“But you hit your mark,” he insisted, as if that was all that mattered.
“Why is it that men think comparisons to sports are so compelling?” I muttered.
Turning my back on him, I went to stand at the window that overlooked Lawrence Lane. It was a busy street, crowded with horsemen, pedestrians, and carts—noisy, smelly, alive. The upper floors of the houses on both sides jutted out over the ones below and were only a few feet apart at this level. I found myself staring into the solar across the way. A merchant’s wife and her maidservant sat together sewing while three small children played at their feet. I envied her the simplicity of her life.
My hands clenched into fists on the windowsill. Part of me wanted that sort of security and contentment, but there was another part that would never be satisfied until everything the queen had taken from my husband was restored to him. Elizabeth would one day have the power to right the wrongs of her sister. If I did as the ambassador asked, I would be performing a service for the future queen. She would be in my debt.
“If I am to reach the princess,” I said to my brother, “I will need your help.”
“You have it,” George promised.
I thought for a moment. “Find out what houses are near Hatfield and who owns them and what persons are in residence.”
I EXPECTED OBJECTIONS from Will when he heard what the ambassador wanted me to do. I was not disappointed. He warned that I was meddling in a matter of the succession.
“This is nothing like Northumberland’s effort to carry out King Edward’s wishes,” I insisted. “No one questions that Elizabeth is Queen Mary’s heir. Even Mary herself accepts that now. All I agreed to do is help keep the princess safe so that she can inherit one day. There is no treason in that.”
“The Lady Elizabeth will not be so foolish as to leave England. She does not need you to advise her.”
“The thought of finding asylum in France, safe from forced marriage, safe from being imprisoned in the Tower again, has to tempt her. Her Grace needs to hear the ambassador’s reasoning, to understand the disadvantages of that plan, especially if some of her own people have been encouraging her to flee.”
“Why must you go?” Will demanded.
I knew his agitation was for my sake. He feared for my safety. So did I, but I would not change my mind. “I have been chosen because the princess will know I have not been sent by her enemies. I have no reason to cooperate with Queen Mary because the queen will never grant the one thing that matters most to me—the legality of our marriage. Think, Will. If Elizabeth is grateful to me for bringing her this warning, then she will reward us both when she becomes queen. She will give back all that her sister took away from us.”
Will did not try to argue with my reasoning, but neither did he stop worrying. What I had agreed to undertake weighed heavily on my mind, too. The enterprise had an aura of danger about it, and the secrecy necessary to carry out the mission increased my concern that I was risking everything Will and I had managed to salvage. And yet, how could I not try?
It did not take long for George to locate a small manor less than an hour’s ride from Hatfield that was currently occupied by an old friend. I took this as a sign that the fates smiled on my endeavor, but Will was appalled.
“Lady Clinton?” he yelped when George told him her name. “You want to send Bess to a woman whose husband betrayed Northumberland and led the queen’s forces against Wyatt?”
George helped himself to a goblet of wine and left it to me to answer.
“Geraldine Clinton remained my friend while you were in the Tower,” I reminded my husband. She’d written to me, promising to do all she could on Will’s behalf. True, nothing had come of her efforts, but at least she had not shunned me. “She is well known to the Lady Elizabeth,” I continued. “It will not arouse suspicion if she pays a visit to her neighbor at Hatfield.”
“But why should she? And if her husband hears of it, he’ll stop you.”
“Lord Clinton does not have to know anything about the matter.”
George lounged in my chair, looking as if he had not a thought in his head beyond the next tennis match or horse race. “You’ve nothing to fear from Clinton even if he does find out,” he drawled. “It will serve him well to turn a blind eye. Queen Mary may not have imprisoned him for his early support of Lady Jane Grey, but neither has she advanced him, and she took away his lucrative post as lord admiral.”
I went to Will and rested my head against his chest, comforted by the steady thump of his heart. “I must go, Will,” I whispered. “Elizabeth is our best hope to regain what we have lost.”
“So long as I have you, Bess, I can live without the rest.”
“You’ll live easier with it,” George said, sotto voce.
Will’s sentiment warmed my heart, but I wanted more for him. More for us. “We can go on as we have been, Will, but think how much better our life together could be if I earn the gratitude of our future queen.”
50
The next morning I left London, taking only the elderly Griggs for protection on the road. He was hardier than he looked and we reached the pretty little Hertfordshire manor house that was our destination without incident. Such country estates customarily offered hospitality to travelers, even strangers, and soon after we arrived I was shown into a comfortably furnished chamber hung with tapestries depicting scenes from a tournament. A few minutes later, Geraldine Clinton swept into the room.
Her second marriage agreed with her. Although black mourning dress had shown off the pale skin and bright green eyes that went with her red hair, she looked far healthier in bright colors. Her face lit up with pleasure when she recognized me. “Bess! What a lovely surprise. I have thought of you so often, but no one seemed to know where you were living.”
“Quietly,” I said before I was engulfed in a lavender-scented embrace.
In no time we were nibbling marchpane, sipping barley water, and telling each other some of what had happened to each of us since we’d parted in Queen Jane’s apartments in the Tower. I was careful not to mention Will, since I had agreed not to give all my trust to the woman who was Lord Clinton’s wife, but by the time she refilled our goblets I had come to the point of my visit.
“I cannot give you details, for your own protection, but I have a message to deliver to the princess, one that is of vital importance to Her Grace’s future. Is it possible for you to visit Hatfield and take me with you?”
Although my request clearly surprised her, she did not hesitate to agree. “I have been there before. When Sir Thomas Pope was first made Her Grace’s guardian, before Queen Mary put a stop to such things, he arranged several masques and pageants for the Lady Elizabeth’s entertainment and invited the local gentry to attend. Pope is a witty and intelligent man, and his wife is pleasant, too.”
“But he will look askance at me.”
“Perhaps.” She toyed with a long lock of red-gold hair that had come loose from her coif while she considered the situation. “You could accompany me as my waiting gentlewoman. No one would question that.” Her grin was infectious. “Now, let me see—what shall we call you?”
“Birdie Crane?” I suggested.
She laughed. “You do not look a thing like Mistress Crane, but the name will do nicely. Is she still with you?”
I shook my head. Sometimes I missed Birdie, but so long as I had Will, I did not crave other companionship. “Birdie is with my mother and has been for some time.”
“And you are with Will,” Geraldine guessed. When I said nothing, she rolled her eyes. “You worry too much. You and I and Elizabeth Tudor, too, are young and healthy. We will survive the present regime and go on to be part of something new and glorious.”