Chapter Seven
After her abrupt dismissal, Maddy returned to her chamber to find Useless curled up before the hearth. She stretched out on her bed, and the wee dog leaped up and lay down as close to her as she could possibly get. Her warm little body snuggled up against Maddy felt entirely pleasurable. She worried, though, that one of the maids would find the pup and shoo her outside.
Why would Lady Jane Dacre be corresponding with the Duke of Norfolk? It was common knowledge that he was the queen’s guest—in the tower—for scheming to wed Mary Stewart, the Scots queen, without Elizabeth’s permission. Ryder might have an idea. But when and how would she be able to gain access to Lady Dacre’s chamber to find that letter? How unfortunate that her employer worked from there rather than a library or office. The only way Maddy could safely search would be if she were not at home, and Maddy had the impression that happened rarely.
Nothing foolproof came to her. This was only her first full day at the priory, and she would need to bide her time and get a better sense of how the days passed. Not only what Lady Dacre did, but also her son and John Musgrave.
The next few days afforded Maddy with opportunities to find out more about the activities of Masters Dacre and Musgrave, but she did not discover anything of great import. Or any import at all, truth be known.
Although the weather wasn’t suitable for hunting or hawking, the two men rode every day. More than once, she spotted Dacre riding about the property, stopping here and there to speak to laborers. Where John Musgrave rode, she could not say. He disappeared for long stretches, only returning in time for the evening meal.
There was one thing that disturbed her about Musgrave, though it would be of no interest to Ryder. He paid an immoderate amount of attention to the very pretty serving girl who brought their meals, and she—her name was Cath—seemed to encourage it. Perhaps Maddy noticed it only because of her past with the man. A gentle teasing, a wink, that was all it amounted to. Until one night, quite deliberately, so that Maddy would see, he slid his hand up Cath’s leg. He was staring directly at Maddy while he did it, taunting her.
What concerned her was Cath’s innocence. She could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen, and Maddy feared she did not understand what dallying with Musgrave could mean. She would continue to observe and try to judge whether it was seduction or simply a foolish game he was playing, designed to exasperate Maddy. Perhaps he had asked Cath to go along with it.
If the men remained at the priory in the evenings, they played chess or primero, and Lady Dacre sometimes joined them in the latter. They invited her as well, but she had no money to gamble. They must have understood this, because they did not ask again. More often than not, the two men rode off in the evenings. Probably to the alehouse in Brampton. Drinking, gaming, and whoring, if Maddy had to guess.
Dacre was all affability with her, as he had been the day he led her around the priory, and God be thanked, Musgrave ignored her other than what the demands of politeness in front of others required.
Maddy and her mistress plodded along with their routine. The older woman had not raised her voice with Maddy again—indeed she’d given her no reason to—nor asked her to look through any of her stacks of documents, which were legion. One afternoon while Maddy waited at length for her to locate a letter requiring a response, she blurted out, “Madam, would you like me to sort your papers for you? You and your son could remove anything private that you did not wish me to see.”
At first Maddy thought she was angry. Abruptly, Lady Dacre lowered herself to the bed, still rumpled from her afternoon rest. Her fingers rubbed the gold cross she wore about her neck. She seemed to draw comfort from it. “It’s all become so daunting,” she said.
Glancing about the room at the papers piled on every available surface, Maddy understood how that might have happened. “That is a marvelous idea, Madeleine,” she said. “I grow weary of this arduous duty. It is a constant thorn in my side.”
“You are tired, my lady. I can see that you do not feel well.” Indeed, she was pale and drawn. “May I call for wine or ale?”
She nodded. “Spiced wine, pray.” Maddy quickly found Edith, who brought the wine, and after Lady Dacre had drunk a glass, her color improved and she seemed to regain some of her strength. “Pray forgive me for behaving like an old woman,” she said. This was the nearest she’d come to joking with Maddy.
“You are far from that, madam. This task is overwhelming.”
“William makes one claim after another, and the estate cannot be settled until we have dealt with them all.” Massaging her forehead, she continued. “Christopher has helped, but, as I told you, it is uncomfortable for him since it is his own brother making the claims. He is very circumspect in what he says. I am never sure if he remains with me because he hopes to inherit the priory someday, or if he simply believes Will is being wrongheaded.”
Maddy made a sympathetic face. Indeed, she was sorry for Lady Dacre. She wondered if Christopher Dacre remained loyal for other reasons. Reasons related to the priory’s location near the border, for whatever schemes he might have in mind. This information may not be useful to Ryder, but she would tell him nonetheless. As she’d warned him, she was in no position to judge whether something was significant or not.
“I’ll need some time to remove certain documents. When I’ve done that, you may begin your organizing. I shall ask the steward to be on the lookout for suitable containers. I have a locked coffer for my personal and private papers. I keep the key with me at all times.” Lady Dacre wore household keys attached to a girdle at her waist, and Maddy guessed it must be one of those.
Her spirits plunged. She’d never be able to see what was in that coffer unless she found a way to gain access to the keys. If Maddy could sneak into Lady Dacre’s chamber before she had a chance to lock up the letter from Norfolk, that would afford her the best chance. She wouldn’t need the key. But still, she did not think she could manage it before her first visit with Ryder, not unless everybody had occasion to leave the priory at the same time. Maddy prayed he would not expect too much in scarcely a week.
One evening Lady Dacre retired early, and Maddy did likewise. Lighted candle in hand, she made her way the length of the banquet hall and up the stairs to her chamber. Useless was curled up on the bed and whimpered with excitement when Maddy entered. It occurred to her that the little dog would need to relieve herself before settling in for the night. With a sigh, Maddy donned her woolen riding cloak, warmest boots, and gloves. She lifted the dog into her arms and retraced her steps from a few moments ago. Once outside, she set Useless down and hoped she would take care of her needs as speedily as possible. It was abominably cold.
To her dismay, Useless dashed around the corner of the building and out of sight. Maddy had no choice but to follow. She didn’t want to lose the little scamp and be forced to track her down. As she rounded the corner, a figure dressed in dark clothing emerged from the shadows. She gasped. Jesu. Was it Musgrave?
The figure stepped toward her and removed his cap. It was Nicholas Ryder.
“By God’s light, you gave me a fright,” Maddy said. “What are you doing here, lurking about?”
“I might ask you the same question.”
Useless, having finished her business, now pranced through the snow toward Maddy. Ryder chuckled. “You have a dog. How domestic of you. A sign you’ve settled in.”
Maddy judged a response wasn’t required and bent to gather Useless into her arms.
“I have endured a long, freezing ride, my horse losing his footing on the ice and nearly throwing me more than once. May we speak inside?” He glanced at the door to the hall.
“Very well, but we must be very quiet. We dare not risk waking anybody.”
…
Nicholas followed Maddy into the hall, where the temperature was not a great deal warmer. No matter, this business would be concluded swiftly. They stood before the massive grate, and Nicholas could feel cold air blowing down the chimney. “Let us move away from this damnable draft,” he said, proceeding toward the center of the hall.
Madeleine spoke in a low voice. “This is far enough. We dare not go any closer to the kitchen, where a few servants sleep by the hearth.”
He nodded his agreement. “God’s breath, it is darker in here than outside.”
“Why have you come, sir?”
“The presence of Thomas Vine at the priory was unanticipated and is potentially a threat. What have you been able to learn about him?” His vision had adjusted to the dark, and now he could make out Madeleine’s features. The luminous eyes. The flawless skin and perfect little nose. And when she lowered her hood, her glorious hair flowed around the column of her neck. He was mesmerized.
Get hold of yourself, man. Madeleine is a sweet morsel you will never taste.
“Nothing more. He and Christopher Dacre ride out during the day and play cards at night. That is, when they are not visiting the alehouse. I have seen very little of him.”
Nicholas did not speak, merely waited.
“There is one thing, but it’s nought to do with your concerns. He is attempting to seduce one of the serving girls.”
“Nothing unusual about that.”
She looked fierce. “Perhaps not, but the girl is quite young and surely still innocent. I am keeping an eye on the situation and intend to intervene if it continues.”
“You?” He chortled. “What could you do? If anybody interferes, it should be Lady Dacre.”
“She has turned a blind eye, which I find puzzling. I’ll speak to the cook if necessary. Perhaps the girl can be assigned other duties.”
“This affair will be a distraction. You should be concerned with your mission, not Vine’s philandering.”
“If nobody else will speak up for her, I shall.”
Nicholas had to admire her courage. She seemed to have an unending supply of it. A disturbing thought occurred to him. “He hasn’t, ah, made advances toward you, has he?”
“No. He knows better.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I give him no encouragement. I never look directly at him, and we barely speak beyond what is necessary for common courtesy.”
Relief slid through him. “And there is nothing else you can tell me about him?”
“Why do you suspect him?” she said, deflecting his question.
“He claims to be from London, and indeed, knows the Town gossip, yet he looks rough. Not at all like a denizen of a great city. We had no intelligence that he was residing here.”
She shrugged. “You can’t know everything, can you? What you say of him is true, and I will be on my guard around him. But I’m afraid I cannot enlighten you further.”
Madeleine seemed wary. Was she keeping something from him? He grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her closer. “If you are withholding information, it will only bring trouble.”
“I swear, there is nothing.”
They were at a stand, eyes blazing at each other. Neither moved. Nicholas softened his grip on her arm but was reluctant to let her go. In fact, he’d love nothing more than to kiss that insouciant mouth.
Suddenly, the dog wiggled and yipped, and Madeleine tugged her arm from his grip. “Goodnight, Master Ryder. Safe journey home.”
Nicholas watched her walk through the hall and waited to leave until he heard her climbing the stairs. Outside, he mounted and guided his horse toward the road to Brampton. Coming here had been a risk. He could easily have been discovered. But that wasn’t the worst of it. He’d known it would be a mistake to see her again. Her visits on market days would be torture at this rate.
…
Maddy felt Ryder’s eyes on her as she traversed the hall. She’d been trembling so hard she could barely walk. At the top of the stairs she paused, breathing a sigh of relief when she heard his footsteps and then the door latching. While she undressed, she mused about his reason for coming.
Someday he would find out about her history with Musgrave, and then what would happen? She should have told him, but she hadn’t had the courage. And her past with Musgrave had nothing to do with her reason for being at the priory. Perhaps she would confess during her upcoming visit to his home in Brampton. For a moment, when he was clutching her arm, she thought he wanted to kiss her. In truth, she might have let him.
Maddy must keep her mind off Nicholas Ryder’s attractions. She had more pressing matters to attend to.
Musgrave’s lecherous interest in Cath continued and grew more daring. He had progressed to rubbing a hand over her buttocks when she was serving him, and Maddy had noticed him brushing against her breasts when he walked past the girl. The serving girl’s expression, indeed, her whole demeanor, had changed. Where before she’d played along with his flirting, laughed and blushed, now she cowered when he was anywhere near. Maddy determined to speak with her. She was afraid of Musgrave, and with good reason, as Maddy knew too well.
After services on Sunday, instead of hurrying upstairs to her chamber she stopped by the kitchen and asked the cook if Cath was about.
“Aye, mistress, she’s at the vicarage readying the small dining room for dinner.”
“Will you send her to me when she returns? I’ll be upstairs in my chamber.”
Cook turned a suspicious glance on Maddy. “Be something wrong, mistress? Has she misbehaved?”
“Not at all,” Maddy said, knowing this was not a satisfactory answer, but unwilling to explain further.
After a short time, she heard a timid rapping on her door. When she opened it, there stood Cath, with a wary look upon her face. “Come, Cath, and sit by the fire for a moment.”
She seemed rooted to a spot just inside the door. “I cannot spare the time, mistress. Cook will be angry.”
“Nonsense. I’ve told her I wished to speak with you, and this will not take long.” Useless sidled over and leaned against Maddy’s leg.
Cath’s expression changed when she spied the beagle. “What is he called? I miss my dog.”
“She’s called Useless. Master Dacre named her that because she didn’t satisfy as a hunting dog.” They spent a few carefree moments discussing animals, during which time Cath joined Maddy on the settle.
She paused a moment to gather her thoughts. “Cath, I have noticed that Master Vine has been trifling with you. At first I thought you welcomed his attentions, but lately I’ve come to believe you are frightened of him.” Maddy grasped her hands to reassure her. “Am I right?”
The serving girl’s face suddenly changed, grew wary. She lowered her head, and strands of her golden hair, held back by a vivid blue ribbon, fell loose. “I’ll lose my place here if Cook finds out. Pray do not tell her.” She began to weep.
Maddy handed her a handkerchief. “Answer my question, Cath,” she said gently.
She raised her head. Tears spilled from her eyes and trailed down her face. “At first it was fun, the teasing. I thought it was harmless. He is a handsome man, and I was flattered by the attention. But now I’ve realized he wants to bed me. I am a virgin, mistress, and wish to remain that way until I wed.” She lowered her head and began to sob into her handkerchief. “Pray help me. I know what happens to girls like me who birth bastards.”
She was so young. “Look at me, Cath.” She raised her head, her face wet and blotchy. “First, know this. You’ve done nothing wrong. You are a maid; he is an experienced man of the world.” And far worse. “Do you understand? You are not to blame.”
When she made no answer, Maddy went on. “You must tell Cook, I’m afraid.” Cath cried harder but did not refuse. “I am certain she has dealt with circumstances such as these before. Simply assigning you to other duties in the kitchen should rectify the problem, and you must make sure you do not encounter Musgrave in any of your other duties.”
At that her head bobbed up. “Master Vine, you mean?”
Jesu. In her eagerness to help, Maddy had made a dangerous error. She put a hand to her head and quirked up her mouth. “Aye, Master Vine. I was thinking of someone else. Now, you must speak with Cook before your courage fails you. You may tell her we discussed this. If she is not cooperative, I shall speak to her myself.” Tearfully, Cath nodded her agreement and went on her way.
The next day, Peter served both the meals. Musgrave was quiet, watchful, as though he suspected this had been arranged to thwart him. He narrowed his eyes at Maddy toward the end of supper. She looked away, but feared he’d somehow learned of her role in Cath’s removal.
It happened the following night. She should have expected it, but she’d mistakenly believed Musgrave would move on to other, more willing, partners. Certainly, he could find women willing to lie with him in the village, for coin. In fact, Maddy was nearly certain that’s exactly what he’d been doing. Naively, she had never considered the fact that he might have a spy in the kitchen.
He lay in wait for her in her chamber.
During the evening meal, Musgrave had cast Maddy a few odd looks. At first, his expression seemed menacing, but then it had changed into a smug look of derision. After they’d eaten, the men disappeared, leaving her and Lady Dacre to their reading and sewing. When her mistress nodded off for the third or fourth time, Maddy laid a hand on her arm and said, “Madam, it is late. We should retire.”
She shook herself awake. “By the time Edith has gotten me ready for my bed, I shall be wide-awake.” Maddy helped her up, but when she offered further assistance, Lady Dacre waved her off. After she’d returned books to shelves, put her sewing away, and snuffed the candles, she set off for her chamber.
As soon as she entered the room, she smelled him. He had a habit of keeping a few cloves under his bottom lip to sweeten his breath, and the scent was unmistakable. Maddy froze, and he grabbed her from behind, blocking any attempt to escape. “Do not scream, or I shall make this rather more unpleasant for you than it might be. I think you liked it when I bedded you before. I remember your cries of ecstasy.”
Cries of pain. They were cries of pain. She felt a cold blade of steel pressed against her breast.
“You took Cath away from me. She was mine. So I’ll have you instead.” His words were slurred, and she realized he was drunk as a thrush.
Cath must have shared their conversation with one of the kitchen maids. “She was afraid of you.” He tightened his grip on Maddy, so that the last few words, forced out, sounded loud and unnatural. Gasping for air, she tried to wrest herself from his hold, but he was far too strong, even in his inebriated state. He dragged her toward the bed. She resisted with every bit of strength she could muster. When that did not work, Maddy turned herself into a dead weight. He cursed, then simply picked her up. He threw her face down onto the bed and lifted her skirts. She heard the clatter of his knife as it fell to the floor and the drunken fumbling with his hose.
Rage possessed her, and for a moment, a darkness blotted out her vision. She remembered—her dirk was under the pillow. Each morning she straightened her own bedclothes and saw no reason to hide it. If she could reach it, she might have a chance to fend him off. Maddy scooted toward the head of the bed, but Musgrave did not notice because he was too busy finding his member. She slid her hand under the pillow and grasped the dirk just as she felt his fingers crawling up her legs.
Maddy exploded off the mattress, clutching the weapon in her hand and emitting a primal scream, low and guttural. The surprise of it was his undoing. He had expected her to be compliant, to accept rape as her due for depriving him of Cath. Before he could reach for it, she kicked his knife across the floor. Holding the dirk with both hands, she said, “Get out, or I’ll sink this into your belly.” His male organ hung limp, and she doubted it would have served him well.
Under normal circumstances, Musgrave would have seized the dirk as fast as the brawny soldier had during the battle. But he was too far into his cups. Maddy’s voice shook. “Go. Get out. If you so much as look sideways at me, I’ll tell Lady Dacre about Cath. And that you tried to rape me.”
Backing up, he tucked himself in and nearly fell over backward. He choked out a harsh laugh. “If you do, I’ll tell her I’ve already bedded you. And there is the small matter of your brother.”
“Leave. Now.”
“This is not over, Madeleine.” He stumbled out the door.
She dashed over and peered down the passage, watching him until he turned toward the stairs. Then she closed the door firmly.
Despite trembling and gasping for breath, Maddy dragged her small trunk over and shoved it hard against the door. It wouldn’t be enough to stop Musgrave, but at least she would be warned of his approach. She undressed quickly, washed her face and hands, and climbed into bed. Sleep would be her enemy tonight. She would fight it off as long as she could.
She heard a sound from behind the wardrobe in the far corner of the room. Useless emerged and toddled over to the bed. In her terror, she’d forgotten all about the wee creature. She patted the mattress and the dog sprang up beside her. “You are not much of a protector, little one.” In truth, Maddy was glad Useless had stayed hidden. In his rage, Musgrave might have harmed her.
Instead of blowing out the candle, she let it burn down, until her eyelids finally grew heavy and she dropped off into a troubled sleep, the dirk still clutched in her hand.