"Why?" Lady Appleton asked.

"Queen Catherine does not explain herself to me. She gives orders and I obey."

A long silence suggested that Lady Appleton was considering that notion. Or trying to prompt Annabel to reveal more.

"Why?" she asked again. "Why do you do her bidding? You might be accused of treason were your a.s.sociation with the French queen to become known in Scotland."

Annabel laughed. "I perceive you are already aware of our a.s.sociation. Did Robert tell you?"

"Robert never knew." Jennet thought she heard a smile in Lady Appleton's voice. "As far as I can determine, he never guessed you were anything but what you seemed. Sir Walter Pendennis was not so easily deceived."

By the rustle of fabric, Jennet guessed Lady Appleton had crossed the room, mayhap to place a comforting hand on Annabel's arm. Her voice was full of sympathy.

"I accept that you do not know why you have been sent here to help me," Lady Appleton said, "but before I can give you my trust, I think you must explain yourself further. How did you come to be in the queen mother's service? I have some knowledge of information gatherers. Robert engaged in espionage in the hope of a t.i.tle. Sir Walter is driven by his love for England."

A silvery laugh interrupted her. "Do not imagine my actions can be redeemed by n.o.ble motives, Lady Appleton. I wanted money. That is why I seduced your husband."

"Indeed?"

Jennet thought Lady Appleton sounded amused. How she could be anything but furious and hurt was beyond Jennet's ken.

"I warrant you were very young when you went to France with Queen Mary. At the time Queen Catherine ordered you to warm my husband's bed you could not have been more than eighteen."

Eighteen? Jennet frowned. At eighteen, many women were married and mothers, at least among the gentry and n.o.bility. Lady Appleton herself had been wed at eighteen. Annabel's age scarce seemed any excuse.

"The excitement drew me, Lady Appleton."

"Ah. And the secrecy? The sense of getting away with something?"

"And of knowing things others did not."

"Most understandable. But to give your body to strangers, that seems-"

Again, Annabel laughed. "Do you accuse me of wh.o.r.edom, madam?"

Jennet heard Lady Appleton's chuckle. "If I did so, it would not be an insult. One of the most trustworthy women I ever met once earned her living in the stews of Southwark."

Unable to resist seeing Annabel MacReynolds's reaction to that statement, Jennet leaned closer to the gap in the hangings. She did not realize how close the Scotswoman was standing until Annabel's l.u.s.ty peal of laughter rang out right next to her ear. Startled, Jennet lost her balance and tumbled out from behind the bedcurtains.

To her chagrin, Annabel found that amusing, too.

Chapter 32.

By the first Sunday in Lent, five days after Shrove Tuesday, Susanna could not justify remaining in Lancashire any longer. Catherine was on the mend, not that she'd been grievous sick to begin with. Eleanor had not changed her story and did not seem inclined to do so. As for Susanna's growing attachment to Rosamond-she had a course of action in mind, one that might kill two c.o.c.ks with one cudgel.

That afternoon, following church, Susanna invited Eleanor to walk with her in the garden, where the first shy primroses had begun to poke their heads through the still-frosty ground.

"I must return to London," she told Rosamond's mother. "The twenty-second day of April is Easter Sunday. Seventeen days later, when the Easter Term begins, I am required to appear in court to answer charges that I did murder mine own husband."

Eleanor's eyes widened in shock. "I did not realize. Matthew said you were a suspect, but-"

"I took care that you should not know, Eleanor, but the truth is that I was always the most obvious suspect. I was taken into custody at the scene of Robert's death and held in Newgate. Bates travels with me as my guard, not my manservant."

Staring off at the distant horizon, Eleanor twisted her hands in her ap.r.o.n. "Then, if you return without having found the real killer, you could be found guilty and executed."

"I am aware of the danger, but I gave my word. I will not go back on it. Sir Walter's agents in London and Dover, and even in France, continue to ask questions. And if all else fails, there is still the possibility that I may, by virtue of calm reason, win my freedom by convincing judge and jury I am innocent."

With a sigh, Eleanor sank onto a stone bench. She stared at her hands, which were clasped so tight in her lap that the knuckles were white. "You are braver than I am, Susanna. Were I accused of murder, I would flee with all speed and never look back."

"But you are not accused. And you can help me, Eleanor." Susanna sat down beside her.

"How?" At last, Eleanor met her eyes and Susanna recognized the sincerity in the other woman's gaze.

"Come with me."

"To London? Oh, no. I-"

"Come with me and bring Rosamond. Your daughter's future may depend upon it."

"The child would be better off here in Lancashire."

"I must insist."

Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "This is not an invitation, then, but an order?" Bitterness tinged her words, and she stood to put a little distance between them.

"The journey will benefit you both. I wish to make provision for Robert's child. She must not suffer, no matter what becomes of me." Susanna debated with herself for a moment, then sweetened the bait. "Consider also that Sir Walter accompanies us. You know he is fond of you. Away from here, he might be inclined-"

"I have learned it is safest to avoid entanglements with men." Eleanor's face turned a mottled red.

Susanna refrained from comment. During all the time she had been able to observe them, neither Walter nor Matthew Grimshaw had shown any diminution in interest. If Eleanor did not encourage male admirers, neither did she do anything to deter them.

"Will you come with me?" she asked again.

"What choice have I? I will come. And I will bring Rosamond."

"Good. I will tell the others at supper."

Several hours later, Susanna cleared her throat to get everyone's attention. When the hall fell quiet, she spoke in a loud, clear voice. "I leave for London in two days."

"'Tis Scotland we should be heading for," Jennet muttered.

"I will accompany you to London," Catherine said.

Annabel spoke up next. "You are right to seek answers there. I will also go with you."

"What can you do?" Jennet demanded.

"Lady Appleton has many friends working on her behalf."

That evasive answer had Jennet looking skeptical and provoked Walter to a suspicious frown, but Susanna was inclined to give the Scotswoman the benefit of the doubt. Queen Catherine might have maneuvered Robert into taking Annabel as his mistress, but she had also sent a gift to Susanna all those years ago, the recipe for an antidote to certain poisons, an antidote that had soon after saved someone's life.

"I welcome your company," she told Annabel. Then she nodded in Eleanor's direction. "Eleanor and Rosamond will also accompany me."

When the meal resumed, Walter leaned close to whisper a question in Susanna's ear. "Do you mean to bring all your suspects together?"

Her only answer was the most enigmatic smile she could manage.

Chapter 33.

Coventry March 20, 1565 Eleanor glided toward him through the early evening mist. At four days past the full, the moon gave off enough light to reveal bright eyes and a tremulous smile. She was a tragic heroine in this, Walter thought. A victim. She needed him to rescue her.

He'd asked her to meet him in the coal yard next to the privy in back of the inn. It was not the most romantic of locations, but it had one advantage. They'd needed no excuse beyond the obvious to escape the others in their party.

That was no small consideration.

They had been traveling for eight days. Rain and melting snow had made the roads into quagmires. With such a large party, including as it did a young child, four gentlewomen, and two other women, they had on some days been fortunate to advance five miles.

Eleanor had ridden apillion behind him all those days, her arms wrapped tight around him, her chin resting against his back. He would have thought he was in heaven had it not been for all the troubles that awaited them at journey's end.

And he could have dispensed with Matthew Grimshaw's company. When the Manchester lawyer had learned of Eleanor's plans, he'd insisted upon joining their party. He'd made some excuse about looking after Susanna's legal interests, but Walter knew the real reason he'd come along. Eleanor.

At every stop on the way south, Grimshaw had monopolized her company, preventing any private exchanges with Walter. Walter thought Grimshaw's constant presence made Eleanor uneasy, but she had not told him to go away. That fact had Walter doubting his own instincts, a rare occurrence.

He had tried to be content with hearing the sound of her light, musical laughter every day, with inhaling the scent of her sweet marjoram perfume. It clung to his clothes when the day's ride was done, tormenting his dreams. But now those painful pleasures were not enough. He could stand the uncertainty no longer.

She advanced a few steps closer and stopped.

"I should not have come," she whispered.

"Eleanor." He put everything he was feeling into that single word.

With a joyful little sound, she walked into his arms and let him enfold them both in his cloak. He stepped back into the shadows between the building and a small evergreen someone had planted in the yard, taking her with him.

She sighed against his chest. "I do not know why I am here, or why I agreed to go to London." Her voice was sad.

"Because Susanna asked you to." Walter tilted her face upward, using one finger to lift her chin. "She is a good woman, one who does not deserve to be executed for a crime she did not commit. I think you can help her even more than you have already, Eleanor. Will you? If not for Susanna's sake, will you do it for me?"

"Do you care for her so much?"

"As a friend." He'd come to realize during their weeks together at Appleton Manor that his feelings for Susanna had never run as deep as those he now had for Eleanor. "As a friend or a brother. Not as a lover."

Again Eleanor sighed, but this time he thought the sound expressed relief as well as sadness. "She never told me she'd been bound over for trial. In all the time she was at Appleton Manor, she did not mention that until the last day when she bade me make this journey with her."

What Susanna had hoped to gain by keeping Eleanor in the dark for so long had puzzled Walter at the time, but he had discovered years earlier that it was best to let her go her own way. In truth, Susanna had not needed him with her at Appleton Manor, though he was glad he had insisted upon accompanying her.

How else would he have met Eleanor?

"Ever since Susanna told me she might have to stand trial," Eleanor whispered, "I have been afraid-" She broke off, still reluctant to trust him, still fearful of saying too much. "Is Susanna innocent of Robert's murder? Are you certain of it?"

"I am certain."

"What I was concealing did not seem important, not at first."

Pain twisted in Walter's chest. He dreaded hearing her confession. He had learned long ago that appearances could be deceiving. No matter how much he wanted to believe Eleanor innocent, he had to remember that she could be lying. Everyone lied when circ.u.mstances demanded it. Even Susanna. And Walter himself twisted the truth more often than he told it.

"You know how hard it is for me to trust anyone," she continued. "I have had to learn to be careful."

"With Robert. But Robert is dead." He stroked his hands down her arms, soothing and caressing all at once. Was this to be the truth now? Or a new lie?

Eleanor's next words revealed that her thoughts ran in a similar vein. "Lady Appleton told me Robert was dead once before and that death turned out to be false."

"Eleanor, if you have information that will help us find his killer, you must share it with me."

Her face buried against his cloak, Eleanor wrapped her arms about his waist and began to sob. He let her cry, wondering whether the tears were genuine or yet another women's ploy. When they subsided, he had to strain to make out her m.u.f.fled words.

"Robert was at Appleton Manor," Eleanor confessed. "He called himself John Secole. He forced me to shelter him."

Shifting his grip to her shoulders, Walter set her from him. He wanted to see her face but that proved impossible in the darkness of their hiding place. "Did he threaten you?"

"He... not in so many words. But he bade me keep his presence secret. I had to dismiss any servants who might recognize him."

"So no one knew he was there but you?" The quality of her sudden stillness gave him his answer. "Who?"

"Matthew," Eleanor admitted. "He found out by accident. Then Robert bullied him into swearing he'd remain silent, too. He reminded Matthew that the Appletons were his clients. Matthew told me that means he cannot, in good conscience, betray anything Robert told him."

Walter was unimpressed by Grimshaw's ethical stand and suspected he'd kept silent as much to protect Eleanor, and himself, as to appease Robert Appleton.

"Do you care for him?" Walter demanded.

"Robert? I-"

"Grimshaw."

Eleanor's brief hesitation was enough to stop his breath. "I did not even realize Matthew had begun to court me until Robert pointed it out. Robert was... amused."