The household was beginning to notice and Linnet was distressed.
I often went down to the hut where we had hidden Roberto. Ever since he had ridden away that morning I had been anxious about him. I had heard nothing. What was happening to him? I hoped that he was not involved in anything that would bring him to trouble.
He was young and impetuous. What match would he be against men such as Walsingham?
I would creep into the hut and look around and assure myself that he was not hiding somewhere.
There was so much talk now of plots and the Spanish menace that my anxieties had grown concerning him. I would not have been surprised at any time to find him there.
But I was feeling better. If it had not been for the apothecary’s evidence I would have told myself my fears were the result of my foolish imaginings. I was certain now that Jake had had no hand in any plot against me. Romilly must have poisoned the ale and the soup. She must have sent me to Mary Lee’s cottage all those years ago? Had Jake ever told her how I had evaded him long ago? Had she thought to murder me in such a way as could never be traced to her?
And then Jake had gone away and was lost to all for all those years. I was out of danger then. Had Romilly made the wax image of me? Then how did it come to be in Jake’s pocket? Had she put it there—why?
Now Jake was back; Romilly’s and his son was growing up. Jake wanted a legitimate son; she had borne him one; she had proved she could do so. She could give him his legitimate son … if I were out of the way.
It fitted.
I tried to work out what had happened. I had taken the whole of the soup and I had had a comparatively mild attack afterward. So whoever did it either did not wish to kill me or did not understand what quantity was needed to bring about the desired effect. The same may have applied to the ale. But who could want to make me ill and yet not kill me?
Romilly! She knew of the effects of these plants but did not know the extent of their deadliness. What could I do about Romilly? Send her to my mother. Send a potential murderess to my mother! I could not do that. And what of Penn? She would not go without him and Jake would not let him go.
I must lay my own traps. Thinking thus, I wandered down to the hut. There was no sign of anyone there. The relief was great, for I could not imagine what would happen if Jake discovered Roberto in hiding.
I stood for a few moments in the hut recalling those anxious times and when I went to the door I found that I could not open it. I pushed with all my might and could not budge it.
I’m locked in, I thought, and I felt the hair rise from my head.
For what purpose? Here I was some distance from the house. If I called no one would hear me. Strange things had been happening to me and now someone had locked me in this hut. What was to happen to me now?
I looked up at the window high in the wall through which Roberto was to have escaped into the bushes had he been surprised. I did not see how I could reach it. Then I should have to break it and jump through.
I turned back to the door and hammered on it. There was no response.
I leaned against the wall.
“What is happening to me?” I asked myself.
There was a key to this hut. Manuela had found it hanging inside. She had said that we would lock Roberto in and no one would be able to disturb him. Then if the Queen’s men came for him he was to jump through the window.
I went to the hook on the wall. The key was not there. Someone had seen me enter this hut often. Someone had taken the key and locked me in.
But why? For what purpose?
Was there someone lurking outside now waiting to come in and kill me?
Jake?
Jake was away.
Who had locked me in? Romilly? Would she leave me here until Jake came back … say, at dusk … and open the door? Would Jake then creep in and kill me and then go away again? A man should not be at home when his wife was murdered. Felipe had not been home and I had been sent away.
If only someone would come. Anyone. It was the quiet that was so nerve-racking. No one was about. I was all alone. I banged on the door until my fists were bruised. I called. But who could hear me? It was because the hut was so far from the house that it had provided such a good hiding place for Roberto.
It was afternoon. I felt sick and frightened. But if my murderer had come I should tackle him, I would fight for my life. Anything was better than this waiting.
I called out. But who could hear my voice beyond the thick walls of the hut? I tried to climb up and look through that window. I could not do so. My hands were grazed and bleeding and I fell twice in the attempt.
The afternoon was passing. Soon it would be night.
Night! I said to myself. Of course they are waiting for the night.
Oh, God, I prayed, what is happening to me? What has gone wrong with my life? Why was I not content with it? I had Jake, who wanted me and loved me in his fashion—as I loved him in mine. I had my beloved children. What more could I ask?
And now I was going to lose everything I treasured. Someone was trying to kill me.
Dusk fell. No sound from outside. Nothing. Let someone come this way, I prayed. Linnet will be worried. I was to have been with her and Damask. They will come to look for me. Oh, God, let the door open and Linnet come for me.
I went to the door and beat on it with my fists. To my amazement it moved. I pushed. It was open and I was out in the fresh air.
I ran to the house.
Linnet cried out when she saw me. “Mother, what has happened? We have been so worried! Where have you been?”
We were in each other’s arms.
“I was locked in the hut,” I said.
“In the hut? Mother. You mean that old place… What were you doing there?”
I said: “I went in … and then the door was locked.”
“Who locked it?”
“I don’t know.”
“They have gone out searching for you. I sent two parties of men out. We had been so anxious. But you are exhausted, dearest Mother. I’m going to get you to bed. I’m going to bring you something warming to drink.”
What a ministering angel she was! How I loved her! How could I die when I had my beloved daughter Linnet?
I could not sleep. Nor did I wish to drink the hot herb drink she had brought for me. It stood on a table by my bed.
“Try to rest,” she said.
“I want to talk. Who could have locked me in the hut?”
Linnet stroked my hair; she was looking at me in a strange way as though she did not recognize me.
“Mother dear,” she said, “you were not locked in. The door was unlocked all the time.”
“What nonsense! It was locked. I couldn’t open it. And then suddenly it was open.”
“Perhaps it was jammed.”
“It couldn’t have been. I pushed and pushed and then it opened so easily. Someone unlocked it.”
“It doesn’t matter now. You must have thought it was locked. The key was there all the time.”
“Where was the key?”
“It was hanging on a hook inside the hut.”
“But it wasn’t. Someone locked me in and put the key back afterwards.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Linnet soothingly.
I was so tired that I thought it didn’t matter either. I was so exhausted and so glad to be back with Linnet sitting beside me.
It was only when I awoke later that I realized how much it did matter.
They were watching me. I saw their looks. My daughter, Edwina, Manuela, Romilly, the servants … everyone.
Something was happening to me. I had changed. I imagined that a shrouded figure was in my room. I had spent hours in the hut thinking I was locked in when the door was open and the key was on the hook all the time.
Devils were beginning to possess me, which meant that I was being robbed of my reason. This was what they believed, but I knew that some evil threatened me, that someone was trying to rob me of my reason—or to make it appear that I had lost it—before killing me. It did not seem impossible that my husband wished to be rid of me so that he might marry a young woman who could give him sons. Death was stalking me and with Death was a companion, Madness.