Chapter Twenty-Two
Maddy thought it wiser not to show too much elation at Daniel’s speaking. It might frighten him. She yearned to look at Nicholas but would not let herself. “How wonderful to hear your voice, Daniel,” she said.
Maddy rose so that Nicholas could take her place. He had waited for this day a long time, despaired of its ever coming. Kneeling, he clasped the boy against his chest, burying his face in Daniel’s hair, laughing and crying all at once. This immediately brought tears to her own eyes. She didn’t want to weep, not now, when she must leave and never return. Maddy tiptoed down the hall while uncle and nephew rejoiced together.
Margery was there to open the door for her. “Did the little one speak?”
Maddy smiled. “Aye.”
“’Tis a miracle from God!”
“Mayhap it is, Margery.” She hurried outside and summoned a groom, who ran off to get her horse. While waiting, Maddy debated whether to go back in and bid Daniel farewell. He would be disappointed if she did not, but the last thing she wanted was to see Nicholas again. Before she had time to decide, the two of them hastened through the doorway.
“Daniel wishes to make his farewell.”
The child nodded hesitantly, as though he wasn’t entirely sure. “W-will you come back?” he asked. His words sounded tentative, as if he wasn’t convinced anybody but himself could hear them.
Maddy nodded. “Aye, to see you.” Will I?
Nicholas set him down and turned to give orders to the groom. “Escort Mistress Vernon to the gate at the priory, John, and watch until she is safely inside.” He bent down and spoke to Daniel then. “I must speak with Mistress Vernon alone. Go inside to Margery. She might like to hear you talk.”
Maddy kissed Daniel’s cheek. “I’m so proud of you for trying out your voice. Talking after all this time took courage. Now I know for certain that you are a brave knight, Sir Mouse.” He smiled, hugged her around the neck, and ran inside.
When she rose, Nicholas was watching her, cheeks wet with tears. If things between them had not changed so drastically, she would take him in her arms and hold him close. They would celebrate together. But now that would not serve. He was the best of fathers for Daniel, but never again could he be anything to Maddy. Neither friend nor lover, but simply a man who had wronged her. Betrayed her. His work for the queen was more to him than she could ever be.
He reached out for her hand, but she shook him off. Regardless, he spoke. “Maddy. Forgive me for my errors in judgment. My sins and my failures. Forgive me for not being completely honest with you.”
She shook her head. “I cannot. Not now. Maybe never.”
He nodded, seeming to accept the finality of her words. “Do you intend to leave the priory?”
“I’ll remain until I solve the mystery of Cath’s murder. After that, I’ll most likely go home. My relations may believe me dead.” Ironic that she’d thought her brother dead all these months, and he probably thought the same about her.
“Pray don’t do anything rash. Get word to me, or the justice of the peace. There is nothing you can do on your own.”
“I’ll get word to Master Carleton when I leave the priory. That is, if I find out anything. ’Tis doubtful I will.” She glanced at the sky and saw that it was growing late.
Without another word, Maddy stepped to the mounting block, and the groom helped her up. He led the way out onto the road. She did not look back.
John trotted ahead, leaving Maddy free to examine the discordant thoughts spinning through her mind. Robert is alive. She should be rejoicing, but instead she could only shake her head over it. The way in which he’d saved his life, by sacrificing another man’s, was repugnant to her and told her he hadn’t changed. That the aftermath of Northumberland’s fiasco had taught him nothing. Why hadn’t Robbie simply gone into hiding, as countless others had, when he realized the queen’s justice would be swift and merciless? Instead, he sent some poor soul to his death. As it turned out, Robert must have had to secret himself anyway, since the entire village had seen him swing and thought him dead. Maddy hadn’t asked Nicholas, but maybe her brother had remained in hiding until the pardons were issued. Afterward, others would have been making themselves known, too.
He should have realized that pardons would one day be possible. Once a fool, always a fool. She did not relish the idea of going home to live with Robert, Kat, and their children in the same house as Kat’s parents. If only they could get their land back. Maddy could perhaps live in one of the tenant’s cottages by herself. Sadly, she would not wish to be in Robert’s company for some time to come. There was a slim chance she could plead her case with the Council for the return of her family’s land. After all, she had spied for the queen and discovered much valuable information. Shouldn’t that count for something?
In the aftermath of their dispute, Nicholas had mentioned nothing about the work she’d been doing for him and his father at Lanercost. Maddy was grateful for that, because she had no idea what she’d do if she stumbled across a significant bit of intelligence. Ignore it? Feign total disinterest? Even if she pretended otherwise, she was still invested in the outcome of all of this. Still drawn to deciphering the machinations of the Dacres. If a crisis arose, she would need to rely on her instincts to guide her. Given the situation between them, she hoped Nicholas and his father had no further expectations of her.
One thing she knew for a certainty. Never again would she feel responsible for her brother’s actions. Or those of anyone else.
All the way home, Maddy had been watching the setting sun. Now, while she rode under the gate and into the garth, day was easing into night. Dread welled up inside her. Tonight, bone weary and in very low spirits, she wished only to bathe and have a meal sent to her chamber. But she knew she would have to sup with the others; they would think it odd if she did not make an appearance.
She entered the hall and approached the kitchen, the warm fragrance of roasting meat and something else, something sweet, floating toward her. Pleased that she’d not encountered Mistress Derby, she made haste up the stairs to her chamber. In a very short time, freshly washed and hair tidied, she hurried to the vicarage. The others were waiting for her in the drawing room, the two Dacres drinking wine, Musgrave quaffing ale.
“My dear, sit, sit,” Lady Dacre said. She waved a hand, nearly spilling her drink. “Christopher, pour Madeleine some wine.” Maddy wondered if her mistress perhaps had imbibed too much.
Dacre poured the burgundy liquid into her glass from a ewer. She thanked him and took a swallow. It was excellent, rich and warming.
“How was your visit with your cousin today, mistress?” Dacre asked. He and Musgrave were standing, looming over her and Lady Dacre.
None of them had ever asked her about what she did on market days, so the sudden interest seemed suspicious. “Satisfactory, thank you. I stopped by the market on my way back, which is why I was so late. Everybody was talking about the pardons for the rebels.” Maddy hadn’t intended to raise that subject, but neither did she want to talk about Nicholas.
“We’ve heard the news,” Dacre said.
Musgrave gave a mocking laugh. “The queen finally decided to show some mercy.”
“Tell us about your relations, Madeleine,” Lady Dacre said. “What do they do?”
Maddy sipped more wine to relieve her dry mouth. Never had she given any thought to what she might say if they asked about Nicholas. She racked her brain to recall what they’d talked about the day he’d brought her to the priory. “Do?”
“Aye. Are they farmers? Do they own livestock? What is their livelihood?” asked Lady Dacre.
“Nay, they are not farmers. They live in Brampton, in the town. My cousin, Nicholas, grows roses. They are quite beautiful; I’ll bring you a bouquet next week.” She was talking too fast.
“And what about Francis Ryder?” Dacre asked.
“I haven’t seen much of him. He’s from home quite often,” Maddy said, trying not to stammer. “On business, I suppose.”
“But you do not know what that might be?”
“I haven’t felt it was my place to inquire.” Hoping the wine would have a calming effect, Maddy finished what was left in her glass and set it down. Their sudden interest in Nicholas and his father was chilling.
“It’s been rumored in the past that he was an agent of the queen,” Dacre went on. “What do you know about that?”
Jesu.
Hands shaking, she folded them in her lap and hoped they would not notice. Lacing her voice with skepticism, she said, “Nothing, sir. It’s never been mentioned, at least not in my hearing.” Impulsively, she decided to tell them about Daniel, just to turn the conversation. “Nicholas is a good man. He is raising his nephew, who was orphaned after the death of both his parents.”
“How kind,” Lady Dacre said. In a few moments, they adjourned to the dining room and, praise God, nothing further was said about the Ryders.
“Madam, will we continue our project?” Maddy asked.
“I am afraid I shall be away for a time, Madeleine. I have some business to attend to.”
“I see. When do you leave?”
“Not for a few days yet, so we can continue with our work until then.”
Maddy nodded. The visit to her daughter. If Nicholas was correct, the conspirators needed her in Carlisle when the plan to abduct Mary Stewart was put in motion. That was the true reason for her trip.
Lady Dacre fell asleep in her chair after supper. The men had disappeared. Maddy summoned Edith, who roused their mistress and bundled her off to bed. Leaving the vicarage, she went in search of Mistress Derby, who was cleaning and polishing and putting away the last of the trenchers and serving pieces. Maddy had not yet spoken to her about Cath, and no doubt the cook was wondering why. She threw down her cleaning cloth and motioned her toward the worktable, where two stools stood. Without preamble she said, “You found Cath’s body.”
Maddy nodded. “Aye.”
“Tell me the truth about how she died.”
Maddy related a shortened version of the sad tale. “Master Carleton, the justice of the peace, is investigating. When he questions us, we must answer truthfully, without making accusations.”
The older woman didn’t speak but watched Maddy with a keen eye. “I talked to Thomas Vine about Cath,” Maddy said.
“And what did that varlet have to say?”
“He thought because Cath had been found in the river, she had drowned. He swears he didn’t kill her.”
Mistress Derby’s chest puffed out like a robin’s breast in the cold. “The filthy liar!”
“I thought so too, at first. You may not credit it, but I could have sworn he was telling the truth. It was in his expression, something around his eyes and mouth. A flicker of genuine sadness.”
“Hmph.”
“In the end, he claimed to know who’d done it. But he wouldn’t tell me. He said I should figure it out for myself.”
“Because he’s the murderer! You know it as well as I, poor Cath was afraid of him.”
Maddy listened patiently. Maybe if she’d been there and heard what Musgrave said, she wouldn’t be so determined to lay the guilt at his feet. Maddy had been the same way with Nicholas, unwilling to consider that while Musgrave may be a reiver, a thief, and a violator of women, those sins didn’t necessarily make him a murderer.
And speaking of reivers…she hadn’t planned to, but it seemed an opportune moment to ask the cook what she knew about the raid. Musgrave had said he learned what happened from the servants. It would be wise to proceed carefully, though. While Mistress Derby now considered her a friend, Maddy was all but certain she would be loyal to the Dacres over her.
“Mistress, you were not here the night of the raid, were you?”
The cook’s gaze dropped down to the table. She picked up her cleaning cloth and rubbed it across a spot that looked like it was etched into the rough wood. “Nay, I was not.”
Maddy had always thought it strange that she’d gone off somewhere after supper that night, when darkness had already fallen. “Where did you go?”
“Not that it’s any of your affair, but I went to Brampton to visit my sister and her husband. He’s been ailing, and I’d been putting it off. Lady Dacre prepared some remedies for him in the stillroom.”
“So late in the day seems a strange time to venture out.”
Mistress Derby made no response to that but jumped off her stool and began to wipe down the table with long, vigorous strokes, still not looking at Maddy. She could press her, but that would only make her angry. She’d learn nothing more from her tonight.
Maddy slid off the stool and shook out her skirts. “Good even, mistress,” she said, making her way toward the stairs.
“Wait!” the cook called.
Maddy stopped but did not turn around. Perhaps whatever she had to say would come easier that way.
“Lady Dacre told me earlier that day it would be best if I took myself off after supper. And if you ever say I told you so, I’ll swear you’re a liar.”
Maddy turned her head slightly, so the woman would know she’d heard. “Thank you, mistress.” And although she longed to pry further, she continued up the stairs and into her chamber.
While Maddy undressed and washed, she thought about the Dacres’ questions. They were suspicious—of both her and the Ryders. Perhaps she should write a note to Nicholas and warn him. If the Dacres had unraveled the truth, wouldn’t they anticipate an attempt to stop them from carrying out their plan? Nicholas and his father might be in danger.
And so might I.
Sleep was a long time coming that night.
In the morning, Lady Dacre embroidered while Maddy read to her, a dark depressing passage written by Sir Thomas More when he was facing certain death. “A Godly Meditation.” It seemed an odd selection. She was still puzzling over it when Edith stepped in and announced a visitor.
“Master David Carleton,” she said.
Oh, no. With all that had occurred yesterday, Maddy had nearly forgotten about being questioned by the justice of the peace. A gray haired, older gentleman entered the room and wished them good morrow. He and Lady Dacre obviously were acquainted. “How is your family keeping, sir?” she asked.
“They are all well,” he said, smiling. “And I have two grandchildren now. How fare—”
But she cut him off before he could finish his question. Obviously, he’d intended to inquire about her grandchildren. With Maddy present, Lady Dacre could not let that happen. “I collect you are here to make inquiries about the death of our servant, Cath Bell?”
He seemed flummoxed and took a moment to gather himself. “Aye. I must question each of you separately. Is this a convenient place?”
She nodded and put her work away. “Begin with Mistress Vernon. I shall be in my chamber. Madeleine, fetch me when Master Carleton is ready for me.”
When Lady Dacre had gone, Maddy said, “Do be seated, sir.” She dropped her embroidery into her basket and turned to face him.
“This should not take too long, Mistress Vernon.” He was attempting to put her at ease, and she appreciated the gesture. “I understand it was you who found the body of the unfortunate young girl.”
She nodded, and he went on. “Can you describe exactly how it happened?”
“My cousin and I had brought a picnic to the river. He was packing up our things, and I decided to walk along the riverbank before we rode home.”
“Go on.”
“After a few moments, something caught my eye. I tried to ignore it, but my curious nature wouldn’t allow it. I plunged into the freezing water to investigate.” Swiftly, she related the remainder of the story.
“Hmm. And you recognized Mistress Bell immediately, would you say?”
“Not immediately, no. Not until I was closer did I realize it was Cath, by her clothing, and especially her hair.”
“Did you know her well?”
Maddy thought about that. “No. But she’d had a problem recently, and I had helped her with it.”
“And what was the nature of the problem, mistress?”
This was the part she dreaded having to recount. As Nicholas had suggested, she would stick to observations and avoid judgments. “Cath was very young,” Maddy began. “A friend of the family who is staying here was trying to seduce her. I could see she was frightened by this man’s attentions, and I intervened.”
He cocked a brow. “What form did your intervention take?”
Maddy explained that she’d urged Cath to speak to Mistress Derby, and that the cook had agreed to remove the girl from serving duties.
“The gentleman in question is?”
“Thomas Vine. He is still here, as far as I know.”
Master Carleton opened the pen case he’d brought with him and extracted a quill, ink jar, and rolled parchment. He flattened the paper and wrote down Vine’s name. Then he asked Maddy to repeat the cook’s name, and recorded that, too. “How did Vine react to your thwarting his…intentions?”
“He was angry with me for interfering, but I don’t know what passed between him and Cath.”
“Did he threaten you or the serving girl?”
“He told me to keep out of his business. I said I’d go to Lady Dacre if he didn’t stop harassing Cath. Or if he threatened me. It was not a pleasant conversation, but to my knowledge, nothing more happened between them.”
“And then?”
“And then one day the cook told me Cath hadn’t been seen for a week.”
She heard a scrape across the flagged floor of the gallery. Was somebody listening? She kept her eyes riveted toward the sound, hoping whoever it was would reveal himself, but nobody did.
“Do you think Vine murdered her?” Carleton asked, inclining his head toward Maddy.
How to answer that? She’d been so sure, but no longer. Drawing a deep breath, she plunged in. “I thought so at first. But now I have my doubts.” She gave him the gist of her conversation with Musgrave, emphasizing the man’s shock and sadness. “If he was acting, he should join a company of players. He was that convincing.”
Jotting more notes, he glanced up at her and said, “Thank you for answering my questions, Mistress Vernon. Would you summon Lady Dacre?”
Maddy curtsied. “Certainly.” As she passed the open entryway to the gallery and stairs, she glanced around. But it was empty.
From the window in her chamber, Maddy saw Master Carleton ride off before dinner. It seemed scarcely enough time to have questioned all the others, but that had been his intention. Nobody mentioned his visit during the meal, but neither of the Dacres, nor Musgrave, seemed perturbed.
After they left the table, Lady Dacre said she would sew for a while before her customary afternoon rest. Maddy followed her to the drawing room, and when they were seated said, “Is there a carpenter on the estate, my lady? If so, you might have him build something for the storage of your documents.”
“Oh, why didn’t I think of that? Clever girl! But I can’t fit anything else into my chamber.”
Maddy laughed. “No, indeed. But isn’t there an unused room you could claim for yourself? Perhaps one of the chambers off the gallery? That way you could remove all of your business papers from your bedchamber so the room would be more comfortable.”
“Hmm.” She tipped her head up. “Yes, there are one or two chambers that would serve. I am afraid they are both sorely in need of cleaning and rearranging, however. We will see to that after my trip.”
“Aye.” Dare she slip in a question about the lady’s trip? It might seem odd if she weren’t the least bit curious. “Where are you going, madam?” Maddy tried to sound spur-of-the-moment, leaning over for her embroidery as she spoke.
“To Carlisle, to tend to some business that demands my attention. It has to do with properties left to me by my late husband.”
“Ah,” Maddy said, concentrating on her stitching. A vague answer, but one she would have to let stand.
At length, Lady Dacre sought her bed and Maddy returned to her chamber, pondering what to do with a few hours of freedom. She felt too restless to sleep. Useless jumped up beside her, and she scratched the pup’s ears and petted her while she thought. The little dog seemed full of energy, so a walk might serve them both well. The day was warm, with scattered, billowy clouds obscuring the sun every so often. Maddy carried a basket, thinking she would pick some wildflowers. She gravitated toward the Roman wall, which of course reminded her of Nicholas and the first time he had kissed her.
And then she had ruined the lovely moment by confessing she’d known all along who Musgrave was, and worse, that she’d lain with him when she was a girl. Nicholas had claimed he could no longer trust her, but later apologized for that, admitting he’d only been hurt and jealous. It wasn’t long before she drew near the Roman fortification where she and Nicholas had sheltered that night, and the sight of it made her heartsore.
Snapping her fingers, she called to Useless, who had run off in pursuit of a rabbit. It was then she heard a horse and rider approaching. Scooping up her dog, she hurried inside the fort before she could be seen. Voices drifted on the wind. Clearly, there was more than one rider. Huddling against the stone wall, out of sight, she hoped they hadn’t spotted her.
Maddy had expected them to turn off toward the priory, since there wasn’t much else nearby. But they raced on past. Whoever it was, they were traveling at a fearsome speed. There was an opening in the wall, and cautiously she peeked through. One of the riders was Dacre; the other one she could not immediately identify. And then realization hit. So great was the shock, she felt exactly as she had the day she’d fallen into the icy river.
No. It can’t be.
But it was. If Maddy hadn’t recognized him by his posture, the way he sat his horse, his mount would have given it away. The elegant, sleek gelding, moving across the land in long, sure strides, carried Nicholas Ryder on his back.