Precious Bones (6 page)

Chapter 16

April
1586

It was still dark and bitterly cold when Tom, Pippa and Constance left the house on Sunday morning.  Thick, yellow, fog swirled around them making it almost impossible to see where they were going, but they knew the way by heart and walked briskly, without speaking.  There were very few people about at this time of the morning, but they still took precautions not to be recognized.  Tom had his hat pulled down low over his eyes and the girls wore their hoods, making it impossible to see their faces from a distance.  They reached their destination and knocked on a low, wooden door.   A square peephole opened up, and then the sleepy servant opened the door and let them in.  Lady Devon was already waiting for them in the hall, and after wishing them a good morrow, bid them to follow. 

She took them down to the kitchens where the shadows from the hearth flickered on the vaulted stone ceiling.  The maids were already hard at work, but they
ignored the small procession and went about their tasks.  Lady Devon passed through a dusty wine cellar, then led them down a narrow corridor which ended in a low, arched door.  She didn’t bother knocking and just walked in.  The chamber was narrow, with a low stone ceiling and no windows.  It was dominated by a carved altar at the end, adorned with an altar cloth and a large, silver crucifix; flanked on either side by a tall, white candle in a silver candlestick.  There was a statue of the Virgin Mary in the corner, and several candles had been lit at her feet.

Jane’s family was already there and Tom went over to pay his respects, while
Constance turned to Lady Devon.  “Where is Father Francis?” she asked anxiously.

“Don’t worry, my dear.  He is safe.  We thought it best for him not to stay at any one house too long, so he is currently lodging with the Hortons.”  Constance took a seat next to Pippa on a wooden bench and took out her prayer book.  Lady Devon left the chamber and returned a few minutes later followed by the Horton family and their footman.  The Horton children looked sleepy as they took their place
s on the last bench, and the footman donned a cassock over his clothing transforming himself into Father Francis.  The priest was very young, with a fresh, round face and rosy cheeks more suitable to a farm hand than a priest of Rome, but he was very devout, his sermons passionate and rousing.

Father Francis began Mass without further
delay, and they all rose to their feet opening their prayer books.  They could not afford to waste time since they had to go to Sunday Mass at their parish Anglican Church immediately after.  Appearances had to be kept up, and everyone began to disperse after taking their communion.   Father Francis was once again the footman, and the Thornes waited for their turn to leave.  It would be unseemly for everyone to come trooping out of Lady Devon’s house together, so they hung back allowing the Hortons and Simms to leave first.

Lady Devon looked anxious as she spoke to Tom.  “The other priest who came over with Father Francis ha
s been arrested by Norris.  We hear he is being held in the Tower.  Lord only knows what they are doing to the poor man.  If he confesses that he didn’t come alone, we are all in danger.  He stayed here with Father Francis.  He might lead them to us.”

“He won’t talk,
” Tom reassured her.  “He would never betray us.”

“You
have never been tortured, dear boy,” she said softly, no doubt thinking of her husband.  Lord Devon had been accused of being part of a conspiracy to put Mary, Queen of Scots, on the throne, and had been arrested and held in the Tower for over a year.  He currently lay upstairs, unable to move his arms or legs since being stretched on the rack, incapable of speech.  Norris had his tongue cut out when he refused to talk and returned him to his wife broken and mad.  He would never improve, and death would be a welcome mercy both for Devon and his wife. 

Chapter 17

April 2010

“Where are you going?” I called after Tristan as he rolled off me and walked out of the room into the adjoining bathroom.  I heard the sound of the shower and pulled up the covers to keep
myself warm.  It wasn’t like Tristan to just jump out of bed like this, but he’d been distracted the whole evening, and our lovemaking had been quick and not very satisfying, at least for me.  Tristan seemed perfectly content.  I knew he was still annoyed with me about the house, but I secretly felt it was time he got over that.  He hadn’t stayed over even once, which was just as well since I was doing all of my writing at night. 

In the past
, I always discussed my characters and plot twists with Tristan, but this time, I was less forthcoming.  Tristan was a man of numbers and formulas, and I found it hard to bring up my strange kinship with the past inhabitants of the house.  I could hardly tell him that every night I surrounded myself with lit candles, and waited for my characters to come to me and reveal the next part of the story. 

At first, I was only able to see what they did in the house, but after a few nights
, I was able to mentally follow them as they went about their lives.  Normally, I was the one who decided what happened to my characters, but this time, I felt as if they were telling me.  It almost felt as if I was remembering their lives rather than creating them.  Of course, that was absurd.  How could I remember the life of someone who lived five hundred years ago?  But, there was that time when I saw the story on the news.  I knew exactly who the young woman had been and how she got there.  At this point I knew the beginning and the end, but I was still waiting to find out what happened in-between. 

Tristan emerged from the bathroom with his hair damp and a towel wrapped around his waist.  I thought of how gorgeous he looked with his hair
tousled and his body glistening with moisture, but he didn’t seem to share the sentiment as he looked at me.

“Aren’t you getting up?  You
’re welcome to stay, but I have some work to do.”

“What, now?”

“The Nikkei and Wall Street aren’t on our time, remember sweetheart?”  He walked into the den and sat down in front of his computer.

“I have another trip coming up in a week or two.   Going to the States.”

“For how long this time?”  I tried to hide my annoyance.  The business trips were part of Tristan’s job, but they seemed to be getting more frequent and he was away for longer periods of time.  I would just have to use that time to finish my novel so that we could spend more time together when he got back.  Summer was around the corner, and I hoped we might be able to get away to the south of Spain or to Amalfi for a week or two.  We haven’t had a holiday since last summer, and I was longing to get out of London for a while.

I reluctantly got out of bed and got dressed.  If Tristan had to work, I might as well go home and work too.  I kissed the top of Tristan’s head as I headed out
, and he waved absentmindedly, already engrossed in the figures on the screen.

Chapter 18

April
1586

Constance and Pippa sat companionably sewing by the fire.  The logs crackled merrily in the fireplace driving out the dampness of the early evening and enveloping them in pleasant warmth.  Tom had just left to go call on Jane, and the two girls felt pleasantly relaxed and full after their Sunday dinner.  Pippa was embroidering a handkerchief, and Connie was mending Tom’s hose.  He was constantly snagging them on jagged edges of granite and limestone while working.  Connie wanted to tell Pippa about her afternoon with Richard Carlisle, but suddenly changed her mind.  Richard was not one of them, and even if he developed any feelings for her, she would never be able to reciprocate them.  Connie sighed as she bent over the stocking and looked over at Pippa. 

Pippa’s blue eyes had a faraway look in them as she looked toward the window, a secret smile playing about her lips. 

“You look like a cat that’s been at the cream, sister,” Connie chuckled.  “What are you smiling about?”

Pippa turned her gaze to Constance and gave her a radiant smile.  “I’ve met someone, Connie.
”   That was the last thing Constance expected since Phillipa had just started her employment with the Miltons.  How could she have met someone while teaching little girls to read and write?  “Who is he?”

“His name is Sir Anthony Babington and he is so handsome.  He came to visit Master Milton and I just happened to be
walking into the library as he was walking out.  He saw me and instantly demanded an introduction, saying that the library no longer needed candles since my beauty lit up the room.”  Pippa giggled prettily and blushed.

“Good looks and
a honeyed tongue.  Sounds dangerous,” Connie smiled at her sister.  She hoped that Mr. Babington would stay away from Pippa in the future, but her hopes were immediately dashed.

“As he was leaving, he asked if I would be willing to take a stroll with him in the gardens on Saturday.  I told him I would be delighted.” 

“Does Master Milton approve of you strolling in the gardens with strange men while you are meant to be teaching his daughters?”  Connie knew she sounded disapproving, but Pippa was only sixteen and still needed guidance, especially when it came to would-be suitors.

“Oh, I have loads of free time.  I work with the girls in the morning after
they break their fast, and then again later in the afternoon after luncheon.  I can certainly make time for a walk with a handsome young man.”

Connie sighed with exasperation.  Pippa made sure to dance around her true meaning, which was that she shouldn’t be spending time with a young man
unchaperoned.  She knew that mentioning it to Tom would be betraying Pippa’s confidence and felt torn between her obligations to her siblings.

“Be careful, Pip.  How old is
the gentleman?”

“Early twenties, I’d say. 
Looks to be well off too, judging by his clothes and diamond pin.”  Pippa giggled again.  Nothing would ruin her good mood, and Constance hoped this Anthony Babington was an honorable man, who would not make ill use of her foolish sister.

“Does he have a residence here in London?  Is he much at Court?”  Connie thought it would be best to learn as much as possible about this man. 

“He is the master of Dethick Manor in Derbyshire, but he is in London very frequently on important business.  He is much admired at Court.”

“What type of important business brings him here?”  Connie wondered if perhaps Babington was one of the Queen’s advisors coming from a titled and wealthy family.

“Oh, I do not know about that.  I am not interested in all that.  Oh Connie, would it not be divine to be invited to Court and mingle with all the ladies and lords?  I would wear a splendid gown of peacock blue decorated with diamonds and sapphires, and a tiara to match.  I would look so beautiful I would rival the Queen herself.”  Pippa smiled at the thought of herself being the center of attention at Court and Connie couldn’t help but laugh.  She was still such a child. 

“Pippa, if you want to keep your pretty head on your shoulders, you should never dream of trying to rival the Queen.”

“I was only dreaming, Connie.   No harm in that.”  Pippa pouted and went back to her sewing, the subject of her beau and the Court closed for the time being.

Chapter 19

Richard walked carefully on wooden planks designed to serve as a walkway over the mud and filth of the street to the bear-baiting pit.  He could hear the roar of approval coming from the inside, and assumed that the poor bear was being driven to a fearsome rage by the vicious dogs and rotten produce being hurled at it by the audience.  He couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor creature.  Richard did not frequent such entertainments, but he was in search of John, who loved nothing more than a mug of ale and the camaraderie of men watching a helpless beast tormented for their pleasure.  Richard walked in and looked around slowly, until he finally spotted John spilling his drink and shouting obscenities at the dogs.  The bear was covered in blood, patches of fur missing from his sides, as he tried desperately to avoid another attack.  Richard looked away in disgust and grabbed John by the arm, dragging him outside.  

“I need you in an hour, John.  Go home and clean yourself up.”  Richard looked John up and down.  His shirt was wet with spilled drink
, his boots covered in muck from the muddy floor of the pit. 

“Yes, your lordship,” John answered sarcastically, bowing low and nearly falling on his already dirty face.  “Begging your pardon,
Your Grace.”

“Just go.”  Richard hated dealing with John when he was in his cups.  He was a good lad most of the time, but his weakness for drink and crude entertainment was not a character trait he admired.  “And clean your boots
, you drunken lout!”  John bowed again and sauntered off in the direction of the house, followed by an annoyed Richard.

An hour later, a cleaned up, but still intoxicated
, John brought around the carriage and Richard directed him to the Thorne house.  He had invited Constance to see a play, and she had agreed despite Tom’s reservations.  She confided to Richard that her parents had not permitted them to see any plays or visit the theater because they believed that plays were penned with the quill of the Devil and the only reading sanctioned by God was the Bible.  The theater was a cesspool of lewdness and vulgarity and not to be patronized by decent, God-fearing persons.  Richard suspected that Tom himself would have loved to come along, but he had to act the role of the head of the family, and he consoled himself by paying a call on his intended instead. 

The Theater was located in Shoreditch, just outside of London
, and a crowd of people was already pouring inside eager for their entertainment.  The play was advertised as a “Most Excellent Drama” and was to be performed by the Chamberlain’s Men, some unknown from Stratford-Upon-Avon playing the lead.  Richard had never seen Will Shakespeare in anything, but heard from Agnes, who had seen a play or two on her days off, that he was a right talent.  Richard paid the top price, consisting of two pennies for them to enter the theater, two pennies for a place in the gallery, and another two pennies for actual stools.  He would never permit Constance to stand in the open yard among peasants and servants.  They took their seats and focused on the stage thrust into the yard.  If the decorations were anything to go by, the play should be a success. 

Constance was a little nervous at first, but once the curtain
s swung open and the players came out onto the stage, she forgot her reservations and became lost in the acting.  Richard glanced at Constance from time to time trying not to be too obvious, but she was oblivious to his admiring looks.  She was so engrossed in the drama playing out before her, cannon could have gone off behind her and she wouldn’t notice.   The Theater was packed to capacity, but the masses were exceptionally quiet, enthralled by the revenge-driven murder that just happened on stage.  Constance expressed surprise that the roles of women were played by young men, in an attempt to reduce impropriety, and that women were strictly forbidden on the stage by the Master of Revels. 

Richard was glad the play was neither lew
d nor seditious since the Master was always closing down the theater right in the middle of the good parts.  He hoped Constance would get to see the end and not have her pleasure interrupted by that puffed up poltroon.  Richard was also grateful to Thomas Thorne for being a trifle more openminded than his parents, and allowing Constance to accompany him to tonight’s performance.  Constance looked radiant in a gown of apple green with a cream underskirt and matching slashing in her sleeves.  Her masses of chestnut curls were piled high on her head, the back twisted into a hairnet made of gold thread.  Her green eyes sparkled with unshed tears as the young woman, played by a teenage boy, wept for her slain lover.  Richard wasn’t paying any attention to the players on the stage.  Constance was all the drama he needed. 

Richard’s mind turned to Walsingham
, as he watched the drama unfold.  He had requested a private meeting with the Secretary a few days before to present his case.  The Secretary stroked his pointy beard absentmindedly as he listened to Richard, his gaze directed to the window behind Richard’s shoulder.  He remained silent for a few moments before finally speaking.

“Richard, I know that you are a man of honor and sound
judgment, and I believe you when you say there is nothing suspect about the Thornes, despite reports to the contrary I received from various sources.  You may suspend the investigation, but I strongly urge you not to get personally involved.  Mistress Thorne might be a fine young woman, but she is a Catholic and that could make things difficult for you here at Court.”

“There are many Catholics at Court, Mr. Secretary
, and they are held in high esteem by Her Majesty.”  

Walsingham smiled indulgently at Richard as if he
were a silly child.  “My dear boy, our Sovereign Lady likes to keep her friends close, but her enemies closer.  Don’t be fooled by appearances.  One wrong move and these highly esteemed Catholics will find their heads mounted on spikes and greeting visitors to London as they cross the bridge.  Norris will see to that.”  Walsingham stood up, indicating that the interview was at an end, but suddenly changed his mind and turned back to Richard. 

“I can see that your mind is made up and you are smitten with this young lady, so why don’t you invite her to Whitehall for the
May Day celebration.  She can come as my guest.  I would like to see her for myself.  She will be made most welcome.”  With that, Walsingham left the chamber by the side door leaving Richard gazing after him in confusion.  He was an unpredictable man, but that’s what made him such a good spy master.  As Richard left Whitehall, he hoped he wasn’t leading Constance into a trap. 

The conversation with Walsingham was forgotten
, as Richard watched Constance wipe tears from her eyes and applaud with the rest of the crowd as the play came to an end.  People were beginning to shuffle out still discussing the play and bad-mouthing the villain.  He heard a few women comment on Shakespeare’s good looks and passionate acting.  He’d hardly noticed the man himself.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Carlisle for bringing me.  It was wonderful.” 
Richard helped Connie with her cloak, and escorted her toward the exit into the mild April evening where John was already outside with the carriage.  Richard was glad to see that John had sobered up while they were at the theater and was doing his job properly, opening the carriage door and closing it behind them.  They left Shoreditch and headed back to Blackfriars.   Richard watched Constance as she sat across from him in the carriage.  Her face was illuminated by passing lights outside the window, shadows playing across her features making her expression unreadable. 

“Mistress Thorne, there is something I must ask you.”  Now was as good a time to broach the subject and Richard hoped he wasn’t making a fool of himself.  Asking her to come to Whitehall for
May Day was a clear statement of his intentions, and everything would depend on her answer.   “There is to be a great celebration at Whitehall Palace for May Day, and I was wondering if you would care to accompany me.  My employer, Secretary Walsingham, has personally extended the invitation.  I think you might enjoy it,” he added, sounding lame even to his own ears.   Constance turned her head away from the window and regarded Richard in the gloom of the carriage.  Emotions passed over her face like clouds over the sun and Richard felt sure she would decline.

“So you are Walsingham’s man,” she said quietly.  “I might have known.  I suppose you know about us then.”  She didn’t look frightened, just disappointed and hurt. 

“Constance, I know your secret and it’s safe with me.  You must believe me when I say that I mean you no harm.  I’d like to be able to court you openly, with your permission.”

Constance looked away from him and out of the window of the carriage.  “Did we meet by accident, Mr. Carlisle?”

Richard had no choice but to tell her the truth.  He wanted no lies between them despite the possibility that she might never speak to him again.  “No, my lady, we didn’t.  I was just doing my job, and I have assured Mr. Secretary that you are a good and devoted subject to Her Majesty.  The investigation has been suspended due to my report.  He invited you to Whitehall as an act of good will, and I want to tell the world how I feel about you.” 

“How
do
you feel about me, Mr. Carlisle?  Are you relieved that you won’t have to subject me or my siblings to torture, or disappointed that you found nothing to accuse us of?”

Richard felt his heart crack a little at the cold look in her eyes.  He would have given anything to go back to the theater
, when her face was aglow with wonder and her eyes sparkled with joy as she watched the players on the stage.  What a difference fifteen minutes could make to a man’s hopes. 

“Constance, please, let me prove to you that I am in earnest.  I will
do whatever it takes to win your trust.  I will wait for you to forgive me.”

“Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Carlisle, but I think you will be waiting in vain.”  With that
, Constance alighted from the carriage in front of her house and ran inside.  Richard made to follow her, but then changed his mind.   She was understandably angry and he would only infuriate her further by pressing his case.  He instructed John to take him home, cursing himself for a fool.