Chapter Eleven
Early the following morning, Maddy made a list of the embroidery silks Lady Dacre needed and accepted the necessary coin from her. Because it would require extra time to visit the market, Maddy intended to depart early and requested a simple meal in her chamber. Ever since she’d made up the platter of apples and cheese for Mistress Derby, the cook seemed to be warming toward her. Maddy had asked only for some bread and cheese, but the tray delivered to her chamber contained apples, figs, and several pieces of marchpane as well. Apparently, the woman had forgiven Maddy for her past sins, whatever she thought they had been.
The northern climes were fickle, but now, in mid-March, the snow was rapidly melting, giving way to puddles, overflowing streams, and flooded meadows. The Irthing was running high. Ploughmen would soon be out turning the earth, sowing oats. The road, wet and muddy, was leaving its unwelcome gift on her hem with every step taken by her trusty mount, Eve. There was nothing to be done about it. The sun was shining, the day mild, and she would not allow a muddied hem to ruin her ebullient mood.
The church bells were ringing nones when Maddy rode into the village. She stopped in at the mercer’s shop to purchase the silks, both for her mistress and herself, then strolled about the market with her basket, hoping to be noticed by many of the good citizens of Brampton, as Ryder had suggested she do. The square was filled with gossiping housewives, servants, and men drinking ale they’d bought from a stall. No doubt they were talking about farms and enclosure, sheep and horseflesh. Children ran hither and yon, chasing each other. A couple of older boys were poking a dead dog lying in the ditch.
When she arrived at the Ryder house, Nicholas Ryder met her at his door, looking ferocious. “Where is your groom?” he demanded.
“I-I did not bring one.” Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Daniel peeking out from between Ryder’s legs, smiling mischievously.
“I thought we agreed that you would not come unaccompanied. What is the matter with Lady Dacre, that she allows you to go about the countryside without an escort?” All this before he had uttered a word of greeting, while Maddy was left standing on his front step.
“I’m sure she would have seen to it had I asked. But the truth is, I never thought of it again. I am not afraid, you know, to travel alone.” A half-truth at best.
As if God were punishing her for the lie, a giant slab of snow, soft and melting, dropped onto her head from the roof, soaking her hair, bodice, even her skirts. Maddy inhaled sharply, her breath stolen by the shock of the searing cold. Bits of wet snow dribbled down her face. Even worse, some of it forged a chilling trail down the back of her neck.
“By all the saints, why are you standing there?” Ryder hauled her inside and called for a servant. He began brushing snow from her hair and clothing, touching her body in places he truly should not be anywhere near.
Maddy stepped back. “I pray you, sir, stop!” Her host appeared unfazed. Fortunately, a servant came running with a stack of linen cloths in her arms. Ryder grabbed one and made as if to continue assisting Maddy, but she relieved him of the cloth. “Pardon me, but could she”—Maddy looked at the serving woman, whose name she did not know—“take me to a chamber where I might dry off?”
Now discomposed, he said, “Certainly. Margery, escort Mistress Vernon to the blue bedchamber. And find her some fresh apparel to wear. When she is ready, bring her to my study.”
She followed Margery upstairs to the designated chamber. The tester bed was hung with deep blue drapes, pulled open, and a Turkey carpet in the same shade of blue covered much of the floor. Margery helped Maddy undress, and she rubbed herself briskly with the linen cloths. Only her hair remained damp. Meanwhile, Margery had laid out a clean smock, kirtle, a lovely embroidered bodice, and petticoats on the bed. While Maddy was dressing, she asked where the clothing had come from.
“It belonged to Mistress Ryder. Susan, her name was.”
“Master Ryder’s mother?”
She smiled. “No, mistress, his sister-in-law. Master Daniel’s mother. The poor lady died while bringing her second child into the world. The babe passed on, too.”
Maddy nodded, feeling at a loss for words. Last time, Ryder had introduced Daniel only as his nephew and ward, with no mention of the tragedy that had befallen them. Daniel’s father—Ryder’s brother—must also be dead.
“I will set your clothes by the hearth in the kitchen, mistress, but they may not be dry before you leave.” She passed Maddy a wool shawl to wear about her shoulders.
Ryder was waiting for her in his study. The mood was different this time, more welcoming. Cushions had been placed on the settle, and a tray with hot spiced wine and a platter of dried fish, fruit, and tarts lay on the desk. Getting to his feet, he said, “Pray, be seated. I’ll stoke the fire.” Busying himself with prodding the blazing wood and adding another log, he spoke no further. When he finished, he seated himself next to Maddy on the settle. Something about his appearance seemed altered—he reminded her of somebody she’d seen before. Before she’d become his captive. But that was impossible.
Maddy was leaning toward the heat of the fire when he spoke. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yes, quite, thank you.”
He looked at her sheepishly. “It was rude of me to leave you standing on the doorstep. You have my apology.”
“No matter. All is well now. I am grateful to have fresh clothing, since my own was quite soaked through.” That reminded her of his hands touching her body, and her face grew hot. When he rose to pour her a cup of wine, she said, “You look different today, Master Ryder.”
He handed her the wine and sat. “That is because my hair and beard have been trimmed.”
“Ah. Of course.” She could see it now but still could not shake the odd feeling of having made his acquaintance prior to their first meeting in the castle.
“What do you have for me today?” Except for the fact that he remained seated next to her on the settle, he was now all business.
“First, will you tell me if you received my message?” She drank a long swallow of the wine, its heat sliding down her gullet to her belly, banishing any cold left from the drenching.
“I did. Thank you for the warning, but I have not had occasion to be in Carlisle of late. The questioning of the captives from Leonard Dacre’s raid is finished.”
“I have my doubts as to whether Vine himself was actually there. I suspect that he wished to see Sussex no more than I and simply invented an excuse.”
“The mysterious Master Vine. Have you had any more threats from him?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment. But first, I learned nothing about the Dacres’ meeting with the Earl of Sussex. They dined in the small chamber, with the door closed. There were servants going in and out of the room, so I could not loiter.” Maddy set her cup down, and leaning close to the fire, ran her fingers through her locks to hasten their drying. Glancing at Ryder, waiting for the next question, she found him staring at her most unnervingly, his eyes glowing softly. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“The red-gold strands in your hair gleam in the firelight, Madeleine.”
Disconcerted, she said, “But my hair is brown, sir.”
“Aye, but in the light it…” He never finished his thought but gave his head a shake and got on with business. “Some believe Sussex is not as loyal to the queen as he ought to be. The fact that he was dining at Lanercost adds fuel to that fire.” His eyes now wore their usual cool expression. Possibly she had been mistaken in believing they’d ever looked any different.
“Why did you not wish to see Sussex?” Ryder asked.
“He was present the day I pleaded for my brother’s life before the council. I feared he would recognize me and tell Lady Dacre she was harboring the sister of an executed traitor.” Ryder looked rueful, as though he might feel some regret over her brother’s hanging. Maddy cast that thought aside—she could make no sense of it—and went on. “I have brought you Norfolk’s letter. I made a copy of it.” She jumped up to retrieve it. Painstakingly, she had rolled it up, tied it with a cord, and put it in her basket, covering it with a cloth. Glancing about the room, Maddy felt a bit frantic when she didn’t see the basket anywhere. She should have kept the letter on her person. If anybody else found it…this was most careless. “I must have set it down when I came in. I was…distracted.”
“Calm yourself, mistress. I’ll find it.” He strode from the room and returned shortly—empty handed. Daniel trailed behind him.
“My nephew was angry with me because I would not allow him to speak to you. He has hidden the basket and will reveal its location only after he is permitted to greet you properly.”
Maddy looked at Ryder, then at the boy. He did not seem at all happy to see her. In fact, his small face had turned ashen, and big tears spilled from his eyes. When she knelt down, he came to her, placing his small hand on her bodice and stroking, a little bit like one might pet a dog. Then he did the same with her skirts. “What is it, Daniel?” Maddy asked. “Why are you crying?”
Ryder bent down and lifted the boy into his arms. “You are wearing his mother’s apparel. He remembers, aye, Daniel?” The child buried his face in Ryder’s chest. “And you bear a slight resemblance to Susan.”
The boy must have taken his coloring from his mother. Maddy reached out and rubbed the small back. “Pray forgive me, Daniel. I should have asked you if it was all right for me to wear your mother’s clothing. But you may recall—mine was dripping wet.” He looked up at her, and she thought the corners of his mouth curved up a tad. “All because your jackanapes of an uncle left me standing outside long enough for a mountain of snow to fall on my head!” Daniel laughed, a squeaky sound emitting from his chest. Maddy looked up at Ryder, who’d raised his eyebrows at her.
“Did you call me a jackanapes, mistress?”
“I’m afraid I did, sir.”
“How shall we punish her, Dan? Shall we tickle her? Spank her?” Daniel nodded his approval. Ryder was smiling broadly, and she was beginning to regret calling him such a name. They took a step toward her, and she pretended to cower.
His uncle set Daniel down and whispered something in his ear. The child scurried out of the room, and then there was silence between her and Ryder. To her shame, Maddy was still thinking about being tickled and spanked by him. He was waiting near the door, arms folded loosely across his chest and looking as if he dearly wanted to laugh. Maddy reclaimed the settle and fussed with her hair.
“He likes you.”
“Daniel? Do you think so? He is the sweetest child! Although it was very naughty of him to hide my basket.”
“If you could see him when he is having one of his childish tantrums, you would not think him so sweet.”
Maddy gave him a skeptical look. “I can’t credit it.”
Ryder shrugged. “He becomes frustrated. And then he loses his temper. But I admit it is a rare occurrence.”
An awkwardness ensued, until she finally worked up enough courage to say, “Would you mind if I asked you why he does not speak?” Just then, Daniel burst through the door carrying the basket, and her query went unanswered for the present.
“Off you go, brat,” Ryder said. She waved to the child as he left the room. His uncle, having retreated to his desk, was already unrolling the document and paying her no mind. After a few moments, he threw the missive down and she heard him say, “God’s teeth, the man is a reckless fool.”
“I could not make out the meaning. Is it a cipher?”
He rubbed at his beard with the back of his hand. “A very poor one, yes.”
“Will you not tell me what it means?” Maddy asked, turning up her palms.
“Trust me, it is better that you do not know, for your own protection.”
She puffed out an irritated breath. “If I am to be of help to you, shouldn’t I be aware of any intelligence that pertains to the Dacres? He seeks their assistance when he comes north. That much I understood. For all we know, he intends to lodge at the priory during his visit.”
A knock at the door. Margery stuck her head in and said, “The master will see you and Mistress Vernon now.”
Maddy looked from one to the other, confused. Who was “the master?”
Margery left, and she stared at Ryder, a question in her eyes.
“My father,” he said with a scowl. “Come. Let’s get this over with.”
He led her toward the front of the house, to a chamber near the entrance. Why would his father wish to meet her? Maddy had pictured him as an invalid. A doddering old man who needed his son to look after him. Ryder halted abruptly and rapped on the door.
“Come,” called an impatient voice.
They entered the room, a large, sunny space with windows on two sides. A sprawling table rested before one set of windows, and an older man—but certainly not doddering—stood to one side of it, poring over a map. More maps covered every available bit of wall. Their entrance did not distract him—he continued his perusal. At length his head bobbed up, and he studied Maddy. He was tall and well built, with shrewd, penetrating eyes. In his youth, he had probably been as handsome as his son. But no more. His countenance was severe, with a hard mouth and deep grooves between his brows.
“So this is our little spy,” he said derisively, obviously with the intent of intimidating her.
“Father, may I make you acquainted with Mistress Madeleine Vernon?” Ryder said. He glanced at her then. “This is my father, Francis Ryder.”
Not quite the man I envisioned. Maddy curtsied. “Good morrow, sir.”
“You did not mention that she was so bonny, Nicholas, but I should have guessed.”
Nicholas said nothing.
“My son tells me you’re providing him with valuable information.”
This seemed to require a response, so she said, “Yes, sir. I am doing what I was asked to do.”
He stepped out from behind the table. “What you were required to do, you mean. You are well aware of the consequences if you do not, I assume.”
His son intervened. “There is no need to threaten Mistress Vernon, Father. She has proved herself to be trustworthy and reliable and quite clever at figuring out what we need to know before I’ve even instructed her.”
“Joining up with Leonard Dacre wasn’t too clever, now was it? And she is sister to a traitor, although I suppose she could not help that.” He raised his brows, two dark slashes that reminded her of nothing so much as slugs.
Maddy knew his words were intended to get a rise out of her. He was enjoying her unease. But she also knew if she expressed her pent-up feelings, it could be dangerous for her, and possibly for Ryder. So she kept her temper in check and said, “You are correct on both counts, sir.”
He barked out a strident laugh, as if that were the last thing he expected her to say. “See that you take the utmost care not to give yourself away. If we are forced to remove you, things will not go well for you.”
“Father, she knows—”
Francis Ryder interrupted him. “No need to defend her again, Nick. Although now that I’ve seen the lass, I understand why you are always so eager to take her side. Just see you don’t fall too much under her spell.” Again, that harsh laugh, and then he said, “Now leave me. I’ve work to do.”
Ryder bowed, grasped Maddy’s arm, and the meeting was over. He hurried her through the flagged hall and only let go when they reached his study. She wheeled on him as soon as the door was shut. “Never before have you said your father was your…your employer. Pray enlighten me, sir.”