The Lady Series (15 page)

“Aye, true enough.” Mary’s expression filled with curiosity. “Still, Master Williams made a point of saying how devoted Lady Montmercy seemed to the lad throughout all of Queen Mary’s rule. Then, of a sudden, she gives him into royal care and assumes a place at court.”

“Maybe the lady has strong Protestant leanings?” Anne suggested. 

Mary made a face at this. “She hardly seems the religious sort.”

Anne shot her kinswoman a smiling, sidelong glance. “Perhaps she but used the boy as an excuse to avoid Queen Mary’s company? More likely she’d had her fill of motherhood. She doesn’t strike me as one with room in her heart for much more than her own self-interest.” 

“That much is true,” Mary said with a laugh.

“Do you think we could speak to Lord Andrew about his mother?” Anne asked. “Maybe, he’d have a clue to this conundrum of mine.”

Mary giggled. “Have a care you do not approach him at the darkened end of a chamber. He’s all hands and a ready cock.”

“So I’ve heard,” Anne replied, remembering the lordling’s complaints over his warden removing his doxy at the Maying. “Will he be hunting? If so, perhaps you and I can ride near his party.”

“Aye, that we can.” Mary’s eyes filled with delight. “Then, once the picnic begins, we’ll sit with his company and ply him with questions.”

“We can do that?” Anne asked as her heart leapt. Master Christopher wore the Montmercy badge. Would he be riding with his lordling companion this day?

Mary shrugged. “But of course we can. It’s the hunt, and there’s no order in that. Now, hie!” She grabbed up her skirts, and dashed toward the gate. 

Anne laughed as she ran. Just as well that she had Mary as her chaperone. She wasn’t entirely certain her dancing master wouldn’t be all hands and ready cock himself, or that she wouldn’t enjoy it if he were.

There was nothing so glorious as a headlong gallop through a fragrant and budding parkland, even if the day was marred with misty rain. The breast and long sleeves of Anne’s green hunting kirtle were sodden. The hem of her brown underskirt was thoroughly splattered with mud and her hat might never again be the same.

Who cared? Even better, in the melee she and Mary had attached themselves to Lord Montmercy’s party.

It was a great bevy of roebuck the queen and her court chased this day. Despite their small size the dainty deer was worthy prey. The roebuck was a cunning beast. Twice the bevy escaped, and twice was found again. When last Anne and her group spotted them the deer had lost their leaps and fallen into a flat run, their sides heaving.

“Hold, now,” Master Fayrfax bellowed, looking all the more massive in his woodland attire as he called the six of their group to a halt.

Anne and the rest drew their mounts together. Above the snorting of their horses she heard distant shouts. The hounds were belling, the sound of the dogs so fractured by the trees and low hanging clouds that Anne couldn’t guess at their direction.

In his fur-trimmed brown coat Lord Montmercy looked every inch the nobleman, his dark steed as arrogant as he. “Which way?” he demanded.

“East, I think,” said Sir Edward Mallory, smiling against the day’s pleasure. Now that Sir Edward was away from those he wished to impress the young knight’s face had relaxed from its somber lines, revealing another man, this one surprisingly boyish and merry.

Although Anne had earlier swept him from her list of potential husbands as one too ambitious to care for marital harmony, she wondered if she’d been too hasty. Even as she considered adding him anew, she discarded the thought. He was too much of a popinjay for her. Or, rather, he had been a popinjay when he’d ridden out of Greenwich’s gate. Now, the many bows that prettified the front of Sir Edward’s doublet had all been undone by the wind, the ribbons streaming down the garment’s front and across his dark coat in a wild tangle.

“Hush and listen,” Master Christopher called out, his eyes narrowing as he strained to hear as his horse danced, eager to run once more.

Anne breathed in new pleasure. What a fine sight he made this day with his legs clad in tall brown boots gartered atop leather breeches. Beneath a sturdy brown coat Master Christopher’s doublet was the color of a fir tree, which only made his eyes seem all the greener.

“There,” Master Christopher pointed. “They’re to the west of us.”

As if stirred to it by Master Christopher’s shout, the huntsman’s horn sounded again, piercing the leaden sky like a clarion call. It came from the west, just as he’d suggested. In silence, they all listened to the bleats; the rhythm said the deer were finally at bay.

“Away!” Mary shouted, jabbing her heels into her mount’s sides. Her horse lunged, sending her hat slipping to the side. Even as Mary grabbed at it, she was leaning forward in the saddle, urging her mount to greater speed.

Master Fayrfax bellowed at the thought of missing the hunt’s end and turned his horse’s head to follow her. Lord Montmercy whipped his steed into a full gallop, his coat flying. But Master Christopher took the lead. As he leaned low over his saddle, his horse shot from the pack as eager to be at the kill as his rider.

“God’s wounds, Kit, you’ll not best me this time,” Sir Edward shouted after him, driving his own mount into its fastest pace, his ribbons streaming.

Laughing, Anne leaned low in her own saddle as her mount raced over hillocks and through the sparse trees. The belling of the dogs grew louder. Folk shouted in exultation, the few female voices threading like silver into the darker roar of masculine thunder.

The queen’s party had the dainty beasts trapped in a narrow hollow. Amid the feathery new grass and budding birch the rascals turned and sidled, seeking escape even as they faced their doom. Elizabeth loosened her bow and took the biggest of them, a full roebuck. Once the queen had hers, the others of high rank closed in for their kills. On this day none were spared, not the does, kids, or gerles. As the deer dropped, the harrying hounds circled and cried for their meat, while the watchers shouted their approval.

It was all over too quickly for Anne. As the huntsmen built their fire, she dismounted and watched the dogs as they gnawed on the roebucks’ feet. How could she ever have found any enjoyment in her quiet life when there was so much excitement to be had?

It was sad to think that in only a few months she’d leave all of this behind her. She caught herself and frowned. Shame on her for putting her own her pleasure ahead of her mother’s needs.

By the time the carcasses were carried away, the roebuck’s meat being prized as a food to rebuild health, the trailing servants found their masters. With the maids and men came food and blankets, the feast being laid out with the usual care even though no one was likely to tarry long in this weather.

Once Mary and Anne gave their congratulations to their mistress, the two were free to stroll. They chose a meandering course through the many groups, offering greetings and polite conversation to each. It wouldn’t do to insult or appear obvious as they made their way to join Lord Montmercy’s party.

And, then they were upon the men they sought. Sprawled upon his patron’s blanket, his body braced upon his elbow and a cup caught in his hand, Master Christopher looked relaxed, indeed. Like many of the other men, he’d opened his collars. She liked the way that looked on him.

He watched her as she neared. A shiver shot through Anne. Lord, but his desire for her nigh on pulsed from him. Surely if he were already so hot it wouldn’t take but a few of their lessons before he forget his vow to remain unwed in trade for her kiss. Ah, but once she’d tasted his lips, would she be content to do no more?

Lord Montmercy looked up as Anne and Mary stopped at the edge of his blanket, his dark blue eyes showing pleasure that they should again come his way. If his face was reddened from their ride, the lordling had left off some of his arrogance with his coat. “Mistresses, will you honor us with your presence?” he asked in formal invitation.

Anne blinked in surprise. With his voice hoarse from the shouting and the wet, he sounded different. Indeed, in this roughened state there was something in his tone and cadence that plucked at memory’s string. Someone else she knew sounded like him. Even as she reached out to grasp that one’s identity the whole slipped from her mental fingers.

“Please,” the lordling went on with all the open-handed generosity expected of his rank, “come, break bread with us this day. There is plenty.”

“There is, indeed,” Mary replied with a laugh as she surveyed the feast. Lord Montmercy had done better than just a bit of bread and meat. There were boiled eggs, cold fish, pickled eels among other delicacies to tempt the tongue.

“Could we, cousin?” Anne asked of Mary in keeping with their planned mummery. “Would such a thing be appropriate?”

“I’m not certain,” Mary replied, her brow creased.

“But of course it would,” Master Fayrfax said in encouragement. “After all, we’re all in the open here.”

“Master John is right. There’s no harm in it,” said blond Sir Edward as he once again offered them his boyish grin. Every one of his bows had been retied.

Mary and Anne glanced at each other then smiled. “We are convinced,” Mary said, speaking for both of them as they curtsied to the young nobleman. “My lord, we’d be honored to sit with you.”

“You must sit here, mistresses,” Master Fayrfax said, rising to offer his corner of the blanket. A hungry look took possession of his broad face as he watched Anne, as if he meant to devour her instead of his cold meat pie.

“I expect that means I’ll need to move,” Sir Edward sighed in pretended inconvenience. He rose with Master John to leave the corner for the women. “Ease over, Kit, and make room for us,” he said to Master Christopher.

Kit. As Anne again heard him called by his pet name, she rolled it against her tongue. Kit. She liked its feel in her mouth.

Together, she and Mary drifted down to sit in a pretty pile of petticoats. Once settled, Anne glanced at Master Christopher. He half-smiled then turned his attention into his cup. Anne’s eyes narrowed. So he thought to pretend disinterest, did he? She looked at her host.

“I must confess, I hoped you might invite us to sit with you, my lord.”

“Glad I am to hear it,” Lord Andrew replied, his tone suggesting he believed any woman would be glad of his invitation.

“Indeed,” Anne went on, ignoring his pompous pride as she manufactured the jab she meant to send Master Christopher’s way. “I only now realize my selfishness in claiming so much time of my kinswoman. I wholly forgot how devoted Master Hollier is to my cousin.”

“Nan!” Mary cried, blushing. “He’s not devoted to me.”

“Did I say aught amiss?” Anne cried, playing her prank for all it was worth. “But, Mary, at the Maying he fair swooned over you, calling you beloved. Was I wrong to take his words to heart?” She glanced from her cousin to her victim.

Master Christopher’s eyes narrowed in the promise of retribution, his mouth quivered in laughter. He looked from Anne to her cousin. “Speak for yourself, Mistress Mary. I am devoted to you, just as I told Mistress Anne.”

From his new seat behind Master Christopher, Master Fayrfax’s face darkened as he caught a hint of the private undercurrents in this jest. Anne took the gentleman’s jealous reaction as good advice. To show too much preference for Master Christopher in public would set tongues to wagging, and that wouldn’t do at all, not when the queen counted on winning her wager.

“Have you heard the latest?” Master John asked, seeking to bring himself to Anne’s attention. “I think me Sir William Cecil tries to curry Norfolk’s support by aiding the duke with his suit in the Court of the Wards.” His voice lowered. “With our royal mistress’s secretary at his side in the Wards, you can be certain Norfolk will strip Leonard Dacre of both title and inheritance.”

“The duke can do this?” Anne asked astounded.

“Lord Thomas is rich and powerful enough to do anything he wants save marry the Scots queen,” Sir Edward retorted.

“He could do that, too, if he could get Cecil to champion the idea to our queen,” Master John retorted, his face reflecting the certainty that his tidbit made him seem important to Anne.

“Nay, Sir William’s too canny to put his head in such a noose,” Sir Edward replied with a scornful snort. “He knows Elizabeth is dead set against the marriage, even though it solves the problem of what to do with an exiled queen.”

Anne looked from man to man, then glanced at Master Christopher and shrugged in both disinterest and confusion. This court’s constant banter over who did what left her bored and tired.

He smiled at her. “Enough of politics,” he said. “Let’s ask instead how our Mistress Anne enjoyed her first court hunt.”

“Oh, but it was wondrous,” Anne replied with a sigh.

“I cannot help but say that everything here at court is so much more active and interesting than anything I’ve ever known. I fear I’ll find it difficult to leave when the time comes.”

Lord Montmercy looked shocked at this. “Why would you go?” he asked.

“Spoken like a man who’s lived every day for the past eleven years in his queen’s court,” Sir Edward teased. “Because Mistress Anne is her grandsire’s sole heiress, she cannot long stay a maid. She must wed.”

Stung, Lord Montmercy reclaimed his arrogance and frowned at Sir Edward. “Does marriage mean she can no longer come to court? When I wed, I’ll keep my wife close at hand.”

“I doubt it’ll be you who chooses to keep close,” Master Christopher laughed. “I think me your wife will want to keep you near to hand so you’ll be less inclined to stray.”

The youth had the grace to blush. Mary giggled as his companions laughed. Anne turned her smile into her lap, not wanting to insult her noble host.

“As for your husband, do you know who your grandsire has chosen?” Sir Edward asked.

Startled by the way he framed his question, Anne’s head snapped up as she eyed him in surprise. “No one, as far as I know. Why do you ask?”

It was the young knight’s turn to look startled. “I beg your pardon, but I thought—,” he paused, then frowned. “Well now, this is strange, indeed. Sir George Fulmerson said he approached your grandfather with an offer. Sir Amyas turned him away, saying another had been there before him.” Sir Edward shrugged. “Perhaps he only said so to reject Sir George.”

“Perhaps,” Anne lied, working to hide her emotions. She well knew who that other was. Slow anger grew at Sir George. How dare he approach her grandfather without even asking her preference.

“It must be,” Mary said. “Surely your grandsire would have spoken to you before arranging anything. It would hardly do to leave you uninformed when you might unwittingly encourage other offers.”

“Sir Amyas doesn’t strike me as one to keep such a thing secret,” Master Christopher said, now watching Anne with an odd sort of concern in his eyes. “Indeed, I’d guess him more likely to trumpet the man’s name to all the world, then yank our Mistress Anne from court to make the arrangements for the wedding.”

As the rest of his companions laughed at this Mary clapped her hands to get their attention. “Pay heed now,” she demanded, “for I’m changing the subject.

“Anne and I have set ourselves the task of trying to understand her grandfather since she knows so little of him. My lord, we think you may be able to help us in our quest,” she told Lord Andrew. “It’s been said that your father and her grandfather had much discord between them.”

Surprise crept across Lord Montmercy’s face at this. “I couldn’t tell you if it was truth or no. I never knew my father as he died before my birth. Do you know aught of this, Ned?” He glanced at Sir Edward.

The young knight had just taken a bite of a cold meat pasty; he could but shake his head to the negative.

Master Christopher paused, his cup lifted to his lips. “Old Lord Montmercy hated everyone, or so my father was fond of saying,” he said. “There were rumors that Montmercy believed he could displace the Seymours and rule England throughout the boy-king’s childhood.”