Piers chuckled unfeelingly. ‘Now the fur will fly. You’ll be subjected to all her ladyship’s hysterics. And neither she nor Sir Pomfret will believe you’re the duke’s choice to investigate this mystery. Not in those clothes! What a pity you’re not wearing one of your gentleman’s outfits.’
The page was sympathetic. ‘I’ll wait,’ he offered, ‘if you wish to change.’ And he leant his shoulders against the passage wall. ‘They won’t know how long it took me to find you. I certainly didn’t expect to run you to earth so soon.’
‘My room is several landings up,’ I warned him.
He shrugged. ‘I’m in no hurry.’
Of course he wasn’t. I’d never yet met the domestic servant who was, unless he was threatened with condign punishment for dawdling.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Piers offered. ‘I ought to accompany you to the solar anyway. I daresay Sir Pomfret and Lady Fitzalan will want to see me.’
And without waiting for my agreement, he followed me along the passage, up two more flights of cold stone stairs, under an archway and on to a landing which I immediately recognized as the one outside the sewing room. And there, facing me, standing by the door talking to another woman whose back was towards me, was Amphillis. I hadn’t seen her since the previous day, nor had I sought her out after my return to Baynard’s Castle, but I thought the gaze she turned on me now was both guilty and startled. I was not, however, much concerned with her at that moment. I had realized with something of a shock that her companion was the same woman she had been talking to at Westminster the day before when the little Duke of York had been delivered from sanctuary. And for the second time, I felt that that back was somehow familiar.
‘Amphillis!’ I said, and was about to start forward when a cry of pain behind me made me turn abruptly to find that Piers had stupidly taken a step backwards and slipped down a couple of stairs. He was propped against the wall, hopping on one leg and cradling his left foot in both hands.
‘I’ve twisted my ankle,’ he moaned. ‘When you stopped suddenly like that, I wasn’t expecting it.’ He lowered the afflicted member to the ground and gingerly tested it with his full weight. ‘No harm done,’ he added with a sigh of relief. ‘It will be better in a minute or two.’
I gave an unsympathetic grunt and swung back to speak to Amphillis, but neither she nor the woman with her were anywhere to be seen.
Cursing, I stepped towards the sewing-room door.
‘I must speak to Mistress Hill,’ I said, but Piers hobbling after me, grasped me by the elbow.
‘You can’t waste time talking, Roger,’ he said urgently. ‘You still have to change and Sir Pomfret and Lady Fitzalan won’t tolerate being kept waiting much longer. You’ll get that young page into trouble. So come on! Let’s get up to your room.’
I ignored this.
‘Did you see them?’ I demanded. ‘Amphillis Hill and another woman! Did you see where they went?’
‘No, I did not,’ Piers answered crossly. ‘Thanks to you, I was too busy falling downstairs. But I’m telling you, you haven’t time to go looking for anyone now. You can speak to Amphillis later if it’s urgent.’
‘It’s not her, it’s the other woman I want. That’s the second occasion I’ve seen her, but unfortunately only her back view each time. All the same, I feel certain that I know her — or at least that I’ve seen her somewhere before. Let go of me! I’m going into the sewing room to see if they’re there.’
But when I glanced around the door, there was no sign of Amphillis or her mysterious friend. Moreover, I got very short shrift from the chief seamstress, who was plainly growing impatient with my frequent and unwelcome appearances in her domain. In reply to my query, she snapped that Amphillis was out on a commission for Her Grace of York and was not expected back for some hours.
When I would have argued the point, Piers hissed in my ear, ‘For God’s sake, come on! Just remember that poor lad waiting for us downstairs.’
Reluctantly, I tore myself away. As I had at least one more flight of steps to ascend, Piers excused himself from accompanying me on account of his ankle.
‘I’ll wait here,’ he said. ‘Don’t be long.’
His peremptory tone annoyed me, and once in my narrow cell of a room, I took my time shedding my comfortable attire and donning brown hose and yellow tunic, not forgetting my velvet cap so that I could doff it respectfully in Sir Pomfret’s presence. Then I loitered some more, staring out of my window. .
I caught my breath. Two women were hurrying towards the water-stairs. One was definitely Amphillis and the other almost certainly her mysterious companion. A passing boat having been hailed and rowed to shore, the pair embraced, a little perfunctorily it was true, but with enough affection to warrant a kiss on both cheeks and a quick hug. The second woman was now facing me, but too far away for me to make out her features with any clarity. And yet I was again seized by the conviction that I had seen her somewhere before: there was something about her build and her stance that teased my memory, but cudgel my brains as I might, I could not place her. Where and when we had met continued to elude me.
The woman turned and went down the steps, the boatman steadying his craft as she stepped into the bows and took her seat. A final wave, and she was being rowed upstream towards Westminster, while Amphillis walked slowly back towards the castle. But before she could reach the landing-stage door, another figure bustled out to meet her.
Dame Copley!
The nurse took Amphillis by one arm and turned back with her towards the building, her head bent to catch what her companion was saying. This seemed to be a great deal, which surprised me. I had not gathered from Dame Copley’s previous remarks on the subject that she and Amphillis were anything but nodding acquaintances; certainly not on the friendly terms that now appeared to exist between them. And twice during the short walk, Amphillis paused, gesturing behind her towards the water-stairs and obviously imparting information about the woman who had just left her. I cursed my bad luck that from my eyrie I was unable to hear a single word that was being exchanged. (And I dared not lean out of the window for fear of being seen.)
I returned to the sewing-room landing to find Piers hobbling up and down in frustration. ‘What, in the name of all the saints, have you been doing?’ he demanded without waiting for me to offer an explanation. ‘In spite of the pain I’m in, I was just about to go up to look for you. It hasn’t taken you this length of time, surely, just to change your clothes?’
I made no answer to this reprimand, but asked instead, ‘How well does Dame Copley know Amphillis Hill?’
Piers blinked a little at this abrupt change of subject and stammered, ‘Sh-she knows her. Well, you know that she does. It-it was Rosina who mentioned her to you as being the last person to have seen Tutor Machin alive. You must remember!’
‘Of course I remember!’ Once more I was startled by Piers’s easy use of the nurse’s Christian name. ‘But I didn’t get the impression that they were friends.’
‘They’re not.’
As we began descending the stairs, I told him what I had just observed, reiterating my conviction that I had met the third woman at some time in the past, but not that I had seen her the previous day. Indeed, I continued to keep the whole of yesterday’s adventure a secret. Why, I wasn’t sure.
Piers refused to be impressed or see any significance in what I had recently witnessed. ‘They were simply having a gossip, that’s all. You know how women love to chat.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘And now for heaven’s sake hurry up! Sir Pomfret will be having an apoplexy by this time and that poor page will be in trouble.’
Neither prediction came true.
The page, having conducted us to the great solar, had the good sense merely to announce us as quickly as possible before making himself scarce. As for Sir Pomfret, he was plainly too travel-weary, and had his hands too full comforting his wife to be concerned with any tardiness on our part. Besides which, both his brothers, Godfrey and Lewis, and his sons, Bevis and Blaise, were already with him, making the room feel uncomfortably full of people. For several minutes our presence was ignored, while Lady Fitzalan was coaxed into abating her sobs with a platter of doucettes and another goblet of wine. Finally, however, young Bevis, prodded in the back by Piers, condescended to notice us and announced our arrival again to his father. The huddle of anxious relatives drew to one side.