Chapter Twenty
Maddy arrived mid-morning, and Lady Dacre was there to welcome her back. She seemed gratified to see Maddy, and they spent the time before dinner at their work while the older lady shared news of the tenants, staff, and servants. Sadly, Maddy realized she no longer trusted her mistress. All she could think was: there is plenty going on here you are keeping hidden from me. No doubt Lady Dacre felt the same way. It was strange that Maddy could enjoy her company, and yet at the same time distrust her. Logic told her she had to be involved with whatever dark deeds were in the offing. But for the moment, Maddy must carry on as though all was normal.
She was surprised to see both Christopher Dacre and John Musgrave at the midday meal. The latter simply nodded in greeting, but Master Dacre was more welcoming. As well as full of questions, which he asked between bites of salad and swallows of ale.
“And how do you fare, Mistress Vernon?” he asked. “Is your health restored?”
“Aye, I am perfectly well, sir.” She deftly deboned the turbot on her trencher, acting as if the matter of her well-being was trivial.
“My stepmother and I were most distressed that the raiders made off with you, especially given the state of your health. It must have been quite a ride they took you on.”
At this she looked up. “Indeed. I pleaded with them to leave me be, told them I’d been ill, but they were determined to carry on, for whatever reason.” Maddy wiped her hands on the serviette draped over her wrist and chewed a bite of fish, drenched with a savory cream sauce.
“And they dropped you near Brampton?” Dacre asked. His tone was accusatory, as if she had planned her own kidnapping. Had wanted it.
She set her knife down. “Aye. ‘Dropped’ is a good word for it. They shoved me off the horse. I recognized where I was and made my way to my cousin’s house. I suffered a relapse of the influenza, and they took care of me. I also had many cuts and bruises, but nothing serious.”
“So your cousin’s letter said. How is it, mistress, that they seized you? My stepmother said she had tucked you into your bed herself.” The idea that because Lady Dacre had helped her back to bed made her somehow invincible was ludicrous, but both mother and stepson seemed to feel strongly that if Maddy had remained there, she would have been safe. She felt like arguing the point but desisted. He was waiting for an answer, studying her over the rim of his tankard.
She and Nicholas had discussed a response to this query and decided she should be as truthful as possible, because they did not know what her captors had told them. “Very true, sir, but I could not sleep. The commotion beneath my window frightened me. I wanted to see what was happening.”
“Where were you when they caught you?” he asked.
Maddy was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She’d anticipated a few questions, but not this grilling. “I had just stepped outside the hall when they came along. I stayed in the shadows, but a small piece of stone broke loose and gave me away. And that was that.”
Lady Dacre pointed her chin at her son. “Enough, Christopher. I am quite sure Madeleine does not wish to relive her terrifying experience.”
No sooner had Maddy gulped some ale, feeling relieved that the questioning was over, than Lady Dacre said, “I am only grateful the same fate did not befall you as befell our Cath.”
The sight and smell of the food was beginning to nauseate her. Maddy had not expected anybody to mention Cath’s death, at least not right away. And if she’d wanted to ask her about it, why had she waited until now to bring it up, when they’d had that time alone earlier? Surely it was not something to be discussed during a meal.
“We heard you and your cousin discovered the body,” Dacre said.
“We did. It is not a pleasant thing to recall.” Maddy was beginning to tremble, and she wrapped her arms about herself to stop it.
“You simply happened to be riding along the river and came upon it?” he asked.
His words and their implication angered her and made her defensive. “We certainly did not go looking for it. Her body was…it was snagged on a bush, partly submerged. It was horrible, grotesque.” She shoved her chair back and rose stiffly. “I will join you in the drawing room shortly, madam.”
Maddy raced down the stairs and into Dacre Hall, her heartbeat keeping pace. Pray God Mistress Derby would not see her, for she knew the cook would want to talk. What was happening here? Why were they interrogating her? And mentioning Cath, whom they hadn’t given a fig about when Musgrave was harassing her. Calling her “their Cath.” It made Maddy sick. She was beginning to believe Nicholas had been right about returning to Lanercost.
She could draw only one conclusion. They were trying to intimidate her. Threaten her in some way. It was clear they thought she was up to no good. But did they suspect the worst? That she was a spy? And how easily Maddy had fallen into their trap. She was angry with herself for losing her composure and fleeing, because it only made her look guilty. Much better to have remained at the table and ridden out the storm. After nearly ten days with Nicholas, she needed to relearn the skill of subterfuge around the Dacres and Musgrave, who had remained oddly silent throughout the whole exchange.
Approaching the kitchen, she slowed her pace and lightened her step. The cook was nowhere about, and Maddy climbed the stairs with a sense of relief. When she entered her chamber, Useless squirmed out from behind the wardrobe to greet her. Gathering the wee dog into her arms, Maddy allowed a few minutes of slobbery licks and kisses. This was obviously the only creature at the priory who cared to show her some affection. Someone—Mistress Derby and Alice, probably—had taken good care of Useless in Maddy’s absence. The animal was looking on the fat side. Maddy had the feeling the beagle would be her only friend in the coming days.
A footman had carried her things up, and she busied herself putting them away. Nicholas had insisted she bring Susan’s clothing with her. When she balked, he’d held her by the shoulders and said, “Allow me to make you a gift of this apparel, Maddy. It is of no use to anybody here. At least take the traveling costume and the skirts and bodices you have been wearing during your time here.” She had finally given in.
Maddy let enough time elapse for Lady Dacre to have finished her meal and attend to her other needs, and then, with a sense of disquiet, she made her way back to the vicarage. The lady was already seated, with her work in her lap. She wasn’t sewing, though, but sitting quietly, her gaze fixed on some indeterminate spot. Obviously musing on something.
She started when she realized she was no longer alone. “Madeleine, my dear, forgive us for our clumsy questions. We should have seen your distress. Are you feeling better?”
Maddy would not apologize for her hasty departure from the dining room. She nodded and said, “Would you like me to read to you?”
“No. I want to talk to you about something.”
Maddy’s heart lurched. Pray God, not more questions. She fumbled in the basket for her embroidery and waited.
“You will be shocked to hear it, but while you were gone, I began the tedious job of organizing my papers, with Christopher’s help.” She laughed at the expression on Maddy’s face, and that helped ease the tension between them. “I’ve barely made a start. Are you still willing to help me with the sorting and storing?”
Maddy smiled. “Of course. I’m sure if we work together, it will soon be done. When do you wish to start?”
“Tomorrow, after dinner. My stepson and I will spend the morning separating the private documents.”
Maddy nodded. “Very well.” They worked companionably until Lady Dacre excused herself, saying she wished to nap before supper.
“Perhaps you would like to do the same? Despite being well, I’m sure you have not fully regained your strength.”
Maddy bid her good afternoon, and as soon as she left the room, beat a hasty path to her chamber. The last thing she wanted was to be caught alone by Master Dacre, who seemed to have turned chillingly suspicious of her. She tried to relax, but her mind was a like a boiling kettle. If only it would distill her muddled thoughts into something coherent, so she could study them from every angle until she understood. At length she gave up on resting, donned a cloak and boots, and made her way outside.
The weather had not improved, but at least it wasn’t raining. Maddy walked past the church, then toward the gatehouse. Vivid spots of color brightened the landscape here and there on this April day, daffodils and daisies, and lady smock, beginning to spread its silvery whiteness across the meadows. In the orchard, crab apples were showing off their rosy blooms and brilliant green foliage. Before long she glimpsed somebody emerging from the stables and moving toward her. With a start, she thought it might be Nicholas’s man, with a message for her, but Maddy shortly recognized Musgrave. She stopped, wondering if she should retreat. But it was too late; he knew she’d seen him.
“Mistress Vernon,” he said. “I didn’t expect to find you out and about.”
Prior to the midday meal, she had not seen him in quite some time, and once again his exceptional stature and rough good looks struck her. He sounded more cordial than she’d yet experienced, rather like the Musgrave of old, making her suspicious. What did he want of her?
“Nor I, you. I wouldn’t have come this way if I had.”
“Come now, mistress, can we not be friends? Judging from the conversation at dinner, you might be in need of one.”
“And you truly think you could be a friend to me?” Maddy took a step back and folded her arms across her chest, watching him.
His expression darkened. “Walk with me a moment, if you please.”
She did not please, but curiosity got the better of her, so she fell in beside him. When he turned toward a stand of trees, she hesitated. Did she really want to be alone with this man, out of view of everybody who might offer help if it were needed? But Maddy sensed that something had changed with him, so she decided to trust him, despite her grave misgivings.
When they were well out of sight, he said, “What do you know about the supposed raid?”
This surprised her, and she needed time to gather her wits. Stalling was in order. “Where were you that night? I didn’t see you.”
“Not that it’s your concern, but I was in Carlisle. I only heard what happened when I returned. And I learned you’d been ill, then taken by the so-called raiders.”
“Why do you doubt that it was truly a raid?”
He puffed a weighted breath. “Workers. Servants. People talk, you know.”
Still unsure of how much to reveal, Maddy said, “It seemed real enough at first. Mounted men shouting, others running about with torches, and…fires burning here and there. Lady Dacre said they’d taken some livestock, and Christopher and some of the laborers were giving chase.”
“And then?”
“And then nothing more seemed to happen. I can’t be sure, though. When I tried to find out exactly what was occurring, a couple of ruffians jumped out and grabbed me.”
“Did you notice anybody in particular? Men you’d never seen before, who…seemed a cut above your ruffians?”
Could I trust him? Francis Ryder said he was here on the queen’s business, but Nicholas thought him the kind of agent without scruples. She pretended to think about it, finally shaking her head. “It was dark, and there were several men about. I could not see their faces, could barely make out their forms. Alice and I hid from them in the undercroft. I heard their voices, but they were none I recognized.”
Musgrave gave a grunt of frustration. “I think you’re holding out on me,” he said, stepping closer, his voice threatening. “We’re on the same side here, you know.”
Maddy faced him squarely. “I’ve no idea what you are referring to.”
“Do you not? You’re lying, mistress. In the days to come, you may have need of a protector, and that cousin of yours is at some distance. Maybe you’ll decide to trust me if your life is endangered.”
That raised her ire. “As you protected Cath?” she asked, before considering the wisdom of such a question.
A dawning awareness passed over his face. “You think I killed her, don’t you?”
Maddy refused to meet his eyes, and he grabbed her arm. “Answer me!”
Her belly felt as if it were pushing up into her chest. “Didn’t you? Who else if not you?” She tried to look defiant, but more than likely only looked scared.
To her surprise, the bluster seemed to drain out of him. “She was found in the river. I had assumed she drowned.”
“Nicholas—my cousin—said there was evidence to the contrary.”
Musgrave’s large frame seemed to shrink. “I admit I tried to seduce her. I wanted to bed her. But I would never have hurt her. By God’s blood, I-I cared about her.”
Maddy eyed him closely. Her intuition said he was telling the truth. She could hardly credit it, but his manner and the sadness in his eyes persuaded her of his sincerity. Either that, or he was a very accomplished liar and knew the trick of sounding genuine. Best to be skeptical. “So you say, but you were violent toward me. Why not to her?”
“I was drunk the night I came to your chamber. I barely knew what I was doing and am heartily sorry for it.”
“That was not the only time you threatened me with physical harm,” Maddy reminded him.
“And I suppose you’ll never forget. Or forgive. I often act without considering the consequences, and then I regret it.” He drew close and stabbed the air with his finger. “But mark this. I did not kill Cath, mistress.” He paused, his eyes flashing. “I think I know who did. In fact, I’d stake my life on it.”
Maddy was so taken aback, she could only stammer out, “Who, then?”
“You work it out,” he said, striding away.
“Wait!” But he kept on going, ignoring her. “You’ll have to tell the justice of the peace,” she shouted, but he was too far away to hear. What a fool she was, yelling like a fishwife. Anybody loitering close by might have heard her.
He seemed like a changed man, implying he wanted her forgiveness. Was he frightened of someone? Cath’s killer, possibly. Musgrave attempting to extract information from her seemed all topsy-turvy. He too suspected the raid had been staged. Maddy had not wished to tell him she’d seen one of the lairds entering the vicarage. Musgrave was a double agent, after all, and how did she know what he might tell the Dacres about her? Deflecting his questions with her implications about Cath’s murder had seemed the wisest course.
And there was a conundrum. Musgrave claiming he hadn’t done it, but he knew who had. She must contrive a way to get him to name the villain who murdered that lovely young girl. Most astonishing of all, John Musgrave seemed to have had a genuine liking for Cath.
…
Over the next few days, Maddy and Lady Dacre spent their afternoons working in her chamber among the piles of papers. She claimed to have sorted through them and pulled out anything private. But it looked as if a whirlwind had spun through the room, lifting documents and tossing them back down willy-nilly.
“How do you want to organize these, madam?” Maddy asked when she first encountered the mess. “By subject? Date? Or possibly by a name?” Whatever she decided, it was going to be a daunting task.
“Oh, dear, we hadn’t gotten that far. What do you think?”
After pondering for a moment, Maddy said, “If I get to work, the best method will come to me.”
Lady Dacre gestured to a stack of documents. “You may begin with those.” Then she turned to a different stack and began marking parchments with embroidery silks.
The first papers Maddy encountered were either copies of letters Lady Dacre had sent to her solicitor, or letters from him. “All this correspondence with your solicitor. We can arrange those by date and put them together in one box, according to the topic. A name can serve as a topic when appropriate.”
“Ah! Excellent plan.” Lady Dacre motioned to the papers on the mantel. “There are the statements from various people attesting to Sir Thomas’s state of mind.”
“We can file those under ‘witness statements.’”
“Madeleine, perhaps you have a calling to the bar!”
Maddy laughed. “The last time I took note, the Inns of Court were strictly a male preserve. I would only qualify as a clerk, in any case, but I don’t believe women are welcome in that work, either.” After a short time, Lady Dacre left the chamber to consult with the steward about suitable storage for the papers.
Maddy stood and stretched. Her back muscles were aching after sitting for so long, bent over, studying the documents. No sooner had she sat down to resume her work than the door opened. She glanced up, expecting to see her mistress, but instead Edith came through. “Sorry to disturb,” she said. “But I must ready my lady for her trip.”
Maddy nearly blurted out, “What trip?” but quickly judged it might be wiser to act as though she already knew. “Of course. I suppose you have much to do.”
“Aye. Besides her own things, my lady has gifts for her grandchildren. She likes to take them little trinkets when she visits. ’Tis not often she gets to see them.”
“I expect not.” Grandchildren? Lady Dacre had never mentioned any. Would these be William Dacre’s children? Maddy did not think so. His stepmother was on such poor terms with him, surely she wouldn’t be paying him a visit.
“How many does she have again? I can never remember.” Maddy hoped it was more than one or two, or her comment would make her sound shamefully dim. She pretended to continue working, so her interest wouldn’t appear overly great.
Edith paused in her advance to the wardrobe. “Mistress Mabel has three little ones, a boy and two girls, and Mistress Jane has two, both boys.”
“And she’s visiting Mistress Mabel this time.” Pure conjecture on Maddy’s part. As it turned out, she’d guessed right.
“Aye, near Carlisle. Well, they both live thereabout. Their father, you know, was Constable of Carlisle Castle. The girls used to play there when they were bairns.”
Maddy’s head was spinning. Lady Dacre had been married to the constable of the castle? This was the first she’d heard of it. Why did she never speak of it, or of her daughters? Early in her stay at the priory, she’d told Maddy all about William Dacre and her troubles with him, and how she got on with Christopher, but she’d never mentioned her own children.
“So long ago, now, that she was married to him,” Maddy said. “I can’t recall his name.”
Edith readily supplied her with the necessary information. “’Twas Sir John Lowther, mistress.” She lowered her voice and stepped closer. “And don’t say I told you, but they never married. They lived as man and wife for many years, though.”
“I see.” Stranger and stranger. Lady Dacre had been the mistress of Sir John Lowther and had birthed two daughters by him. He had been the constable of Carlisle Castle. After she’d been widowed, if one could call it that, she had married Sir Thomas Dacre.
“When did he die, Edith? Sir John, I mean.”
Before she could answer, Lady Dacre entered the chamber. No matter. Maddy didn’t truly need to know.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“They are looking for containers, but it will be tomorrow at the soonest. We may as well be done for today. It’s nearly time to dress for supper.”
“Very well, but let’s make sure the papers we already sorted stay that way. Where shall we put them?” Edith knew where there was an empty coffer and ran to retrieve it. Carefully, Maddy laid the documents inside, in crisscrossed piles.
On the way back to her chamber, a thought that had been hovering at the back of Maddy’s mind now came to the fore. Who would be better equipped to know the layout of the castle than a woman whose partner had been the warden, whose children had played within its walls? No wonder Lady Dacre was crucial to the plot, if indeed a rescue of Mary Stewart was in the offing. As yet, however, Maddy had found no solid evidence of any such plan. She could only watch and wait.