The Virgin's Daughter (Tudor Legacy #1)(6)
“Not quite the posting you had hoped for, Stephen, but at least it is not a dangerous one.”
Kit, at eighteen two years younger than Stephen, joined in. “Not dangerous? Tell that to the Duke of Norfolk!”
“Dangerous, then, only to men of little conscience and less intelligence,” Minuette Courtenay answered tartly.
Finally, Dominic spoke. “Neither of which applies to you, Stephen. Not that I like the thought of you caught in the tangled web that is Mary Stuart’s life. But,” he added wryly, “I don’t suppose the queen asked so much as commanded.”
“I am glad to go, Father,” Stephen replied. “And I am not afraid of political tangles.”
“You should be,” Dominic warned flatly. “You are yourself an earl, which makes you equal rank with Shrewsbury. Do you know how far into debt the Talbots have been driven in their guardianship of Mary Stuart? You’d best hope the queen does not intend to replace Shrewsbury with you as her chief jailer.”
“I’m hardly Shrewsbury’s equal, Father. My title derives as secondary to yours, not of my own account, and George Talbot is more than twice my age. My purpose at Tutbury has nothing to do with changing Mary’s prison or keeper.”
That almost sounded as though there were a distinct purpose for Stephen’s presence at Tutbury, Lucette thought. But before anyone could continue, her sister, Pippa, sent the conversation in an entirely new direction. “Lucette, is it true you have been invited to go to Paris with Dr. Dee?”
Coming from anyone else, this knowledge would have shocked Lucette and sent her wondering furiously how it had been obtained. But Pippa always knew far more than she should. Far more than was good for her. And not always from old-fashioned gossip or eavesdropping. There was a hint of the mystic to Pippa, times when her green eyes seemed to see far more than the world around her. Some of the village folk were superstitious about the single streak of black in her dark blonde hair. Touched by the faeries, some whispered.
So Pippa knew—somehow—of the cover story concocted by Walsingham to explain her trip to France. For now, how Pippa knew was less important than that she had opened her mouth and now her mother and Dominic were looking at Lucette, obviously expecting an explanation.
She breathed deep and let it out, prepared with her mix of truth and lie. “Charlotte is pressing me to visit. She wants me to meet her husband, Andry, and her daughters. Dr. Dee is planning a trip to Paris in late May to spend some weeks in consultation with scholars and in search of old manuscripts. He has offered himself as guardian and companion to France and back. If it’s agreeable to you,” she added disingenuously, looking at her mother. Though Dominic’s would be the final word, it was Minuette he would listen to.
Her mother’s eyes were narrowed as though seeing beneath Lucette’s easy flow of lies to the truth. “What else does Charlotte want?” she asked shrewdly.
“She thought I might like to visit Blanclair.”
“And would you?”
For the first time, Lucette considered what she would feel if this were simply a personal visit and not a royal assignment. “I think…” She hesitated, always careful about letting her composure slip. “Yes, I think I would.”
“We could go with you.” It was Dominic who offered, his voice low and curiously rough.
“There’s no need.” Lucette hoped she sounded cool and indifferent, though the thought of attempting to spy while in their company was horrifying. “Dr. Dee will travel with royal guards and I’m hardly a child myself. I shall be quite safe.”
“Going to come back with a French husband?” Kit, Pippa’s twin, teased.
“Leave her be,” Stephen interceded. He was always quick to take Lucette’s side, if only to oppose Kit. The brothers, of the same mettle beneath their differences, seemed to relish opposing one another. Kit because he was younger and envied Stephen’s title; Stephen because Kit was everything he was not—impulsive, lighthearted, and just a bit dangerous. Not that they wouldn’t turn just as fiercely on anyone from the outside who dared insult the other.
“Boys.” The single word from their mother was enough to silence them. Minuette looked at her husband and then her daughter. “We needn’t decide today,” she said finally. “We will consider it.”
Lucette bit back the urge to snap that it was her decision, not theirs, and was surprised at her resentment. Of course they could stop her, or try to, but then the queen would become involved, and the last thing Lucette wanted was a power struggle between her parents and the queen, with herself in the balance.
But knowing that her parents might try to stop her from going to France finally convinced her that it was what she truly wanted. If she didn’t, would she feel so desolate at the thought of it not coming off?
—
Mary Stuart had been a queen since she was six days old, and just because she had spent the last twelve years in a curious state of half imprisonment didn’t mean she was any less certain of who she was and what was owed her. She behaved with perfect courtesy to her various hosts—currently the Talbots, Earl and Countess of Shrewsbury—appreciative when they were kind but understanding when they were not. They had their own prickly queen to attend to, and everyone knew that Elizabeth Tudor was a difficult woman to please. Mary was quite happy to show herself above the pettiness of personal dislike.