Court of Conspiracy (20 page)

“Aye. She has told you a pack of lies. Her name is not Garrod. It is Gardiner.”

“Is that all?” Luke felt his muscles begin to relax.

Will put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and shook it. “Gardiner,” he repeated. Then, in response to Luke’s blank look, “Gardiner as in Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester.”

“Are you sure?” Luke’s legs did not seem to want to support him.

“Aye. She is a distant cousin of our not-so-revered Bishop who currently resides in the Tower. The Catholic Bishop,” Will said, emphasizing every word. “The Catholic Bishop who is so close to the Lady Mary. The same Lady Mary who spends much of her time at Framlingham, near to where your housekeeper lived until she came to you.”

Luke took a deep breath. “Damn her to Hades. Will, she did not suit her employer so, as of this morning, she is back under my roof. God’s Teeth, this is a development I did not need. I must think.” He was aware as he strode into the Fountain Court that Will stared after him.

So, Pippa had lied about her name. Was that because of some nefarious purpose to do with Catholic Mary? Or was it, perhaps, to try and make sure that the Catholic faction amongst whom she had been living could not trace her when she ran away? But whilst these thoughts ran through his head, he knew they were merely a cover for the thing that worried and frightened him most.

Pippa had taken her elemancer vows using an assumed name. He remembered her momentary hesitation when she said her name at the beginning of the articles. The fact that her whole induction had been based on a lie would render her studies dangerous to herself, because any spells she cast could easily rebound on their creator. It would also make her vulnerable to the
malus nocte
. Her very soul could be in peril.

Luke came to a halt. Had not Dufay said he was unable to read her deepest thoughts? Perhaps she was already under a malign sway. Perhaps she always had been.

If she was truly working for the enemy, and the timeliness of her first appearance in his workshop gave that credence, then his adversaries not only knew every detail of the investigation, they knew him, where he lived, his habits, everything about him. She would have told them. Why had he not heeded that instinctive feeling that she should be kept at arm’s length? He had known she was dangerous. She had brought strife into the calm of his life, turned his world into disorder and chaos, filled his mind with worry and anxiety. Aye, his life. A life that was, in reality, not worth an hour’s purchase.

Luke once more saw in his mind’s eye Pippa’s flushed, ardent face as she looked up at Geoffrey Peveril under the birch tree in Dufay’s garden, whilst Ajax was shut away in the kitchen.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The woman paced her chamber, fists clenched in rage and frustration. King Henry IX still sat secure on his throne rather than being a torn and bloody mess under a block of fallen stone. This would not do. She must pray harder. He could only be under the protection of the Boleyn witch. She must find a way of besting the great whore who had thwarted all her plans.

Unable to stay still, she rose from the table. Walking to the window, she leaned on the sill and looked out over the gardens to the river, concentrating on calming her breathing. She must not allow anyone to see this rage. A rage tinged with fear. The longer the campaign, the more likely it was to be discovered or betrayed. Even the most trusted servants could be turned, and she was under no illusions. The Tudors’ spies were everywhere. She did not think, however, that she was suspected. It was with a slight shock that she found blood on the stone of the window from her nails digging into her palms.

She turned away from the sunlit gardens and sparkling water, back to the table and sat staring into the middle distance. That God would help the enterprise was beyond doubt. Her cause was true and surely He would understand that the glorious prize she worked for justified whatever means she used to gain it. And gain it, she would. Slipping into the chapel, she dropped to her knees.

* * *

Nearing Hampton Wick, Luke spotted the figure of a woman walking ahead of him. For a fleeting moment he thought it was Pippa and hurried to admonish her for being out when she had been told to remain inside. As he came closer, however, he recognized Mistress Gwenette Paige. With the sight of her came the blurred memory of the movement of the unknown woman swishing out of the light from the torches the previous night. Was it the way the figure had moved? She had been the right height for Gwenette, certainly. Had he seen a glint of jewels on her bodice as she turned away?

Whoever those skirts had belonged to had come from the palace. On reflection, though, was that true? He had taken a circuitous route that morning through the orchard to make it appear as if he had come from elsewhere, so why should someone else not do the same?

Focusing his thoughts on possible explanations kept at bay the torment nibbling at the fringes of his mind. The shimmering vision of a noose around his neck accompanied by the smell of his entrails burning under his living nose. The deeper he became entangled in this web, the more solid that image became.

Could the woman last night have been Gwenette Paige? But he trusted Gwenette. Had it been the Queen then? Not likely. Pippa? Bertila? Pippa’s cousin, Cecily? Conjecture was useless. He must follow the instinct that told him it was Gwenette. He had no other choice, but it meant he might have one more person against whom he must be on his guard, however unwilling he was to think it was his friend.

Fortunately, Gwenette headed in the opposite direction when they came to the village. Still suspicious, Luke watched her out of sight before turning toward Corbin’s house. He had an unpleasant duty to perform, a hundred times worse than telling Giles about Alison. His only desire was to get it over with, lessen the burden of guilt he felt as a physical weight on his heart.

Corbin greeted him with a smile and an invitation to take food and drink, but Luke knew his expression would betray the anxiety he felt. Corbin was far too astute not to notice it.

“Master Ballard. Are you ailing?”

“No, sir, but I would speak with you alone.”

Corbin stared at him as if trying to read the problem, but after a few seconds he pulled the door wider and beckoned Luke in. Bertila was sitting at the table and it was obvious that Corbin was in the middle of his meal.

“I pray pardon, sir. I did not know that you were at table. I will wait outside until you are finished.”

“You will do no such thing, Luke Ballard,” Bertila said, putting out another plate and spoon. “There is plenty of chicken and bread if you have not already eaten.”

The tantalizing aroma of chicken and herbs reminded Luke that he had not yet broken his fast today. This realization was quickly followed by gnawing pain from his stomach as if it had finally been given the opportunity to remind its owner that food was a regular necessity. Or mayhap it was the comparison between the food on Corbin’s table and the meager fare in his own house that made his knees buckle. Corbin caught his arm and tried to steer him to a chair at the table, but Luke shook his head.

“I haven’t eaten today yet, true,” he said to his former master. “But, until I have spoken, I would feel like a traitor taking salt with you.”

Corbin and Bertila exchanged glances. “I will keep the food warm, Father. Take Luke into the dispensary.”

As if trying to stave off the moment of confrontation, Luke looked around at Corbin’s shelves, crammed with many more remedies than he could afford. He touched a jar of gold next to another of emeralds, ingredients that most of his own clients would never see.

“Come on, lad. Out with it. What have you done?”

“On my honor, sir, I have done nothing and that, perhaps, is where my fault lies.”

“You were always like this, Luke. Stop going round the Tiltyard and start the joust.”

Luke twisted his cap in his hands. “I fear, sir, that Master Peveril has formed an attachment to my housekeeper.” He looked up at Corbin, who stared back at him openmouthed.

“You are sure? I thought she was in another place. Bertila told me so.”

“And how did Bertila know?”

“She said she met Pippa in the market and invited her back for refreshment.”

So that was it. The little snake. He wished he had cut his hand off before holding it out to help her. “A ruse, sir. She needed Peveril to know where she was living. I expect Bertila told Peveril all about her new friend’s change of circumstances and where to find her. I knew that there was an attraction between them, but I warned Pippa to leave the man alone.”

“Did you indeed?” Corbin’s voice was low, a sign that he was almost too angry to speak.

Luke lifted his chin. “It appeared to me that Bertila’s heart was given and I wanted no impediment to stand in her way of happiness.”

Corbin’s mouth twisted in a grimace of suppressed emotion. He walked with a heavy tread to the settle near the counter.

“You are right. Would it were not so. Her heart is given and to Peveril, but, to my knowledge, he has not been here for almost a week. Oh, she says nothing to me, but I can see that her cheek is pale, her eyes pink and that she eats almost nothing. Now, it would seem I know why.”

He sat for a moment in silence before striking his knee with a clenched fist. “Why did I not heed the signs the first time Peveril met Mistress Garrod? I should have realized the strength of that spark between them and acted accordingly to protect my girl. But all I could think was that she would be another friend for Bertila—and she has precious few of those.”

“It is also my fault, sir. I should have reprimanded her for her forwardness that day and forbidden her to accompany me. I was too worried about you to think straight.”

Corbin looked up in surprise. “Me? Wherefore?”

“Because Will told me that you were not yourself, and when you came to visit me in the shop, I saw that you carried a burden you felt unable to share.”

“You seem to see much that does not concern you, but precious little of what does.”

Luke bowed his head. “Aye, mayhap that is true, but it is also true that I have always held you in very high regard, and knowing that something was causing you grief and worry was of far more import than the sheep’s eyes a silly maid was making to a knave like Peveril. However, you are right. I should have taken more notice of Pippa’s dallying and stopped it.”

“I did not know my troubles were so apparent. I could kick myself.”

“Is it something that I can help with, or if not, would talking to me about them ease your mind, sir?”

Corbin sat in silence for a few moments. When he spoke, his words at first were slow and hesitant as if they did not want the judgment of daylight on them. “Bertila does not know this, but I happened to be on my way home when she first encountered Peveril, and I saw what happened. She says that in the crowd, he was jostled against her. She lost her basket and he not only picked it up along with all the things she had bought, but insisted on carrying it back home.”

“As any gentleman would.”

“Aye, Luke, but the truth is that he deliberately knocked the basket from her arm. I saw him do it. At first I thought it was because he was diffident and could think of no other approach, but as I came to know him a little better, I could see that timidity and reticence are not among Master Peveril’s attributes. By the time I did realize, it was too late.”

The suspicion that had been growing in Luke’s mind thrust Peveril straight to the heart of the problem. A devious spider weaving a dangerous but unknown web. A spider who had Pippa caught in silken strands. Pippa, who knew so much. Had she told him of her talent?

“This makes no sense,” he said. “If he deliberately targeted Bertila why should he now transfer his attentions to Pippa? What is his scheming mind cooking up?”

“I have no idea. Nobody knows better than I how much taunting and ill-usage Bertila has suffered since her accident. Peveril is a handsome man, one who must have turned many hearts. What would he want with my girl when he could have any woman he wanted? I have grown watchful, waiting for his motive to declare itself.”

“And it has not?”

“No. Unless his plans were unripe, he was exactly what he purported to be. A suitor for Bertila’s hand. I hoped that his heart was true. I thought it was. Until this moment.”

“Then I am doubly sorry that I did not prevent what has happened.”

“I hold you to blame, Luke. Why could you not take my girl? She would have accepted you. You know her worth. She would have made you a fine wife, but you left it too long, just as you always do. If there is a nettle to grasp, you will sit staring at it wondering how much the sting is going to hurt, rather than take hold and put it in your scrip. If that doxy of yours has stolen the knave away from my girl, I...”

“Father, what on earth is all this shouting?” Bertila had appeared in the doorway.

Corbin pointed at Luke. “Let him tell you.” He stumbled to his feet and a few seconds later they heard the slam of the door.

Bertila took one look at Luke’s face. “Well, Luke, whatever it is, you’d best come through and tell me whilst we eat.”

“You may not want me as a guest when I tell you what I must.”

“Fie, Luke. Sit down. I can almost see your innards flapping with hunger. Whatever it is cannot be that bad.” She put a leg of chicken on his plate and handed him the bread. “Eat first, talk later.”

* * *

Pippa thought she had known misery before she came to London, but never had she felt this wretched. A dull ache under her ribs stopped any desire for food. Had she tried, it would have stuck in her throat. She was weary beyond belief, able to concentrate on nothing, not even cooking a meal for Luke and Robin. She had no energy for anything save sitting by the fire, gazing into its depths. Her head buzzed with fatigue and her neck ached. It was only when she realized how dry her throat was that she remembered she had not yet even had a drink today, but she could not rouse herself to pour a beaker of ale or milk. Robin had gone out almost as soon as Luke was out of sight. She was here alone, except for Ajax and he, instead of leaning against her legs as Joss did with Luke, was curled in a tight sleeping ball on a piece of sacking next to the fire.

Where had it all gone so wrong? She knew she loved Peveril and that Peveril loved her but, niggling in the far reaches of her mind, spoiling what should have been a feeling of joy, was the knowledge that she had done something disgraceful and unforgiveable. She had stolen the man Bertila Quayne loved. Bertila who considered her a friend. This betrayal doubled Pippa’s gut-wrenching guilt. What made it worse was that she had known her sin even as she committed it. Her overwhelming longing to be with Geoffrey had changed everything.

She was not sure if she wanted to be an elemancer, but if she did not, what would happen to darling Ajax? In a flash of enlightenment, Pippa knew she could never give Ajax up. She would sooner die. Could her greyspring be her salvation? If she could concentrate on Ajax, perhaps she could find a path out of her fog of troubles. But even as she gazed at her dog, the memory of urgent hands made her entrails melt. The sight of Ajax faded, replaced by a vision of Geoffrey’s smiling face, his eyes gazing into hers, bright with ardor. As the thrill of desire ebbed, she edged closer to the warmth of the fire. It was a long time before she accepted that she had one stark choice. She could go to Geoffrey, declare her love and be with him for always, or she could return to Master Dufay, humbly beg his pardon and continue her studies. She was oblivious to the crackling of the wood and the sparks that shot out onto the hearth around her feet. Her heart was too sore and confused to provide an answer, and neither did the white-hot core of the fire.

* * *

Bertila was quiet for some time after Luke had stammered out his story. He could see that she was drawing on her reserves to face the destruction of her dreams. In that moment, Luke realized Bertila was the bravest person he knew. Tears pricked at his eyes. Looking into the inner heart of this almost sister, he knew that the pain of Peveril’s betrayal would never heal. Something in her spirit was broken beyond repair.
Beyond his capability to repair
, he reminded himself. Corbin was right. He should have taken Bertila to wife even though he was not in love with her. Love. What chaos it wrought. Giles, Pippa and now Bertila, all brought low because of love. He vowed to keep a careful eye on her. When he looked up, she was trying to smile at him.

“Let us face the truth, Luke. Had Master Peveril loved me as much as he appeared to, then the most beautiful woman in the world could not have moved him to stray. We can only assume that he either did not love me enough, or he was merely toying with my affections to pass the time of day. Either way, I am fortunate to have found out before things had gone further. I would not have been the first wife to have a constantly wandering husband, and I do not think I could have borne that.”