The Other Countess (10 page)

Arriving at the arbour, he stumbled in only to discover it was already occupied. Of course, it was the perfect place for a tryst.

‘Apologies.’ He gave a staggering bow and tried to retreat before the couple could take offence. Unfortunately for his dignity, he fell over the bench and landed on his backside.

‘Dorset? What the devil are you doing here?’ cursed Sir Henry Perceval, annoyed, as well he might be, for the untimely intrusion. He clasped his lady’s head to his chest, doubtless trying to protect her identity.

‘Damn bad timing. Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I’m a little in my cups. Give me a moment and I’ll make myself scarce.’ Will rolled to his knees then helped himself up by the bench.

The lady seemed to being trying to say something, but her words were muffled by Perceval’s tight grip.

‘Thousand pardons all,’ Will continued, finally finding his feet.

‘Dorset, you’re rambling. Westward ho, my good fellow.’

‘Absolutely. At once.’ Which direction was the inn? It was hard to remember when he had a problem remembering which way was up.

His departure was pre-empted unexpectedly by the lady kneeing Perceval in his crown jewels and pushing herself out of his embrace. She was shaking with outrage. Her companion by contrast was howling in agony.

‘God’s teeth, lady, that’s harsh!’ chuckled Will. His laughter
dried up immediately when he found himself looking down into the Lady Eleanor’s furious face.

She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. ‘Not harsh enough. He … he assaulted me without invitation, my lord.’

Strange how hatred can sober you up
, reflected Will, finding his mind clearing like clouds shifting from the face of a full moon.

‘Really? Is that what happened? Sir Henry, are you all right?’

Bent double, Perceval waved a hand which either meant he was dying and needed saving, or that he was slowly recovering. Will decided on the latter.

Will’s tone informed the lady without any more words that his attitude to her had undergone a complete transformation. He could sense her bracing herself for renewed attack.

‘I see that you doubt me but I swear it’s the truth,’ she said, her dark eyes glistening with tears – a cunning trick to engage his sympathy.

‘Oh yes, I understand now. You came innocently to this arbour, secreting yourselves away in the dark, and then were surprised when he explored your favours. Come, mistress, neither of us were born yesterday.’

The girl’s face crumpled and her trembling grew worse – a distressing sight if he had not known her to be a good actress.

‘You play the injured maiden very well, mistress. My congratulations.’ Will treated her to a mocking bow. ‘But as your affections have so clearly passed to another knight, I will return that favour you so kindly bestowed upon me.’ He tugged the sampler from the pouch on his belt and held it out. When she did not take it, he let it drop on the grass. ‘I’ll leave it there then for any man to take, like its maker.’

The lady reeled back as if he had struck her a blow, but then gathered herself. Before he knew it, she had kicked him in the shin and taken to her heels. He hopped on one leg, then tumbled over, discovering his balance was still not at its best.

‘All well, Dorset?’ gasped Perceval.

‘Bloody girl felled us both!’ Will remarked to the stars, lying on his back.

‘God, she’s lovely. Not yours then?’

‘Not mine,’ Will said bitterly.

‘Good. I’ll go after her. Wish me luck.’

‘You’ll need it,’ muttered Will.

8

Too scared of the consequences of kneeing one lord in the groin and kicking another in the shin, Ellie dared not return to her room. She was left with no choice but to find her father who, inadequate as he was as a protector, would at least stand by her if either man came seeking revenge. She found him sitting on a bench outside Lord Mountjoy’s chamber, thumbing through his tables, which he noted in a pocketbook.

He looked up, pleased to see her. ‘Ellie! Enjoyed the feast, did you?’

Biting her lip, she shook her head. ‘They didn’t let me stay.’ Unbidden, tears began to pour from her eyes.

‘Ah now, my love, no need to cry so. Those men of Blount’s are mere nothings, not worth your tears.’

She began to sob, shoulders heaving. Arthur gathered her to his chest and awkwardly patted her back. ‘There now, sweeting, there now. I’ll ask a servant to bring us something to eat. Would that make it better?’

He didn’t know, couldn’t conceive, that anything but an empty belly could trouble his little girl. How would he react if she tried to explain what had happened between her and
the gentlemen in the garden? She could well imagine his angry response, storming off to confront them, but what good would that do? The earl, for one, would like nothing better than a chance to crush her father just as he had her with his insults; Perceval would probably laugh in his face. All that would result would be public knowledge of her humiliation, a fatal blow to her reputation.

‘How about a piece of cheddar and an apple, eh? You always liked cheddar. Perhaps some quince jam to go with it?’

If only things could be fixed with the application of jam and apples as they had done when she was little.

‘There now, no more tears. You’ve quite drowned me.’

Ellie pushed herself away from him and sat down, hugging her arms to herself.

‘Better now?’

She nodded.

‘I’ll send for your supper.’

She placed her hand on his arm to stop him leaving. ‘Please, sir, I’m not hungry.’

‘No?’

‘But, Father, can we not leave here? Please? Go somewhere where you can study in peace. A little house – a bit of garden.’

‘You … you want to leave court? But why?’ He was genuinely puzzled. ‘The Queen has only just received your manuscript. This is our moment, Ellie; we can’t run away now!’

‘Can’t we?’ Her brief flicker of hope snuffed out.

‘Lord Mountjoy needs me – we’re getting somewhere with our investigations, Ellie, I am convinced of it. It would be a crime to leave.’ He leant closer. ‘Besides, you know we couldn’t afford a place of our own just now. When we’re rich again,
I’ll buy you the finest house in the land, and the loveliest gowns if that is your wish.’

Ellie leant her head back against the wall behind her and closed her eyes. ‘You won’t leave?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Could I go? Would Uncle Paul welcome me?’

Arthur frowned at the mention of his estranged brother. ‘You want to leave me for him?’

‘No, Father, I want to leave court.’

‘Ellie, that is very selfish of you. I need you here for when the Queen asks to meet you.’

‘Selfish?’

He nodded, fingering the binding on his notebook, mind already leaping ahead to the imagined interview with the sovereign. ‘You are alchemy’s ambassador, my dear.’

She got up and paced, her hands clenched. ‘You think me selfish?’

‘You do not understand the great role you have been given. How could you? So young – so limited in your experience.’

‘I’ve stayed with you, Father, through everything. I’ve starved with you. Slept in barns – slept in hedges even. I’ve lost nearly every claim to my birthright as a lady and have the hatred of half the court to battle each day, and you think I’m selfish?’ Her voice rose at the end, close to complete breakdown.

Her father shook his head at her fondly, thinking her passion a mere childish mood. ‘Sit down, my sweet. I did not mean to offend you with my words. You’re a good girl. I know I’m very fortunate to have you.’

Screaming inside, Ellie stopped walking, staring at the blank
wall in front of her. ‘Would Uncle Paul take me in, Father?’ she asked with unnatural calm.

Arthur sighed. ‘I cannot tell you, my dear. When last we talked, he damned you as well as your mother to the outer darkness with me – that was when you were an infant before your good mother passed on to a better place. He’s not a forgiving man.’

‘What does he have to forgive?’

‘He never understood why I had to mortgage our family home. He has the farm – why should he fret about the property in Gloucester? He even had the effrontery to take me to court, can you believe it? He’s not getting a penny from me even when we do unlock nature’s secret of making gold.’

‘I see.’ No hope there then.

‘So, my dear, how about a little broth if you’ve no desire for cheese?’

‘As you wish, sir,’ Ellie said, knowing now a new depth to her despair. She’d thought she’d visited all the levels, but there was always one more to discover. ‘Some broth.’

Will woke at dawn to find he was lying on his back in the damp grass of the arbour. It took him a while to remember what he was doing there. He’d drunk himself into a stupor and stumbled over the lady and her new lover. Cracking open an eyelid, he saw that Perceval had gone, doubtless to win her back with honeyed talk and promises he had no intention of keeping.

Men and women: liars all.

Realizing that he was, in fact, very uncomfortable where he was, he pulled himself up and splashed his face with water from the fountain. His doublet was never going to be the same
again after its soaking in the dew – something he could ill afford considering the limits of his wardrobe. Another sin to place at the Lady Eleanor’s door.

Sitting on the bench, he rubbed his aching temples, cursing the birds for breaking into their exuberant chorus. Damned feathered tweeters. He caught sight of a scrap of cream-coloured linen lying trampled in the mud. Knowing already what it was, he picked it up, remembering the circumstances that brought it there.

Had he really been so unkind to the girl? The cold light of day had a way of revealing his actions in a new and unflattering light. Whatever her many faults, she had not earned such an insult from him. He had implied she was no better than a common prostitute.

But the lady had hit back. He smiled when he recalled how she had felled them both, then frowned as he wondered at the cause. He knew what he had done, but why had she kneed Sir Henry? Had it been merely a ruse to hide her embarrassment at being caught in a compromising situation, or had it stemmed from real distress? He had the sudden awful feeling that he owed her an apology. She was still the thrice-damned alchemist’s daughter but her fame was rather for scholarship than seduction. She had given no hint in any of their encounters that she had the experience needed to handle a man of Sir Henry’s type. Even if she had allowed herself to be led here – foolish enough though that was – she may have for once been telling the truth about him assaulting her.

‘Hang me to Hell and back,’ muttered Will. Far worse than owing a friend an apology was to be in debt to an enemy. To live with himself, he would have to seek her out, ensure that
no harm had come to her last night, and then he would eat humble pie and ask her forgiveness.

But first he had a joust to survive. With a groan, Will heaved himself up and headed back to his lodgings. If the lady wanted him punished, then she only had to think what he would be enduring in his armour with a hangover to wake even King Arthur from his sleep.

A pile of starched linen in her arms, Nell paused in the doorway of the staircase leading to her mistress’s rooms. Something was afoot in the stable yard and she could earn extra tips for gossip. Lady Jane had many faults, but she was always generous with her money.

An old man in a long black robe was standing with his belongings piled at his feet, a jumble of boxes and books, his sparse white hair sticking up on his head like a crown of thorns. He was protesting at the top of his voice the unfairness of his treatment. A girl stood at his side, a bag beside her, her face a blank as if she couldn’t hear or see what was going on around her. Nell’s lips curved in a cruel smile. She’d heard rumours that Henry had been distracted by the alchemist’s daughter; it looked like that particular diversion was on its way out of the castle in disgrace.

‘Sir Charles, this is an outrage! Your father needs me!’ the alchemist wailed as more bundles were added to his pile by insolent serving men.

Nell recognized the tall nobleman overseeing the eviction as Sir Charles Blount, a favourite of her lady’s.

‘On the contrary, sir, my father needs only your absence,’ Blount said in a triumphant tone.

‘He would forbid you from doing this if he knew.’

Sir Charles gave a wolfish smile. ‘He knows, but my authority is not from him, but from the Queen herself. All practitioners of the dangerous art of alchemy are to be removed from her presence immediately. My Lord Burghley had signed the decree on her behalf. Do you care to read it?’ He dangled a parchment between finger and thumb tauntingly.

Sir Arthur Hutton looked genuinely dismayed and puzzled. ‘I am not dangerous! I seek only to expand man’s knowledge of God’s mysteries.’

‘I beg to differ – the damage you did yesterday speaks for itself. You must get yourself at least five miles from Windsor by the end of the day and not come within that limit as long as the Queen resides here.’

Another man arrived in the courtyard, that ill-shapen fellow, Robert Cecil. The maids whispered about him, but not unkindly. His thin bow legs looked rather pitiful in his fine hose.

‘Master Cecil!’ cried the alchemist like a drowning man spying a raft. ‘Please, appeal to Her Majesty on my behalf. I count myself among her most loyal subjects. My craft poses no danger to her. Indeed, when I succeed, her realm will reap the benefits like none other in the history of mankind.’

Master Cecil’s eyes were all for the damsel, not the man. ‘I fear, sir, our gracious sovereign must think of her immediate peril rather than the promise of possible riches in the future. You suffer much for your art, I understand, but it is a burden you must carry alone at a safe distance from others.’

His respectful tone stole the heat from the alchemist’s protests. ‘Aye, maybe you have a point, sir. The philosopher
works best in retirement, away from the frivolous and light-minded.’ The alchemist gazed down thoughtfully at his equipment, at a loss how to carry his life’s work with him.

‘But Her Majesty is sensible of your loyalty to her and appreciates the gift you made her yester eve. The translation is much admired.’ Cecil was addressing the lady now who barely registered his courtesy. ‘She sent this purse to the fair scholar as a token of her high opinion.’