Precious Bones (2 page)

Chapter 4

I slid
onto a chair opposite Joanna.  She was sitting at a table by the window at a little patisserie we frequently met at, stirring her coffee thoughtfully.  She looked up as I sat down and gestured for me to help myself to a pastry.  I ordered a pot of tea and waited for her to speak.  She gave me a guilty look and asked me if my croissant was fresh.

“Jo, my croissant is scrumptious, now spit it out.  What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve heard back from the publisher.  It seems that there have been some changes since last we spoke.     Mr. Turner has finally decided to retire, and his grandson has taken over the company.  I hear that heads have been rolling since the new regime came into power and Mr. Turner, the Younger, has requested an audience.  We have a meeting with him at noon. “

“Is there reason to worry?”  I wasn’t sure what she was getting at.  I was under contract with Turner and
Randall and couldn’t see how this change would affect me unless they decided to terminate my contract, which would land them in court.  Joanna shrugged, taking a sip of coffee. 

“I didn’t get a very positive feeling when I spoke to Turner’s secretary.  The woman sounded like she was on the verge of a nervous collapse.  Let’s just wait and see, shall we?”

I took a gulp of my tea and put down the pastry.  I suddenly lost my appetite.  “I wish you would’ve told me this earlier.  I’m not dressed for a meeting and it’s already after 11am.”  I wish I had worn something more professional, although I wasn’t sure what difference it would make.

“You look great.  Let’s just see what he has to say.”

Joanna and I took a cab to the posh offices of Turner and Randall and were promptly shown into the waiting room where we had often waited to meet with Mr. Turner Sr.  He was a charming old man, with snow-white hair and a good-natured twinkle in his blue eyes.  He always flirted like a man half his age and most of all, he loved my work.  I had no idea what to expect from Mr. Turner, the younger, but judging by the nervous manner of his secretary, nothing good.  Finally, the assistant told us to go inside, and I followed Joanna through the door.   I froze in my tracks when I saw the man behind the desk.  I had seen those eyes before, and I knew exactly where.  It was by the house in Blackfriars a few days ago.  Turner didn’t seem surprised to see me and motioned for us to sit down. 

“Good afternoon, ladies.  As I
’m sure you have already heard, my grandfather has finally retired and left me in charge.  I’ve been making a few minor changes, hoping to bring this place into the twenty-first century.”  His eyes never left mine as he spoke and Joanna gave me a nervous look.   I didn’t respond and waited for him to go on. 

“I
’ve just finished reading your latest manuscript, Ms. Blake.”  There was a dramatic pause.  “I was almost disappointed that I don’t suffer from insomnia, because this surely would have cured it.”  With that he pushed the manuscript toward me, inviting me to take it back.  I was at a loss for words.  I’d been very proud of this book, and his brutal review left me humiliated and angry.  Joanna opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind and remained silent waiting to see what he would say next.

“Your story is so cliché.  Why don’t you write something a little more autobiographical?  I trust your life is interesting enough to use as inspiration?”  His mouth curved into a smile and he gave me a questioning look.

I wanted to tell him what an insolent bastard I thought him to be, but smiled back instead.   “Perhaps since you find my writing to be so uninspired, you would be willing to release me from my contract to your firm.  I’m sure I can find someone who would have a higher opinion of my talents.”  I thought that would satisfy both of us, but he shook his head.

“No, I don’t think I will.  I would prefer
it if you were to write another book, one that I can publish.  You are a talented writer, and you can do much better than this.”  He glanced at my manuscript and then back at me.  I took the novel off his desk and marched out the door followed by an outraged Joanna.   We didn’t say a word until we walked out of the building into the weak, spring sunshine. 

“What a wanker!”  Joanna exploded.  “Can you believe the gall?”

I wasn’t sure what to say.  Turner’s comments had hit a nerve.  What if he was right?  What if my novel was crap?  He wasn’t very diplomatic, but that didn’t necessarily make him wrong.   What did he mean when he said I should write something autobiographical?  What did he know of my life?  I was loath to admit that my existence would not make for very good reading. 

I was distracted from my
turbulent thoughts by a call from Tristan.  “Hey, sweetheart.  How did your meeting go?  Will it be another bestseller?”  I promptly burst into tears.

Chapter 5

The year of Our Lord 1586

March

Pippa pulled Constance along by the arm, pushing her way through the throng of people.  The square was already packed and various vendors were calling out their wares.  There were hot meat pies, oranges, and bunches of violets.  The crowd was ready for a good show, and parents were hoisting children onto their shoulders for a better view.  As soon as the two girls got to the front, the cart rumbled into the square pulled along by a tired looking horse.  The woman in the cart looked over the crowd, smiling like a queen ready to receive her subjects.  She held her head high and smiled serenely, as the cart pulled up to the scaffold, and the prisoner was escorted up the rickety steps.  The crowd fell silent in expectation of the speech.  It was usually the best part of the hanging and today promised to be an extra-special treat.  Mary Conway was a well-known madam, accused of stabbing two noblemen in her brothel and chopping them into pieces, before feeding them to a pack of hungry dogs. 

The executioner placed the rope around Mary’s neck and forced her up on a bench situated beneath the gallows.  Mary looked around dramatically
, waiting for people to give her their full attention.  “Ladies and Gents,” she began.  “I am an innocent woman sentenced to die for a crime I did not commit.”  She smiled conspiratorially at the expectant crowd, “but if I did commit the heinous deed they are accusing me of, I would say that those wastrels deserved whatever they got and more.  My dogs would have feasted that day on the remains of thieves, murderers and sodomites who didn’t deserve a Christian burial.  That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter.  God Bless the Queen!”  With that she gave the hangman a look, and he kicked the bench from under her feet, making her swing like a pendulum while she choked and tore at the rope at her throat with her nails.  Pippa craned her head trying to get a better view while Connie looked away in horror.

“You have a morbid fascination with death,
sister,” she said trying to drag Pippa away.

“Not everyone can be the paragon of virtue that you claim to be,” answered Pippa saucily
, and continued to watch as Mary stopped thrashing about and the crowd lost interest.  Constance turned to leave when a commotion to her left caught her attention.  She wasn’t sure who was accusing whom of what, but two men were beginning to throw punches, and it was time to get away from Tyburn Hill as quickly as possible.  Connie tried to grab Pippa’s hand, but she was nowhere to be seen, and then all hell broke loose with people were screaming, running, and punching anyone who got in their way. 

Connie was caught up by the mob and carried away from the gallows
, until she lost her footing and fell hard, a large woman stepping on her hand in her desire to escape.  She got kicked in the ribs and covered her face with her hands, breathless with panic.  A pair of strong arms picked her up, and she was carried out of the melee to a side street where the stranger deposited her carefully on a crate. 

“Are you all right, Mistress?”  Connie was still shaking with fright, but she tried to compose herself enough to answer her rescuer.

“Thank you, sir.  I am most grateful for your assistance.  My sister…”

“If you mean the young lady who was with you when the trouble broke out, I saw her running the other way.  I am sure she is quite safe.”  Connie could have strangled Pippa at that moment, but she had other things to think about.  Her hand was bleeding where it had been stepped on
, and her ribs hurt from the blow she received.  It was a long walk home, and she would have a lot of explaining to do once she got there.

The man took out his lace handkerchief and
began to carefully clean her wounded hand, while Connie took the opportunity to study him from under her lashes.  He was around twenty-five, with dark blond hair falling to his shoulders, slanted blue eyes and high cheekbones.  His goatee hid his lips, but she was pretty sure he was smiling.  He was dressed like a gentleman and a fat, tear-drop pearl hung front his left ear, swinging as his head moved.  Suddenly he looked up at her.

“Please forgive my lack of manners.  My name is Richard Carlisle.”  With that he swept off his plumed hat and bowed to Constance. 

“Constance Thorne,” Connie replied.  She would have curtsied, but her ribs were too badly bruised.

“Mistress Thorne,
please allow me to escort you home.  My carriage is just in the next street.”  Connie was about to protest, but she was too shaken to contemplate going home on her own, and he seemed trustworthy enough, although Tom would berate her for compromising her reputation by getting into the carriage with a strange man.   Mr. Carlisle could see her doubts, and he rushed to reassure her.  “I will ride with the coachman, so no impropriety can be implied.”

“Thank you,
sir.  That’s most kind of you.”  Connie allowed herself to be escorted to the carriage, and sank down on the cushioned seat gratefully as the carriage began to move toward Blackfriars.   She thanked her rescuer again as he escorted her to the door, and walked into the house.  Pippa came running out of the parlor looking pale and worried.

“Where have you been?  I lost you in the crowd.  I was afraid you were hurt.”  She saw Connie’s bruised hand and grimace of pain as she sat down on a chair.  “Was that a carriage I saw outside?”  She ran to the window, but the carriage was already gone.

“I nearly got trampled by the mob, but a gentleman helped me and offered to escort me home.  He rode with the coachman,” she added hastily as Tom walked into the room.    Since the death of their parents, Tom had become the head of the family, and he took his responsibilities very seriously.  He rarely had to worry about Connie, but Pippa was a constant source of concern.  Being the youngest, she had always been spoiled by their parents and she grew up to be wayward and reckless.  Tom was always worried she would do something to betray their secret, and he was making discreet inquiries among their acquaintances regarding a position for her.  They could use the extra income, and working for a respectable family would keep Pippa out of trouble.

“Oh, stop fussing, Tom.  Tell me about the gentleman, Connie.  Was he handsome?  With a carriage like that it almost doesn’t matter,” she giggled.  Pippa danced around the room, frustrating poor Tom even further, but Connie just laughed.  She was so good
-natured that you couldn’t stay angry with her for long.

Chapter 6

Richard sat back in the carriage and looked out the window as he rode toward Whitehall Palace.  It was slow going as the wheels kept sinking into deep mud, which was mixed with muck caused by the melting snow.  His presence at the hanging had not been accidental and the only reason he saw Constance Thorne fall under the feet of the mob was because he had been watching her.   He had spent the past few years working for Secretary Francis Walsingham as an agent in his spy network, and he was stalking his target when the brawl broke out.   Most days Richard was proud of what he did, but today wasn’t one of them.  He told himself that it was all in the name of Queen and country, but spying on two young girls left him feeling soiled and disenchanted.  

The Thornes weren’t actually suspected of anything yet, but Walsingham believed they might lead Richard to bigger fish.  The
family hid their devotion to popish rituals, and was staunch Catholics.  That within itself wasn’t a crime, not yet anyway, but people like that invariably led to people who did more than pray.  Many Catholics hid priests coming over from Rome, and secretly financed plots against the Queen, hoping to put Mary, Queen of Scots, on the throne of England instead of Elizabeth; whom they believed to be a bastard and a heretic.  These plots were numerous and potentially lethal to the Queen and the perpetrators had to be rooted out and eliminated.

As Richard looked in Constance’s
guileless green eyes, he couldn’t believe someone as young and lovely as her would be capable of plotting anything, but he had to do his duty.  Helping Mistress Thorne was an opportunity to get closer to the family and see what was afoot.  Richard resolved to go visit her tomorrow under the guise of concern for her well-being.  He felt like a total cad by the time he stepped out of the carriage and went to report to his superior.

Chapter 7

Connie blew out the candle and climbed into bed
, snuggling next to Pippa who was already snoring softly.  The room was cold and Connie thought it might snow again tomorrow.  Moonlight streamed through the casement window, painting their small bedchamber in shades of blue and silver.  Constance was wakeful, and her thoughts kept turning to Richard Carlisle.  His hands had been warm and gentle as he held her injured one, and his smile left her feeling vulnerable and confused. 
I shouldn’t be having these thoughts
, Connie thought miserably
.  I should be married, with at least one child by now
. 

Constance
was weeks away from her wedding to Henry when their mother fell seriously ill.  Katherine Thorne never complained, but this time there was no doubt she needed care.  Connie begged Henry to understand, and postponed their nuptials until her mother’s recovery.  Pippa was only thirteen, and her father and brother were away from the house working all day.  Her father was a master mason and Tom was still working as an apprentice on the same building site.  Her family needed her.  As the winter snows came, Katherine got worse and Connie hardly left the house, spoon-feeding her mother, reading her passages from the Bible and wiping her brow.  She hardly noticed when Henry’s visits became less frequent, and she heard news of his marriage to Betty Marlowe the same week she prepared her mother’s body for burial.   

The loss of Katherine had been devastating
for the family, and Thomas Sr. did his best to care for his children and nurture their Catholic faith in accordance with his late wife’s wishes.  He liked to remind them that their mother chose names for them that held special meaning for her, and they owed it to her to make her proud.  Constance had been named for her mother’s constant faith in Jesus Christ, the Savior, and his mother, Virgin Mary.  Tom was named for Thomas Aquinas whom Katherine greatly admired, and Pippa was named Phillipa after the King of Spain, who would invade England and save her people from the blasphemous beliefs of its heretic Queen.

It wasn’t long until Thomas Sr. joined his wife in the little cemetery behind their parish church. 
A large block of stone tumbled down from one of the walls of the house they were building for an important nobleman and crushed his chest.  Mercifully, death came quickly, and the Thorne children were left on their own.  Not only did they lose both parents within a few months of each other, but they also lost their main source of income, leaving them struggling to make ends meet.  Tom informed them over supper that a position had been found for Pippa.  She would work as a governess in the household of Hugh Milton, a prominent Catholic, and teach reading and writing to his two daughters, Mary and Anne.  Pippa would reside with the Miltons during the week, and come home on Saturday nights in order to spend Sundays with her family.  Pippa wasn’t happy with the idea of having to work for a living, but residing in a big house with lots of lovely furnishings and priceless works of art softened the blow just a little.  Phillipa was fond of children, and Connie knew she would enjoy spending time with the girls.  They were sweet and well-mannered and would no doubt think the world of their pretty young governess.

Connie knew it was necessary for
Phillipa to work, but she would miss her little sister.  With both Tom and Pippa working, Connie would be alone all day looking after the house and after Tom.  What would happen to her once Tom married?  She knew he was courting Jane Simm, the butcher’s daughter, and would marry her as soon as their finances permitted him to start a family.   Jane would become the mistress, and Constance would just be the unmarried sister-in-law -- and a burden.  In the distance, Connie heard the night watchman calling out, “Midnight and all is well.”  She sighed and turned away from the window, praying for sleep to come.