditions.’
Like the ones led by your deceased half-brother
, James added silently.
‘Preparation is the key,’ continued Ralegh. ‘Your role is to find out what we will need then come back and dispatch our colonists ready to build a defensible home. We’ll be sending farmers and craftsmen, men and their womenfolk when we finally are ready to put down roots in America.’
‘Then I have all I require.’ Indeed, he barely needed anything these days but to rid others of the burden of his presence.
‘You’ll take a manservant with you?’
‘Aye.’
Ralegh made a note on his list of personnel intending to travel. ‘I’ll put you in the
Bark Ralegh
. Helped design it myself, you know.’
‘That makes me feel so much better, sir.’
This time Ralegh caught the irony. He glanced up at James and grinned, his handsome face taking on pixie-like mischievousness. ‘I’m sure it does. Risked myself in her a number of times – she’s a faithful vessel to the honest seaman.’
James quirked an eyebrow, amused by the man despite himself. ‘And are you honest?’
Ralegh laughed. ‘Sometimes. At sea, always. I know better than to try to cheat that mistress.’
The meeting disbanded and James returned to his chamber to find Diego scrubbing what looked like the contents of half the London sewers off his hose.
‘What happened to you?’
‘A drunkard and a cart horse happened to me, sir.’ Diego beat the hose with a tablet of soap.
‘We have laundry maids to do that,’ James said reasonably, recognizing he had walked in on a rare show of temper from his man.
Diego rolled his eyes. ‘You have maids – I have insults for asking for their services.’
James scratched his head. ‘Why? What have you done to set them against you?’
Diego gave him a look that suggested his intelligence hovered somewhere in the region of ‘village idiot’. ‘I have not done anything, my lord. In case you have not noticed, Londoners do not like me.’
James stripped off his leather jerkin, thinking it was about time he changed for dinner. ‘More fool them. You’re a likeable fellow, Diego.’
‘I could be as charming as our host, my lord, and still they would hate me. The only black fellows like me they see are either devils on the church walls or villains in the play.’
James stopped in the middle of unhooking his doublet. This was the most Diego had ever confided about his feelings in the years they had been together. He had become so used to his servant’s appearance, he had forgotten how Diego suffered for it. Truth be told, he’d once shared those prejudices when he’d first met him; only closer acquaintance had taught him to look beneath the skin. He approached Diego and took the soapy hose out of his fingers.
‘As I said, more fool them.’ He walked to the door and bellowed into the corridor. ‘Ho there!’
A maid came scurrying up the stairs and bobbed a breathless curtsy. ‘My lord.’
‘See that my man’s livery is cleaned immediately. I do not want to hear a whisper that any of you have scorned him in any fashion – not by a word, not by a look. Do I make myself clear?’
The maid gave Diego a frightened glance. ‘Aye, my lord.’
James thrust the hose in her arms and turned his back on her, closing the door.
‘Thank you, master,’ Diego said quietly, still with an edge of resentment in his voice.
‘Lord, man, don’t thank me. I’m only asking for what is your due. If they mock you, my servant, they insult me.’
Diego let slip a grin, more at ease with the idea that James did it from selfish reasons. ‘And we cannot have that, can we, O most proud and powerful lord?’
‘No, we powerful lords can’t. Now, I don’t suppose I have any clean hose myself, do I?’
Diego dug a patched blue pair out of James’s trunk. They both looked at the sorry sight with something like hopeless acceptance.
‘Oh well, at least you fill them out well according to the ladies,’ Diego offered.
James snorted, hoping Diego was right. He rather liked the idea of Jane admiring his legs – not that it would lead anywhere, of course. They had made a truce and he would settle for a brief interlude of friendship. He owed it to her, and all who knew him, to get out of their lives as soon as was practicable. He was the blight, and she the rose that should flower unblemished by his touch.
The Queen had chosen to dine with a select company that night, telling her ladies that she thought banquets were a waste of time during Lent. No one could enjoy a prolonged meal with the cooks trying to make fish and white meat palatable when everyone really hankered for a good piece of venison, beef or suckling pig. Jane sat at her end of the table, enjoying her almond-flavoured chicken, thinking that she could live quite happily without red meats despite the Queen’s pronouncement. She kept quiet though, having learnt early on in her service that the sovereign only allowed a very few to challenge her in argument – Ralegh; Lord Burghley, her chief adviser; Mistress Parry – but certainly not a young dowager marchioness. The Queen had been known to box ears when angered. Scooping up another bite, Jane wondered how much of her relish for the fare was influenced by the company. Fate had been kind and placed her next to James and far from that snake-in-the-grass Ralegh.