Part 14 (1/2)
”We plan armed uprisings in Normandie, Britagne, Gascogne, Champagne, and the Limousin,” La Renaudie confided. ”The main force will gather at Nantes, at the mouth of the Loire, for from that point they will be in a position to attack any of the royal chateaux in Touraine. Wherever the court is, we will have access by land and water.”
More and more, Sir Robert was reminded of the ill-fated rebellion Sir Thomas Wyatt had attempted in England during the reign of Queen Mary. This plan had many of the same flaws, not the least of which involved the number of people who knew details of it in advance. La Renaudie did not intend to move against the court until March. In three months a great deal could go wrong.
The delay was in large part due to a desire to solicit aid from abroad, in particular from the church leaders in Geneva and from the English queen. Sir Robert suspected that Elizabeth would be sensible enough to avoid such a dangerous entanglement. In fact, he intended to advise her to do so, but he said nothing of that to La Renaudie. This revolt was both ill planned and ill timed and he suspected that it would end by accomplis.h.i.+ng the one thing the rebels least desired, a union between the rival Catholic factions headed by the Guise brothers on one hand and the queen mother on the other.
As the day turned to evening, Sir Robert's dislike of both the plan and the planner increased. When, on his way to bed, he came upon La Renaudie in a hallway, blatantly seducing one of the maids, Sir Robert was appalled.
It was true enough that he was not always faithful to Susanna, but he had never taken another woman in the same house where his wife was staying. His certainty that La Renaudie would be spending the remainder of the night in Diane's chambers made the Frenchman's actions seem even more reprehensible.
”You do not approve,” Diane remarked the next morning as they watched La Renaudie and his men ride away.
Sir Robert considered her gravely, wondering to what, exactly, she referred. He was tempted to warn her against her lover. Both as a man and as a political force, La Renaudie was dangerous to all those foolish enough to become involved with him. In the end, however, he said only, ”I am but a humble messenger, ma belle. I have no opinions of mine own.”
Diane smiled at that, and reached up to touch his cheek with one soft fingertip. ”I think you are much, much more than a messenger, Sir Robert Appleton. And you are most a.s.suredly not a humble man.”
He caught her hand, lifting her knuckles to his lips. Her eyes danced with a challenge, daring him to try to seduce the rebel leader's woman. He contented himself with issuing an invitation.
”If he does not succeed, Diane, and you find yourself in need of refuge, remember always that you have a friend in England.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven.
”She continues to ask questions.”
”She will learn nothing,” Grimshaw said in a placating voice. He hoped he was telling the truth. ”There is nothing for her to find out.”
”We accomplish nothing, either.”
”Sir Robert is not even in England,” Grimshaw pointed out. ”The letter I saw indicates he may be abroad for some time yet.”
”The letter you lost.”
Grimshaw made no reply. There was nothing he could say. He hadn't a clue what had happened to the thrice-folded piece of parchment. His only real regret was that he'd not thought quickly enough and said he'd burnt it after perusing its contents. If he'd been clever, he'd never have confessed to misplacing it.
That letter, wherever it was now, had indicated that Lady Appleton had asked specific questions of her husband, questions about those she'd encountered at Appleton Manor and Denholm Hall and in Manchester. Grimshaw did not like the implications, but neither could he think of anything he could do to rectify the situation. He had not spoken directly to Lady Appleton since her first visit to the market town.
A harsh sound, the clearing of a throat, broke into his thoughts. ”I suppose that girl, Bess, thought better of her theft and returned the letter to Appleton Manor.”
”No doubt of it, though certes I have no way of confirming my suspicion without betraying that she stole it in the first place to bring to me.”
”How much does the cook know?”
”Very little, I do think, else Lady Appleton would have made some move by now. Sir Robert's wife did not speak to the coroner or to the constable or to any other justice when she was in Manchester.” Neither had her man been anywhere near them. Grimshaw, himself one of Manchester's justices of the peace, took hope from that. ”Perhaps she does not suspect there was anything unusual about Bexwith's death after all.”
He wished he did not.
”Then why all the questions? Why her annoying interest in poisons?”
Grimshaw swallowed hard. ”Poisons?”
”She does not believe in our ghost.”
In spite of his best efforts to deny the truth, Matthew Grimshaw was no longer able to ignore the oddness of John Bexwith's death. ”The ghost,” he began, his voice tinged with desperation, ”the ghost-”
”The ghost may serve my purpose yet again, even with all the people presently living at Appleton Manor. The servants are still properly frightened of spirits and keep to their beds at night. Only Lady Appleton seems to lack fear . . . to the point of most foolhardy behavior.”
Grimshaw bit back a sound of dismay. This was madness, surely. Why could not his employer leave well enough alone?
”I must have Sir Robert here in Lancas.h.i.+re. Did the letter hint at any affection between husband and wife? Can we use her to lure him north?”
”What difference would that make? Until he's finished with the queen's business, he'll not be allowed to come here.”
”But there might be word waiting for him upon his return to England, a message that will bring him north in all haste. Not her death. That could be too easily handled by minions. No, an accident, I think. Something crippling, so that she cannot travel south and he must perforce come to her. Yes. He must find an alarming message waiting for him at Leigh Abbey, instead of his beloved wife.”
”Lies?” Grimshaw asked hopefully.
A contemptuous look was his only answer and he knew the truth without hearing it. Lady Appleton was going to have an accident in which she would be seriously hurt. And there was nothing Matthew Grimshaw dared do to prevent it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight.
Susanna woke, pulled from a deep and dreamless sleep by a loud thump. It was not repeated and she was uncertain whence it had come.
The room was chilled, for the fire had gone out, but it was warm enough beneath the piled blankets. The hangings around her bed kept out the cold, as well, but they did not quite meet on the side she was facing.
She attempted to drift off again but it was no use. It was not just the hangings that were at fault. The old wooden shutters, which she had not yet replaced, were cracked and bowed and let in the bright beams of a moon at the full.
For some reason, this excess of light was sufficient to hold back slumber. Reluctantly, she threw aside the covers and shoved the bed hangings the rest of the way apart and felt with her bare toes for the leather shoes she'd left on the cold stone floor.
It was the business of a moment to struggle into her warm velvet night robe and open the shutters the rest of the way. A film of frozen condensation coated the newly installed gla.s.s windowpane, obscuring her view, but there was now light enough within the room to show her that the washbasin had a thin coat of ice atop the water. She considered waking Jennet, whose job it was to tend the fire, but the maid's gentle snores deterred her. Jennet worked as hard as anyone at Appleton Manor. Susanna stirred the embers back to life herself and let her servant sleep.
A faint sound caught her attention just as the flame caught, a low moaning that seemed to come from outside. Puzzled, Susanna returned to the window and wiped a patch clear with the side of her hand. Her view encompa.s.sed the rear of Appleton Hall, extending as far the apple orchard and including the small stone chapel where Dame Cat had made her home.
It was the chapel that drew her gaze. A dim light shone inside, a light that should not have been burning at this hour of the night. So, she thought. Our ghost has returned.
h.o.a.rfrost covered the ground and from this angle, by the light of the moon, Susanna could just make out a track where someone had walked. Each step had made an impression, leaving her in no doubt that a flesh and blood person had crossed the yard, and recently, to haunt the chapel.
Convinced the specter would flee again if she did not hurry, Susanna did not waste time waking her servants. Armed only with the fireplace poker, she hurried down the stairs and out into the night. She slowed her pace as she approached the chapel door, proceeding more cautiously.
The door creaked softly as she opened it, but there was no other sound but her own breathing and the pounding of her heart. Tightening her grip on the makes.h.i.+ft weapon until it bit into the soft sides of her hands, she advanced one slow step at a time.