The Betrayal (15 page)

Mistress Allen looked me up and down in some surprise. ‘You’re back here?’ she said in a whisper. ‘Why is this?’

I bobbed a curtsey. ‘I was asked to bring a book for Dr Dee. A volume that he’d sent to London by mistake.’

‘And now you’re returning there?’

I nodded. ‘And Dr Dee has asked that I take Beth and Merryl with me.’

I did not imagine the slight lightening of her expression. ‘An excellent idea. And the infernal monkey too, I hope.’

I certainly didn’t want to take
him
, so didn’t commit myself to this. I said, ‘I thought it best that I should inform Mistress Dee before we set off.’

Mistress Allen adjusted the net coif which covered her hair. ‘She’s not well enough to see you, but I shall tell her myself.’

‘Is she … did she lose a child?’

She nodded briefly. ‘But with God’s help will recover from her ordeal soon.’

‘And then you will follow us to London. Will that be in a week or so, do you think?’ I asked, trying to gauge how much more time I had.

Mistress Allen raised her eyebrows, as much as to say what business was it of mine. ‘In a week or a month, as long as it takes for Milady to be well enough to travel.’

‘I only ask because her well-being will be the first thing that Mistress Midge asks me about,’ I said smoothly. ‘And of course we need to ensure that all is in readiness for her coming.’

Mistress Allen began to close the door. ‘I shall tell Milady straight away. You may bring Merryl and Beth before you go; she’ll want to see them to say goodbye.’

She closed the door on my curtsey and I turned to go back along the corridor and down the stairs, passing all the doors and thinking about how, when I’d first arrived at the magician’s house straight from our tiny cottage in Hazelgrove, I’d thought that – with its two staircases, endless corridors and many, many rooms – this must surely be the biggest dwelling in the world. It was not, however. Not even nearly, for I’d seen many bigger and wealthier houses since then.

I paused at the turn of the stairs to look out on the churchyard of St Mary’s, where once, in the dead of night, I’d seen Dr Dee and Mr Kelly endeavouring to raise the spirit of someone who’d been laid to rest. I smiled as I recalled this, for I’d been somewhat gullible then and imagined that such a thing were possible. Now I knew better than to believe in raising ghosts, for such a thing was – surely? – against Nature’s law and God’s word.

I carried on going down and had almost reached the kitchen when I heard, from upstairs, a loud scream. And then another and another.

I turned and ran back up again, then hesitated
outside the mistress’s door, for even in what seemed like an urgent matter I did not dare to rush in.

‘You shall not take them away! My girls … my babies! They are my only consolation!’ I heard Mistress Dee call hysterically.

And then came the voice of her companion, placating and reassuring. ‘Not if you don’t want them to go, of course not! ’Tis a foolish plan and I will speak to Dr Dee about it. Rest easy in your mind, Madam!’

I tapped at the door and after a moment Mistress Allen, pink in the cheeks and with her head covering askew, answered it.

‘I beg your pardon, but can I get you anything to soothe the mistress?’ I asked. ‘A chamomile drink, perhaps.’

‘No,’ she said in a harsh whisper, ‘but you can take a message to Dr Dee!’

‘Beth! Merryl!’ I heard the mistress’s voice call from within the silk coverings. ‘My precious darlings.’

‘The mistress has been much disturbed at the notion that her daughters are being taken from her. Tell Dr Dee that, if you will. Tell him that she says they cannot go, for then she will lose two more children!’

‘Certainly, Madam,’ I said, thinking that I would not and that she could do her own dirty work.

I ran down the stairs and tapped on the library door. A bad-tempered grumble came from within and I pushed open the door and looked through the smoke at Dr Dee. ‘Mistress Allen’s compliments, Sir, and would
you please go upstairs, where she wishes to speak to you.’

As I said this another scream was heard and Dr Dee wearily got to his feet. ‘Whatever is it?’ I heard him mutter. ‘What’s happening now?’

Mr Kelly sighed heavily. ‘Surely someone of your calibre and learning, Dee, should not be subject to petty domestic concerns?’

I said nothing, but went back into the kitchen, where I told the children that, unfortunately, they would not be coming back to London with me as their mother didn’t wish to part with them. I tried to sound regretful about this.

I washed their hands and faces and sent them to their mother with the message that I would leave alone the following day, and also asked for money to buy provisions, the girls from the village still having not arrived. Once Beth and Merryl had been reconciled, blessed and cried over by their mother, the three of us set off for the market.

Walking through the familiar lanes to the village square I reflected that, in the same way that Dr Dee’s house had at first impressed and overawed me, so had busy Mortlake when contrasted to my home village of Hazelgrove. Now, however, I compared Mortlake to London’s tumultuous, noisy and smelly streets and reflected that
here
you could buy your provisions in a considered way, weighing up each purchase and deciding which of three stalls was the best for each vegetable.
In London, however, you were hassled, jostled and beleaguered to buy on every side and felt lucky if you got home with your basket intact and your purse uncut. Still, I knew where I’d rather be.

One of the reasons I’d wanted to go to market was that I hoped to see Isabelle, and sure enough she was there in her usual spot, with some tied posies of herbs on a wooden crate, exchanging gossip with the woman sitting beside her. She jumped up on seeing me and gave a mighty shout.

‘You’re back so soon!’ she said, flinging her arms around me.

‘I am, but not for long,’ I said, returning her hug. ‘I came on an errand for Dr Dee and have to return tomorrow.’

‘But what is London like?’

‘Beyond exciting! I’ve much to tell you.’

‘And have you seen your sweetheart there?’

Because of the proximity of the girls I put on a mystified look at this. Isabelle, not realising, said, ‘Lucy! Your sweetheart – the queen’s fool.’

‘
Tom-fool?
’ Merryl, who’d been looking about the market for a stall with singing birds, suddenly turned and gazed at me with surprise. ‘Your sweetheart is Tom-fool?’

‘There!’ Beth said. ‘No one told us!’

‘Shush!’ I made a face of protest at Isabelle. ‘He’s not really my sweetheart …’

She winked at me. ‘Oh no, he is not. Not at all.’

‘Oh,’ Beth cried. ‘So
that’s
why you didn’t like the pretty lady with the velvet boots.’

‘Hush!’ I protested. ‘You’re talking nonsense. Tomas is not my sweetheart.’

‘I shall ask him the next time I see him,’ Beth said.

I took both her hands in mine and spoke to her seriously. ‘Please do not,’ I said. ‘’Tis but a joke between me and Isabelle.’ I shot a look at my friend. ‘Is it not?’

Isabelle nodded vehemently. ‘’Tis but our playacting. Lucy has no sweetheart.’

Beth clapped her hands. ‘Then we will find you someone here in Mortlake, and then you’ll want to stay here with us.’

Isabelle nodded. ‘That is very fitting, for today is St Valentine’s Day. You must act as his messengers, and look about to find suitable beaux for the two of us.’

‘But stay within sight,’ I added.

The idea of finding us sweethearts was novel enough to occupy the girls for quite some time, during which I filled Isabelle in on all that I’d been doing: of my dressing as a boy, of my acting with the Queen’s Players – which she admitted to be extreme jealous of, and my day as a stable hand at Whitehall Palace. I also told her of my several meetings with Tomas, though confessed that these had not really gone to my satisfaction because of Mistress Juliette.

In the end, however, I made myself stop babbling of these things, for I had so much to tell about all that I’d
done it seemed as if my life had taken off, while hers had come to a full stop.

‘But what of you?’ I asked. ‘Are your mother and family well? Do your brothers still work at the ostler’s? How is business in Mortlake?’

‘’Tis poor,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘My brothers earn enough between them to put food on the table, but I find very little to sell at this time of the year. Matters will improve in May when the asparagus is full grown and the vegetables crop, but until then there’s not much in the fields.’ She indicated the posies. ‘I hunt for fresh herbs to make these tussy-mussies, but because there’s no plague at the moment …’

‘For which we give thanks!’ I put in superstitiously.

‘For which we give thanks,’ she echoed, ‘people don’t feel the need to buy bunches of herbs.’

‘How about your other jobs: in the tavern, and being a funeral mute.’

She tutted. ‘Do you know that no one really rich has died since the Walsingham boy!’ she said, and sounded so outraged that we both giggled. ‘I got a job for a few days clearing weeds from the asparagus fields, but because I couldn’t manage to work the hours that the men did, they got rid of me.’

I pulled a sympathetic face and an idea was just beginning to form in my head – something I could do to help her – when I was distracted by the girls running back, looking very excited.

‘You look so pleased that I think you must have
found us two sweethearts,’ I said.

Isabelle laughed. ‘Then may they both be young noblemen, with good fortunes and carriages of their own.’

‘’Tis not sweethearts we’ve found,’ Beth answered.

‘Then what?’

‘It’s the someone who came to the house asking for you, Lucy,’ said Merryl.

‘Asking for
me
?’

‘The two village girls sent her on her way and said you didn’t live here any more.’

‘And we tried to go out and speak to her, but they wouldn’t let us! They said she was just a vagrant and must go back to her own parish and not come round a-begging in ours.’

‘But what did she want?’

‘You,’ Beth said. ‘She wanted to speak to you.’

‘But why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘We forgot,’ said Beth.

‘We would have remembered, but you haven’t been back here very long,’ put in Merryl.

‘So where is this person now?’ I asked, terribly curious.

‘She is sitting by the milestone, selling gloves from a tray.’

‘
Gloves!
’ I exclaimed, for this word held a special significance for me.

By this time the girls, each holding a hand, were leading me through the market stalls.

‘There she is, over there,’ Beth said. ‘She doesn’t look too much like a beggar …’

But I was already running towards the figure with my arms outstretched, for it was my own dear mother.

Sweetling!’ cried my ma. ‘At last! I knew that sooner or later I would find you.’

I clasped her tightly, conscious that not only Merryl, Beth and Isabelle, but also what seemed like a fair proportion of the market, were watching us with interest.

‘How long have you been in Mortlake?’ I asked, looking at her face and thinking that she looked far more careworn than the last time I’d seen her, though it had barely been five months since I’d left Hazelgrove.

‘Not so very long. About a seven-night.’

‘You just missed me, then, for Mistress Midge and I left for London some ten days past.’ I looked down to the meagre stock on her tray and felt like crying, for she only had two pairs of gloves to sell, and they were of poor and thin leather. ‘But what are you doing here, Ma? How have you been managing?’

She spoke slowly. ‘I’m here because I’m homeless … because of your father.’

I nodded, for I might have known he’d be at the back of things; he with his gambling and drunkenness, bullying and bad tempers. ‘What’s he done now?’ I asked, but as I waited for her to reply I suddenly had a vision of a pile of freshly dug earth in a churchyard, a small green bush of rosemary growing in it. I hesitated. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’

There was a pause. ‘He is,’ she said, and – may God forgive me – I didn’t feel a thing except relief. ‘Dead and buried in the churchyard at home with nothing to mark his grave …’