‘With difficulty, Maman.’ Andrew took Tyballis’s small gloved hand in his, and held it firmly, offering comfort. ‘And if you will forgive me one moment, madam, I should like to speak in private with my friend.’
His mother waved her fingertips. ‘Go on, go on then, my boy. I have matters to attend to myself, and will be back shortly. Life is not all idle pleasure, you know. You will learn this, Andrew, when you grow a little older. For instance, the cook is waiting for direction, and I have barely had a chance to choose the midday menu. Then it has been brought to my attention that the vines need pruning, and now the vintners are due to arrive for their inspection at any hour. I must organise the gardeners. I fear discipline on the estate has grown lax. Lord Leays, dear man, is too kind with his servants. I must be off to have words with the steward.’
But she did not move, simply hung her head a little, stared a moment into her lap and then quietly closed her eyes. Andrew nodded to Tyballis. ‘My mother has left the room,’ he said. ‘Now, child. Have you satisfied your curiosity?’
Tyballis blushed. ‘It was wrong of me to come. I feel – most uncomfortable. But if you’d only told me more about yourself, and not been so persistently secretive, I would never have interfered.’ She looked up at him, and then aside at the quiet uncomprehending woman opposite. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Is she really your mother?’
‘Certainly,’ he answered. ‘This is Mistress Parris, my mother – and Luke’s mother.’
‘But,’ said Tyballis, still whispering, ‘you call yourself Cobham. Or Feayton, of course, but you always said that was made up. Are you really Andrew Parris, then?’
‘Legally, yes.’ He sighed, stretching his legs, long shadowed in deep grey silk hose. ‘Cobham was my mother’s name before she married, and I therefore claim her parentage, in preference to the man I killed.’
‘I see.’ Though she didn’t. ‘And Lord Leays, whom your mother spoke about, and Lord Feayton, the name you adopted? Do either of these men exist at all, or did they ever?’ She was aware that her clutch on his hand was becoming feverish, and tried to relax. ‘But I suppose I ought to explain a few things myself first. You see, rather a lot has happened since I last saw you. It has all been rather difficult.’
‘Tell me,’ he demanded, an eyebrow raised. ‘Indeed, I was fairly sure I had never bought you a gown quite so remarkably unattractive. I can only hope you’ve not been reduced to selling all my gifts?’
As Mistress Parris stood and saw her visitors off at the doorway, Andrew bent and kissed her cheek. ‘I shall send marchpane,’ he promised. ‘And I shall come to see you again quite soon.’
‘Bring the king next time,’ smiled his mother vaguely. ‘Dear Henry. Such a nice young man. But lacks his wits, you know, and is sometimes altogether vacant.’
Tyballis curtsied. ‘Goodbye, Mistress Parris,’ she said. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you.’
Katerina Parris straightened her back. ‘Not Mistress Parris, my girl. I’ll have you know I am the Lady Leays. My son will be the baron when his dear father passes on, but that will not be for a long time, I trust.’ She turned to Andrew. ‘You have ignorant friends, Andrew. Please educate the girl.’
‘It seems I will have to, my dear,’ he replied, and took Tyballis’s arm. ‘Look after yourself, Maman, and the estate. The vines appear sadly neglected and the verjuice will suffer. You must have a quiet word with Osbourne.’
His mother nodded, smiling. ‘Osbourne. Ah, yes. I had nearly forgotten his name. I shall go and speak with him now. You go off and play, my boy. Be good now. You know your dear father worries.’
‘I am always good,’ said Andrew Cobham.
He went first to a drab building with a roof missing its tiles at one end. Tyballis waited outside. He reappeared almost immediately, took her arm, and left the Spittal grounds, walking together back down towards the city entrance at Bishopsgate. Finally Tyballis said, ‘I’m sorry,’
Andrew looked down at her, smiling briefly. ‘When you practise the art of spying, my love, you need considerably more resolution, and a stronger stomach to accept whatever surprises face you at the end. Had I been kinder, I would have steered you away from the embarrassments of Bedlam, and explained my parentage later, with greater subtlety. But my mother enjoys visitors, however brief. She will soon remember that the queen, inexplicably gowned in faded pink duffel, came to see her today. Whether her highness brought marchpane or not, I cannot be sure. But undoubtedly they walked together in the sunshine and inspected the vines. The verjuice will inevitably prosper again from such elevated attention.’
‘I see,’ sighed Tyballis. ‘But I’m still sorry. And now I have to tell you everything that’s happened. I’m sorry about that, too.’
‘I’ll take you to Crosby’s first,’ Andrew said. ‘You’re presumably aware that Dorset and the queen tried to raise their own army? They were rebuffed, but there is still some upheaval in parts of the city, and you should not have been walking so far alone. I also believe you’ve an urgent need for food, wine, rest and certainly new clothes. You can tell me everything from the comfort of my bed, and now it seems I must also tell you whatever I will. I can postpone my duties, though not for long, since this is a time of great political change. But we will talk first, as it appears you have suffered some recent disturbance’
‘Oh, much more than just disturbance. You won’t go away for too long will you, my love?’ she begged. ‘I missed you so dreadfully. And if you’d stayed at home, none of these awful things would have happened.’
‘Doubtless many things would not have occurred,’ he said, leading her to the side entrance of Crosby’s annexe. ‘Including a somewhat pointless conversation with my mother.’
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Andrew Cobham stood a moment outside his large and ramshackle house. He then marched indoors and looked around the remains of his hall. Tyballis had prepared him but what he saw was somewhat worse than he had expected. The smell of burning was unmistakable, one window frame scorched, the furniture strewn, chairs upturned and much broken, expensive Turkey rugs ripped, one partly burned, and straw pallets littering the boards. But the most noticeable disturbance was simple dirt. Dishes, piled with the remains of food, lay beside the straw. The food was a rotting squelch where flies had hatched, buzzing in tired exploration through the sunbeams. He sidestepped a rat, which ran squeaking beneath the table. The place stank. Having long valued, though never cherished, his home, he was faintly surprised to find himself annoyed. He was perhaps, though with a smile, feeling rather cross.
Striding quickly from the hall to his private quarters, Andrew kicked aside old bedding, thrown blankets and pillows, and unlocked the door to his bedchamber. The bed, its familiar shadows and tidied linen, still smelled sweet where Tyballis had strewn herbs across the counterpane. With the door locked and no one knowing where to search for the key, his personal chambers had not been invaded. Andrew shut the door behind him, and took the narrow steps to the storeroom.
The brimming chamber pots and their leaking stains remained, the contents dried. Again scattered straw pallets and their hoards of piss, vomit and sweat lined the walls. The hole cut in the wall was almost woven shut with cobwebs.