The Virgin's Daughter (Tudor Legacy #1)(75)
“Then you will just have to employ every single bit of your royal charm so that Mary feels she is doing you a favour by allowing you to correspond with her son.”
Anabel raised a skeptical eyebrow. “The son she has not seen since he was a year old?”
“I rather think Mary Stuart is prone to the romantic vision of life, as opposed to the practical. Make it easy for her, Anabel. It costs you nothing and might ease tensions with the Scots queen. And that can only be to England’s benefit.”
They returned to Richmond in a sedate fashion, only to be met at the Richmond Castle pier by a phalanx of grim-faced guards who would not answer questions and practically swept the girls off their feet until they were safely behind several pairs of locked doors. Even then there were no answers forthcoming, and Anabel paced until her feet hurt while Pippa sat silent, turned inward.
At last Lord Burghley entered. He looked tired and every year of his age, lines etched deeply around his mouth. “I apologize, Your Highness,” he said, raising a hand to stop her flow of complaints and worries. “We did not mean to leave you in suspense, but there were measures that needed to be put into place immediately.”
“What measures? What is going on?” Anabel heard her sharpness and knew it for fear.
“An hour ago, there was an assassination attempt on Her Majesty. A pistol at close range, that mercifully misfired. The man has been taken to the Tower for closer questioning, and a search made of the grounds and chambers to ensure there are no others lying in wait.”
Anabel drew a steadying breath. This was not the first attempt on her mother’s life. It was, however, the first time she herself had been in close proximity and part of the immediate aftereffects. She felt almost light-headed with relief and was glad when Pippa put an arm around her shoulder.
“Thank you for your care, Lord Burghley,” Anabel said. “I imagine my mother is even now arguing with Walsingham about whether she is permitted to leave her chambers in the immediate future.”
The Lord Treasurer said wryly, “I wager that is an argument the queen will win. Her Majesty will never allow her movements to be dictated by fear or threats. Tomorrow she will be about England’s business once more. No doubt she will summon you shortly to reassure you herself.”
When Burghley had gone, Anabel looked at Pippa. “Do you still think a few letters to Mary Stuart will ease tensions? As long as there are two queens on English soil, my mother’s life will never be safe.”
—
Elizabeth refused to settle, forcing Walsingham to pace with her as she restlessly circled her privy chamber. She had sent her ladies away after the immediate furor, not wanting to be surrounded by shocked females, and she gave full vent to her displeasure.
“In my own palace, Walsingham!” she raged. “The temerity of the man! To threaten the Queen of England in her own home.”
“Would it have been less offensive if he had shot at you in the street, Your Majesty?” She always knew when Walsingham was annoyed with her; he clipped off the ends of his words and let sarcasm colour his tone.
“Who is he?” she demanded.
“We’ll know more tomorrow. I’ll go to the Tower myself tonight and question him.”
“I want answers,” she ordered. “Answers that can be trusted. How am I to rule if I do not know precisely what my enemies are about?”
“As I’ve long said, information is our most precious asset. If this man is part of the Nightingale Plot, then our need for information grows more acute. May I suggest that when Lucette Courtenay lands in Dover, she be brought to court with the LeClerc brothers? I feel certain that one or both of them has information pertinent to Nightingale. Let us deal with them up front.”
Elizabeth stopped moving and closed her eyes. The bands of a sick headache were making themselves felt around her head, and she had to will herself not to show it. For one brief moment she wished that she didn’t have to deal with this, that she was nothing more than a king’s sister placidly wed and valued mostly for her appearance and wit.
She opened her eyes and looked out at the privy garden, sedate and controlled in its beauty. As she must be controlled. “Very well,” she answered. “Bring Lucette and her trailing Frenchmen to court. Phrase it as a generous offer on our part, to welcome them. Might as well remind everyone that Lucette’s future is very much of interest to me, and you can do whatever it is you do to uncover their secrets. In ten days I leave on progress.”
“What of Princess Anne?”
“I want her out of London,” Elizabeth said flatly. “I will not risk her being confronted by an assassin. She can go to Wynfield Mote. There is no one I trust more than Dominic Courtenay, and Wynfield is easily isolated from outsiders.”
“If one of the LeClerc brothers is involved with Nightingale—”
“Then you must make certain you uncover the danger before Lucette takes either one of them home with her.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Now to deal with the emotional reactions from her daughter and Lucette. All told, Elizabeth would prefer to deal with assassins.
EIGHTEEN
Lucette presented herself to her queen within two hours of her arrival at Richmond Palace. Her journey from Blanclair weighed heavily on her. Nicolas had been impeccably polite and appropriately affectionate; Dr. Dee had been puzzled both by the unexpected announcement of her betrothal and her refusal to discuss it with him; and Julien…