Poor Amy! She was desperately afraid—afraid of every footfall, afraid even of her fear, for she did not speak of it even to Pinto. She had reason to be afraid. She stood between Lord Robert and his marriage with the Queen.
A woman of Brentford, so they had heard, had been arrested for saying that the Queen was to have Lord Robert’s child. Had she spoken the truth?
Pinto was afraid in this house.
The grounds were beautiful and extensive, but the house itself was shut in by many trees; and it was only by climbing to the top that it was possible to see the open country.
Some of the rooms were large, but those which had been cells, were very small. There were two staircases. One of these, which led from the kitchen quarters, was a narrow spiral one; that which swept up and round the old hall, which had been the monks’ common room, was wide with elaborately carved banisters. This staircase was not enclosed, so that it was possible to look down into the “well” from any point.
It was a house full of shadows, full of echoes from the past. Pinto did not like the thoughts which had come to her while she had been living in this house.
Only last week a very disturbing incident had occurred.
Amy had fallen ill and Pinto, fearing that already she was being poisoned, had been frantic with anxiety.
Her fears had been so great that she had persuaded Amy to call a physician—not one of Lord Robert’s but a friend of the Hydes.
And the man had refused to come.
Lord Robert had his own physicians, he had said. It was their place to look after the health of Lord Robert’s wife.
There was something so alarming about such behavior that even Amy could not shut her eyes to it. The man would not come because he suspected Amy was being poisoned and wished to have no part in it. If Amy died suddenly and there was an autopsy, and her death were proved to be due to poison, it would be necessary for persons in high places to find a scapegoat; this man was clearly intimating that he had no intention of being that scapegoat. If Amy wanted a physician she must have one of her husband’s.
“Nay,” said Amy, “I do not think I need a doctor after all. I was just feeling a little melancholy. It is nothing more.”
But how frightening was this life!
There was one thing of which Pinto felt sure: Amy’s life was threatened. It was clear from the doctor’s attitude that the whole country was expecting her to die by poison, for that would mean that her death could be said to be due to a fatal disease. Rumors had already gone forth that she suffered from a cancer of the breast.
Since everyone was talking of poison, it was obvious that Lord Robert would be aware of this; therefore it seemed almost certain that Amy would not die by poison. Die she must if she were to be removed from Robert’s path toward ambition, but her death would have to seem accidental or the whole country would cry: Murder. What could Pinto do? Where could she turn? She could only keep near her mistress, hoping to guard her. But they were two defenseless women against a relentless enemy.
She went downstairs, and in the hall she found Forster talking with Mistress Owen who, living apart from her husband, had asked leave to stay on in the house. Amy, being fond of company, had been glad to have her.
Forster said pleasantly as Pinto came down the stairs: “I doubt not you’ll be asking your mistress’s leave to go to the Fair.”
“That may be,” said Pinto.
“A messenger has just come from Windsor. He brings letters for my lady. He tells us that tomorrow or the next day Master Thomas Blount will be riding here from Windsor with special gifts and letters from my lord for her ladyship.”
“My lady will be pleased to hear from Lord Robert,” said Pinto.
She passed on.
Master Thomas Blount! He was a kinsman of Lord Robert’s, a man whose fortune was bound up in that of his master; a man who would be ready to follow Lord Robert’s instructions … even if they were to murder his wife.
He sends letters, he sends gifts, thought Pinto; and he longs to put her out of the way.
It seemed to Pinto that danger was moving nearer.
It was night. Amy lay still, the curtains pulled about her bed. She had awakened with a start, aware that someone was in her room.
She sat up, pressing her hands to her heart. What fear was this which possessed her, which made her start at every sound? There was terror all about her.
She knelt on her bed and opened the curtains. Pinto was standing there, a lighted candle in her hands.
“Pinto!” cried Amy in great relief.
“Oh, Mistress … are you awake then?”
“You frightened me so.”
“Mistress, I had to come to talk to you.”
“At this hour?”
“It would not wait … or so it seemed. I have to say it now. Perhaps I could not say it by day. Mistress, before your marriage, I used to come to your bed and sleep with you at night when you had dreams. Do you remember?”
“Yes, Pinto. I have indeed bad dreams now. Come you in beside me.”
Pinto blew out the candle and climbed into the bed.
“You’re trembling, Pinto.”
“You tremble, Mistress.”
“What is it, Pinto? What is it?”
“We are afraid, Mistress. Both of us are afraid of something, and we are afraid to speak of it by daylight. That is why I come to you at night. Mistress, we must speak of this thing.”
“Yes, Pinto, we must.”
“They seek to put you away, Mistress.”
“It’s true, Pinto. It’s true.” Amy’s teeth were chattering.
“You see,” said Pinto, “he is an ambitious man, and all he desires would be ready for him to take but for you. I am frightened. Never eat anything unless I prepare it for you.”
“They are trying to poison me, Pinto?”
“I do not think they will.”
“Why not?”
“Too many have talked of poison.”
“Pinto, what can I do? What can I do?”
Pinto’s eyes were wet. It was as though Amy were a child again, coming to Pinto for help. No! It was quite different. This was no childish problem. This was a matter of death.
“I have thought of something, Mistress. We will go away from here.”
“Where could we go?”
“I have thought that we could go to your brother John. He loves you dearly. We could live in his house secretly … as serving maids mayhap. I have not thought beyond that. He is wise. He will advise us. First we must get to his house.”
“Should we be allowed to go like that, Pinto?”
“Nay, we should not. We should have to go in secret. Oh, Mistress, I have thought and thought until my thoughts are in a whirl. Master Blount will be here late tomorrow or the next day. Mistress, I greatly fear that man.”
“You think … he comes … to kill me … ?”
Pinto did not answer that. “I would wish that we were away before he comes.”
“How, Pinto?”
“Listen carefully, dearest Mistress. Tomorrow is Sunday. Send all the servants to the Fair. Send even Mistress Odingsells, for she is talkative and inquisitive, and I fear that if she were here she might blunder about us and make it impossible for us to leave. Keep Mistress Owen for company; and the Forsters will be here, I doubt not. But let all the rest of the household go to the Fair. I shall go with them and, as soon as I can without attracting attention, I shall return to the house. Rest until I come, that you may be ready for a tedious journey. I will come quietly into the house and together we will slip out to the stables. This will be your last night in this house.”