Murder at Hatfield House (12 page)

“I am not sure,” Kate said. “The cook had only those scraps of gossip from her sister at Gorhambury.”

“You did well to get her to talk thus, Kate. So—our quiet neighborhood is not so very peaceful as it seems after all,” Elizabeth mused. “I think we will see much coming and going down this road in days to come.”

“By friends or by foes, Your Grace?”

“Who can know? Braceton is foe—that much is clear enough,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “Though who knows what he is really after. We have been searched so often for ‘heretical books’ he must know there is naught left to find.”

“Or messages hidden in lutes,” Kate said with a laugh.

Elizabeth smiled. “Or that. Braceton does hate me, I can tell, but who can say truly why? Feria—I do not know why he came here.”

Kate thought she must know a bit. King Philip would soon lose what little he had gained in England and wanted Elizabeth’s friendship for the future. Yet like everything else, it could not be simple or at all plainspoken.

Elizabeth peered out from under her cloak’s hood, frowning as she studied the thick, dark line of trees at either side of the road. “I do wonder what lurks there, Kate. If someone points their arrows at us even now.”

“Your Grace must not think thus!” Penelope cried at those words, her voice trembling as if with fear. “Surely there would be no such attack in daylight. Not on you. It must have been merely thieves who have now fled.”

“Must it?” Elizabeth said quietly. “I used to think Hatfield was my haven, far from the prying eyes and lying tongues at court. But there can be no haven in life, not really.”

Kate felt a chill chase over her skin as she looked into the woods, imagining eyes peering out from its dark cover. Suddenly there was a burst of noise, shouts, and the ringing of bells resounding from around the bend in the road just ahead. She cried out, and heard Penelope do the same behind her.

“Alas, Your Grace spoke true!” Penelope cried. “We shall all be killed now. Murdered on the road.”

Kate wondered that Penelope, the same coolheaded friend who had led her through the Hatfield passageways, should be so panic-stricken now, but she certainly didn’t blame her. The gloom and uncertainty of the past few days had put them all on a knife’s edge. Everything was confusion as the guards surrounded the princess, their swords drawn and ready.

“Hush, Penelope,” Elizabeth snapped. “What murderer announces their approach with drums and bells?”

As Kate tightened her grip on the reins to hold her restive mount still, her heart pounded. Yet surely Elizabeth was right—this was no sneak attack. Or if it was, it was a most incompetent one—hardly the work of the stealthy archer who had attacked Braceton and his servant.

As Kate sat on her horse behind the princess, she held her breath and listened to the cacophony grow closer.

An amazing sight came around the bend in the road. It looked like a market fair on the move, full of fluttering banners of bright red, yellow, and green carried by men in equally colorful doublets and hose. Tall plumes fluttered from their beaded caps, waving as if in time to the music. They were terribly out of tune, Kate thought with a laugh, but seldom had she heard anything played with such loud enthusiasm.

She watched them marching closer, and saw they were followed by a covered, red-painted cart, drawn by horses draped in matching red and driven by a boy in a saffron-colored doublet and short cape. She realized they must be a troupe of players, perhaps come all the way from London, and the gloomy day suddenly seemed brighter. It had been many months since they had seen a play.

Elizabeth seemed to agree, for she laughed and clapped her hands at the merry sight. She edged her horse around the guards as if to get a better view.

“Madam!” the captain cried. “You should not go nearer. . . .”

“Nonsense,” Elizabeth answered. “It is merely a group of play-actors. Anyone can see that their swords are pasteboard. I wish to find out where they are going.”

“We should not dally,” the guard insisted. “You are expected back at Hatfield, and we are late as it is.”

Elizabeth ignored him. Kate watched as she drew up her horse, and the leader of the colorful band—a tall, whip-lean older man with a lush gray beard and blue-and-purple coat—approached her. He paused in the middle of the road and gave a flourishing bow. The music faded away.

“Good sir, you have already brightened this gray day considerably,” Elizabeth said. “Are you going to play at the inn yard in the village?”

“I’m glad we have brought joy to such a beauteous lady’s heart,” the man said, bowing again. The bells on his tall walking stick sang out. “Have I the honor of addressing the most fair Lady Elizabeth?”

“I am Elizabeth Tudor, aye. And who, sir, are you?”

“My name is Edward Cartman, my lady, leader of this poor troupe of players and Your Grace’s most devoted servant. We have actually come to seek you out, my lady.”

“To seek me out?” Elizabeth said. The guardsman tried to interrupt her again, but she imperiously waved him away.

“We were lately at the home of Sir William Cecil, my lady, presenting some of our poor plays. We have been traveling the roads since the summer, and he seemed to enjoy our frolics during our stay at his demesne. He hopes we may cheer my lady as well.”

As he spoke, Kate studied the group arrayed behind him. She always enjoyed a good play, as did her father, and she had seen many productions, from elaborate court masques to crudely done morality plays in inn yards. She liked them all, liked getting lost in another world for a few hours. Such an escape would be especially welcome during these bleak days, but in Elizabeth’s quest to lead a quiet, unobtrusive life of late, they hadn’t seen a play in months.

But “quiet and unobtrusive” had availed them nothing except a queen’s man like Braceton come to break their precious peace. Maybe this troupe, sent by Elizabeth’s friend and surveyor, Cecil, could bring a bit of merriment again.

“Have you a license?” the guardsman demanded. “If not, we’ll have you clapped in gaol as vagabonds.”

“Of course we have a license,” Master Cartman said indignantly. “We are the Lord Ambrose’s Men. But as he has gone to France on an errand for the queen, he has no use of our services of late and has sent us to cheer the autumn months of his friends. We must make our coin where we can—but only legally, naturally.”

As Master Cartman produced the all-important license and the guardsman snatched it up to study it closely, Kate watched the other players. Two women, one young and one older, peeked out of the cart, but the rest were men, of course, all clad in bright actors’ garments, lazily twirling their banners as they watched the proceedings.

One caught her notice. He lounged against one of the wheels of the cart, idly swirling a beribboned staff between his hands. He was as tall as Master Cartman, but where the older man was thin, he had impressively muscled shoulders beneath a tight-fitting doublet. The bright satin hugged a narrow waist and hips, and multicolored hose and tall leather boots revealed equally impressive legs. He didn’t wear a cap, and golden blond hair fell in a straight, shining tumble to his shoulders.

He was surely the most handsome man she had ever seen, a vision of some classical god like Apollo, and for a moment Kate could only stare at him in astonishment.

Then he caught her looking. He grinned, and gave her an insolent wink.

Kate sniffed and turned sharply away.
What an errant rogue!

“Your Grace, may I present my nephew, Master Rob Cartman?” Master Cartman said, ushering the beautiful young man forward to give a graceful bow. “He is my late brother’s son, and my most invaluable assistant.”

Kate noticed that Elizabeth’s pale cheeks turned the merest bit pink as she nodded to young Master Rob. For all her great dignity and scholarship, Kate had noticed that Elizabeth also had a good eye for beauty in all its forms—even the male. Her old friend Robert Dudley was accounted one of the most handsome men in England, just like all his accursed tribe of brothers. But even Sir Robert was not as dazzling as this namesake of his.

“We are pleased to welcome you all to our neighborhood,” Elizabeth said. “I hope you will lodge with us at Hatfield for a few days and grace us with a few plays? We would be most grateful for the fine diversion.”

“My lady,” the guardsman sputtered. “Lord Braceton will never—”

“God’s wounds, man!” Elizabeth snapped. “Is Hatfield not my own house? If I wish to have entertainment there, I will have it. Come, Master Cartman, be so kind as to follow us back to the house.”

Elizabeth spurred her horse forward into a gallop, forcing everyone to scramble to follow her. As Kate rode past Master Rob, she glanced down at him—only to find him watching her in return.

CHAPTER 9

“W
hat is the meaning of this?” Braceton’s roar rang through the house, sweeping up the stairs and down the corridor like a cold wind.

Kate’s fingers fumbled on her lute strings, and Peg nearly dropped the linen she was mending. They both glanced anxiously toward the closed bedchamber door where her father slept. Fortunately he didn’t seem to stir, even when Braceton shouted yet again.

Kate and Peg exchanged a quick look before they tiptoed together toward the half-open door to the corridor. Kate was far too curious to resist.

“He must have found those actors,” Peg whispered.

Kate nodded. Lord Braceton had been gone when they arrived back at Hatfield and Elizabeth let the troupe set up their rehearsal in the long gallery. Kate had become absorbed in making sure her father ate a midday meal before putting him to rest again, and she hadn’t heard Braceton return. But he was obviously there now.

“Do you mean to say, madam, that you found these vagabonds in the lane and brought them here with you, just like that? After I was kind enough to give you permission to travel?” Braceton blustered.

“They are hardly vagabonds,” Elizabeth said coldly. “They have a license and Lord Ambrose is their sponsor. Does Lord Ambrose not serve the queen?”

“That is scarcely the point! Lord Ambrose is not here now. These—these people will only be in the way while I am trying to do the queen’s business.”

“What nonsense.” There was a rustle of fabric and the patter of footsteps as Elizabeth came down the stairs.

Kate and Peg ducked behind the doorway, even though there wasn’t any way she could see them from there. They heard Braceton thundering after her, but Elizabeth’s light steps didn’t slow.

“This is my own house, my lord, and I wish to watch a play in it,” Elizabeth said. “I do not need to ask your leave for that, do I? I was under the impression Thomas Pope was still my guardian here.”

“You have this house only by the queen’s grace!” Braceton said. “And you should be very careful what you do in it.”

“I have this house by the terms of my father’s will,” Elizabeth replied. “And my other properties, too. Queen Mary has no more loyal subject than myself, and my household has given you every cooperation—though you have given them little reason to. Watching a play surely cannot impede you.”

“I would have a care if I were you, my lady,” Braceton said, his sudden quiet calm far worse than any shouting. “If these so-called actors prove to be other than they appear . . .”

“And what else could they possibly be, my lord?”

“Come now. You cannot pretend to be so naive, madam, nor think I will be so,” Braceton said. “These people have lately been at the home of the Cecil family.”

“My surveyor—who thought I would enjoy a bit of their merriment in these cold days,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Marry, my lord, but I think your suspicious nature has colored your view of all the world, which is a sad thing. A fine play will do you some good as well, I vow.”

“My men will search them most thoroughly before they can be permitted to remain here.”

“Of course, Lord Braceton. I would expect nothing less.”

There was the echoing slam of the front door and a moment of deepest, reverberating silence. Then Kate heard Elizabeth’s light steps coming closer.

Kate and Peg scrambled away from the door, back to their tasks. Just as Kate took up her lute again, the door opened and Elizabeth appeared there. She swept a quick glance over the room and smiled.

“Hard at work, I see,” she said.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Kate said. She jumped up to make a quick curtsy.

“Very good. Our—esteemed guest is hard at work as well, for Lord Braceton has gone to fetch his men to go through the players’ belongings. Poor souls. I fear they will be sorry they came here.”

“When shall they be allowed to perform, Your Grace?” Kate asked.

“Tomorrow evening, if all goes well. In the meantime, they have asked if you would be so kind as to assist them with some music, Kate. It seems their accompanist is indisposed.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Kate said, feeling a tiny thrill of excitement at the thought of playing with other performers again, perhaps even learning a new song or two from London.

But she glanced back at her father’s closed door. If he woke and she wasn’t there . . .

Elizabeth seemed to sense her thoughts. “Peg and I will sit here with Master Haywood for a while,” she said. “It is so quiet in the rooms back here, and I will enjoy an hour or two to read in peace.”

“Thank you very much, Your Grace,” Kate said.

“How does he today?” Elizabeth asked, sitting down in Kate’s chair by the fire and arranging her plain dark blue skirts around her.

“A little better, I think,” Kate said. “He took some broth earlier and is sleeping now. I hope he may work on his music later. Peg stayed with him last night while we were at Brocket, and she says he slept the night through with no bad dreams.”

“Oh, aye, Your Grace. He was very quiet-like,” Peg said.

“Very good,” Elizabeth said with a nod. “I will do all I can to help him, as he did for me when I was young and living with my stepmother. But run along now and play your music, Kate. I will send for you if you are needed. And hopefully you can make sure Braceton’s men do not do too much damage to the poor players’ belongings.”