Part 2 (1/2)
News that Francis II was in ill health, beyond the condition of his skin, troubled Robert only because the boy-king's death might mean the return of his widow to Scotland. She would be more trouble to England there than in France. It was in Elizabeth's best interests that Mary Stewart's husband stay healthy.
”Who controls him?” he asked Pendennis.
”Some say his wife's uncles, the duke of Guise and the cardinal of Lorraine. Some say his mother, Queen Catherine. In some respects it does not matter. All are most devout Catholics.”
”And the remedy for England? Support the Protestant faction? Cause discord where we may?”
”Perhaps. That is what you are to a.s.sess.”
”You sound doubtful. I had heard the number of French Calvinists was growing.”
”Aye. They claim between three hundred thousand and four hundred thousand souls here in France. Some estimate as much as half of the n.o.bility and a third of the bourgeoisie have been converted by missionaries working out of Geneva. Until the national synod of the Reformed Church was convened here in Paris in May there seemed a real possibility that Catholicism would be replaced as the state religion. Unfortunately, the synod coincided with the appearance of that most ominous portent, the star with the long tail. The New Religion has been blamed for every untoward event since.”
Sir Robert refilled their goblets and stared broodingly into the dark wine. ”We are at peace with France now. I wonder how wise it is to involve ourselves in their civil war.”
”Any peace is fleeting. The queen would be foolish not to take an interest in France's internal affairs.”
”And why send me? The queen's message made it clear you judged it imperative that I be the emissary sent.” He'd debated whether to ask, but the question gnawed at him. He'd been wanting an a.s.signment to France, but he was wary of the mission all the same. Mishandle his duties and he might well lose his chance for advancement at court. The new queen was as fickle as her predecessors. A man in favor one day might find himself hung, drawn and quartered the next.
”How gratifying to know royalty pays heed to my advice.” Pendennis drained his goblet in one long swallow and stared at the branches in the fireplace. ”You were requested, my friend, by name.”
”By whom?”
”G.o.defroy du Barri, the seigneur de La Renaudie. It is rumored his undertaking has the blessing of John Calvin himself, and as you are well known in Geneva, it follows that he trusts you.”
”I do not know of this La Renaudie.”
”He is something of a mystery. We do know he has been in the countryside recruiting unemployed functionaries and former officers, anyone, in truth, who has suffered as a result of the economies practiced by the most Catholic Cardinal of Lorraine. We suspect that his real intent is to try to capture both the cardinal and his brother the duke. Most likely kill them. He claims, certes, that he is only organizing a delegation of loyal subjects to approach the young king with a pet.i.tion to redress their grievances.”
”He wants access to the court.”
”Aye. Once in, with careful planning and the support of certain n.o.blemen already there, who knows what he might accomplish?”
”He might accomplish his own capture, torture, and execution. The risks are enormous.”
”Less, perhaps, if certain parties know that he has English support.”
”So,” Robert mused aloud. ”My real a.s.signment is to discover just what chance this La Renaudie has to overthrow one of the powerful factions behind France's throne.” He drank deeply and frowned. On his evaluation might rest the lives of many good men. ”Where am I to meet the fellow?”
”He will send word, after your visit to Blois.”
Robert grimaced, filled with a deep sense of foreboding. He did not like to be in situations where he had so little control.
Chapter Six.
Jennet Barton, Lady Appleton's tiring maid, stood in the middle of the sun-drenched courtyard at Leigh Abbey, arms crossed over her chest, and carefully a.s.sessed the three male servants her mistress had selected to accompany them to Lancas.h.i.+re. First there was Mark, the head groom who also had charge of the b.u.t.tery. He was a well-proportioned fellow a year or so Jennet's senior, with mole brown hair and a plain face. Next to Mark stood Fulke, one of Leigh Abbey's two grooms of the stable. He was a strapping youth, red-cheeked and rough-skinned. Half hidden by Fulke's bulk was young Lionel, the gardener's boy, who had seen only thirteen summers but already towered over Jennet, who was of but middling height for a woman.
An adequate escort, Jennet concluded, but not a very lively one. The trip ahead promised to be fraught with difficulty and deathly dull. Unless it was true that there was a ghost.
”Since you are to go with me,” Lady Appleton told them, ”you deserve to know what awaits you in the north.”
That they might then ask to stay behind at Leigh Abbey was a risk, but Jennet did not believe it was a very great one. The members of Lady Appleton's household were loyal, and well accustomed to her eccentric behavior. Jennet already knew the story and scarcely listened as her mistress explained about John Bexwith's death and subsequent rumors concerning its cause. Jennet had a natural talent for being in the right place at the right time to overhear the juiciest bits of news and she'd been just outside the study on the day Master Grimshaw's first letter came. Now there had been another.
”The second letter,” Lady Appleton said, ”was written by that same lawyer to inform Sir Robert that he's found no one willing to stay at Appleton Manor. Thus, it becomes necessary for me to go north in person. If I do not take charge and oversee the installation of new staff, the house will sit empty, abandoned, and decaying. Thieves and vagabonds will not be frightened off by this foolishness about a ghost, and I do not intend to let it deter me, either. I will not sit idly by and allow my husband's boyhood home to be robbed and vandalized.”
All that sounded reasonable enough, and was delivered in Lady Appleton's most stirring manner, but Jennet wondered if there was more to this decision to travel than simple duty. Ever since Michaelmas, when the year's accounts had been settled, Jennet had noted her mistress's growing restlessness. Lady Appleton had been heard to mutter that there were no challenges left at Leigh Abbey.
Jennet herself was curious about the haunted house, though now that she thought about it she was not entirely sure she wanted to go and live in it. ”What if there really is a ghost?” she asked some time later, when the two women were alone in Lady Appleton's chamber, engaged in packing clothing for the forthcoming trip.
”Why, we'll invite it to dine with us.” Lady Appleton chuckled as she folded a s.h.i.+ft made of finest lawn and tucked it into a small canvas traveling bag. ”On marrow-bone pie.”
Jennet failed to see any humor in the jest.
”If you are afraid, Jennet, you need not accompany me.”
”I'll not desert you, madam,” Jennet said staunchly. Her pride was stung by the suggestion that she might be less brave than her mistress.
Lady Appleton smiled. ”Tell me, Jennet. Does it please you that Mark is going with us?”
Blus.h.i.+ng furiously, Jennet bent to retrieve a st.u.r.dy wool cloak from the bottom of a chest. Her m.u.f.fled words were barely audible. ”He's nothing to me.”
”And you are everything to him. It is plain he loves you, Jennet, and you could do far worse.”
”Mark's a good man,” Jennet grudgingly conceded, ”and devoted to you, mistress. He'll protect us with his life on this journey.”
”He'd make you a good husband.”
Jennet spoke before she thought. ”He'd turn me into a brood mare.”
Belatedly, she realized her words might offend. The Appletons had been married long enough to have had four or five children by now and yet they had none. Lady Appleton handed Jennet a pair of yellow velvet sleeves and a matching bodice and bade her fold them. If she was troubled by her failure to produce an heir, or by Jennet's careless comment, she gave no sign of it.
Was she barren? Jennet wondered. She'd never seen Lady Appleton indulge in any of the well-known treatments, yet surely she knew them. Lady Appleton had great skill with all manner of herbal remedies. She must be familiar with the garlic test.
Folding and packing occupied only a small part of Jennet's inquisitive mind. Could it be that her mistress had overheated her womb with all those baths? On the other hand, bathing was sometimes ordered to cure a too-cold womb. Then again, the problem might lie with Sir Robert.
Jennet stood still, a ruff clutched in both hands, struck by that startling possibility. A man's a.s.sets were well displayed in hose and codpiece and Sir Robert did not appear to her to be lacking in that- ”Jennet? Stop woolgathering, my girl. We've much to do to prepare for the journey.”
Once again Jennet felt color seep into her cheeks as she hurried to do as she'd been bidden. She was glad Lady Appleton could not possibly guess the direction of her thoughts, and hastily diverted the conversation, changing it back to the subject she knew most interested her mistress at the moment.
”Do you think there is a ghost?” she asked.
”No. I do not believe anything supernatural is going on at Appleton. You will see when we get there, Jennet. John Bexwith likely died of old age, and if he did not, then his death will turn out to be a simple matter of accidental poisoning. There is a slight chance he was murdered, but even if that proves so, his killer was no ghost. Of that I am certain.”
”Murder?” Jennet was no longer blus.h.i.+ng. Indeed, she suspected that her face had abruptly lost all its color. Unaware that she was doing so, she began to worry her lower lip.