Dee agreed this was the best option and hurried out with the amulet, but Nathaniel was left puzzled. He had heard much talk of the Lantern Tower, a unique, solitary tower constructed by Elizabeth at the heart of the palace complex, yet no one appeared to know its use, and few were ever seen entering it.
Eager to return to his business, Walsingham dismissed Nathaniel to the suite of rooms on the third floor of the western wing overlooking the tiltyard built by Henry for his jousting competitions.
As he stood at the window looking out over the smoky city, Nathaniel felt the tension of his long ride dissipate and a grey mood creep in its place. Though the view was drenched in sunlight, he could see only shadows. The world had changed, or he had, and where there had been joy there was now only incipient threat, and a sense of everything he knew careering off-kilter. Fear rumbled on the edge of his consciousness for no obvious reason.
The door closed quietly, and he started, but when he turned it was only Grace. With relief, he rushed to her and held her in his arms.
"Why, Nat," she said, surprised. "What is wrong?" She placed her hands on his cheeks to study his face, and became concerned by what she saw there. "What troubles you? Is it Will?"
"No, he is well. He recovers from a few injuries, but no worse than he has endured before."
She was relieved by his news, but her concern for him did not diminish. "There is a shadow over you. It is not good to keep such things locked away. Talk to me."
Shaking his head, he forced a smile. "Another time. For now, I am happy to see you well."
"And why would I not be?" She stepped away from him, before casting a suspicious glance back at him. "What business occupies Will?" she asked, as if making polite conversation.
"You must ask him that yourself, when he is back in London." He maintained a bright tone, not wanting her to realise she was in danger. But then the door opened and John Carpenter marched in. He nodded to Nat and waited.
"What is this?" Grace asked suspiciously.
"This is John Carpenter, an associate of Will's. You saw him in Alsatia?"
"Yes, I remember. Why is he here?"
"Lord Walsingham has sent him. He is to keep you from harm."
"Harm? I live and work in the Palace of Whitehall. Harm cannot reach me here. And who would ever seek to harm me?"
Nathaniel's laugh eased her concerns. "Why, no one, Grace! But Will-"
"Will! He would keep me locked away in a tower if he could," she said with bitterness.
"Indulge him," Nathaniel said quietly. "You would not wish him consumed with worry."
Knowing she had little choice, she glanced back at Carpenter and said acidly, "I never tire of witty conversation with one of Lord Walsingham's men."
"Do not tease him," Nathaniel whispered. "His humour is not good."
Quietly seething, Grace shook her head wearily and marched towards the door.
Once she had gone, Nathaniel felt relieved that she was in safe hands, but in the silence of the room, his uneasy mood descended once more. He returned to the window to study the booming city, the source of one of the greatest powers in the world, yet in the face of what he now feared existed beyond the walls, he wondered how secure it truly was.
CHAPTER 30
espite her furious protests, John Carpenter bundled the cloaked and hooded Grace into the back of a servants' wagon beneath a heap of filthy sacks that had been used for transporting grain and still swarmed with beetles. Carpenter was not a gentle man, and treated Grace as he would any person who was not important to him, woman or not. Clearly, whatever mission had been imposed upon him, he felt it beneath his dignity. He told Grace to remain silent for the duration of their journey or he would stop the wagon and dump her out on the highway where she would have to fend for herself against whatever brigands and cutthroats waited.
His tone angered her; she had more value than he showed her, and from anyone else she would not have accepted such treatment, but there was an increasing urgency to the proceedings that had started to concern her. She remembered the strange expression on Nat's face, that sense that all was not well with the world, shocking in a man who always radiated a sunny optimism behind his sardonic exterior. What happened? she wondered. What could turn a personality on its axis to that degree? Something extreme, something terrible? And as she had told Nat, Will was always overprotective, but this was beyond even his usual concerns. Will feared for her life, and he knew things that no one else did. She felt strangely queasy at the thought, and the wagon bouncing wildly along the rutted road didn't help her disposition.
Was it something to do with all the spiralling rumours of a Spanish invasion that had blazed through the country since Mary's execution? There had been talk of a landing in Wales that had sent panic sweeping through the capital before it had proven false, and in August gone, word had circulated of two hundred Spanish ships in the Channel, driving the occupants of the coastal towns inland in fear, and bringing the rich to London for safety. Elizabeth had even been forced to issue a proclamation demanding they return to their homes in the country. But what if all those rumours were about to become true, and an invasion was imminent?
Obliquely, she realised she should have been more scared than she was, but ever since jenny's disappearance-no, murder! she reminded herself-she had lived with the constant belief that tragedy was only a heartbeat away; ironically, that had made her take more risks in her life.
Reckless! she thought bitterly.
Her mind drifted back to that night when everything changed and her potential became a shadow of what it had been. She recalled the fragrance of the night-scented stock, and the moon on the wheat fields, the soft breeze that made them stir as if some animal moved along the rows. There was a full moon so bright that the sky could not be called black. Silver, she thought. The world glowed silver.
She was still a child, though by then she considered herself a lady, already well versed in the ways of the world. If only she'd known. The hounds still howled in the fields as the search for jenny continued, and her mother and father were both still out.
She had found Will desperately rinsing his hands and face at the well. He looked like he had been crying, though she had dismissed it at the time as a trick of the moonlight. For some reason, he kept his hands from her view until he had finished his ablutions. He was barely a man himself, not long at Cambridge, but at that moment his face looked much older. It was funny she remembered that; she hadn't thought of it before. She had never seen that expression before, or that openly registered emotion since; after jenny, she always had to decipher his true feelings.
When his hands were clean, he had stepped forwards and hugged her so tightly she could barely breathe. "This is a hard world," he had said to her with quiet passion, "but you will not walk through it alone. I will be here to keep you safe. I vow it."
Over the months and years that followed, she had turned those words over so many times, and felt her own emotions solidify around them. Of all the reasons why she loved him, that was the first and the most potent. In that hard, hard world, he would keep her safe. He cared for her in a way that the other boys and men she had met had never cared, could never care. They would love her, or promise her the world, but they would never vow to keep her safe.
She did love him, even though she would never give voice to her feelings; even though he could never keep her safe. The wanting was enough.
And so she had been quick to uproot herself from her family and the quiet Warwickshire way of life, and Will had arranged for her to work at the court, where he could keep an eye upon her, and guide her progress. And her father and mother too had been more than happy to see her under Will's care.