Assassin (15 page)

Her Majesty signalled for Hector Amesbury to be taken away. He went, still giggling and shaking his head, seeming to have retreated into his own world.

“Sir Charles, I am pleased that Dr. Cavendish has declared you not to have taken any great hurt from your brother’s wicked practices.”

Turning even ruddier than usual, Sir Charles went nearer and bent onto one knee. “Your Majesty, you are too kind,” he puffed. His intention was clearly to kiss the Queen’s hand. But Her Majesty hastily held a lace handkerchief to her nose and bade Sir Charles rise to go and take his rest, saying that of course he could remain in his Grace-and-Favour Chamber as long as he needed to.

After Sir Charles had left, the Queen looked serious again. “So we still have a poisoner abroad at Court,” she said gravely.

I stepped forward. “Yes, I’m afraid so, Your Majesty. I knew that if news spread that a darkwort poisoning was suspected, the villain who had it would get rid of any remains. So I helped Ellie in her laundry round and we secretly searched all the chambers for darkwort. But we found none. It was
while we were searching Sir Charles’s chamber that we overheard Hector talking of how he had imprisoned his brother.”

“I see,” said Her Majesty. She nodded to Ellie, and then beckoned her and Masou forward.

They kneeled down in front of her.

Ellie was now as white as one of the sheets she helps to iron. I was surprised she was so overawed. I knew she had collected the Queen’s dirty shifts for washing hundreds of times. But I suppose it’s not the same as actually meeting the person who wears them.

Masou just went a bit grey. But he managed to flourish off his cap in quite a good bow.

“Masou got us downriver and did all the hard work of climbing up to the window and getting through it,” I explained.

The Queen nodded graciously. “Oh, I recognize you,” she said to Masou. “Will Somers thinks very highly of you—though he complains you are sometimes hard to find. And now we know why….”

Masou looked rather sheepish, and I had to try not to laugh.

“Well, Ellie and Masou, you appear to be loyal and supportive friends to my Lady Grace,” Her
Majesty observed. “Thank you. You may leave us now.”

Both of them scurried out, looking very relieved. At least Masou remembered to back the last few steps, though Ellie tripped on her petticoat when she tried to copy him.

I guessed they would wait outside, trying to eavesdrop, if they weren’t shooed away. They passed Mrs. Twynhoe on their way out.

“Is it urgent, Bea?” asked the Queen rather crossly.

Mrs. Bea curtsied and fanned herself. “I’m afraid it is, Your Majesty,” she replied. “Lady Grace here told me of the dastardly doings with darkwort in Court. And I must tell you what I found.”

“Ah …,” said the Queen. “This is very timely, Bea. We are all listening.”

Mrs. Bea curtsied again. “Now then, I went myself about the apothecaries in Westminster and London town. I know ’em all, and most would talk only to those they know about their dealings with darkwort. Only one of ’em—my old contact in Cheapside—had sold darkwort in recent weeks.”

“And did you find out the purchaser?” the Queen demanded grimly.

“Why, Your Majesty, that’s why I had to hurry myself and tell you,” Mrs. Bea replied. “Please believe me when I say I would never do nothing to hurt you, Your Grace, never in all the world.”

“I know that, Bea,” said the Queen softly, because Mrs. Bea looked very upset and was twisting her hands round about each other.

“Well, but … it’s a terrible thing, Your Majesty,” Mrs. Bea went on. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. In fact, I told the man he was a liar, which annoyed him….”

The Queen tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair of state and Mrs. Bea collected up her thoughts. “He told me that a skinny serving man bought the darkwort from him. He was wrapped up in a cloak. But when he took out his purse to pay, the cloak slipped open—enough for the apothecary to recognize the servant’s livery. It was Lord Worthy’s,” Mrs. Bea finished dramatically.

There was a stunned silence.

The Queen broke it. “Impossible!” she shouted. “Besides,” she added, “Lady Grace and that good wench Ellie searched all the Court chambers for evidence of darkwort—including Lord Worthy’s—and found none.”

“That’s true, Mrs. Bea,” I confirmed. “We found no yellow powder anywhere—”

At this, my Uncle Cavendish started. “But Grace,” he said urgently, “darkwort powder … it is not yellow, my dear, it is green.”

I stood there open-mouthed.

Mrs. Bea nodded vigorously at me. “Yes, my love—pure darkwort is green. It’s the mixing with wine that turns it yellow and makes it stain such that not even ten-day-old urine will shift it.”

Ellie and I
had
found green powder in Lord Worthy’s chamber. And I had seen green staining on his cuff. Heart thudding, I told the Queen.

Her Majesty became as still as a statue, her face hard like marble. “Mr. Hatton!” she roared.

One of her Gentlemen put his head round a door. I caught a glimpse of Ellie on the other side, trying not to be noticed so she wouldn’t get sent away and miss everything. I was sure now that Masou must be eavesdropping as well.

“Send for my Lord Worthy to come to the Presence Chamber at once!” the Queen commanded.

Mr. Hatton disappeared at a run. We stood awkwardly and waited—me, Mrs. Bea, and Uncle Cavendish. My hands were clenched and my mind
was racing. Yes, it fitted … But why had he done it? Why would Lord Worthy want to poison Sir Gerald—his own nephew? It just didn’t make sense.

At last Mr. Hatton returned and announced my Lord Worthy, who looked tired and strained.

“My lord,” said the Queen formally, “I have it on good authority that one of your servants purchased darkwort recently. And that it was seen in your chamber.”

Lord Worthy turned pale, his eyelids fluttering. For a moment he couldn’t speak. Then he croaked, “Your Majesty?”

“Darkwort, my lord!” the Queen rapped out. “You deny it?”

“Of a certainty, I do, Your Majesty. It is out of all reason. How dare anyone put forth such foul lies … that I, Lord Worthy, should have dealings with such terrible poison … what villainous mischief…” By now Lord Worthy was gabbling.

“Your Majesty, may I ask Lord Worthy a question?” I put in hesitantly.

The Queen nodded.

Lord Worthy looked at me. “What? What are you doing here? This is no business for a Maid of Honour.”

“She has made it her business, my lord,” the Queen snapped, “and so have I!”

“My lord, I believe that you have a green stain that may be darkwort on your shirt-cuff. Would you please show us?” I asked nervously.

Lord Worthy’s face became closed and haughty. He lifted both his hands. “By all means. See? There is no darkwort staining on my cuffs.”

My heart sank. Lord Worthy must have changed into a clean shirt—the evidence was now lost in the wash.

Just then there was a timid knock on the door.

“What is it? We are busy!” the Queen bellowed.

Ellie sidled awkwardly into the room, curtsying and bobbing her head like a pigeon. “Ahem …,” she began. “I couldn’t help overhearing, earlier … And I thought I should confess that, as I’ve been … otherwise occupied, as you might say … I’m runnin’ a bit behind on me laundry duties….” With that, Ellie brought out from behind her back a rather grimy-looking man’s shirt.

My heart leaped. “Is that whose I think it is, Ellie?” I asked. “My Lord Worthy’s?”

Ellie nodded, with a respectful curtsy.

“This is preposterous!” burst out Lord Worthy.

“Am I to be accused by a maid and a servant?” But by now his complexion was almost grey.

“My lord, please be quiet,” said the Queen in a very frightening voice.

The mood was extremely heavy. It even silenced the songbirds. None of them so much as peeped.

Still bobbing, Ellie came closer and held out the sleeves of the shirt for all to see.

One shirt-cuff was stained with green.

“Well, my lord?” the Queen demanded.

“Hmph …,” said Lord Worthy. “Spinach from yesterday’s dinner.”

Mrs. Bea shook her head solemnly. “I’d stake my life on that not being spinach,” she said. She went to the table and brought the wine jug, then dripped a little onto the cuff. The red of the wine spread over the green—becoming edged with yellow as it did so.

“Darkwort, Your Majesty,” she said firmly.

“Am I to be accused by a witch now?” Lord Worthy blustered. “Where is your sworn justice, Your Majesty?”

“Darkwort,” my Uncle Cavendish confirmed. “No doubt about it.”

“Have a care, my Lord Worthy,” warned the Queen, standing up. “You have served me faithfully
and I had thought you my friend.” Her voice was rising. “Either you stop lying to me now—immediately!—and tell me exactly and truthfully what has happened, or I will put you in the Tower, by God, and have you examined by Mr. Rackmaster Norton.
Do you understand, my lord?
” The last words were at a full-throated roar.

Everyone winced at the thought of Rackmaster Norton.

Lord Worthy stared at her and then something seemed to melt or crumble inside him. He got down stiffly onto his knees and bowed his head. Into the silence we heard his voice whisper, “Yes. It is darkwort.”

I couldn’t breathe. Could he … ? Had he … ?

“Your own nephew, Lord Worthy?” said the Queen.

“No!” Lord Worthy exclaimed. “That was never the intention…” He sighed, then continued, his voice flat and dull. “The darkwort was intended for Lord Robert … and the blame for Sir Charles….

“It was clear my Lady Grace favoured Lord Robert—and that she also made time for Sir Charles. But I could not possibly allow her to marry anyone except my nephew. So I put the darkwort into Lord
Robert’s wine at the ball, and intended to put the remains of the powder amongst Sir Charles’s belongings. All would have been well…” Lord Worthy put his face into his hands. “But then Gerald had to go and make a fool of himself at the ball, and you insisted he drink from Lord Robert’s own cup. I was horrified, but how could I tell him to go against Your Majesty’s orders?”

Lord Worthy laughed. A horrible, hollow, defeated sound. “Imagine my shock when the alarm was raised that poor Gerald had been
stabbed
, not poisoned—and moreover, that Lord Robert had done the deed!”

He turned his gaze on me, his eyes burning. “Of course, with a stabbing, rather than a poisoning, being recorded, I refrained from planting the remaining darkwort in Sir Charles’s chamber….”

Feeling very sad about the whole mess, I looked away.

“But Lord Worthy,” said the Queen, “
why
was it so imperative that Lady Grace marry your nephew?”

“So that neither she, nor anyone else, would find out …,” Lord Worthy whispered brokenly.

“Find out what?” The Queen’s tone of voice was steely and cold. I think she knew what was coming next, though I didn’t.

“That Lady Grace has no estates, no fortune at all.”

I felt as if somebody had stabbed me in the stomach. I couldn’t even gasp. My guardian, Lord Worthy, was supposed to be my friend and my helper!

“Explain!” the Queen snapped.

“When I was appointed guardian to Lady Grace a year ago, I was in some debt,” Lord Worthy began. “So I took the opportunity to mortgage Lady Grace’s estate. But my financial situation grew worse rather than better. Within months, the moneylenders foreclosed and Lady Grace’s estate was lost.

“It was unthinkable for either Lord Robert or Sir Charles to marry Lady Grace and discover this,” Lord Worthy continued. “Only Gerald could be trusted not to disgrace me….” He hung his head.

I felt sick and my stomach was whirling. Lord Worthy had stolen the inheritance my parents left me and then tried to get me to marry his nephew to cover it up? I could not believe it. Nor could Mary and Lady Sarah. They were staring at me, and Mary had tears of sympathy in her eyes. Suddenly their faces seemed to spin like a cartwheel in front of me….

Mrs. Bea caught my arm. “Sit down, my dear.”

I sat down with a bump on a cushion and she
pushed my head down. Some of the spinning in my stomach faded. Had I nearly fainted? How disgustingly like Lady Sarah! I gulped twice and sipped some of the wine Mrs. Bea brought me.

“Please, Your Majesty, I beg you, I had to do it, I couldn’t let anyone find out, I—” Lord Worthy’s voice had taken on a pathetic whining note.

“You
had
to try and poison my Lord Robert so you could hide your robbery from Lady Grace?” snapped the Queen.“You
had
to, my lord?”

“I…”

“You did not have to.” The Queen shook her head. “You could have come to me when you first found yourself in financial difficulties, and I would have helped you. The money you needed could have come to you openly and honestly. There was no need of more murder in the Court.”

“Please, Your Majesty…”

“Mr. Hatton, call the Gentlemen of the Guard. My Lord Worthy is to be committed to the Tower on charges of murder, corruption, falsehood, and endangering my life.”

The Gentlemen of the Guard arrived and took Lord Worthy away, looking puzzled and frightened.

I was still sitting sideways on a cushion, waiting for my head to stop spinning.

Suddenly I started to cry, which was very embarrassing and I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it. It had all been such a shock.

Ellie came running over and put her arms round me. Mary Shelton was there, too, putting a clean handkerchief into my hand so I could blow my nose.

I thought of another awful thing and my stomach gave a swoop. “Your Grace, now I’m not rich any more, do I have to leave you?” I asked, feeling as if my heart would break again.

The Queen came to me in a rustle of damask and pulled me to her, crushing my cheek against a jewel on her bodice. “Of course not, Grace! You are my dearest god-daughter and Maid of Honour. You shall stay at Court as long as you like.”

“Well then, at least you can marry your Lord Robert now,” said Mrs. Bea in a sprightly there-there voice.

“I shall not,” I sniffled. “He only wants my money. Besides, I’ve decided he’s an idiot.”