Face Down Before Rebel Hooves Part 13

Jennet did not have to consider long. "Yes," she said. "But he'd do it coldly and with calculation, not in the heat of anger."

In her heart, Susanna knew Jennet was right. And for a man with Walter's background, it would not be difficult to forge orders and send them to Dartnall, tricking him into thinking they'd come from the earl. And if Walter had been responsible for killing Eleanor, it followed that the "accidents" here in Yorkshire had nothing to do with what happened in Augsburg.

She would not leave the rebels just yet, Susanna decided. Not until she had completed the a.s.signment Walter had given her, and not until she had ferreted out the truth about Eleanor.

Chapter 25.

When she heard about the poisoned soup, Lady Northumberland gathered all her waiting gentlewomen together and hugged each one of them in turn. "I could have lost you all," she said in a choked voice. "Eleanor, we owe you a great debt."

Jennet watched her mistress struggle for words. She wondered what Lady Appleton would have said if the countess had waited for a response. But Lady Northumberland, who never surrendered for long her position as the center of attention, lost no time regaining it.

"What if we had supped here? The entire cause might have failed because of a root picked in error." Her eyes widened, enhancing the drama of the moment. "Was it a mistake? Or has some foul fiend wormed his way into our confidence to kill us all?"

Her women hastened to rea.s.sure her, as did Master Carnaby, who arrived to report that a dead scullion had been found behind the inn's stable. "His hands and the inside of his mouth were most horribly blistered," Carnaby declared. "It is plain enough what happened. He added the wrong root by mistake and then, having no notion he'd put poison in the soup, ate of it himself and died."

"A neat solution," Lady Appleton murmured.

Jennet shared her mistress's skepticism. It would be comforting to accept an explanation that did not involve malice. She'd like to believe that billet strap had just worn out, too. But Jennet was not so trusting. She had helped Lady Appleton find murderers in the past. More recently, she and Mark had unmasked a most insidious villain all on their own. Jennet considered herself to be clever at discovering things, almost as good at it as her mistress. She went down to the stable to have a look around.

When she discovered that the body had already been removed, Jennet ventured into the kitchen to ask questions. The inn's servants were glad enough to talk, now that they'd been cleared of suspicion. The scullion had been hired only a few days earlier, she was told. He'd had no family. He'd seemed a clever enough lad, a boy of twelve or so, but everyone agreed he must have been the one who'd made the mistake. Were not those blisters proof of it?

"But where did he get the bryony?" Jennet asked. The inn's garden provided all the turnips anyone could possibly need, even this late in the year.

No one had an answer to that.

She looked again at the garden. She was not known for her ability to tell one plant from another, but there did seem to be a great many turnips. More had already been stored for the winter in a root cellar.

"Why are there so many turnips?" Jennet asked the cook.

His annoyance at her snooping faded and he beamed with pride. "I am famous far and wide for my turnip soup. We serve it at this inn every Wednesday."

Chapter 26.

Barnard Castle November 17, 1569 Catherine repressed a sigh.

Sir Walter Pendennis was not pleased to see her.

It had taken her longer to travel from York to Streatlam than it had to make the entire journey from London to York, thanks to bad roads, heavy traffic-all the Yorkshire gentry flocking to join the earls-and a spate of bad luck. Vanguard had thrown a shoe. Then Fulke's horse had gone lame. Worse, by the time she'd finally arrived at her destination, Sir Walter had already left. He and Sir George Bowes had come here to set up a command post inside the fortified castle Bowes controlled as steward for the queen. They seemed to expect to be attacked by the rebels.

Catherine had been admitted to the premises, but she'd been put off until after supper. Now that Walter had at last received her in his well-appointed living quarters, he greeted her with stiff politeness and a visage that gave away none of his feelings, not even when she offered her condolences on Eleanor's death. He'd changed in the four years since she'd last seen him, Catherine decided. He was colder. Harder. And although it seemed impossible, more secretive than he'd been when he served as one of the queen's intelligence gatherers.

"Have I come at a bad time?" She made no attempt to hide her sarcasm.

"What are you doing here, Catherine?"

"I came to talk with you."

"I mean in the North. It is no place to be a woman traveling alone."

"I am not alone." She drifted across the tower chamber and seated herself by the window. "As you have no doubt been told, Fulke and Lionel accompanied me here. They will keep me safe."

"Did Baldwin send for you?"

"No. He sent for Jennet, who has by now attached herself to Susanna, or rather to Lady Pendennis, as a tiring maid."

She'd managed to surprise him. He seated himself in the chair beside his writing table and gave her an owlish look. "And Baldwin?"

"I do not know where he is." She suspected, however, that Nick was as close to Susanna as he could get. It would not be difficult now to pretend to be one of the many malcontents flocking to the rebel cause.

"Go back to London," Pendennis said.

"I can be of help here."

"There are already too many spoons stirring the pot."

"The last time I saw you," Catherine said slowly, "we were both concerned in the matter of proving Susanna innocent of murder. Her life was in danger. Is it in danger again?"

"No." But he did not look at her.

"Are you certain of that?"

"I am. As long as everyone believes she is Eleanor, she has naught to fear." At last he met her eyes, his gaze bleak and implacable. "Risk enters in when those who know her as herself are near. A slip of the tongue, a careless word . . . " He let his voice trail off suggestively.

"Yes. I see." But she did not. Not entirely. Nick had told them Walter insisted that "Eleanor" would be accepted by the rebels as one of them, that her arrival with a coded message would a.s.sure her welcome. Catherine had found this argument flawed from the first. Someone who had been driven to give an order to kill would not lightly abandon the conviction that such an action had been necessary.

And something had Walter worried. When she'd known him before, he'd covered his true thoughts with a courtier's arts. He was a master at trifling conversation. The thick silence simmering between them was proof there were troubles preying upon his mind. So was the way he twisted the agate ring he wore. She doubted he was aware he was fiddling with it, and that was telling, too. He might, as he said, be afraid that Susanna's friends would accidentally expose her, but Catherine's instincts insisted there was more to it than that.

"I can be of use to you in the North," she informed him. "I can pay a visit to the queen of Scots. She knows me from the time Gilbert and I spent at her court. I will tell her he supports her cause and she will give me information I can pa.s.s on to you."

"She might believe you. So might those currently in power in Scotland. You put your husband in peril if they do. Besides, I have spies in her household already. I have no need of another. Go back to London, Catherine. There is naught you can do here."

Back to London? It was tempting. Back to Gilbert. Back to their son. And back to Gilbert's mother. "I am not yet ready to return." If that sounded willful, so be it. "You have been out of the country, Walter. You cannot have that many sources left after so long away. Let me help."

It occurred to her then that here was the simple explanation for Jacob Littleton's disappearance. Walter's longtime manservant must also be an intelligence gatherer. No doubt he'd remained in Augsburg to collect information to use against the rebel leaders when the uprising was over.

"Put me to work, Walter," she said again. "Let me serve as one of your agents." As incentive, she gave him a pithy report on all she'd heard about the uprising during her journey from York. Much of it was useless gossip, more was fanciful rumor, but Walter seemed interested in a few of the gentlemen's names she dropped.

"Egremont Radcliffe? The earl of Suss.e.x's brother?"

"He's gone over to the rebels." Catherine had spoken with him herself. She knew the family, Lancashire landholders like herself.

Catherine could swear she heard gears whirring inside Walter's head as he left his chair and crossed the room to stand beside her. With both hands braced on the windowsill, he stared out at the dark landscape. "Very well," he said at last. "I do have a use for you, but you must promise to take no undue risks."

Eagerness swept away any hesitation. "I swear it."

He glanced at her, then away. "You need be nothing but what you are, a Scots n.o.blewoman traveling north from London. Rural hospitality will demand that you be offered a bed for the night at any country gentleman's house."

Catherine nodded. The tradition predated the closing of the monasteries, which had also offered shelter for travelers. "Where would you have me go?"

"Penrith. Then Keswick, where Haug and Company operate copper mines for the Crown. Haug and Company," he added, turning to look at her fully, "employs Lucius Dartnall."

"The man who killed Eleanor." She searched Walter's face for some sign of emotion and found none.

"When Baldwin left Antwerp, Dartnall was on his way to Augsburg. He never arrived there."

"Do you mean to say he may be in England? Oh, Walter! He will recognize Susanna as an imposter!" Alarmed, she seized his arm. "You must find him."

He patted her hand. "He'll not reach Susanna. The queen herself authorized me to coordinate the efforts of all intelligence gatherers in the North. Those who formerly reported to her or to members of her Privy Council now send their news here to Barnard Castle, as do the men Bowes sent out. All of them have Dartnall's description. If he makes any attempt to join the rebels, he'll be caught."

Rea.s.sured, Catherine calmed down and considered what else Walter had said. "You think he'll go to Keswick."

Walter nodded. "Before I got word of Dartnall's disappearance, I'd pulled the man I had there out of Keswick. I cannot spare another just now. If Dartnall is on Haug and Company business, nothing to do with the rebellion at all, he'll not try to hide his presence." He hesitated. "What troubles me is that he may attempt to make contact with Eleanor's mother. Gillingham Place, the manor belonging to Sir Giles Gillingham, Eleanor's step-father, lies near Keswick."

Dismay filled Catherine at the thought that Dartnall and Lady Gillingham, two people who would know at once that Susanna was not Eleanor, might . . . what? Compare notes? "I thought Eleanor and her mother were estranged."

"Aye. So did I. But if she wrote to her uncle in Westmorland without my knowledge, she may also have contacted Lady Gillingham. Your task is simple, Catherine. Find out if Eleanor's mother has had aught to do with the rebels and determine whether or not Dartnall is in Keswick."

"And if he is?"

"Set Fulke to watch him while you and Lionel bring word to me here. Do nothing more. Do not attempt to question or detain him. You should be in no danger. Dartnall chose a coward's way to kill Eleanor, arranging a clumsy, if effective accident, but I do not want anything to alert him to the fact that he succeeded. His behavior is too unpredictable."

Catherine refrained from pointing out that Dartnall had, with his own hands, killed the driver of the wagon that had run Eleanor down. If Walter remembered that, he might forbid her to go. Not that she'd obey him. "How will I know Dartnall?" she asked.

"He is a bookish fellow, thin and stoop-shouldered, with a mole on the left side of his neck. It is partially hidden by lank, brown hair. I met him once only," he added in response to Catherine's questioning look, "but it is my business to remember faces."

"Did you ever encounter Lady Gillingham?"

"No, and I have never written to her, either. She should be in ignorance of her daughter's accident, unless Dartnall has contacted her."

"You had better tell me a bit more about Eleanor's family. Was Eleanor an only child?"

"Yes. Eleanor was descended from a cadet branch of the Cholmeley family. Their seat is in Westmorland, where Sir Roger Cholmeley still lives. His brother George, now deceased, was Eleanor's grandfather. George had one daughter, Philippa, now Lady Gillingham. Sir Roger's youngest brother, Alan, died at the time of the Pilgrimage of Grace. He also sired just one child, Mary, who wed Arthur Standbridge. And once again, the only offspring was a female."

"Marion Standbridge. Lionel mentioned her."

"Let us hope nothing makes her suspicious of Susanna's impersonation."

"And Marion's parents-where are they?"

"Dead and buried. Since Sir Roger never married, there are now only four surviving members of that entire branch of the family-Philippa, Marion, Eleanor, and Sir Roger himself."

"Three surviving members," Catherine corrected him. She found it disconcerting when, for just a moment, a look of confusion appeared on Walter's otherwise inscrutable features.

Chapter 27.

From the same window where they'd stood together the previous evening, Sir Walter Pendennis watched Catherine Glenelg ride away from Barnard Castle. Her scent, violets, seemed to linger in the chamber, but it was not her feminine side that made him nostalgic for the past. It was her resemblance to her late brother.

How Robert would have enjoyed following the progress of Walter's scheme. They'd have laughed together at the news a rebel troop had been dispatched to Hartlepool to wait in vain for the arrival of Alba's armada. Robert had once been Walter's closest friend. Like him, Catherine was impatient and headstrong. Imagine leaving a child who could not be more than six months old to gallivant around the countryside attired in boy's clothing!

Walter had persuaded her to tarry long enough in Penrith to acquire a more appropriate wardrobe. Any delay involved in having clothes made, so that she would be dressed as befitted her rank when she arrived at Gillingham Place, would put off the moment when she began to suspect he'd deceived her.

It was for her own good, he told himself. He'd had to do something to prevent her from making a foolhardy attempt to ingratiate herself with the queen of Scots. And he'd only stretched the truth, not lied outright. Dartnall had been dispatched to England, his destination Keswick. According to the last report Walter had received from his agents, the fellow was at Haug and Company's headquarters in London. Walter expected at any moment to hear he'd been taken into custody there.

When Catherine and her two henchmen, or rather Susanna's two henchmen, had disappeared from view, Walter returned to the stacks of reports on his writing table. It was fortunate, he thought, that Susanna was a resourceful sort of woman, since he'd failed to establish contact with her. His first messenger, the one who'd taken the second copy of the duke of Alba's letter, had been turned away at Topcliffe without penetrating the guard around the countess of Northumberland and her women. After that, the man Bowes had placed at Raby Castle had seemed an ideal candidate for the job. As captain of the guard, he'd have experienced no difficulty speaking with one of the countess of Northumberland's women . . . if the earl of Westmorland had made Raby his headquarters. Unfortunately, Westmorland had chosen Brancepeth instead. Bowes's man had been ordered to stay where he was. He'd returned Walter's agate ring two days ago, with that message.

Walter had confidence in Susanna's ability to cope with rapidly changing circ.u.mstances. She was an altogether remarkable woman. A pity he'd not kept that in mind instead of letting himself be seduced by a pretty face. He'd been too quick to accept Susanna's refusal to marry him. A faint smile flitted across Walter's face as he picked up a list of the earl of Northumberland's holdings. When this was over, he would try again to win Susanna. At the least, he could make certain Baldwin stayed out of her life. She was too good for the likes of him. Let the fellow return to Hamburg and stay there a good long time.

Although Walter tried to focus on an a.n.a.lysis of the best way to bring the uprising to a rapid and ignominious end, his thoughts soon drifted to Baldwin again. As he traced the facets of the gla.s.s inkpot with one idle finger, he began to devise a quite different scheme, a plan for dealing with an interfering merchant. Baldwin's meddling annoyed him beyond reason. There had been no need to send for Jennet, let alone involve the wife of a Scots peer in this business. That there might be some basis for the fellow's panic over Susanna's safety only made his interference more intolerable.

Such grim ruminations were interrupted by Sir George Bowes, his face flushed from running up the stairs. "New information!" He waved a sheaf of papers. "The latest reports give the rebels 16,000 men in arms, including 4000 hors.e.m.e.n."

"Yesterday's rumors had them at 5000 strong, 1000 horse and 4000 foot soldiers." No one could guess how much of the populace would rise up in support of the earls of Westmorland and Northumberland, but Walter found each new set of numbers more suspect than the last. Even if they were accurate, that many men could not all be trained and armed. He'd seen the most recent muster rolls for Yorkshire and Durham, drawn up to evaluate the state of preparedness in those counties to repel foreign invaders. They'd shown the entire region woefully unready, a fact the earl of Suss.e.x had used as his excuse not to call up troops.

Before the rebellion began, Suss.e.x had convinced himself that the earl of Northumberland had no stomach for rebellion. This furor, he'd insisted, would die down if left to its own devices. When the earls did rise up, he'd changed his tune. Now he claimed he dared not risk a muster for fear half the men he armed would promptly desert to the rebel cause.

The man was a fool, though likely not a traitor. In most circ.u.mstances, Walter agreed that caution was a virtue. In this instance, however, if Suss.e.x had acted quickly, the rebellion would have been over by now. Walter's scheme to trick the rebels into jumping the gun would have been a resounding success. Instead, what he had most hoped to avoid, a civil war, had come upon them.

All was not lost, he reminded himself. His plan would still work . . . just more slowly than he'd antic.i.p.ated. And Susanna, trapped in enemy territory, would have to stay there a bit longer. At least he'd sent Lady Glenelg out of harm's way, he reminded himself. "Any further word from Lord Hunsdon?" Hunsdon was gathering troops in the south, whence they intended to march into Yorkshire, rally whatever men were still loyal to the queen, and rout the rebels.

"G.o.d willing, they will be here within two weeks."

"A great deal can happen in two weeks."

"Aye."

Walter felt confident that between now and then, Susanna or one of his other agents would uncover proof that the queen of Scots was directly involved in the earls' treason. When Hunsdon's army triumphed, she would be executed right along with them, removing forever the threat she posed to the realm. The movement to restore Catholicism in England would likewise receive its death blow. There would be no more uprisings against Queen Elizabeth.

To achieve that end, Walter was willing to sacrifice as many lives as necessary, even his own.

Even Susanna's.