She was not sure if the blackbird had believed her. So she walked on, watching carefully as the little houses crowded to her left, until finding a gap through which she could peep. Following the hospital wall, the gate she eventually found, high and locked, was of wooden planks. Tyballis could peep between the planks and she did, her eye to the crack. There was not much to see. Greenery, buildings, more walls, more houses. And there, standing in the shadow of the great hospice but with its own willow tree and roses around the fence, was a tiny house standing almost on its own. It exactly fitted Casper’s description. Tyballis leaned a little closer, holding her breath. Beneath the tangle of roses, the front door of the house was opening. Tyballis saw the hand opening the door from within, wrinkled and tentative, and the protruding foot on the step, well clad in a woman’s leather shoe.
Tyballis was still waiting, still holding her breath, when something tapped her so unexpectedly on the shoulder that she squeaked and whirled around with her bonnet tipped half over her eyes.
Then the deep voice said softly, ‘Would you like to come in and meet her?’
Chapter Fifty-Six
Tyballis gasped, ‘You’re back!’ and flung herself into Andrew Cobham’s arms.
He was grandly dressed, as was his habit when working or visiting court. His velvets, silken wolf-grey with padded folds tight-stitched in silver thread, felt so soft against her cheeks that even his clothes embraced her. Enfolded in warmth and welcome and now muffled in velvet, she could say nothing more.
‘It seems,’ the voice murmured slightly above her, ‘you have been missing me. But how did you know to come here, I wonder?’
She managed to look up, though saw little more than the stiff black brocade of his doublet’s collar and the smooth underside of his jaw, which had lifted into a curve indicating a smile, while the rest of his face remained deep-shadowed beneath his hat. ‘I’ve missed you terribly,’ she said, small voiced. ‘And I came here because – because – well, I admit it. Because I was spying. Are you awfully cross?’
His smile did not seem to diminish in the slightest. ‘I should be absurd indeed if I objected to your spying, considering it is how I choose to make my living.’ His arms were around her, holding her so close she could barely breathe. ‘And since I have missed you quite as terribly as you seem to have missed me,’ he continued, ‘I cannot possibly imagine being cross with you, either awfully, or even imperceptibly. Besides, little one, cross is not a condition I am apt to experience.’
She sniffed. ‘Just anger. And then you kill them.’
She heard him chuckle, and cuddled close. He said, ‘But you have not answered the question, my love. I am quite sure I never gave you this address. And there is only one other person who knows it.’
‘I admitted to spying,’ she said, clinging to the loose silver laces of his doublet, her cheek to his heartbeat. ‘Casper saw Luke here and told me. I didn’t come at once because I knew it wasn’t my business. Then – I just couldn’t resist it. You really don’t mind?’
‘I said I wasn’t cross,’ he smiled down at her, ‘not that I didn’t mind. I mind – a little. The situation is not entirely simple, and I should have found it easier to explain some other way and at some other time. But since I have been rushing these last duties in order to hasten my return to you, this brings some advantage. So now you are here, you had better come in.’ He reached out and unlocked the high door set into the wall, through which she had been peeping. Then, steering her gently in front of him, he brought her into the neatly crimped gardens of Bedlam. She stayed close, clutching nervously at his sleeve as he led her to the door of the cottage amongst the clambering roses. It stood open.
Tyballis whispered, ‘Will you tell me first who she is?’
‘My mother,’ Andrew said quietly. ‘She is Katerina Parris. But she will have little to tell you, since what she remembers rarely occurred. Some days are better, when at least she may remember my name.’
She remembered his name. The elderly stiff-backed woman stood on the threshold, holding to the door handle as though without support she might crumble. She was well dressed, her headdress starched, spotless and severely pinned. Her brows were unplucked, and beneath their jutting perplexity she peered. Finally she said, ‘It is Andrew. But I was expecting Luke.’
‘Luke may still come,’ Andrew said. ‘In the meantime, you must make do with me. I am back in the city only since this morning, and have come directly to pay for your lodgings.’
She lifted her chin, backing into the shadows. ‘I won’t trouble you for that, Andrew. His lordship will pay as always.’ She pointed. ‘Is that your wife, Andrew? Is it her ladyship? Or is it perhaps the queen?’
Tyballis, perplexed, followed his mother into the cottage. Andrew sat on the one long bench, Tyballis at his side. ‘Her highness,’ Andrew said, ‘is otherwise engaged today, Maman. But I have brought a friend, and her name is Tyballis.’
‘I do not always trust your friends, Andrew,’ said his mother with familiar suspicion. ‘But no doubt the girl is welcome enough as long as she sits still and doesn’t fidget. Now, have you brought me anything interesting? Sweetmeats? Raisins? Marchpane? I have a great weakness for marchpane. Luke, you know, always brings me raisins and marchpane from the apothecary’s.’
‘I know,’ smiled Andrew, ‘since I pay for them. However, on this occasion unfortunately I have brought nothing. I did not expect to visit so abruptly, since I came simply to pay the lease on your lodgings, and then to visit perhaps tomorrow. Thanks to my friend Tyballis, however, my visit was brought forward. I shall make sure to send marchpane with Luke this afternoon.’
The woman, now sitting knees and feet tight together and hands clasped in her lap, stared unblinking at Tyballis. ‘You stopped my son bringing me marchpane? Was there any particular reason for this, madam? Have you eaten it all yourself?’
Tyballis opened her mouth but had some difficulty formulating any sensible answer. Andrew interrupted her. ‘My friend was unaware of your particular predilection for marchpane, Maman,’ he said. ‘I saw her walking outside, then, being already here, it seemed courteous to visit. The lack of marchpane will be remedied this afternoon, I assure you.’ He looked aside to Tyballis. ‘You may say what you like, little one. My mother is always quite content to let her mind wander a little, and will not be insulted if we talk in her presence.’
Tyballis said simply, ‘I’m sorry about the marchpane.’
Andrew grinned. ‘I had expected more specific curiosity, my dear.’
Tyballis clasped and reclasped her fingers. ‘Well, I am curious. But I don’t like to … that is, do … do you usually bring – the queen?’
‘Tell the girl not to fidget,’ said Mistress Parris from her shadows.
Tyballis stopped abruptly. Andrew chuckled. ‘I tend to have as little to do with the queen – the dowager queen – as is humanly possible. My mother unfortunately suffers from delusions of grandeur, but has never been known to entertain queens, kings or princes. Nor indeed, have I.’
Mistress Parris interrupted at once. ‘Don’t lead the girl astray, Andrew,’ she said sternly. ‘You know perfectly well how frequently I invite the queen to my evening suppers, since Lord Leays encourages my every whim. I shall have to remind him regarding the marchpane, but he is usually most attentive. And we are so fond of the king as well, dear man, but Lord Leays favours the Yorkist rebels and insists we invite the Duke of York to our next Epiphany feast. I must speak to him about it. The king is an easier guest, you know, since he is rather simple and quite undemanding. But his lordship speaks critically of him, insisting he is unfit for rule. Ah, my dearest Lord Leays. And how do you find your father these days, Andrew?’