Kathryn Kramer (32 page)

Chapter Forty

For Nicholas and Alandra, it was frustrating to just bide their time in expectation of what was to come, but there was little else they could do. Was it any wonder that with each day that passed it became more and more difficult to display even a thimble's full of patience?  They knew  that their whole future hinged on Elizabeth's reaction to the message Nicholas sent to her.  Would the queen give her nobleman a chance to clear his name and declare him innocent of the charge of murder, or was Lord Owen Stafford so firmly entrenched in power that all was lost?  All they could do was to wait and see, and most importantly guard Will Frizer as diligently as if he were the rarest treasure.              

Summer was drawing quickly to a close, but it was more than the approaching days of autumn that puckered Alandra's brow.  She marked the on-going time with conflicting emotions.  She was relieved and elated now that it appeared Christopher m
ight soon be cleared of the charge of murder, yet she would not have been human had she not selfishly been more than a bit apprehensive as well.  Christopher Nicholas, the fugitive actor belonged to her but what of the well-born lord? She had a nagging fear that all too soon her happiness and tranquility would be at an end and that Christopher would be forced to go back to his own world as Sir Nicholas Leighton. Thus she held on to the moments they were together, knowing how truly precious and fragile they were.               

Despite the uncertainty, however, life had se
ttled into a pleasurable routine.  During the day there was always work to be done and lines to be learned, but the night time belonged to them.  Christopher visited her every night so that they could sleep together in her bed, and Alandra looked forward to his special signal with a secretive longing. Each time they made love she wondered if it would be the last, treasuring each minute she spent with him, savoring each kiss and caress, responding ever more passionately.  Even so, it was not only passion that bound them together.  It was a wanting, a caring, a deep affection and respect for each other.

Alandra sensed that Christopher really was happy.  Now when he smiled the depth of the emotion touched his eyes, when he laughed there was a ring of sincerity about it.  There was a bounce to his step, a soothing tone to his voice, a sense of purpose in everything he did.  Loving and being loved in turn most definitely had brought him contentment and his happiness extended into all facets of his life.  He took pride in being an actor
even though his parts were not large, and worked hard with the others to make the Lord Chamberlain's players a success. Now that the truth about him was known to the actors there were no barriers to true friendships. He could be open with them and totally honest, sharing with them his tales of adventure and in return listening to their humorous exploits of the theatre world.  He was coming to enjoy his sojourns upon the stage, and if Alandra knew excessive pride to be his weakness  she also knew his strength to be in  fierce loyalty to those he cared about.  That loyalty he displayed in full measure towards all the members of the company

This morning it really wasn't chilly in her room
  yet she lit a fire under the logs in the hearth.  She always felt so cold without Christopher's  arms around her.   Even though she knew he couldn't spend all his time embracing her, she always regretted the hour when  they had to get out of bed.

Alandra watched
as Christopher went about his morning routine, a ritual she was slowly getting used to. She had become familiar with manly things like shaving but watching him made it more interesting. She watched him lather his face with white soap then slice through the foam with his razor.  He arched his neck backward, tightened his mouth and turned his face from side to side as he flicked a two-day's growth of whiskers away.  Standing in just his hosen and trunk hose he offered her a pleasant view of broad shoulders and muscles.

"By the by, it's my turn to guard Frizer," he was mumbling.  "Care to come?"

"I think I had better.  From what Will says he is proving to be quite a handful."

Frizer was dangrous, demanding and unruly.  As mischievous a man as God had ever created, or so said Murray.  Three times he had tried to escape and three times he had nearly been successful, slightly wounding William Sly and Will Kempe in the process.  He had proven himself to be so cunning as a matter of fact that orders had been given that he was to be tied up at all times.

Nicholas let out a long deep sigh.  "I will be the happiest man alive when at last he has told the story of what really happened that night and is then out of our hair.  Let Elizabeth do with him what she might."

"He has said that he will not confess to the murder.  Will you hold to your agreement to keep silent
that you think Frizer really killed the old lord, Christopher?"

"Aye.  Unless he tries to blame it on another poor hapless soul.  I would not see any other man suffer my fate.  'T
is hell to be blamed for that which you did not do."  Nicking himself with the razor, he swore beneath his breath.

"It is possible then that Lord Woodclif
f's murder will go unpunished." It just didn't seem right to Alandra.

"Unfortunately
, that is most likely, unless someone else comes forth to give testimony."  He read her thoughts.  "It troubles me too, Alandra, that a man like Frizer will get away with such a deed, but  the only way he would clear my name is that I keep silent about my suspecting him.  Undoubtedly he will say that he does not know the identity of the real killer.  Nevertheless,  I have seen for myself that those who are wrongdoers usually get their due.  Frizer will, too, one day!"

Alandra was not so sure.  All too many times it seemed that cruelty and violence went unpunished and that those whose only crime was need were the true sufferers.  "Let us hope, Christopher.  Let us hope

Picking up a costume that needed mending, she tried to concentrate of the task of sewing only to prick her finger with the needle time after time.  At last she discarded the garment and just sat staring at the licking orange and yellow flames for a long, long time as if to glimpse her destiny there.  What did the future hold for her?  For Christopher

"Please let us be together....." she whispered, crossing her fingers and closing her eyes to make that wish.

Christopher was everything she wanted, every dream she'd ever had, every wish she'd ever made.   The love they shared was so special.   All she could ask of life was to be in his arms, to feel his nearness.  To know that he loved her.  Christopher was her happiness.  How could she give him up?  And yet it might come to that.             

"If only......" she whispered.  So many things were still unanswered. 

Who was she?  Who were her parents?  Why had she been abandoned by the roadside? Were her parents still alive?  Old or young?  Rich or poor? Why had they given her up?   Did it really matter?  Whoever she was she wasn't from Christopher's world, though there were times when she fantasized that she was, allowing her dreams to get the better of her.

Her curiosity had doubled
of late. She  nagged unmercifully at Murray to reveal everything he knew about her parentage.  But such prodding only produced her father's nervous mumblings and the blanket that had been wrapped around her when he had found her by the side of the road.    Embroidered in fading shades of pink and red were the initials "A. W."

"What's the matter, Alandra?"  Coming up behind her, Nicholas wrapped his arms around her neck.  He had witnessed all her moods from tension to tranquility and knew that something was troubling her now.

"Nothing is wrong?" she lied.

"Nothing?"  He
knew better.  "What's troubling you, sweetling?  Tell me."

Alandra let her breath out in a long, deep sigh.  "I....I was only wondering how long it will be until we hear from
Elizabeth," she answered, not wanting to burden him with her doubts and fears.

"Ah, the queen I fear takes her own sweet time."  How like
Elizabeth to play a waiting game.  It was her way of reminding him of the power she held in her hands.  But then he thought perhaps it was a good sign that she had not marched in at once with her guardsmen to capture him.

"I wish that she would hurry."

"As do I."  Nicholas knew that Shakespeare was keeping the players at Bath for an extra long time just because of the situation.   How he hated to be responsible for the actors' inconvenience.  He could sense that they wanted to move on. "We might hear today, and then again it might be a few weeks or more."

It was four days later when Nicholas's message at last was acknowledged. Not by written missive but by messenger.  Accompanying that messenger was a tiny entourage.  For a moment Nicholas was speechless as he gazed at those who awaited him in the inn's entry
way--two guardsman, dressed in Elizabeth's livery, a nobleman whom he recognized as being one of the queen's less important  diplomats, and a woman dressed in gold and bright blue, a vision of loveliness whom he recognized all too well.

"Morgana!" 

Alandra echoed her lover's words as she came upon the scene.  "Morgana....."  Her  breath caught in her chest.  Her heart  stabbed with pain. Of all the people in the world this one was the last she wanted to encounter.  Now most assuredly her happiness would go flying right out the window.

Pushing past the men accompanying her, ignoring Alandra as if she didn't even exist, Morgana greeted Nicholas with as dazzling a smile as she could manage.  "Nicholas."  She searched his eyes for only a moment, then reached up to caress his fa
ce. "Your beard?"

"I'm an actor now, Morgana.  I had to remove it,"  Nicholas said by way of explanation. 

To Alandra's consternation her rival seemed to approve.  Her fingers and palm traced his jawline with a familiarity that was delicately bold.

Imposing her importance on those who had accompanied her, Morgana insisted that they go on ahead inside, then turned her attention to Nicholas again.   "I like it," she purred.  "Most men hide their flaws beneath facial foliage but you have no imperfections
.”

The unwelcome sting of jealousy welled up inside Alandra
, despite her attempts to keep it at bay.  It didn't help matters that this woman was acting as if she and Nicholas were the only two people in the world.

"How kind of you to approve," Nicholas said dryly, trying to extricate himself from Morgana's caressing hands.  It was an awkward situation and he
pondered why Elizabeth had sent her.  But then wasn't  it just like Elizabeth  to devise such tests of loyalty and purpose?

"I've missed you.  Oh, Nicholas....."  As if fearing she might swoon at any moment the widow Woodcliff clung to him.

Alandra felt as if she had suddenly been rendered invisible.  Though she willed herself not to lose control, it was difficult at best.   Clenching her hands into fists, she willed herself to be calm, forcing her shaky legs to support her.

"The queen," she managed to say, since no one else was addressing the matter.  "What is her answer?"  Was Nicholas to be brought back to
London in chains or as a courtier? The suspense was nearly more than she could bear.

Icy contempt from her rival was the answer.  An upraised brow. 

Nicholas hurriedly remembered his manners.

"Alandra Thatcher may I present Morgana Woodcliff.  Morgana, this is Alandra."  Oh, how it made him uneasy for the two women to come face to face
.

He feared she would find some way to slight Alandra when she found out that the pretty young woman had won his heart.

"Alexandra!"  Though Nicholas had been quite precise in saying the name, Morgana seemed to purposefully make a mistake in pronunciation.  "Alexandra, it is a pleasure."

"Alandra!" 
she corrected the other woman.

Compared to the
elegant blonde, Alandra felt nondescript.  Colorless.  Her simple hairstyle suddenly seemed plain, her garments drab.  It was as if she merely blended with the background while the other woman took center stage.  It was as if a whirlwind had entered the room, one with whom it was useless to compete.

"Yes, as I said,  Elandra."

Alandra shut her mouth against the response that rose to her lips, but she couldn't hide her irritation.

Nicholas could sense that trouble was hovering
, and he hastened to avoid a scene by repeating Alandra's question.  "Morgana, don't keep me in waiting.  What is Elizabeth's answer?  And just why are you here?"             

There was a long pause as Morgana made the most of the moment.  At last she answered.  "
Elizabeth has decided to hear you out, despite Lord Stafford's objections.  If you are very careful all may yet be forgiven."

Nicholas scowled.  "Forgiven?  There is nothing to forgive." 

"Not yet, but there will be......"  Morgana's smile was mysterious. 

"Morgana...!"  What the devil did she mean?

"Hush, Nicholas.  There is much that I would tell you and undoubtedly much that you have to reveal.  But for the moment I have no other wish than to quench my thirst and relax.  It was such a long, grueling journey.”  Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss on his mouth before he could say another word, then looping her arm through his, made her way towards the tap room of the inn.