Assassin (12 page)

But still, no yellow powder anywhere.

Ellie had found one pillowslip that didn’t belong there and put it in her bag. Then she looked at me. “Well?” she said.

“I’m still going to help him get out of the Fleet,” I told her. “But I certainly won’t marry him. Now, Lady Sarah next, I think.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows. “Why her?” she asked curiously.

“Lady Sarah was after Sir Gerald at the ball,” I explained. “Maybe she hated him because he was chasing me.” Then I added bitterly, “Though I know for a fact he was only doing what his uncle, Lord Worthy, told him. After my inheritance too, no doubt.”

“Well, of course he was,” said Ellie tartly. “They all were, except Sir Charles, who is surely rich enough.”

We came out of Lord Robert’s chamber and Ellie thanked the man, who went on playing with his cards. We walked on quickly down the Stone Gallery, across the little bridge, and into the upper story of the Privy Gallery to the chambers of the Maids of Honour and Ladies-in-Waiting.

In my chamber, Ellie sorted through the many pots and potions belonging to Lady Sarah. Not one of them was sulphur-yellow, though several were purple and more than one looked and smelled like dung. There were the usual white lead and cinnabar to make a red colour, and ground lapis lazuli and malachite for colouring eyelids blue or green, and some sticks of kohl. One bottle held something which Ellie sniffed and announced was probably a
tincture of tansy and pennyroyal mint, and another was labelled
FOR THE ALLUREMENT OF ALL KINDS OF LOVE
, which made me laugh.

There was also a miniature of Sarah, which made her face much more heart-shaped than it really is and her chest even bigger. We also found dozens and dozens of love letters from moonstruck courtiers, including several each from Sir Charles, Lord Robert, and Sir Gerald! I scowled. They were supposed to be courting me; how dare they write rubbish to Lady Sarah, too? Surely having a big chest isn’t
that
important?

“Yes, it is,” said Ellie, when I put this to her.

I couldn’t resist poking my nose round the door of Mrs. Champernowne’s chamber, which was tidy and clean, with a big pile of books next to the bed, including two with nothing except boring sermons in them. No yellow powder.

We decided to look in Lord Worthy’s chambers as well—it was only fair to search everyone’s room. There was more paper piled up there than I have ever seen in my life. Ellie poked around, found a sheet with a nasty stain on it under the bed, and put it in her bag. I discovered a recipe to cure baldness together with a screw of green powder and several pots of ointment. I took the lid off one of the pots,
but it smelled so strongly of horse dung that Ellie screwed up her face in disgust—though she was on the other side of the room—and I was nearly overcome! I quickly put the lid back on.

Then off we went to look at Sir Charles’s room. Ellie protested at this. “Sir Charles is a kind old thing. He left me a lovely gift on Christmas day with two mince pies—and he made sure I got them,” she said, with her hands on her hips.

“Well, we’ve got to investigate everybody who’s even vaguely possible, Ellie—nobody’s beyond suspicion except the Queen,” I said firmly.

Sir Charles’s Grace-and-Favour Chamber was near to the Court Gate, close to one of the small staging stables.

There was a servant there, fast asleep on the truckle bed, so Ellie and I had to creep about. We did have the excuse of looking for Mrs. Twynhoe’s pillowslips. We checked the few pots on the table, looked under the bed and in the clothes chest. No yellow powder.

It wasn’t until we were about to go out of the door again that I realized a funny thing about Sir Charles’s shoes. They were lined up at the foot of the bed—two pairs of smart shoes to wear at Court,
one pair of riding boots, all quite new. And then there were other pairs of shoes under the bed, and another pair of riding boots, rather more worn. But these looked smaller, and when I put one of the old shoes next to one of the new ones, I could see clearly that the old ones were quite a lot smaller. “Look at that,” I whispered to Ellie. “Isn’t it odd?”

“What?” said Ellie.

“His shoes. Look, the new ones are big and the old ones under the bed are small. It’s as if Sir Charles’s feet grew suddenly, like mine did last year. But he’s too old to have growing feet.”

Ellie looked and frowned in puzzlement.

Suddenly I heard footsteps in the passage. Sir Charles’s voice called out, “Stevens, are you there?”

Ellie and I looked at each other in horror, and then Ellie scuttled under the bed and I went with her. We hid in a nest of footwear and old hose as Sir Charles came into the room.

I looked at his feet. He had another pair of boots on, very smart, brand new, and his feet were very big. I tried to remember Sir Charles’s feet when I’d seen them before. Had they changed?

Sir Charles went over to the manservant on the truckle bed and shook him awake.

“Wuzzat?” muttered the man. Then he woke up properly and we heard him scrambling to his feet. “Um. Yes, Mr. Amesbury.”

Ellie and I looked at each other.
Mr.
Amesbury?

“Go and check on my brother. Make sure he has water and can’t get out,” said the man who I had thought was Sir Charles.

“Yes, sir, if you say so,” replied Stevens sullenly.

“I do say so, Stevens.” The voice was cold and nasty, nothing like Sir Charles’s friendly rumble.

I felt my jaw dropping open. Sir Charles wasn’t Sir Charles—he was somebody else entirely! With the same face, maybe, but bigger feet and … A thought popped into my head. Didn’t Sir Charles have a brother? I screwed up my eyes, trying to remember. A brother who had died in France …

If
he’d died! What was his name? Harry? No. Hector.

“Best put a knife in him, sir, then drop him in the Thames,” said Stevens, who was pulling on his jerkin. “That way—”

“Thank you for your advice, Stevens. I am perfectly well aware of what’s best,” snapped the impostor. “However, I cannot possibly do it until I know all his business dealings—and where he has hidden the deeds to his house.”

“Don’t think he’ll tell you, sir,” said Stevens. “Not wivout some better persuading.”

“I know my brother, Stevens. He’ll tell eventually rather than starve.”

What a horrible way to talk about your brother! Ellie’s eyes were like saucers. I was having to hold my hand over my mouth because the smell of stale cheese from the old hose was making me want to cough.

“And then once I’m safe I think I shall become ill for a while, so I can get rid of this padding,” the impostor continued. He clearly was the not-so-Honourable Hector Amesbury, brother to Sir Charles.

Hector sat on his bed and changed into his riding boots with help from Stevens.

“First I must make an appearance at the stables,” he said, “or somebody will wonder why my horse-mad fool of a brother has suddenly gone off the beasts. But then I shall come and … talk … to him again. Tell him that.”

“Yes, sir.” Stevens was by the door. “Couldn’t I just … rough him up a bit—give him a taster, sir?”

“Very well. But don’t do too much damage,” Hector told him, still in that nasty cold voice.

“No, sir.”

I still had my hand over my mouth, fighting not to cough. I really hoped Hector would go soon so I could get away from the hose. Ellie didn’t seem to mind the smell but she was shaking. What kind of brother was Hector Amesbury? He’d imprisoned Sir Charles and was starving him! It was outrageous. Especially as Sir Charles was so fond of his food.

As the door shut behind them I scrambled out as quick as I could. Ellie followed more slowly, still trembling.

“Lord save us!” I said. “Perhaps
he
murdered Sir Gerald.”

“He must have done! If he could imprison and starve his own brother…” Ellie shook her head. “And poor Sir Charles loving his food, and all.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “And that’s why Doucette didn’t like him,” I added thoughtfully. “Doucette
knew
it wasn’t Sir Charles, the clever animal. And that’s why he couldn’t sing ‘Greensleeves’ properly at the ball! But why? Why would anybody do this to their own brother?”

We rushed back up to the Long Gallery to tell Masou. He was carefully flipping himself over from walking on his hands to standing upright, doing a somersault on the way.

He soon stopped as he listened to our story, though.

“We have to rescue Sir Charles,” I said firmly. The other two just gawped at me.

“How?” demanded Ellie.

“It’s obvious—we have to find out where he is and go there to free him,” I told her. “Somebody has to follow Hector Amesbury and find out where he goes.”

Masou looked at the two of us, then looked theatrically round the room, and then put his finger to his own chest.

I smiled sweetly at him and nodded.

Masou started putting on his shoes and pattens and clopped to the door of the gallery.

“He should be at the stables now,” I said. “He said he’d go and see his brother afterwards.”

Masou nodded and ran down the stairs. Then he ran back up again to ask, “What if he takes a boat?”

I felt in my petticoat and found some pennies, which I tossed to Masou. “If he catches you, pretend that you were about to ask him for a job,” I suggested. Masou grinned, then went back downstairs again.

Ellie and I went back to Sir Charles’s chamber and searched it more thoroughly, starting at one corner
and going all the way round to the other. Nothing. Not the faintest smallest smidgeon of powder of any colour, let alone yellow, nor any staining. So Ellie took a couple of dirty shirts and we went back to Mrs. Bea, who received the pillowslips and shirts, checked them, and told Ellie to take them all down to the laundry and get back to work.

Then Mrs. Bea looked shrewdly at me. “Did you find anything interesting?” she asked.

For a moment I wanted to tell her all about Sir Charles and Hector, but there was a risk she might tell Mrs. Champernowne and then where would we be? So I shook my head and tried not to look as excited as I felt.

“No darkwort anywhere.” I tried to look disappointed and I think I managed it quite well.

“Hmph. Come back to me tomorrow, my dear, and I shall tell you if any apothecaries have sold it recently—they may not remember, mind, or they might have been paid to keep quiet. But I’ll ask for you. It would be a sad thing if Lord Robert were to lose his head over this.”

“Wouldn’t he hang?” asked Ellie ghoulishly, still hovering at the doorway. She hated to miss out on any gossip. “I thought that’s what happened to murderers.”

“That’s right, Ellie, but being a nobleman, he can ask for the mercy of an axe,” Mrs. Bea explained.

It didn’t sound like much of a mercy to me. But still it was nice of her to help us and I said so. That made her laugh a lot, which made her pink face quite wobbly.

“Lord above, Lady Grace,” she said, “I don’t want anyone who owes me money to be executed.”

“Does he owe you money, too?” I asked.

“Certainly,” she replied. “For three wart-charmings and a spell against tongue-tie. And a spell to enchant cards in his favour, but I only get that if it works, and I don’t suppose it has.”

I scowled. “He owes everybody money—that’s why he wanted to marry me.”

“Of course he did, dear—you didn’t think he loved you, did you? Did you love him?”

“Certainly not,” I said, tossing my head. “He hasn’t exactly done anything very lovable for me and he hasn’t a word to say for himself. Besides, it’s undignified to fall in love; that’s for men to do.”

Mrs. Bea chuckled. “Quite right. A well-born lady like you has no business falling in love and I’m glad to hear you’ve got your head well sewn on.”

“Unlike Lord Robert,” put in Ellie, and snickered.

I gave Mrs. Bea back her cap and apron and went
to my chamber to find that my dinner had been left outside the door for me. There was manchet bread, salt beef and potherbs, and a hard cheese with pickled eringo root against the scurvy. I gobbled it all down and I have been scribbling away at my daybooke ever since, but now someone is coming.

God’s bones! There’s so much to tell. I hardly know where to start and I’m so tired from being up all night again. But I must write this down no matter how much my head is whirling because otherwise I won’t sleep at all. And besides, this was a most wondrous midnight adventure!