Constant Heart (28 page)

“Give her a length of fabulous embroidered satin. Tell her you would not dare to dress Her Majesty in a fashion of your own choosing, for how can a Queen be made in the image of any man?” She could not stay settled on my knee and took instead to her feet once more. “You cannot hope that your gift will match her beauty; you hope only that she will be able to use it to fashion something that pleases her.”

It was good to see animation at work in her face again. “And you have in mind such a length of cloth?”

“I know how to get one.”

She did, although it cost me plenty to wrangle it from another’s hands. The idea was sound, though I might never have thought of it, and in the end it was worth the effort. Some several months later, I came to know that Her Majesty had indeed ordered the satin fashioned into a gown. And when she wore it, she made certain that I had noticed.

Surely the Queen would agree to visit Brustleigh now! Once more, Marget had been useful indeed.

Under Lady de Winter’s prodding and Joan’s ministrations, life began to take on a sharper focus. And slowly I began to see color and hear music once again. And then, one day, I heard myself laugh at a jest Lytham had made. After that, everything seemed to settle back into its place.

Except that a babe-sized hole had been left within my heart. And my hands still suffered. If I had expected to shed my malady with the child, I had been mistaken. But life was still mine for the living. And I once more watched with devotion and listened with attention to the goings-on at court, watching for the next opportunity in which I could make myself useful to Lytham.

As soon as it was deemed safe to return to London, Her Majesty called a parliament. Lytham was obliged to sit. And in that I could be of no use at all. But he immediately summoned a tailor, and I watched as he chose a new set of clothes. By opening day, he was resplendent in his new doublet, ruff, and cloak. He did not return until late that night, and when he did, it was to find me playing the lute in order to keep from falling asleep.

“How goes Parliament?”

“Exactly as the Queen would have it. She made haste in reminding us that she would assent or dissent to anything she liked.”

“So why call the lords?”

“To prosecute the Catholics. And the dissenters.”

“Even more?”

“Aye. It is to become a crime.”

“A crime? When any man of good sense would bow before England’s altar just as quickly as the Pope’s? Why would one not wish to save his head before his soul?” Had I just spoken those words? It used to be that I had believed in God with steadfast faith . . . but that was before I discovered He dressed himself in Her Majesty’s gowns.

Lytham turned to discard his cloak before my words could elicit a reply. When he had shed it into the hands of his chamberer, he spoke of different things. “She wants money.”

“For what?”

“For everything. For this thing and another.”

When it became apparent that Parliament would be sitting for some time, I made plans to return to Holleystone. Why suffer the indignities of life in the city when I could go home to the estate and enjoy the benefits of the country?

I wished for Lytham, but I could not say the same for my paints. The respite from court was pleasant in more ways than one. Refreshing to both body and soul. Freed from the confines of ceruse and vermillion, my face and indeed my spirits grew more animated. Would that I could have gone without the paints at court, but to do that would have risked Her Majesty’s wrath and damaged Lytham’s chances. It would have meant the loss of everything I had worked so hard to gain. But at Holleystone, with no one’s eyes upon me and without the necessity of regarding everyone else, I was able to be only and exactly myself.

Of course, I missed court, the opportunities to listen, to gather information. I missed being useful. But I found other ways in which to be useful at Holleystone. I made ale and produced apple wine. I had wool delivered to the poor so they could card and spin it. I gathered what plants there were and processed them in the still room for medicines and then took my maids with me to the village to educate them in the nursing of the sick.

But news from London began to find me. And as it found me in greater quantities, I began to gather myself to return to the city. The poor were still lining up, every day, outside the gates. They had deteriorated much, purple chilblains turning into bulbous and oozing wounds upon their toes. Faces had become bonier, hair had turned grayer. And they had become quieter through the winter. There was no more singing on the work sites and little shouting. There was no longer any jostling for food. But I noticed their resolve had become greater. They had survived thus far. With God’s help and a good harvest, they would survive still.

31

W
hen finally I reached Lytham House, I received a marvelously warm welcome. Only it did not come from the quarters from which I had expected. It was Lady de Winter, rather than Lytham, who first greeted me.

“I have a gift for you.” Her tawny eyes were sparkling.

“I am in need of gifts. Pray, tell me what it is.”

“It is something to befit your station.”

I felt my brow rise. What could it be?

“Follow me and I will show you.”

We passed out of the house and into the day. The April weather was ambivalent, unable to decide whether to settle on winter or spring. The sun had shown herself, but neither in any great splendor nor any great warmth. Lady de Winter led me to the stables. When we entered, she called to her groom.

“You may fetch Lady Lytham’s gift.”

The groom bowed and went off in search of whatever it was that Lady de Winter would give me. When he returned, I did not recognize at first what it was that he carried. He headed toward his mistress, but the lady gestured him to me. He bowed once more and then deposited his tiny bundle into my arms.

It wriggled. And then it bit my finger. “What is this creature?”

Lady de Winter smiled as though I were not astonished at her choice of giftings. “ ’Tis a dog.”

“Aye. And for what purpose? Lytham has dogs aplenty. And this one looks to be puny in the way of dogs.” The beastie had decided to chew on my necklace. I thumped it on the head and removed the pearls from its mouth.

“No purpose.”

“For no purpose at all?”

“None but display.”

“But why . . . ? You thought it fitting for my station?”

“Is your head so dull? Think on it. In possessing a dog, you proclaim that Lytham has so much influence that you have wealth enough to support a creature that has no purpose.”

I held it out in front of me toward the groom. “Take it.”

He relieved me of the creature and placed it on the ground.

“Tut, girl. You must make a friend of it.”

“Not if it is to devour the best of my jewels.”

“But you see, it does not matter, does it? Because you can buy more!”

I looked at the pup as the meaning of her words sunk in. Of all the fabulous displays of wealth at court, a pup could, in fact, be the most extravagant. And, as Lady de Winter had said, the pup declared that we had wealth enough to feed it and keep ourselves in clothes. And jewels. It was better than a new pair of sleeves or a new rope of pearls, for it might consume wealth even as I displayed it. I knew too well how Lytham longed for the Queen’s favor. And if it could help Lytham at court . . . “Aye, I can. I can buy more.” I began to see how the creature could be of use. “Is it male or female?”

Lady de Winter shrugged as we turned to watch it skitter along the floor. “I did not think to look.”

With a yip, the creature rolled onto its back, exposing its pale underbelly.

“ ’Tis a male.” We were both agreed upon it.

Lady de Winter had the groom pick it up and give it back to me. And after we had walked about in the garden, after Lady de Winter had left for her own house, I took the beast inside with me to show him his new home.

“What is this . . . thing?” I heard my own voice echoing through the Great Hall.

Marget looked up from her book, her eyes at first ignorant of what I was speaking.

I pointed to the floor, toward my boot the creature was nibbling upon.

She turned her eyes back toward me. “ ’Tis a dog.”

“Aye. And no hunter from the looks of him.” I lifted my foot from the floor. The pup dangled a moment and then slipped to the ground.

“ ’Twas a gift from Lady de Winter.”

“She wished to curse us?”

“Nay. The intent was to help people to understand your position and influence.”

“Through a runt of a cur? You know some say she is mad?”

“She is brilliant! Only one who has great wealth can support a creature with no purpose.”

“No purpose but to destroy me.” I cast a glance toward the pup. He had now decided to scratch a hole in the woven rushes. “It will cost me a fortune.” A fortune I did not possess at that particular moment, though I would, once the Queen visited Brustleigh.

She smiled. “That is exactly the wanted effect.”

“To cost me my fortune?”

“To have others realize your fortune is so vast that it cannot matter what a pup does. It cannot matter how much he eats.”

“It matters to me.” I nudged the pup with my boot, coaxing him from his task. But then he gained his feet and ran to the refuge of my cloak.

“Come, Lytham, he is a gift. From a powerful and influential woman.”

I followed the pup and pulled the cloak from him, tumbling him from his hiding place. “What do you call him?” The creature was trying to gain his feet.

“I had thought to call him Cerberus.”

I could not keep myself from laughing. “The hound from hell? He may be hellish, but he is no monster.”

“Argos then.”

“As in Odysseus’ faithful, loyal dog?” I heard myself sigh. “Do what you will. I only wish not to see him.”

I was able to fulfill Lytham’s wishes for the first week of the dog’s residency at Lytham House. It was not difficult when Lytham kept himself at court for half the night. But then there came one night when he forsook his cards for my company. And when he did, he discovered the pup guarding my chamber. From the inside. Nestled into his very own pillow of feathers, which had been placed beside mine.

The dog was promptly removed to the floor. But every time Lytham approached me, the creature yipped at him.

“I cannot make love to you without some privacy.”

I laughed. “So now you claim to be modest, my lord?”

“Make it go away.”

“He will only begin to bark in earnest.”

Lytham pushed himself from the bed onto an elbow. “Who is the man and who is the dog that I should be reduced to beggary?”

“If you could only whine, my lord, just a little, you might find you get your way.”

“Is that how the beast does it?”

“Aye. He whimpers from the foot of my bed, and creeps up until he gains the pillow.”

I heard Lytham stalk around to the foot of the bed. Then he pushed the curtains aside and began to climb up over the bed. “Like this, then?”

“Are you suffering, my lord? Because when the creature whines, it sounds as if his heart is breaking.”