The Tudor Secret Part 16

She laughed shakily. "If that was pain, I never want to know anything else." She spread her hands over my chest, resting her fingers on my heart. "All I want is here."

I smiled. "Be that as it may, I would still make an honest woman of you."

"For your information," she said, "I am eighteen. I can make my own decisions. And I'm not sure I want to be an honest woman quite yet."

I chuckled. "Well, when you do decide, let me know. I should at least request Her Grace's blessing; you are her lady. And your mother, I'm sure she too will want to be asked."

She sighed. "My mother is dead. But I think she would have liked you."

I detected an old pain in her voice. "I'm sorry. When did she pa.s.s away?"

"When I was five." She smiled. "She was so young when she bore me: just fourteen."

"And your father... was he also young?"

She gave me a curious look. "I'm a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. And no, he wasn't. Not as young as her."

"I see." I did not look away. "Do you want to tell me?"

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "It wasn't a love affair. My mother was born of servants who served the Carey household; they died in the sweating sickness outbreak that killed Mary Boleyn's first husband. When she remarried and became Mistress Stafford, my mother served her. Mistress Stafford wasn't rich; her new husband Will Stafford was a common soldier but she had two children by her first marriage, a stipend, and her late husband had left her a house. She also liked my mother, so she offered her a post as her maid."

"This Mary Stafford," I said, "is she the same who was sister to Anne Boleyn?"

"Yes, but she had none of her sister's pride, G.o.d rest her soul. When my mother became pregnant, the morning sickness gave her away. She was terrified; but Mistress Stafford did not utter a word of reproach. She knew the hards.h.i.+p women can suffer, so she bundled my mother up and sent her to live under Lady Mildred Cecil's care. I was born in the Cecil household."

So, this explained Kate's connection to Cecil. She had lived under his roof.

"Did Mistress Stafford know who your father was?" I asked.

"She must have suspected. My mother never said his name aloud, but there weren't that many men of age in her household who would have taken the liberty. It must have hurt her deeply. Mary had been married to him less than a year, risked her family's displeasure and exile from court to be with him." Kate sat up, pus.h.i.+ng her hair aside. "He's still alive. I saw him at Mistress Stafford's funeral. We have the same eyes."

I was quiet, struck by the similarities-and crucial differences-between us.

"Of course, Mistress Stafford would have understood," she added. "After all, she'd been Henry the Eighth's mistress before her sister Anne caught his eye; she knew fidelity is not a man's best a.s.set, and no woman invites misfortune willingly. But she let my mother keep her secret and raise me herself, without interference. She also left us with the Cecils. I think she wanted to keep my mother safe and away from her husband."

She paused. "I owe her everything. Because of her kindness, my mother wasn't turned out to beg. We lived well; I had a good childhood. I received an education. Lady Mildred saw to it, being an educated woman herself. I'm one of the few ladies in Her Grace's service who is literate. That's why she trusts me. If a message needs to be destroyed, I can memorize it."

"I can see why she would trust you," I said. "How did your mother die?"

"She caught a fever. It was quick, painless. I saw Mistress Stafford a few times after my mother pa.s.sed; she was always gracious. She died three years later."

"And the man you believe is your father...?" I ventured.

"He has remarried. He has children. I don't fault him. I think he took my mother as men do, in a moment of l.u.s.t, without thought for the consequences. If he knows about me, he's never shown it. I've lived all of my life without him. But I use his surname. It's the least he can do," she said, with a mischievous smile. "It's not as if there aren't hundreds of Staffords in England."

She poked my chest with her finger. "Your turn. I want to make an honest man out of you." It was out before she even realized what she'd said. She took one look at my face and flinched. "Forgive me. I sometimes speak before I think. If you don't want to talk, I understand."

I cupped her chin. "No, I don't want secrets between us." I paused. "The truth is I don't know who my mother is. I was abandoned as a babe. Mistress Alice raised me."

"You were abandoned?" she echoed. I nodded, waiting for her to collect her thoughts. "Then Mistress Alice... she she was the woman in the king's room?" was the woman in the king's room?"

"Yes. She saved me." As I uttered these words, I felt an overpowering need to tell someone, to leave the memory in someone other than myself, so she'd never be forgotten. "I was left in the priest's cottage near Dudley Castle, presumably to die. I was later told it happens more than we think-unwanted babies dropped off on n.o.ble thresholds-in the hope the rich will take pity on what the poor can't afford. I would have none of it; according to Mistress Alice, I made enough fuss to wake the dead. She heard me wailing all the way from the slop pit, where she was dumping leavings, so she went to investigate."

My voice caught. I steadied it, focusing on Kate's eyes for strength. "She was like the mother I never knew. When she died-or rather, when I was told told she died-I couldn't forgive her for leaving me without saying good-bye." she died-I couldn't forgive her for leaving me without saying good-bye."

"That is why you agreed to help Her Grace. You knew she needed to say good-bye."

"Yes. I couldn't let her suffer what I had. I know what it is like to lose someone unexpectedly. I believed Mistress Alice was dead. Peregrine mentioned a woman caring for the king when I first met him, and for a moment I felt... But I never truly thought it was her. I couldn't. Even when I saw her..." I paused again. My voice trembled. "They cut out her tongue, did something to her legs to hobble her. Master Shelton, their steward, whom I'd looked up to, who had told me of her death-he stood there and did nothing when Lady Dudley stabbed her. She bled to death and he did nothing."

The recollection was like shards in my gut. I had been a fool to ever think Master Shelton would choose me over duty. To be a loyal servant, in everything it entailed, was what he knew. I might have pitied him for his stolid, meaningless life, had I not burned for vengeance.

There was a long silence. Kate's hair draped like a curtain about her. She lifted tear-filled eyes. "Forgive me for how I spoke of her death. It was selfish. I... I didn't want you to hurt."

I kissed her. "My brave Kate, you couldn't have prevented my pain. It happened long before I met you. I lost Alice on that day they took her from me. The woman I met in His Majesty's chamber wasn't the woman I knew. Now I know the truth. I know she didn't abandon me. Lady Dudley must have ordered her taken on the road, and Shelton was her accomplice."

"But why would they do such a terrible thing? It happened long before the King fell ill, yes? Why did they want you to believe she was dead?"

I smiled grimly. "I've been asking myself the same thing. I think it's because of what she knew. I'm certain of it. Mistress Alice knew who I am."

She stared at me. "Does this have something to do with that piece of jewelry?"

In response, I rose, padded naked from the bed to my crumpled robe. From the pocket I withdrew the jewel. The ruby caught the moonlight filtering through the window as I handed it to her. "I think it's a piece of my past," I said. A shudder ran through me. "Mistress Alice gave it to me, and I think it's because in that moment she recognized me. I don't think she knew me before; she'd suffered too much. But she kept that gold petal with her for a reason. It means something. It has to."

Kate gazed upon it. "Yes, but what?"

I took it back from her, ran my fingertips over the fragile veined gold. "Mistress Alice never had much use for anything save her herbs. She didn't covet material things. She used to say things took up too much room. Yet she kept this object hidden in her medicine chest for G.o.d only knows how many years. I went through her chest many times; she used to scold me, saying I'd intoxicate myself with some herb. But I never found it. She hid it in some compartment. She must have. I have a feeling that not even Lady Dudley knew she had it."

I looked past her to the window. "Lady Dudley is the key to all this. She used me to force the d.u.c.h.ess to agree to wed her daughter Jane Grey to Guilford. The d.u.c.h.ess said as much when she held me in that cell. Whatever this petal represents, it must be powerful enough to have warranted my death. It might even be the weapon I need to stop the Dudleys-for good."

She crossed her arms over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, as if she felt a chill. "You'll seek revenge for what they did to her."

I returned my gaze to her. "How can I not? She was everything I had in the world, and they destroyed her. Yes, I seek revenge. But even more than that, I seek the truth." I leaned to her. "Kate, I need to know who I am."

"I know. It's just that I'm afraid for you. For us. This secret can't be good if the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk wants to kill you to keep it quiet. And if the Dudleys used it against her, they must know what it is."

"Not every Dudley. Only Lady Dudley knows. I don't think she ever told the duke. She must have suspected he would betray her. She wasn't about to entrust him with the only weapon she had-her ability to coerce the d.u.c.h.ess. Without her coercion, without this secret, I believe the d.u.c.h.ess would never have agreed to give her daughter to a-"

"Lowborn Dudley," Kate mused. She regarded me thoughtfully. "Why don't you tell Master Cecil about this? He knows important people. Maybe he could help you."

"No." I grasped her hands. "Promise you'll not breathe a word of this to anyone, not even the princess-especially not her. Northumberland still holds power, perhaps now more than ever, and she may still need our help. It's best that I carry this burden on my own for now."

I silently asked forgiveness for my lie. I couldn't risk exposing her to that frozen hatred I'd seen in Lady Dudley's eyes, nor did I want murderous Stokes stalking her on the d.u.c.h.ess's behalf. I would become a hunted man once it was discovered I was still alive. Whatever happened, Kate must be kept safe. Still, what I must ask of her next would hurt.

"I need you to do something for me. I need you to promise you'll return to Hatfield."

She bit her lip. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I'll remind you that Elizabeth still needs you. None of her servants have your skills, which she may require in the days to come. You know it as well as me. Just as you know, but haven't yet said, that Cecil has an a.s.signment for me. It's why Walsingham has been coming and going, inquiring after my health. He's not that solicitous."

"I don't care," she whispered. She thumped the mattress with her fist. "Let them find someone else. You've risked enough. Not even Her Grace would ask more of you."

"Yet I would do more. So would you. How can you not? You love her."

"And you?" she asked, haltingly. "Do you... love her?"

I pulled her to me. "Only as my princess. She deserves that much, I think."

Wrapped in my embrace, Kate murmured, "They say her mother was cursed. Sometimes I wonder if Elizabeth carries it in her blood. Robert Dudley threw himself at her feet; so did his father. Yet when she denied them, they turned on her like wolves. Can it be that the spell she weaves can just as easily turn men to hatred as it can to love?"

"For her sake, I pray not." I let the moment pa.s.s. "Will you go?"

She sighed. "Not now."

Chapter Twenty-two.

When I awoke the next morning, it was to an empty bed. I was taken aback. Then I chuckled, pa.s.sing a hand over my tousled hair. The trestle table had been dismantled, the stools set in a row against the wall. Folded in a pile by the bed were the clothes she'd brought me. Otherwise, it was as if Kate hadn't been here at all.

I started to slide out of bed when the door opened. She appeared with towel, basin, and a small coffer-once again in her russet gown, her hair braided, neat as if she'd spent an uneventful night. I hugged her as she set the articles down, drowning out her feigned protest with my mouth. She clung to me for a moment before she pushed me away.

"Enough." She went to retrieve a tray. "Walsingham is downstairs. He wants to see you as soon as you break your fast."

"That's what I was trying to do." I reached out to grab her again.

She pranced away, elusive as dandelion seed. "You'll have to content yourself with last night, for that's all I plan to give until you put a roof over my head." She tossed the towel at me.

I laughed. "This from the wanton who a.s.sured me she had all she wanted last night."

"A woman can always change her mind. Now, behave yourself whilst I wash you."

I affected a penitent stance, though it took concentration as she cleaned me from head to foot, lathering and rinsing without discrimination. Only when she undid my bandage to replace it did I wince. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"A bit." I glanced at the wound. It was as ugly as I expected. "Corrupted?"

"It was. But you're fortunate. The ball shredded and took a few layers of skin, nothing more." From the coffer she extracted a jar and proceeded to swab green salve over my shoulder. I stood immobile. Like Mistress Alice, she was an herbalist.

"It's a French recipe," she explained, "rosemary, turpentine, and rose oil. It hastens healing." With expert fingers she applied a fresh bandage, tucking it under my armpit. "It'll have to suffice. It's uncomfortable, but I'm a.s.suming a few more days in bed are out of the question."

I pecked the tip of her nose. "You know me too well."

She helped me into my clothes-s.h.i.+rt, new leather jerkin, breeches, and a belt with a pouch. I was surprised when she produced soft kid boots in almost my exact size.

"Peregrine bought them at the local market. He got himself a cap and cloak, as well. He says he's going to be your manservant once you get rich."

"He's got a long wait." I turned about. "Presentable?"

"A prince." She served me bread and cheese and dark ale, which we consumed in companionable silence, though I could sense her anxiety.

"Is it bad news?" I finally said.

"With Walsingham, it usually is. But I've no idea what he wants. He didn't say anything other than that I fetch you." She grimaced. "Now that I'm no longer required, I've reverted to being another ignorant woman in his eyes. Never mind that I'm as able as any hooligan he could hire, or can pick locks and intrigue with the best of them."

"Not to mention, you've a temper. If I were him, I'd watch my step."

"You're the one who needs to watch his step." Kate faced me as she'd done that afternoon-it seemed ages ago-in the gallery at Greenwich. "Whatever he wants of you, you can rest a.s.sured it won't be safe."

"I thought he helped save my life," I reminded her.

"He did. That doesn't mean I trust him with it. He's a serpent, out for his own advantage. I don't think even Cecil can control him." Her voice wavered. "Promise me you'll not agree to anything dangerous. I said I'll go to Hatfield and I will, but I don't want to spend all my time sick with worry over you."

I nodded solemnly. "I promise. Now, show me the way."

She pointed to the door. "Down the stairs and to your right. He's in the study off the hall." She turned away. "I'll be in the garden, hanging sheets."

The image brought a smile to my face as I took the stairs to the ground floor and moved through the country house, which was spa.r.s.ely furnished, a refres.h.i.+ng change after the spiked opulence of court. Outside the hall I paused before a door and took a deep breath.

I pulled it open. Like Kate, I likened Walsingham to a serpentine presence. His alleged contribution to my survival had done nothing to change this impression. Rather, it was unnerving to know that the man had been ghosting me since Whitehall, watching but not interfering, until that night on the leads. I wasn't convinced of his motives but hid my discomfort at the sight of his gaunt figure seated at the desk, Urian's head resting on his thigh.

"Squire Prescott." His spidery hand caressed Urian with hypnotic repet.i.tion. "You've recovered with alacrity, I see. The vigor of youth, and of a woman's care, are indeed a marvel."

His tone indicated he knew more of said care than I preferred. I had to force myself not to order Urian away, appalled by the dog's lack of discernment.

"I was told you wanted to see me?"

"Ever to the point." His bloodless lips twitched. "Why waste time on the superfluous?"

"I hope you weren't expecting a friendly chat."

"I never expect anything." His hand paused in its stroking of the dog's ears. "That's what makes life so interesting. People never fail to surprise." He gestured to a stool opposite his. "Pray, sit. All I require is your attention."

Because my shoulder was starting to pain me, I obliged. I had that vague feeling of unease I now recognized. Cecil and his men seemed to exude it like disease.

"Jane Grey and Guilford Dudley have been taken to the Tower," he said without warning.

I bolted upright on my chair. "Arrested?"

"No. It's traditional for a sovereign to lodge there before the coronation." He eyed me.

"I see." My voice tightened. "So, they're going to do it. They're going to force the crown on that innocent girl's head, regardless."

"That innocent girl, as you call her, is a traitor. She usurps another woman's throne and now awaits her coronation with all the dignitaries of the court at her side. Thus far, the only compunction she's shown is her continued refusal to allow her husband to be crowned alongside her-to the collective Dudley fury."

I contained my revulsion. Of course Walsingham would brand Jane Grey a traitor. It was always easier to view the world through the prism of his convenience.