The Fugitive's Sword, page 21
part #1 of Lord's Learning Series
Lady Catherine managed a thin smile. She was wondering at their reception since Jonson would have been apprised of their coming, as Lucy had sent a servant in advance to inform him of their intention. Ben Jonson, she decided, liked to make the most of his opportunities.
A short time later they were back in the small lockable closet, Ben Jonson having declared he could not afford to allow those sitting in the room beside it any time from their work.
“You have a plan, my lady?” he demanded, lighting a candle and closing the door.
“Lady Catherine has a plan,” Lucy corrected.
His gaze moved to Kate doubtfully but with more desperation than on the previous day.
“Then please, I would very much like to hear it. The lady concerned has been begging me to hurry and return the book. I am fearful that she might simply become so afraid that she throws herself—and in so doing myself—on her husband’s mercy and tells him everything.”
“Do you think,” Kate asked, carefully ignoring his note of anguish, “that you could reproduce the design you saw on the front of the book? It need not be exact, but similar.”
Ben Jonson frowned then gave a small nod.
“It was indeed highly distinctive,” he agreed. Then after a moment more of thought he went on. “I am sure I could produce a reproduction of it with a little help from Mr Jones, perhaps, as I am no great artist. But to what end? I explained how the matter must remain a secret so showing the design to others to ask if they have seen the book would be out of the question.”
Kate gave him a reassuring smile.
“That is not what I have in mind at all. I was thinking that whoever took the book was clearly more interested in its content than its value or they would have taken the smaller and precious items as well or instead. So, if they were to believe there were a second such book…” She saw the dawning comprehension in Ben Jonson’s eyes and let her voice trail off.
“So, we make a copy and place it in the coffer and see who takes it?” he finished for her. The look of haunted despair had lifted a little as if she had cast the first ray of hope into the dark well of his fear. “That is an excellent suggestion, Lady Catherine. I should have thought of it myself. In fact, I had been considering just such an action but your saying it has confirmed me in my intent.”
Lucy’s eyebrows rose and she winked at Kate.
“Then I am sure you will have also considered the idea of being seen carrying the book around before placing it in the coffer to be sure that whoever was responsible for the theft will have a better chance of being made quickly aware of this one’s presence.” Kate kept her tone pleasant and even.
Ben Jonson glanced at her sharply and then nodded a few times.
“Yes. Yes. That is exactly how it should be done. Exactly how I intended to do it. All I need is a book of similar dimensions.” He looked at those in the coffer and shook his head. “These are too small, perhaps a ledger.” He was animated now, then his face fell. “But the time it would take and the cost…”
That was Lucy’s cue, albeit a reluctant one.
“If you can provide an annotated design, I shall see it is speedily produced. As it is only for appearances, I hope it need not take more than a few hours and better so if I do than that you ask any of your own craftsmen here or word would quickly spread regarding the subterfuge.”
Jonson’s head bobbed quickly up and down.
“Yes. Yes. Thank you, Lady Bedford. I must get onto it right away as we have only tomorrow before it is Twelfth Night.” That thought seemed to bring back the anxiety anew and he suddenly could not have them leave fast enough, promising to send the design to Harington House the moment it was finished.
“And after that,” Kate said cheerfully in the coach on the way back, “our duty to Mr Jonson should be done. He need only keep a careful but concealed watch on the closet to see who takes the book and he will know who is our thief.”
She had to admit to herself that her delight was not entirely due to the idea of having helped Ben Jonson, but more because it meant she would no longer be required to participate in the masque. The notion of witnessing it from the audience appealed much more. Hopefully at a safe distance, far enough from the performance so that when the revels began she would not be an easy target for any of the masquers to pull her onto the floor for a dance.
The design, neatly drawn and labelled by Inigo Jones, arrived at dinnertime, which made Kate wonder how much of the antipathy she had witnessed was heartfelt. The design was quickly sent to the artist Lucy had commissioned together with payment due. It returned before dark, together with the finished article which was painted and gilded on a thin wood backing ready to be mounted on whatever book Ben Jonson might have found. Once that had been carefully packaged—as the paint was still wet—and sent to the banqueting house by the hands of one of Lucy’s most trusted men. Their part in the matter of the theft was well and truly finished.
However, Lucy was like a warhorse who had been put out to grass and then heard the trumpet blowing familiar commands. She had been so excited to be amongst the preparations for the masque that even if she and Kate were not to be participating, she insisted that they return to the banqueting house the following afternoon to offer whatever assistance they might, in bringing the whole production to a successful conclusion.
Privately, Kate wondered if Ben Jonson was going to be quite so delighted by their presence as Lucy seemed to think. After all, having a countess and the daughter of an earl to entertain whilst engaged in attempting to see through the final throes of what was clearly a very stressful project, would surely only add to his burden and not offer any relief.
But it seemed he really did appreciate Lucy’s offer of assistance and soon her voice could be heard calling out commands and encouragement. Keen to avoid being conscripted herself, Kate sat and chatted with some of the women who were sewing and even picked up a needle and thread to sew some of the gaudy fabrics and tinsel herself.
After a while she got up and took a stroll around the banqueting hall, careful to keep out of the way of those who were purposefully manoeuvring large items around. She found some of the antimasquers trying on their outfits. It seemed the antimasque included a few famous female figures and some of the young men were putting on a parody of feminine attire.
One particularly tall and brawny dancer was keeping impatiently still whilst the bottom of his gown was pinned to set the hem at the right length so he would not trip over it. Kate guessed he must be portraying Long Meg of Westminster, who had been the landlady of a tavern in King Henry’s time and was famed for her great size and for challenging any who caused trouble in her tavern to a fight. Another was wearing armour over his skirts and Kate was delighted to see he was playing one of her heroines.
Mary Ambree.
She left the antimasquers with the words of the ballad running through her head.
When captaines couragious, whom death cold not daunte,
Did march to the siege of the citty of Gaunt,
They mustred their souldiers by two and by three,
And the formost in battle was Mary Ambree.
Around the walls of the banqueting house wooden scaffolding supported the tiers where the audience would be placed. The stage was now hidden behind a great curtain so whatever was being practised upon it was not visible to a casual observer who might wander in. Curious to see what was going on behind the curtain, Kate slipped outside and ran lightly up the stairs to hang over the high gallery and look down on the stage over the top of the concealing drape.
She watched in fascination as the stage scenery came together and moved apart. From a forest scene to an island surrounded by moving waves which rose into the air and was replaced by an underwater palace adorned by sea creatures, including the figure of a man with a dolphin’s tail she had seen being painted before. Having watched the scenery move smoothly through its changes twice over, she made her way back down the stairs. Ever after, she could never be sure what drew her eye to the cloaked figure, who had a high collar against the cold and was walking very quickly out of the building. Perhaps it was that the woman was walking so quickly, or perhaps it was the regular shaped bundle she carried in her arms.
Without giving her feet any conscious instruction, Kate found herself in pursuit. She could hardly run full tilt, but she went as fast as decorum and the intervening presence of other people allowed. But by the time she had gained the door, she could see her quarry now apparently surrounded by servants, about to be handed into a coach.
Damning decorum, Kate lifted her skirts and ran. As she did so, the woman must have caught the movement from the corner of her eye because she turned towards Kate, eyes widening in surprise.
“Lady Montgomery.” Kate slowed her pace as she called out. “I would please speak with you.”
It was unmannerly at best and out and out rude at worst, but it was all she could think to do. For a moment she was convinced the countess would treat her with the disdain her behaviour so clearly deserved and simply get into the coach and leave. But instead, the countess said something to the servant who was about to help her mount the steps of the coach, then leaned in to place the cloth wrapped item inside, before turning back as Kate reached her.
And it was the fact that she did not just drive away, leaving Kate looking foolish, that made Kate realise this was not the theft she had thought it was. A string of images sprang into her mind one after the other in rapid succession.
The sermon at Ely Place where Lady Montgomery had a bruise on her face.
Then after the sermon, when she had cornered Kate. You need to be careful.
Ben Jonson when he told them about the woman who had brought him the book. Her husband is a most violent and vindictive man, he had said. Philip Herbert, the Earl of Montgomery, was renowned for his abrupt and violent temper.
And that was why instead of making any kind of accusation she lowered her voice so it did not carry.
“It is not the right book,” she said quickly. “It is meant as bait in a trap to catch whoever took your book.”
Kate had to credit the countess, because she neither denied any knowledge of what Kate was talking about nor did she demand to know how it was that Kate might have any knowledge of such a book. Instead, Lady Montgomery regarded her levelly. Then her chin lifted.
“Will you join me?” she asked and gestured to the coach. “I will return you presently, or we can go wherever you might wish.”
Kate hesitated then. She was reluctant to vanish from the banqueting house without a word to Lucy. And if she was wrong about Lady Montgomery, it could even be a risk to do so.
The other woman gave a wan smile.
“I have no ill intent, quite the opposite. And we need only drive away and back again if you wish. I merely wanted to ensure we could talk undisturbed for a few minutes.”
So Kate acquiesced and a very short time later they were closeted together in the coach, heading out of the Court by the Palace Gate with only one of the countess’s ladies for company. Kate was uncertain where to begin the conversation, but before she could think of some way to do so, the countess sighed.
“Please accept my apology for the unconventional invitation, Lady Catherine, but it really was the only way I could see to ensure us some privacy.”
“I completely understand,” Kate reassured her. “Trying to find a place in all Whitehall where one can talk undisturbed is very challenging.”
“And yet so many seem to manage to do so for all the plots and intrigues they hatch here like a flock of broody chickens.”
“Indeed so, my lady,” Kate agreed, “but think how many of those plots and intrigues are then passed from mouth to ear about the court in no time.”
That made the countess smile as if Kate had somehow passed a test.
“So, Ben told Lucy about my husband’s book going missing?”
Clearly, she was not an unintelligent woman.
“He did indeed.” Kate could think of no reason not to be completely honest. “He asked for her aid and as I was with her, I became involved. Yesterday I came up with the notion that making a replica of your book might encourage the thief to try again.”
“My husband’s book,” the countess repeated dryly. “And your plan was clearly clever enough to convince me.” She reached for the bundle beside her and unwrapped it, lifting out the facsimile within and studying the design on the front. “Ah yes. It is very obvious when I look at it now. I had no time to do so when I took it from the coffer, and I hope when you restore it there shortly, the same will be true of the real thief we trust will come back for it.” She wrapped it in the cloth again and handed it to Kate. “Here, you should put it back.”
Kate took it from her carefully.
“There were items that were small and very precious in the coffer with it,” Kate said. “We think whoever took the book wanted it for what it was, not for any monetary value it might have.”
Lady Montgomery looked at her for a moment, then dropped her gaze.
“I believe,” she said quietly, “that you are probably quite correct to assume that.” But she seemed disinclined to offer any more. Kate tried again.
“It is a very distinctive book. But from its appearance, I would have thought it was older than these recent Rosicrucian tracts we have seen.”
The countess gave her a sharp glance then nodded.
“I believe it has been in my husband’s family for at least two generations. It was a book it seemed to me he had barely known existed. He kept it in a neglected corner of our library, and I had never seen him pay it any heed. But within a day of my taking it, he was storming about the house in fury as if it had been his most precious volume.” She touched her cheek where the bruise had now faded. “He is a very violent man when something has riled him.”
At which point Lady Montgomery paused as if weighing something inside her mind. Then she looked hard at Kate.
“My husband, you will know, was just this month appointed to the privy council. He is much concerned that nothing should cloud that appointment and for some reason that I cannot fathom he seems to believe this book might do such.”
Kate nodded, sensing that her silence would elicit more than her words at this point.
“After he realised it was gone, he ordered a search of the house and every servant’s possessions. Then he was closeted with some other gentlemen.” She held up her hand. “No. Please do not ask who. In truth, I think it is something safer you do not know. But they were men of some influence and I believe they were discussing the loss of the book and what it might mean.”
“You have no idea what was in the book?” Kate asked. “Surely you must have looked inside?”
The countess studied her hands for a few moments as if they held some wisdom she sought. “I looked, yes. It contained some works by Dr Dee and some manuscript notes in a cipher.” She lifted her hands a little helplessly. “It is not my skill to know how to understand such.”
“Dr Dee was an alchemist and an astrologer, was he not?” Kate trawled through her memory to think what she could recall having heard about him. He had died when she was a very young child.
Lady Montgomery nodded. “Yes. And known for his esoteric philosophical writing. He was very learned in mathematics and much involved with the art of navigation in his youth, I believe.” Her lips shaped a tight smile. “But he was also known for conjuring spirits.”
At that moment the chill air of early January caught Kate, sending a shiver down her spine and she wished she had her mantle to pull about her, but it was still in the banqueting house where she had left it before going on her exploratory walk. She ignored the cold and tried to think what else she might ask that could help lead to the thief.
“Do you know anyone who has ever expressed an interest in the book? Anyone who might have seen you with it when you took it to Ben?”
The countess shook her head.
“I have put so much thought into considering that,” she said. “There was no one. But then I have no idea who might have seen it in Ben Jonson’s hands. I left it with him.”
Kate had a strong feeling that unless someone had walked up to Ben Jonson and asked him about the book he had under his arm, he would not have noticed anyone paying attention to it. But she made herself a promise to ask him anyway.
“We must get you back,” the countess said, “before you are missed.” She knocked on the side of the coach and then sat back.
Kate glanced at the countess’s lady who was seemingly taking great interest in the fabric of the embroidered muff that was keeping her hands warm and trying not to make her presence obvious. It was clear that she must hold the trust of her mistress in the matter of the book to be present, but Kate was not sure how far that trust might run, so she spoke carefully.
“Do you recall that we spoke at Ely Place?”
The countess gave a small nod. “You may not know, but I was a good friend of Lucy’s once. We were both fond of participating in masques and enjoyed the company of poets and playwrights, men like Ben Jonson, Thomas Dekker, Will Shakespeare, Francis Beaumont and John Webster.” The countess smiled, her gaze softening. It reminded Kate of how Lucy had looked when she was recalling her own youthful times. Only it was more striking because Lady Montgomery was almost ten years Lucy’s junior.
Kate made herself a silent promise that she would never allow herself to become such a woman—someone for whom the past held more to be yearned after than the present or the future. Then she recalled that she was no longer in control of that future—her own future. Soon she would be married. A heaviness flooded into her heart.
“Times change,” Lady Montgomery was saying, “and so do we all. She and I are no longer close, but I still would not see Lucy hurt. Your presence could bring trouble to her. I think you know that now, so please, go back to Holland as soon as you may.”
“That is my intention,” Kate assured her. But the thought no longer held the same appeal as it had before her reluctant promise to Christian. Now going back seemed to offer little more in prospect than a gilded cage.
