“To me? To me? To England,” Elizabeth said, suffocating.
He caught her hand, bowed his face upon it.
“Lady-”
“Francis,” Elizabeth said in a spent voice, “leave me. You must not be seen with me.”
“Let me but serve you,” he entreated.
“Serve me, and you serve a bitter cause.”
“ ’Tis England’s! ” he reminded her jubilantly and breathlessly. “You have said so!”
“Aye, England’s …” She sat up, drew her hand away, looked down at him steadily with suddenly haggard eyes.
“Francis, I’m banished. Nay, speak not, but listen. Sent from the Court in disgrace. I am to take up my house in Ash-ridge. Tell Thomas Wyatt that, from me.
“We are betrayed, Francis… The Queen has sent her word to take Prince Philip of Spain not only for husband— he’s to be King of England.”
“I knew it!” Francis exclaimed just above his breath.
“Tell Wyatt I will not speak with him again, or see him, or receive word from him.”
She spoke with particular clearness and deliberate emphasis, and stood up. Verney, sitting back clumsily on his heels, opened his mouth to speak, gazing up at her in baffled worship. Elizabeth laid her hand lightly across his lips.
“But tell him too, I would not have him friendless — and hope he may have joy in friends of mine! …”
Moonlight was flooding the silent rooms and spilling pools on the floors of Ashridge.
And fear and a dread suspense eddied in the ghostly light and lurked in the clotted shadows.
The whole of the great house was like a held breath.
They knew little; but what little they knew was catastrophe. Courtenay, credulous, talkative, vainglorious and in his cups, had babbled of Wyatt’s schemes—to Gardiner, and to others. So, ready or unready, Wyatt had to move…
There was a small turret room at Ashridge, deep and narrow as well, with a high-set window looking out above the thick trees. Parry stood at this window in his furred dressing gown, peering between the heavy curtains. The small side door opened cautiously and Ashley came in.
“What time is it?” Parry asked without turning his head.
“Four in the morning, or just past.”
“Is she in bed?”
“Not she! Even as you, she keeps at the window and watches the road. Where is Francis Verney?”
“He’ll be here. If any can slip through a postern gate or a chink in the wall, Verney will do it. Did any see you come up here, dame?”
“I saw no one about. But we’re still in our own house and can move at Ashridge with liberty, surely? ”
“With the house garrisoned with the Queen’s men?” Parry
countered.
“There are enough of Elizabeth’s men still about,” Ashley maintained stoutly.
She was, in spite of everything, an incurable optimist…
“We have given out to London that Elizabeth’s too ill to answer the Queen’s summons,” Parry reminded her. “She must keep to her room — and her bed. I know not what spies are set about us here, but set they are, on that I’ll take my oath.”
“Then give me some word of comfort to take back to her,” Ashley said, turning at the door.
“What comfort have I?” Parry demanded. “What have we left now but to hear of Wyatt, Carew and the rest tossed into baskets of straw, leaving their heads to be spiked for show along the London walls? Damnation be to Courtenay! Had it not been for him, the plot would not have been discovered.”
“Saints, man!” Ashley exclaimed, “when Wyatt marches on the Queen with an army of his own raising, how could his plot not be discovered?”
“He would not have marched so quick if Courtenay had not gotten drunk and blabbed all to the Bishop. Well—” his sigh was a groan—“it’s done: and Wyatt’s in the Tower.”
“Poor gentleman!” Ashley said.
Then—“Is that a horse I hear?”
Parry was at the window again in a second.
“No. The road is clear and I can see far. The moon is bright, and the snow that fell at dusk is enough to light the way for miles.”
“Oh, where is Verney?” Ashley fretted.
“You’ll not hear his horse, nor see it on the road. He’ll use back lanes to get to us.”
“Why do you watch the road, then?” she retorted, testy with fear.
“I am not watching for him” Parry said gloomily. “When I see a shadow on the road, I fear it will be long and solid…. When the Queen sends, she’ll send enough to fetch Elizabeth to her.”
“Peace!” Ashley said quickly. “There’s someone without.”
She opened the little door onto the turret stairs. Francis Verney stumbled into the room, panting, his clothes soaked with melted snow, his hair wild. Ashley shut the door behind him, and he leaned against it, coughing.
“Oh God be thanked you’re here!” Ashley set up her invariable cry of relief.
“How does she?” Verney said hoarsely. “How does Elizabeth?”
“She’s well—well or ill as best serves our purpose,” Ashley said in a fluster. “What is the news?”
Verney labored for breath.
“Get her up at once, dame. Elizabeth must to Donnington tonight. Would God she had gone there when we did urge her a week since—”
“Soft, Francis!” Parry came from the window. His heavy tones plowed over the young man’s rush of words and Ashley’s gabble. “Elizabeth cannot move from here.”
“She must!” Verney said wildly. “There are men at Donnington enough to defend her. Our own army is dispersed, but we can join them. We must, I tell you. All’s lost if we do
not.” He turned on Ashley. “There is no time to lose. Dame, (ro fetch Elizabeth.”
“Francis,” Parry said, “be quiet till we have your news and digest it. Then let some older heads decide what’s to be done. Is the Queen sending for her?”
“Aye! Five hundred horsemen—soldiers! We left at the same time but they moved more slowly than I. It will not be long before they are here.”
“We sent her word Elizabeth was ill,” Parry muttered.
“She’s sending her two doctors and her own litter, for Elizabeth to be brought to her,” Verney answered.
“I see,” Parry said quietly.
Verney’s voice rose, breaking: “She wishes her sister, the Princess, to have the best protection in the realm while these treasonous disorders are abroad… Oh God! you know what that means!”
The small door opened behind him. Elizabeth stood there in her nightrobe and a long cloak. Verney went on, with a tearless sob. “Protection! … It means a guard … to take her to the Tower. Wyatt has confessed.”
Elizabeth shut the door, and Verney spun round.
“My lady—”
“Mistress,” Parry said, “you must not be seen up. You’re ill. You must keep to your bed.”
Elizabeth spoke clearly and very quietly.
“I knew you were here, Francis. The pores of my skin are ears tonight. So, the Queen will have me to the Tower…”
“Mistress,” Verney urged, “you must dress quickly. We’ll
get you to Donnington, never fear. We’ve a guard there, and can raise more. The Queen’s men shall never take you.” “Where’s Wyatt?” Elizabeth asked. “I heard you say he had confessed. Is he in the Tower?”
Verney nodded.
“Carew?”
She only needed to look at Verney’s face to know the answer. There was silence.
“I see…” Elizabeth said. “Francis, I’ll not to Donnington. ’Twould take an army to save me, and now—we have no army.”
“Mistress—”
She held up a hand to silence him, and the long, pointed fingers were steady.
“Nor can we raise one. Nor would I, if I could. Not now… Tell me, where’s William Cecil?”
“I know not,” Verney answered. “Not at Court, certainly. The Queen does not love him.”