The Tudor Vendetta Read online

  She let the silence between us settle. Then she said to Gomfrey, “Have the first course served.” She led me to the table set with pewter fingerbowls, plates, goblets, and decanters, her hand light on my sleeve. Leaving me at my chair, she assumed her place with Lord Vaughan at the head of the table. I was surprised no one else was present. “Is Abigail not joining us?”

  Lady Vaughan laughed. “She’s a child. And children, however delightful, do not share the board with adults.” She paused, again with that air of someone gauging a potential enemy. “Do you have children, Master Prescott?”

  “No. I am not married.”

  She lifted her chin, as though the concept were anathema. “How unfortunate. Marriage can be such a joy in the best of times, and a necessary solace in the worst.”

  I deliberated her words even as I leaned back to allow Gomfrey to pour perry wine from the decanter into my goblet. Was she trying to say she had married below her rank and now found she must endure, as her situation had turned sour? I did not see anything remotely approximating joy or solace in Lord Vaughan. He motioned to Gomfrey to serve him as well, and drank from his goblet at once, down to the dregs, despite the sharp disapproving glance his wife shot at him.

  Nor, I thought, did I see any sign of the distraught mother who had recovered from a near-deadly fever only to return to her bed in anguish, so much so that she could not join her husband and daughter at her son’s gravesite. She appeared both healthy and reveling in the novelty of having a guest on whom to test her claws.

  The time had come to see how sharp those claws were.

  “I was deeply sorry to hear of your son Henry’s death,” I began. “Had Her Majesty known of it beforehand, she might have delayed my visit until a more appropriate time—though, given the direness of Lady Parry’s situation, I fear time is of the essence.”

  “My son died in God’s grace,” she said. “I grieve him as only a mother can, but, as you say, Her Majesty’s interests take precedence. We can only assume that whatever mishap has befallen Lady Parry is most urgent, seeing as we have had no further word of her. We cannot suffer another tragedy. Better you are here now, when a remedy might yet be found.”

  Her sentiment sounded rehearsed, as did Lord Vaughan’s solemn nod at her side. Was I obliged to deal with his wife alone in the matter of his own aunt’s disappearance? Agnes and Mistress Harper entered with platters of food, preempting my next question. As Gomfrey remained by his master’s chair, the sweating housekeeper and stone-faced maidservant served. It suddenly occurred to me that I had forgotten my promise to Shelton; turning to Mistress Harper, I said, “Can you please see that some hot fare and a jug or two of ale are taken to my manservant in the stables? He has a hearty appetite, and I’m afraid we ate little during our travels.”

  Mistress Harper shifted a nervous glance to Lady Vaughan, whose entire countenance turned glacial. She clearly was not amenable to sharing her largesse with menials, especially not a manservant who did not work for her. But she did not contest, nodding curtly to Mistress Harper to indicate approval. I thought of the name Raff had mentioned, considered letting it slip as I took up my knife to cut into the roast capon on my plate. If I asked who Hugh was, would Lady Vaughan tell the truth? I had the distinct impression she would not, if it did not suit her interests, and so I decided to trust in Shelton instead to pry the necessary information from Raff. Besides, I did not care to expose Raff to censure from his mistress, should his slip of the tongue provide a necessary key to the mystery I sensed brewing here.

  “Upon my report, I am sure Her Majesty will be sensitive to your period of mourning, but, yes, I fear she does expect full cooperation,” I announced. Let the weight of my authority subsume whatever double-dealings Lady Vaughan had up her sleeve. “Lady Parry’s disappearance has affected our queen most grievously. She demands a solution, preferably one which entails her lady’s safe return.” I knifed my capon. “I know a note was found on Lady Parry’s saddle and tendered to Her Majesty by the escort she sent here. I have read the note. Tomorrow morning, I wish to see the spot where it was found. Upon my return, I will question every member in the household, including Abigail. I trust that suits, my lord Vaughan?”

  The direction of my request was deliberate and Lady Vaughan’s clenched jaw revealed she knew it. Without looking up, Lord Vaughan mumbled, “Yes. I’ll take you there myself.”

  “Thomas, you cannot!” The clatter of Lady Vaughan’s knife on her plate brought everything in the hall to a standstill. She paused, gave a self-deprecatory laugh. “I mean, you can, naturally, but surely we can direct Master Prescott to the location where we found the note without the need for accompaniment? It is nearly a half day’s ride, after all, and I had hoped to have you here to help set the household in order. We require a return to some normalcy, if only for Abigail’s sake. The poor child has lost her only brother and now she—”

  “Is in need of a new tutor,” I cut in, with an understanding incline of my head. Lady Vaughan froze. “He, too, disappeared with Lady Parry. What was his name again, pray tell?”

  “Master Godwin,” she said through her teeth. “Master Simon Godwin.”

  I kept my expression impassive, hiding my rush of satisfaction. Shelton had guessed wrong. Whoever Hugh was, he was not a servant or the tutor.

  “Ah, yes,” I said. “And he was accompanying her because he had urgent business in London, if I understand correctly?” I did not await her response, stating what I believed to be a fact. “It must have been challenging to find a tutor in these parts. The distance from York: I imagine finding a replacement will not be easy. Perhaps I could offer my assistance by sending word to court…?”

  “I see no need for you to inconvenience yourself,” said Lady Vaughan in a clipped tone. “Strange as it may seem—given, as you cite, our relative distance from any place of note—I am of noble birth. My father was a peer of this realm, a baron of impeccable repute who once served at court. Though he is now deceased, God rest his soul, as is my lady-mother, both my sisters are married and living in London; they are acquainted with men of letters. Indeed, it was by my eldest sister’s recommendation that we hired Master Godwin six months ago. I shall write to her on the morrow, which is why I hoped to have my husband present to help compose my letter.”

  I did not believe for a moment she needed help with a letter, any more than I believed she had neglected to mention her father’s actual name in error. I wished in that moment that I could consult with Cecil; I had to discover everything I could about Lady Vaughan and her family. But Elizabeth’s mandate had prohibited me from involving Cecil or anyone else at court.

  “Well, then,” I said, “my offer still stands, should you wish to avail yourself. Perhaps you could tell me something more about this Master Godwin? I would need as much information as possible, if I am to have any hope of finding both him and Lady Parry.”

  With a hint of impatience, Lady Vaughan said, “He was a servant. I did not discuss anything with him beyond matters pertaining to the children. As I have said, my sister Lady Browne referred him to me.”

  “So, you do not know in which households he had served previously?” I was not about to let her have her full rein nor condone her suggestion that I would do better to return to London to inquire with her sister, but she laughed again and replied, “Why, he tutored her own children, of course!” She turned to her husband, who had his nose buried in his goblet. “Thomas, did Master Godwin ever speak to you of his provenance or such?”

  Lord Vaughan shook his head. “Not that I recall.” He finally lifted his bleary eyes. I had noted that while he ate sparingly, he had already consumed the contents of an entire decanter, Gomfrey ever-present at his side to refill his goblet. By now, he must be quite drunk, yet his voice barely held a slur. “Master Godwin was a gentleman. He knew Latin, as well as several other languages, and was well versed in the humanist style of learning. He suffered an accident in his youth, it seems; one of his legs was crippled and he
relied on a cane. He was always polite but he mostly kept to himself when not engaged in his duties. My son…” Lord Vaughan swallowed, visibly fighting back his emotion. “Henry liked him very much.”

  I felt like an insensitive rogue as I pressed on. “Did you know anything about the type of business he wished to conduct in London?”

  “Books,” said Lord Vaughan. “He had placed an order in the city a few weeks before and was going to collect them.”

  “He had been in London previously? Why did he not ask that his books be sent here?”

  “They were imported works from the continent. It was too costly to have them transported so he went to fetch them himself from the bookseller. As it so happened that my aunt needed an escort to London, he offered to accompany her. He assured us he would be back within a week at most. As I said, he had gone before so I saw no reason to impede him.”

  “And yet he and Lady Parry vanished on the road,” I said, as Lady Vaughan stared at me, “and have been unaccounted for … for nearly two weeks now. Is that correct?”

  Lady Vaughan nodded, her mouth curled in distaste, as if the matter were both sordid and beneath her. Moments later, the servants returned with a course of herb-spiced pies. The rest of the meal proceeded uneasily, with Lady Vaughan making her own inquiries as to my origin, which compelled me to offer vague explanations that established me as a man of low birth taken in by a noble family who educated me and placed me at court. I did not mention the Dudleys or how I had come to serve the queen, but she did not probe further, as though she merely sought to establish her superiority by putting me in the position of having to justify myself.

  By the end of the meal, I was tired of her ploys and wanted only to retreat to my chamber to mull over everything I had thus far learned. Yet I still had the matter of Lady Parry’s stay at the manor to discuss, and was about to do just that when Lady Vaughan abruptly rose.

  “I fear I have overextended myself,” she said. “I’m still weak from my fever and the loss of my son. By your leave, I must retire.” Her timing was perfect. Casting a stern look at Lord Vaughan that brought him clumsily to his feet, she let him take her by the arm and lead her from the hall. I stood and bowed; the instant they were gone, Mistress Harper and Agnes began to clear the table.

  Gomfrey stepped to me. “Will Master Prescott be requiring anything else?” His tone conveyed he would not be pleased if I did.

  “No,” I said. “Thank you. I am tired myself. I trust food and ale went to my manservant?”

  “It did.” He paused. “I humbly suggest you remain indoors tonight. In the past, there have been unfortunate accidents when curious guests took to wandering the grounds at night and ended up falling from the cliff. It’s impossible to see in the dark, and if one is unfamiliar with the environs and the effects of the roke…” He let his unsettling implication linger. When I did not reply, he added, “In the winter, at high tide, bodies are rarely found. It would indeed be a calamity if another mishap befell us.”

  “Yes, I can see that it would. Do you think such an accident befell Lady Parry?”

  His gaze turned, if possible, even more remote. “Lady Parry was in excellent health when she left us. Both she and Master Godwin took to the road after sunrise. I saw them off myself. Beyond that, I dare not speculate.” He paused. “Though in such lawless times, I did warn them of the risks. They insisted they would find other travelers in York with whom to share their journey. I could hardly argue, seeing as his lordship granted them leave after Lady Parry expressed herself eager to return to court.”

  “Indeed.” I turned to leave. Once again, inexplicable foreboding overcame me.

  What secrets did Vaughan Hall hide?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fatigue fell upon me as soon as I entered my chamber. Unlacing my sleeves, doublet, and breeches, I let my codpiece drop to the floor and blew out the guttering tallow light in a shallow dish by the bed. Someone, perhaps Agnes, had taken advantage of my absence to leave the light in my room—no doubt to warn me that while I might retain the key, there must be others that unlocked my door. A quick search of my bags revealed nothing out of place. With my mind in tumult, I fell onto the bed in my hose and shirt.

  It was evident that my arrival had disrupted something beyond a family’s grief. Lady Vaughan had demonstrated as much by her presumptive manner, and the steward struck me as someone I should watch. Agnes was also one to be wary of, a sullen maidservant who sought advantage wherever it might be found, while Mistress Harper appeared a sensible woman unlikely to participate in anything illicit. Nevertheless, all three servants depended on the Vaughans for their livelihood. I could not rely on any of them to assist me.

  Adding to my troubles was Master Gomfrey’s statement that Lady Parry had left the manor in good health with Master Godwin, whom both she and everyone else at the house had apparently trusted—though allowing an older woman to take to the road with a crippled man unable to defend her seemed to me the height of carelessness. Gomfrey had stated he tried to warn them of the risks of traveling unescorted; now, she and the tutor had vanished without a trace, that cryptic note under her saddle the sole indication of something untoward, perhaps fatal.

  I let out a breath. I had thought this stranger must hold a connection to Sybilla, that he had initiated a gambit to lure me away from court to exact revenge; but here in the darkness, surrounded by the unknown, I began to doubt my own conclusions. My imagination could be blinding me, fueled by years of guilt.

  What if the stranger I sought had another motive?

  You must pay for the sin.

  I thought then I would never sleep and decided to wait until the hour when everyone else had retired. Exploration of the manor might prove useful, particularly with no one to impede me. But I could not keep weariness at bay. Without realizing it, my eyelids drooped. Soon, I was lost to slumber, plunged once more into the terrifying nightmare in which I lay paralyzed, as Sybilla came toward me, clothed in skin and night, the glint of steel in her hands. I felt her weight as she straddled me, the warmth of her mouth; as I struggled to resist, she giggled and—

  I jolted awake with a shout, flinging the figure upon me from the bed. As it tumbled, gasping, onto the floor, I pulled my dagger from under my pillow and lunged upright, about to thrust my blade downward when the figure cried, “No!”

  I blinked, pushing away the furious haze of my dream to see Agnes glaring at me, coming to her feet and yanking at her disheveled skirts. “Would you skewer an innocent woman?” she spat, wiping her hand across her mouth. “I was just trying to—”

  “I know what you were about.” I tugged my rumpled shirt, to disguise my evident waning arousal under my hose. “And I’d hardly call a woman innocent when she creeps into my bed.”

  She simpered. “I thought my lord would welcome the company.”

  “You are wrong. Now, remove yourself at once before I report you to Mistress Harper.”

  “Do so.” Her smile turned nasty. “She’s drunk as a bishop on her stool in the kitchen. She likes a nip, does our Mistress Harper, after everyone takes to their rooms.” Her contemptuous tone overcame my better judgment. With two strides, I had her pressed against the wall.

  “What do you want?”

  “I told you. I thought you’d like some company,” she said. “But if you rather I remove myself, then I shan’t tell you secrets they don’t want you to find out—” She let out a painful gasp as I seized her by the arm.

  “Speak plainly, girl. I tire of your insolence.”

  Up close, her breath was foul with the tang of onion as she said, “Unhand me or I’ll not say a word.”

  Reluctantly, I released my grip. Rubbing at her arm and scowling, she said, “They’re all lying to you: Lady Vaughan, Gomfrey, even his lordship—they don’t want you to know the truth of what happens under their roof. If I were you, I’d be very careful, because if you get too close, they’ll make you disappear just as they did Lady Parry.”

  I eyed
her, hiding my interest. “And I suppose you want a reward for helping me?”

  She showed in that instant she was not merely any slattern seeking advantage; in her dull eyes surfaced a cunning that made me want to thrash her. “I am no fool. The old queen is dead and the new one is not likely to look kindly on papists. I’m not going to be arrested and put in the Tower for protecting them.”

  I refrained from informing her that larcenous wenches like her did not go to the Tower; they were imprisoned instead in the Fleet, where putrid underground cells and hordes of hungry rats would make an end of her with far less mercy.

  “You have coin.” She thrust her hand at my saddlebag. “I saw it. You must know important people at court. You can take me there when you go.”

  “To court?” I smiled. “What do you think you’ll do there: wash Her Majesty’s linens and serve her at her table?” I watched the cunning on her face harden into defiance.

  “Do not make sport of me,” she hissed. “You need me more than I need you, Master High-and-Mighty Prescott. Others will pay good coin for what I know.”

  “And what is it you know?” I said through my teeth. “I’m not in the habit, nor, I wager, are those others you mention, of paying coin for information without verifying it first.”

  She shrugged. “As you wish.” She started to the door, but she had to edge around me first and kept looking at me as if she anticipated a blow.

  I was tempted to oblige her. With a clench of my jaw, I went to my saddlebag. She was a clever vixen: She had gone through my bag so expertly, I had not noticed. Taking out three shillings from my pouch, I tossed them at her. As she bent down to scrabble for them, I started to say there would be more if she talked now, when a querulous voice called from the corridor: “Agnes? Agnes, where are you? The fire needs stoking.”

  It was Mistress Harper and she indeed sounded to be in her cups. The scratching of nails on floorboard announced that the mastiff Bardolf had climbed the stairs and was prowling the passage. His snuffling under the door froze Agnes in mid-crouch.