Murkmere (27 page)

There was utter silence in the hall, a dangerous silence. Leah lifted her hand, touched her neck. Silas stood still as death,
his knuckles white where he gripped the Master.

“Soon after my wife’s death I knew the baby had survived,” said the Master. “But I told no one.”

Lord Grouted bore himself up from his chair, thrusting his bald head toward the Master. “Why in the name of the Eagle didn’t
you? It would have saved endless trouble. We need never have had our dispute for a start, man.”

The Master didn’t flinch. “I had my reasons. The Eastern Edge isn’t like your softer south, where the occasional uprising
can be quelled without difficulty. We’ve wildmen here, bandits and vagabonds, and you know that rebels cluster in the remoter
villages and that their numbers are growing. They would seek any chance to harm us. I didn’t want to lose my daughter to kidnappers,
or worse.”

“So now we’re to welcome your daughter as one of us, no foundling at all but the true offspring of a Minister?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“And we can take your word for it?”

For a moment the Master looked dumbfounded. “It’s the truth, I swear it.” He began to breathe heavily and I saw his hands
ball into fists. “If you doubt me, I have the midwife’s signed certificate of birth.”

But Porter Grouted laughed. “A joke, old man, that’s all. I’ll not risk confronting you again.” He turned to the guests with
a great show of good humour. “We’ll drink a toast to it. Tonight’s a double celebration, ain’t it now?” He raised his glass
and held it in the air so that the liqueur shone like liquid gold in the candlelight. “To Leah, on her sixteenth birthday!
A true daughter of Murkmere Hall!”

Silas bent to take the Master’s glass from the table with his free hand, and offered it to him. I stood up; everyone but
Leah stood, waiting for the Master to take it from Silas and drink, but instead he turned to Leah kneeling beside his chair
and looked into her upturned face.

“Leah?” he said softly. “Leah, my love, my dearest daughter? I believe you’ve known all along, haven’t you?”

Leah said nothing. Her face had lost the flush of wine and was moon-pale.

There was a silence of several heartbeats’ length. The Master’s face took on a terrible hurt.

Then Leah rose and ran from the hall, from the guests standing open-mouthed, from the flickering candles and the shining glasses,
from her father. Gobchick began to moan softly, but no one paid him any attention.

The tapestries flapped over the door, and Leah was gone.

T
he Master fell back into his chair. There was an agitated commotion of people around him, commiserating, comforting.

No one saw me leave but Silas. As I left my place, his black eyes met mine, defeated. He knew what I was doing, but he was
trapped. At such a time it would look bad if a steward didn’t stay with his Master.

I ran from the room, between the tapestries and through the door, and at the end of the passage I saw the shine of Leah’s
dress. She was leaning against the wall, her eyes huge and fixed.

I marched straight up and shook her. Her head flipped round; her eyes focused on me. “Leah,” I said. “Leah, why did you leave?”

She shook her head; she looked desperately unhappy. I couldn’t understand it. Where was the joy I’d expected?

“What is it?” I whispered. “You can tell me.”

She was so deep in misery she was unaware of my question. I put my arms around her, but still she said nothing. Her shoulder
blades were sharp beneath her dress. She was like a bird in my arms, a beautiful bird.

Then Jukes came around the corner on his way to the hall, carrying a silver bowl of dark green nero leaves.

Leah heard his footsteps and looked up. She pushed my arms away. “I must prepare myself for the dancing,” was all she said.
“I’ll summon Doggett to the parlor. Go back to the Hall, Aggie.”

She’d rejected me. I stood uncertainly in the passage as she slipped away, and tears pricked behind my eyes.

Then the gangling figure of Jukes came back through the door from the hall. I half-turned away from him as if I were going
elsewhere, but he hurried up to me, his long face gloomier than ever. “Miss Agnes, I’m glad you’re still here. The Master’s
asking for you.”

“Me?”

“You and no one else, he says.”

Bemused and apprehensive, I followed Jukes back to the Great Hall. The crowd around the Master drew back a little as I approached.
The concerned, hypocritical voices fell silent.

Lord Grouted was standing back, watching. I didn’t look at him. It was the Master I cared about, slumped over an arm of the
wheelchair, his cheeks patchworked with red and white, his breath coming in gasps. Silas was patting his back as if he’d choked,
but I knew it wasn’t choking that had made him like this.

I laid my hand on the Master’s. “Sir?”

“Aggie? Take me away from all this.”

I stared straight at Silas and put my hands on the bar handle of the chair. Silas fell back. He said nothing; no one said
anything as I wheeled the Master away.

Jukes held open the door for us and followed with a candle. I was grateful, though it wasn’t needed. The sconces were bright
in the passage, all the way to the Master’s room. I would have run with the chair if I’d had the strength, so anxious was
I to get the Master to his medicine, but it was heavy. I was out of breath by the time we arrived and Jukes had opened the
door.

“I can manage now, thank you, Jukes,” I said, and he bowed gravely and left as the nurse came out of the anteroom.

The Master’s room was growing dim, lit only by firelight and the fading daylight. The curtains weren’t yet drawn; the nurse
hadn’t been expecting the Master back so soon.

“He’s been taken sick,” I said urgently. “What can you do?”

I was glad she didn’t fuss but examined his face and went swiftly to her row of bottles. She selected one, poured out a glass
of a dark liquid, and handed it to me. “Too much excitement has thickened his blood. This should thin it.”

I sniffed the physic doubtfully: it smelt of rotting tree bark, of ancient forests. But when I held it to the Master’s lips,
he drained the glass, meek as a child.

I wheeled him to the fire and propped his head with a pillow. The nurse lit some candles and poked the fire vigorously. Then
she gave him another look. “He’ll recover, this time.”
She looked curiously at me as if she’d like to linger and find out more, but I said firmly, “I’ll call you if I need you.”
She went then, and I checked the door was shut.

After a minute the Master looked up. The color had calmed in his cheeks and his breathing was quieter. “Has the nurse gone?”
he asked in a low voice.

“She’s in her room, Sir. Are you feeling better?”

“I’m well enough now. Why did she take it so, my speech?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”

“You went after her?”

“She said nothing, Sir.”

“She made no comment, no comment at all?” His voice was pitiful.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I was sure she’d say something, to you.” He sighed. “It must have been the shock. I should have told her privately beforehand.”

“Sir.” I tried to find the right words. “I’m sure Leah’s happy to be your daughter, but she faces great responsibilities now.
She’ll not only inherit when the time comes, but she’ll be one of the Ministration.”

“I know that.” He sounded irritable. “Why else d’you think I’ve taught her all I know? She’ll be young, energetic — healthy.”
He spread his hands ruefully, indicating his legs beneath the fur rug. “She’ll be full of my ideas, my learning. She’ll open
their eyes in Council, she’ll bring about change for the better. Hah! I’ll get the better of them yet!” He began to laugh,
but the laughter turned into wheezing.

I leaped across to him in a great fret of fear and thumped his back. “Shall I call the nurse, Sir?”

He shook his head feebly, smiling still. “Stop, I beg you, else I’ll be in my coffin — I’m half-dead already!” He subsided
against the pillow. “I must hold on to my energy, I’ve much to do tonight.”

“You’re not going back?” I said, horrified.

“Of course. I must, I’m the host. Besides, I don’t trust Porter Grouted, never have. And here he is, in my house. He needs
watching. What plot is he hatching this very moment?” He slammed his hands on his armrests, then looked at me. “But I wanted
to speak to you alone, Agnes. Can you do something for me?”

“Of course, Sir.”

“I want no one to know of this. Do you give me your word?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then go to Jukes — aye, and Pegg as well, he’s another good, trustworthy man, and I’ll need two of them. Tell them to come
to the ballroom at midnight and find me there. They are to say they’re taking me to bed.”

“I’m sure the nurse will want you sooner, Sir.”

“But I’ll not be going to bed. I want them to take me to the watchtower and to work the lift for me.”

“The tower? At that hour?”

“Quiet, Miss,” he rapped out with such strength in his voice I jumped. “It must be kept secret. No one — not even Leah, not
Silas — must know. Jukes and Pegg must understand this too”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll tell them,” I said to calm him, though I was filled with apprehension.

“Good. The nurse will bring me to the dancing shortly. Go and announce my full recovery to the company. Let them take it as
they will.”

And so I left him, grinning wryly to himself in the firelight. He seemed indeed to have made a miraculous recovery.

I found Jukes and Pegg in one of the pantries, setting more clean glasses on trays. I delivered the Master’s message, and
the three of us looked at one another.

“The Master says no one is to know,” I said. “Not even Mr. Silas himself.” They nodded their white wigs at me.

“Don’t let the Master do anything unwise,” I begged. “He’s feverish and troubled tonight.”

Then I went to the Great Hall, to the assembled gentlemen. The ladies had gone to their chambers to repair their makeup and
put on their bird masks once more; the gentlemen would follow them shortly.

I felt very much alone as I went in through the door, pushing aside the heavy tapestry. The drowsy footman, leaning against
the wall, looked as if he’d been at the liqueurs himself and leaped to move it too late.

They were clustered around the top table, chairs drawn up, wigs close together, voices low, and on the table a great muddle
of decanters and empty glasses. Silas was among them and had seated himself not far from the Lord Protector.

No one saw me but the fool, still crouched behind Porter
Grouted’s chair. He did a little caper, but the clinking of his chain wasn’t noticed.

My feet faltered. There were too many men. But as I turned to slip away, I was seen.

“It’s the wench Gilbert asked for,” someone said.

Silas pushed his chair back and came striding over to me, his face flushed with wine. “What news?” His breath fumed in my
face; he lowered his voice. “Why did he want you? What did he say?”

Beyond him, Lord Grouted rose to his feet. I bobbed a nervous curtsy as the Protector’s hard gaze rested on me. “Come closer,
lass,” he said. “Tell us, how is the Master of Murkmere?”

“Better, My Lord,” I said, trying to sound fearless. “He’ll be rejoining you when the dancing begins.”

Lord Grouted’s face moved not a muscle. “Excellent,” he said.

In the passage Scuff rushed up to me. “Mistress Crumplin’s asking for you, Aggie. We need help in the kitchens. Can you find
a parlor maid?”

“I’ll come myself,” I said. “Has the mistress gone through to the ballroom yet?” Most likely Leah wouldn’t give me a thought,
but perhaps I should let her know my whereabouts.

“She went to the Master’s room,” said Scuff.

“To the Master? Are you sure?”

She nodded, wide-eyed with all the excitement. “I saw her going in just now.”

In the kitchens I had no time to worry about Leah or her father. Servants ran in continually, laden with trays of used glasses
from the Great Hall; water bubbled in the pewter bowls hung above the fire, and everywhere washed plates were stacked in dripping
piles. The air was thick with steam, perspiring bodies, the smell of leftover food. Above the hubbub Mistress Crumplin stood
shouting orders, her face flushed with ale and power.

Out in the stable yard the great fire that had roasted the oxen had been subdued. Through the window I could see the glow
of the dying fire against the darkening sky, as the youth in the hat damped clown the last embers with a cloth.

I found myself a voluminous apron to cover my skirt and busied myself helping. A thread of music wound faintly into the room
each time the door banged open. The musicians were tuning up again; soon the dancing would begin.

A flustered maid tottered in with a silver tureen, which she dumped unceremoniously on the table. “Mistress Crumplin, they
want the fire in the library stoked up and a decanter of port left for them.”

“Slow down, girl. I can’t make head nor tail, ‘deed I can’t. How many’s to be in there?”

“Only two,” panted the girl. “The Lord Protector himself desires a private word with Mr. Silas.”

I felt my heartbeats quicken.

“Well, go to, girl. Make the room ready.”

“I can’t, Mistress. Mr. Silas says the Great Hall must be cleared urgent now.”

“I’ll go to the library,” I said, trying to hide my eagerness.

Mistress Crumplin eyed me suspiciously, but had no choice in the matter. I knew she was as curious as I was about this private
word, but at least she stood a good chance of hearing it later from Silas himself, whereas I had none. My only chance would
be somehow to hear it for myself. I was sure they would discuss the significance of the Master’s speech. It was something
I should hear, for Leah’s sake.

I took a decanter and two port glasses from one of the butler’s pantries and put them on a tray, then hurried to the library.
Masked guests passed me, but I kept my head down as befitted a maid. I hoped none of them would notice the night-blue taffeta
beneath my damp apron.