The decision Sir Robert made to allow Elizabeth to stew in her own juice of fear was the end, although he did not know it, of his purpose of wringing a terrified confession from her. He compounded his error by summoning the household again to forbid her maidens to return to her. No one was to disturb Lady Elizabeth for any purpose, he commanded.
"Will you starve the lady?" Dunstan asked, loudly enough for the whole assembly to hear. "I do not think the other commissioners would be glad to hear of that."
"No, no, of course not," Tyrwhitt snapped, looking hard at the middle-aged man who had spoken. "And who are you?"
The question usually caused anyone who had addressed him in less than servile tones to shrink away. This man gave back as hard a glance as Tyrwhitt's own, making Sir Robert suspect that he was more dangerous than he looked.
"My name is Sander Dunstan, and I have been Lady Elizabeth's majordomo since she was three years old. I am naturally concerned for her well-being." He spoke in a clear voice that drew heads toward him.
"Well, of course an evening meal will be carried to Lady Elizabeth's chamber," Tyrwhitt said coldly, aware of the appalled expressions on the faces turned to him.
Some of those faces, the maids of honor and the few gentlemen of the chamber were well connected to high families. There was no way he could silence them all and word of his depriving Elizabeth of food would surely spread. Tyrwhitt was furious. He had intended Elizabeth to be hungry and to believe her entire entourage had deserted her.
"But," Sir Robert added, "she is not to be troubled by her ladies or anyone else. She has much to consider and needs time and privacy to do so."
Only Sir Robert's plan was already in shambles. As soon as the door to the parlor closed, Blanche rushed to Elizabeth and took her in her arms. She had, while seemingly being totally absorbed in her mending, heard every word, since she was far from either deaf or uninterested.
"Never you mind, love, never you mind," Blanche said to the weeping, trembling girl. "Mistress Ashley may not have been very wise about praising Sir Thomas to you, but she must realize now what a mistake that was. She won't say anything, and Master Parry, he doesn't know anything, except what you've already told Sir Anthony. And anyhow, Lord Denno . . . he'll get into the Tower and set everything right, you'll see."
That assurance was enough to lift Elizabeth out of the pit of panic and despair. Next she demanded an immediate rescue and deplored the fact that her life had been so pleasant and uneventful over the past few months that no air spirit was in attendance to bring Denno to her at once.
Blanche shook her head. "No, lovey, he can't come now. What if that cream-faced loon should walk in on us."
Elizabeth showed her teeth in what was not a smile. "I'd freeze him where he stood, Blanche. I'd freeze him so well, so truly, he would remain as a statue for the rest of his days." She could never speak of Underhill, but there were many mortal ways to "freeze" an enemy. So as long as Elizabeth did not imply use of a spell, the words would come.
"No you wouldn't," Blanche said, laughing and snorting disdain. "What'd we do with him? Surely you wouldn't want him standing about as a most unlovely ornament in your apartment."
Elizabeth uttered a half-hysterical giggle. "No. He isn't that decorative."
But then she sobered and acknowledged that she would need to wait until Denno thought it safe to come. At least there would be no maiden to weave into a sleep spell. She tried for a little while to read, but the words made no sense to her and she took up her embroidery instead, idly asking Blanche why Tyrwhitt should have stared at it as if he had never seen embroidery before.
Blanche frowned. "I'm sorry he saw that piece." And when Elizabeth raised a questioning brow at her, added, "It's got the royal arms on it."
"Well, of course it has," Elizabeth replied, mildly irritated. "I am doing it for Edward."
"Yes, only Sir Robert doesn't know that. You'd better find a way to tell him or, better, get one of the ladies to tell him."
Elizabeth's eyes widened and grew dark. "You mean he thought I was doing it for myself? As if I should soon be . . . be . . . No." She swallowed and blinked back rising tears. "Edward is young and strong. He will be a good king and for a long, happy reign."
"We all hope so," Blanche agreed.
"I am not so stupid as to embroider anything with the royal arms on it for myself." Elizabeth was again indignant.
"No, of course not," Blanche said. "And I hope you will not be so stupid as to ask the impossible from Lord Denno."
Elizabeth started to reply, but there was a scratch on the door. Blanche scurried out of sight as soon as they heard the scratch, and Elizabeth herself went to let the groom in. She should have been annoyed over her need to do a servant's duty, but she was too absorbed by her worry over what Blanche had last said to do more than nod civilly at the young man. Absently she looked at the meal he carried to her, gestured for him to set the tray on a table, and actually begin to eat before she waved him away.
Thus he carried back a very unsatisfactory report to Sir Robert. No, Lady Elizabeth had not rejected the food, she had begun to eat at once. No, he had not told Lady Elizabeth he was forbidden to speak to her because she had never spoken to him. No, she was not weeping. No, she did not seem distressed by the fact that she was all alone and had to open the door herself, like a servant. No, she did not look at all frightened. And then, at last, Sir Robert got a yes. Yes, Lady Elizabeth seemed as if she was thinking deeply and seriously.
Elizabeth ate her meal, indeed thinking deeply and seriously. Once she was calm enough not to become hysterical, Blanche had pointed out that even Denno could not wave his hand and waft prisoners out of the Tower of London. And even if he could, it would not be very sensible because a hue and cry would be raised for the missing prisoners. That would mean the end of their lives for Kat and Parry.
"But they would be alive," Elizabeth protested.
"Would they?" Blanch asked, brows raised. "Parry would lose the work he so dearly loves. He would have nothing to manage, no plans to make, no friends to impress. Kat would lose you and Ashley, the loves of her life. She would be empty with no one to care for, no one to love."
"But the Tower . . ." Elizabeth's voice trembled.
"Many come out and resume their lives."
Elizabeth shuddered. "Many do not."
She was thinking of her mother, but she never spoke of Anne, had not mentioned her name since she was a child of three. She was thinking of all those who, although innocent, died with Anne and of Catherine Howard and her lovers. Elizabeth shivered again. They were all dead already and it was useless to worry about them. She had better think of herself. If she went to the Tower, she would never come out alive.
So when Denno stepped through his Gate, she flung herself into his arms and burst into a storm of weeping. "He has arrested Kat and Parry," she sobbed, "and sent them to the Tower. You must save them. Blanche says you cannot, but you must be able to do something!"
The truth was that he could not, but he did not want to try to reason with her when she was in this state. He stroked her hair. "Elizabeth, come with me where it will be safe to talk."
"No." She shook her head vehemently, gulping. "I cannot leave. He comes in without warning and he doesn't care a bit about things like invading my bedchamber. I don't dare not be here."
Denoriel's hand dropped to his sword hilt. "He? Who is this he?"
"Sir Robert Tyrwhitt. He came with Paulet and Denny. Sir Anthony asked me about what I knew of Tom's doings since Catherine died and I told him everything, even about asking Tom about houses for my visit to Edward." She sniffed and swallowed. "I thought that was the end of it, but then this Tyrwhitt came in and told me that Kat and Parry had been arrested and taken to the Tower. I begged him to let them go. I told him I would order them to tell him anything he wanted to know and that I would tell him anything he wanted to know . . ." She sobbed for a moment. "But he would not."
He could be rid of Tyrwhitt in two minutes, Denoriel thought, his free hand tightening on the sword hilt while he held Elizabeth close with the other arm. Then he sighed. No he could not. Killing Tyrwhitt, who was questioning Elizabeth, would only fix an impression that her guilt was so deep that murder was necessary to hide it.
Rhoslyn's warning had been all too true. The Council already had evidence enough to execute Seymour, but they did not want to use it. They wanted to find another cause . . . likely because some of them were involved in Seymour's schemes. But it was also possible that Seymour was only an excuse to implicate Elizabeth in some crime large enough to remove her from the succession . . . or destroy her.
Denoriel pulled out the truckle bed that the maiden on duty slept on and seated himself and Elizabeth on it. It was low, and they could not be seen from the doorway. He hugged her hard, once, and kissed her hard on the lips, but did not let the kiss linger. Elizabeth sighed, and he felt her tension ease.
"Blanche says you cannot do anything for Kat and Parry," she said softly, tears streaking her cheeks.
"I can see that they do not die," Denoriel replied, "but that would be the end for all of us in the mortal world." He forced a smile. "And it is a danger far away. There is no present threat to Kat's life or Parry's . . . unless they have done the unthinkable and conspired with Seymour to force you into marriage with him."
"Of course they have not!" Elizabeth wiped away the tears and sat up straighter.
"Are you sure?" Elizabeth nodded and Denoriel said, "Then they are in no danger. They will eventually be released from imprisonment."
Denoriel was not nearly as sure as he sounded, but he needed Elizabeth to be calm and able to think. She was in as much danger as her servants, but she could save herself and them as long as she did not panic and "confess" a willingness to marry Seymour.
First, Denoriel thought, he needed to be sure from where the threat came. If it was solely an attempt to hide the peculations of members of the Council, he could make sure that they were either dead or exposed and the attempt to involve Elizabeth would end. If the threat came from Vidal's attempts to remove Elizabeth from the succession, he would need to identify Vidal's agent and deal with him. For that he would need Elizabeth's help.
Fortunately, although it was silly, Elizabeth was far less afraid of plots against her by the Unseleighe Sidhe than of threats from the mortal government. Perhaps, Denoriel thought, because she had triumphed over her Sidhe opponents whereas her mother and cousin had died. He was briefly reminded of the sorcerer with the caved-in chest, but pushed the memory away. It was far safer to remove the threat in the mortal world.
"No," he said, "I cannot do anything for Mistress Ashley and Master Parry. I have no way to reach them."
"You can make a Gate—"
"How could I know where to make one open? Neither of them has a token. And I dare not bribe my way in to visit them to provide a token. Think what could be assumed against you for me to pay a gaoler in the Tower to allow me to see either Parry or Mistress Ashley. Would it not be believed that there was some dangerous secret between you?"
Elizabeth swallowed. "I knew Blanche was right, but I . . . I cannot bear to think of them alone and afraid and perhaps cold and wet and starving in the dark."
"Now, Elizabeth, do not be so foolish. No one likes to be a prisoner, but I assure you ladies and gentlemen like Mistress Ashley and Master Parry are housed in comfortable enough chambers with lights and fires. They have to pay for those, but Master Ashley can make sure of that and I can make sure no one is short of money."
Elizabeth sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "I am sorry I have been so silly. But it was such a shock to me that they should arrest Kat and Parry. I suppose I should not be surprised that some of the Council had their fingers dipped in Tom's pie and now wish to hide that. But why use me to prove his guilt? I am second heir to the throne. Surely they should wish to shield me, not to smirch someone so close to the crown."
"Yes. That is a most interesting question. There are those who do not like the reforms the Protector has made, who think you approve of those reforms and who secretly long for the old faith." Denoriel stared at her purposefully for a while and then asked, "Have you felt anything strange about Tyrwhitt or those who came with him? You know what I mean."
"No," Elizabeth said, "but that doesn't mean much. I haven't seen anyone close except Sir Anthony, and he was just himself. Sir Robert?" She thought, then shook her head. "He is certainly just an ordinary man. Now that I bring my mind to it, perhaps there was a faint aura, like a smoke or mist around one of his hands . . . But it is as likely that I am now feeling that because of what you said more than because he did carry some amulet."
"True enough, but watch keenly because Rhoslyn has passed a rumor likely from the duchess of Somerset that the attack is more at you than at Seymour. The Council will take Seymour down—after that attempt to seize the king they must—but it is you they want ruined more than him."
"Rhoslyn!" Elizabeth repeated. She could say the name because it carried no implications concerning Underhill. Anyone might be named Rhoslyn. She sat up, her lips tight but her eyes bright. "So that is where the trouble falling upon me started."
"I am beginning to think so, but I have no way to prove it and, worse, no way to stop it. Remember, your best defense is ignorance and a total submission to the king and Council regarding your marriage. Not that you should imply you will marry anyone they choose, but that you will never consider marriage to anyone without the express spoken, and written, consent of both the king and the Council."
"No matter what they say or who says it—if Tyrwhitt is not successful with you they may send back Denny or Paulet—you cling to that line. No one without the consent of the Council, and Parry and Mistress Ashley counseled the same."
Elizabeth found her next interview with Tyrwhitt easier. Partly that was because she and Denoriel took the chance of blocking the bedroom door and Denoriel spent the night. Since he had no way to twist time in the mortal world, Elizabeth was sadly short of sleep the following morning and her pale cheeks and blue-ringed eyes made Tyrwhitt confident.
She admitted that she had remembered certain matters she had forgotten to tell Sir Anthony. Sir Robert leaned forward eagerly and Elizabeth found her eyes drawn to the magnificent ruby ring he wore. She told him of two more letters she had written to Seymour . . . but both were about totally mundane things, such as soliciting his help to regain possession of Durham House.
She also confessed that Mistress Ashley had written to Seymour to advise him not to visit Elizabeth "for fear of suspicion." Elizabeth snorted angrily. "Suspicion of what?" she hissed. "There was nothing of which to be suspicious. Oh, I was very cross with Kat for using such language, although I agreed that I did not want Sir Thomas visiting me."
Tyrwhitt lectured her on the need to be more open lest there be peril that her honor be smirched. He offered her again the out that Denny had first suggested—that she was young, inexperienced, and innocent and that any agreement she had with the Lord Admiral could be ascribed to the bad advice of Kat and Parry. But she only opened her eyes as wide as they would go and said that there was never any agreement of any kind, not even to rent Seymour Place, with Sir Thomas.
The next day Tyrwhitt used what he called "gentle persuasion" and he progressed so far that Elizabeth admitted that Master Parry had once told her he believed the Admiral leaned toward marriage, which was why he wanted her to exchange her present properties for others in the west nearer his own. And Master Parry had asked how she would receive such an offer if the Council agreed to it.
"But it did not sit well with me," Elizabeth said, with a superior wrinkling of her nose. "He had been married to my stepmother and it seemed close to incest. Still, I did not want to shame Master Parry so I only said that if the king and Council suggested such a marriage I would then do as God put into my mind."
It began to dawn on Tyrwhitt that he was being outwitted by a very clever young woman. He changed his tune and changed it again, but Elizabeth—bolstered by most satisfying visits from her dearling Denno—remained impervious to threats, persuasion, blandishments, or any other device Tyrwhitt tried.
The only time her sober self-control was broken was when Tyrwhitt told her rumors were abroad that said she was also in the Tower pregnant with Seymour's child.
"These are shameful slanders!" Elizabeth cried, jumping up and smoothing her gown down around her body so that her slim figure showed. "You see me as I am. And I can prove that I have never laid eyes upon Sir Thomas since we parted in Chelsea in July. How then could he get me with child? Liar! You have spread these foul rumors! I will tell the world you have misspoken me."
"Lady Elizabeth! I have done no such thing, I swear."
Tyrwhitt was shocked and thoroughly dismayed also. Although he was completely convinced that she had agreed to marry Seymour and that Seymour had been her lover, it had become a growing possibility that he would get no confession from Elizabeth no matter what he did. Her reaction to the rumor he related was not shame and fear but rage. She did have supporters and should she somehow extricate herself from the situation, she could do him much harm.
"How not you?" she spat. "You are the one who sees me daily and knows I am as I am. If you did not say these shameful lies, who did?"
It was perhaps not the best time for it, but Tyrwhitt then produced a letter written about Elizabeth by Somerset. Tyrwhitt had hoped to give it to her when she was in a softened, melancholy mood, beaten down by the slanders on her, so that she would be overawed and respond to the Protector's offers. Now, however, he hoped it would distract her from her rage or direct it where it belonged.
At first he thought that too had failed when she read the letter with a lip curled with scorn, but then she read it a second time and in a slightly more pleasant tone of voice agreed to reply to the suggestions in the letter. Tyrwhitt promptly offered to help her phrase her reply but she just looked at him, and he wrote to the Protector that she would in no wise follow his advice but writ her own fantasy.
That fantasy was to proclaim her innocence, to repeat that she had not laid eyes on the Admiral since she left Chelsea in July, and that she should be summoned to Court so all could see her as she was. The Protector ignored this plea and others in which she begged him to issue a proclamation that the rumors about her were slanders. He did not do that either . . . and Elizabeth did not forget.
The stalemate continued until the beginning of February when confessions concerning the antics at Chelsea were wrenched first from Parry and then from Kat. On the fifth of February the signed confessions were shown to Elizabeth. She was terrified beyond reason, convinced that being kissed by Tom would brand her as a whore, was tantamount to treason, and that she would die under the axe like her mother. Fortunately she was so frightened she was unable to catch her breath, so unable to speak that Tyrwhitt repeated his first error and left her to recover, commanding her to save herself by making a full confession of her own.
Blanche was almost as terrified as her mistress. Their combined distress alarmed the air spirit, which fled, gabbling of treason, first Underhill and then to the house on Bucklersbury. It was never possible to get too much sense from an air spirit, but the word treason frightened Denoriel. He knew nothing of English law on the level of treason but the heir to King Henry VIII had been drilled in every aspect of that crime. Denoriel arrived Underhill to disperse an army of air spirits to find Harry.
Thus, not only Denoriel but Harry came through the Gate in response to the air spirit's frantic message. And amidst all the terror and the great regret that Elizabeth would not be able to bring in the age of glory that the Bright Court so desired, Denoriel's heart leapt with joy because it was into his arms rather than her Da's that she flung herself.
Denoriel asked no questions. He took Elizabeth into his embrace and assured her over and over that no one would hurt her, that she would be safe with him. And then he said she need not worry. He would just go and rid the mortal world of Tyrwhitt as he did not think the loss would be noticed.
"No," Harry said. "If this is a case of treason, killing the inquisitor would convince the whole Council that there was treason. Elizabeth, in the name of God, what did you do?"
Elizabeth was still crying too hard to make sense, and she showed Harry the depositions that Tyrwhitt had left with her. He read the confessions of Parry and Kat. Then he read them again. And then a third time, studying each word.
"Bess," he said, reaching across Denoriel's arm to shake her shoulder. "What has happened to your head? There is no treason here. Neither yours, nor theirs, nor even that jackass Seymour's. This all happened before Queen Catherine died."
Elizabeth lifted a ravaged face from Denoriel's breast. "Yes," she whispered, then sniffed. "I never saw Tom again after Catherine's death."
Harry made a disgusted noise. "Well, then no matter whether he kissed you or fondled you—and really, Bess, that was stupid and in the worst taste! I am ashamed of you."
"I knew it was wrong," Elizabeth sobbed, "but Catherine was there and I was afraid if I pushed him away that she would be offended."
"Catherine was there," Harry echoed, looked down at the papers he held, and shook his head. "Yes, I see that it says Queen Catherine was there! Silly goose. You cannot agree to marry a man whose wife is standing in the room with you. And the only act of treason you could have performed with Thomas Seymour is to agree to marry him. Even bedding him would not be treason if his wife was there."
"Is that true, Harry?" Denoriel asked.
"Oh, well, there are a mort of ways to commit treason, and Seymour seems to have tried all of them. However, there is only one way—at least in the situation in which she is—that Elizabeth could have committed treason and that is to have married or to have agreed to marry Seymour without the consent of king or Council."
There was a silence into which came the sound of Blanche Parry's heartfelt sigh of relief. Elizabeth freed herself from Denoriel's embrace and turned to face Harry, sniffing and wiping her eyes.
"Then I can admit this is true without danger?" she said.
Harry frowned, wearing an expression of distaste. "Yes, without danger, but I hope with appropriate blushes. How could you so demean yourself, Bess?"
"For the Mother's sweet sake, Harry," Denoriel put in, hugging Elizabeth, who had hidden her face in his breast again, "she was fourteen years old. Her stepmother was taking part in the 'games.' What did you want her to do?"
"Well, it wasn't very clever," Elizabeth admitted with a sigh, "but I can't make too much of a pother about my age because it will make Kat look even more careless than she is. What am I to tell that toad Tyrwhitt?"
"Exactly what I told you," Harry said. "That you should have known better, but that while Catherine was there, you were not committing treason. In fact, if anyone committed a crime it was Catherine, who should surely have stopped her husband from behaving in such a way."
"She loved him so much," Elizabeth murmured. "She could deny him nothing. Now, looking back, I think her laughter at his antics covered much hurt. But I did not know it then. I wish—"
The latch clicked and then there was a mild thud as someone applied pressure to the door. Denoriel whispered, "Tonight," as the outer wall yawned blackly and he and Harry disappeared. Elizabeth saw him gesture as the Gate closed, and the door burst open.
"Why was the door locked?" Tyrwhitt snarled.
Elizabeth blinked. "It was not locked, Sir Robert. If it had been and I had unlocked it, the door would have struck me when you opened it. I suppose it stuck."
"The latch would not move," Tyrwhitt insisted.
Elizabeth shrugged but said nothing. She had contributed all that was safe to the accusation. If she said more, she might slip in some way.
"To whom were you talking?" Tyrwhitt asked next, looking around suspiciously.
"To Blanche." Elizabeth blinked again.
"I hope she advised you to confess all! All!"
"Blanche is my servant, the maid who cares for my jewels and my clothing. I trust her with such things. I do not seek advice from a maid, though I have been told that you have sought information from her."
Although the truth was that Elizabeth did frequently ask Blanche for advice, she was sure that Tyrwhitt would try to remove the maid if he thought she was important. Thus, there was a wealth of scorn in Elizabeth's voice when she spoke, and Tyrwhitt looked embarrassed for a moment. He reminded himself that it was his duty to seek information and he frowned awfully at Elizabeth.
"So then, what were you saying to your maid?"
Elizabeth managed not to grin as she said, "I had not finished my remark. But I intended to say that I wished that you would go away and leave me in peace."
"That would be easily obtained if you would only tell the truth about what passed between you and Seymour."
"Nothing passed between us."
"Now that is an open lie. Under your hand are the depositions of your servants who have confessed to a great deal that passed between you and Seymour—his invading your very bedchamber and his treasonous behavior—"
"There was no treason!" Elizabeth cut him off, her voice high and indignant. "Nor could there have been. You seek to prove that he planned marriage with me and thus committed treason . . . while his wife was in the chamber with us? You make a lie of what may well have been foolish but was also innocent as Queen Catherine's presence proves. And as I have said, and my servants have said, I have never seen Sir Thomas since Queen Catherine died."
"You have sent Seymour messages since the queen died."
"Yes, and you have seen my copies of the letters sent and seen his replies. All of them were about a house in London for me."
"Seymour made proposals that you exchange the lands your father willed for your upkeep for lands that adjoined his."
"And I thought it a foolish notion and told Parry so. You must know that I have not requested any change in the properties assigned to me."
"But Parry did tell you that he believed Seymour to be leaning toward a proposal of marriage."
"Yes, and he asked me if the Council and the king would approve it whether I would agree. You know that. We all told you about it. Never. Never have Mistress Ashley or Master Parry suggested that I marry anyone without the full consent of the king and the Council. It is not treason to talk of possibilities so long as all are agreed that nothing is possible outside of my father's last will."
That was not the end of the questioning, but the sharper and more accusatory Tyrwhitt's statements, the calmer and more sure were Elizabeth's replies. Indeed, Tyrwhitt's anger and frustration brought assurance that her Da had understood the case. What Parry and Kat confessed was not treasonous. She and Tyrwhitt were both weary and scarcely civil by the time Sir Robert rose to his feet.
"You are to write your own confession," he snarled. "It is to be complete. Very complete. This is your last chance to clear your conscience and escape the consequences of your folly."
Elizabeth doubted that; she was certain that Sir Robert would continue his persecution until the Council recalled him or she confessed to treason, but she had been distracted from that depressing idea. She had noticed a curious circumstance during the long questioning. It seemed to her that before each strong accusation or demand a ruby ring on Tyrwhitt's hand flashed brighter.
She told herself that the change in light might well be owing to a movement of Sir Robert's hand. Perhaps he had a tremor so slight she could not see it, but it was the hand about which she sensed the faint aura of magic. She remembered the amulet she had touched which had brought her near death and swallowed to ease a suddenly dry throat. Had he ever touched her with that ring?
Although she thought about it all through the evening meal, which made her very silent and seemed to give Tyrwhitt much satisfaction, she could not remember his ever touching her at all. What could she do to protect herself? The iron cross she wore protected her from being seized by the Unseleighe, but it had done her no good against the evil amulet. For now, she resolved, she would stay well away from Tyrwhitt so he could not touch her.
On the sixth of February, Elizabeth obediently confirmed in writing the evidence Kat and Parry had given, but not in a way that could give Tyrwhitt any satisfaction. As concerning Mistress Ashley, she wrote, she never advised me unto it, but said always (when any talked of my marriage) that she would never have me marry, neither in England or out of England, without the consent of the King's Majesty, Your Grace's, and the Council's. Nor did she forget to take the chance to complain again about the malicious rumors of her pregnancy and to ask that the rumors be publicly denied.
Needless to say Tyrwhitt was infuriated. He wrote his own letter, pointing out that They all sing one song. And so I think they would not do unless they set the note before. The one situation he did not consider was that what they said happened to be the truth, but he could not really contemplate that while Chancellor Rich's diamond shone so brightly on his finger.
Two more weeks passed in fruitless attempts to break Elizabeth's resistance, and then Tyrwhitt announced that the Council had decided Mistress Ashley had shown herself unfit to be Elizabeth's governess. Lady Tyrwhitt, Sir Robert's wife, would supply that place. If he hoped that in her loneliness Elizabeth would transfer her affection from Kat to his wife, he showed he had learned nothing about Elizabeth's nature.
Elizabeth Tyrwhitt was herself not at all happy with the appointment and it soon seemed to be a foretaste of hell. Not only would Elizabeth scarcely speak to her—in fact Elizabeth addressed all her remarks to her maids of honor, whom Tyrwhitt had restored to her in an effort to pave his wife's way with favor—but poor Lady Tyrwhitt seemed to be reduced to bumbling adolescence in Elizabeth's presence. She constantly tripped over her own feet, caught her shoes in the rug so that she nearly pitched forward on her face, and most destructive to her dignity, exploded into and out of rooms as if she were being pushed or pulled through the doors.
Elizabeth kept her mischief a secret because she knew how opposed Denno was to any use of magic except in dire emergency. But this was, in her opinion, a dire emergency; if she did not have some way to express her frustration and rage, she felt she would have yielded to despair despite Denno's love and support and confessed to anything, hoping to die and be free of torment.
First she had intended to tell him, thinking how he would laugh at her cleverness in providing relief and revenge for herself, but then she had second thoughts. He was her one great comfort, and might not think tripping poor Lady Tyrwhitt was funny. She did not want him to scold her for being petty and mean to someone who was helpless against her.
Each time she thought of Denno, she let Lady Tyrwhitt walk in peace, but thinking about spells brought her mind back to the ring on Tyrwhitt's finger. Was he also a helpless victim of the hatred the Unseleighe bore her? It was significant, Elizabeth thought, that he was efficient and fair about running her household; he did not persecute her servants. For example when his wife was foisted on her to replace Kat she had begged him not to appoint anyone in Parry's place, and he had sighed but assigned one of his own clerks to keep her accounts. An honest clerk, too, who saved her a hundred pounds a year.
But if Sir Robert was under an Unseleighe spell, what could she do? She knew no spells for breaking other spells, aside from the one-word commands that reversed spells she herself had cast. She did try all of those, staring at the ring while Tyrwhitt lectured her on the benefits of confession. To stare was safe enough. Sir Robert doubtless thought she had lowered her eyes in shame or to hide her thoughts.
None of the commands she gave worked. Perhaps it would be necessary to touch the ring . . . but she was afraid to do that. And Denno would murder her for taking such a chance, even if no harm came of it. Yet she could not ask his advice. He knew she could see through illusion, yet she could not see any real evidence of a spell on the ring. She remembered the crawling lights on the evil amulet; she had seen that clearly enough though she did not then know what it meant.
Thus she was reluctant to tell Denno about the faint aura and the possible flashes of light in the ring. She did not want him to take away the possibly foolish hope that the enmity came from the Dark Sidhe rather than from people she knew and thought liked her. Also from what she had heard from Denno and Lady Alana it was far more difficult to remove a spell cast by another. That was work for a healer or a magus.
Still as Tyrwhitt continued to nag at her to confess when she knew any sane man would have accepted that there was nothing to confess, she became more desperate. On the twenty-first of February, she wrote to the Protector again, gritting her teeth as Tyrwhitt sat opposite her urging phrasing that would make her sound shamed and guilty. The ring was very bright. She did not dare touch it with her own hand, but was there not something else she could use? Something that would carry her essence but protect her.
Later when Elizabeth was changing her morning gown for one more suitable for dinner, she by habit touched her iron cross to be sure the black chain was hidden and the cross lay flat and would not be seen. The metal was warm from her body. Surely, she thought, that warmth carried her essence, and the black cross protected her from the creatures from Underhill, even the Sidhe. She could touch the ring with the cross. Maybe the iron would break the spell.
How? What excuse could she give for taking Sir Robert's hand? What excuse could she have for pressing a black iron cross to his ring? Elizabeth had an active and inventive mind but even she could not think of any rational reasons for such actions. She was quiet and thoughtful during dinner until a swinging door caught a servant unaware. The servant cried out in alarm and a tray of serving dishes, all of them fortunately metal and not breakable, crashed to the floor.
The ear-splitting crash and the servant's scream shocked everyone into a momentary paralysis. Elizabeth recovered a heartbeat before the others and revelation swept through her. She didn't need to explain why she wanted to touch Tyrwhitt's hand and there was no reason that he needed to know she had touched his ring with her cross. All she needed was to be alone with Sir Robert, except for Blanche, for five minutes.
Usually that was no problem. Almost every day in the past, Tyrwhitt sent her maidens away so there would be no witnesses to complain that he pressed her too hard. As soon as her maidens had withdrawn to the other end of the room, Elizabeth intended to use bod oergeulo on him. While he was frozen, she could pull out her cross and press it against the ring. Elizabeth trembled with expectation, one moment with hope and the next with fear that it would not work.
For spite it seemed Tyrwhitt did not come near her all the next day. He was waiting, in fact, for news that the Council had formally accused Seymour of high treason. There were thirty-three Articles, one of which included plotting to marry "the Lady Elizabeth by secret and crafty means, to the danger of the King's person." If Seymour confessed that he had done so and that Elizabeth had agreed, Tyrwhitt would have evidence against her at last and force a confession from her.
Sir Robert licked his lips, but he was aware of a kind of discomfort within his triumph. On the twenty-third, the charges were read aloud to Seymour but he refused to answer them, demanding that his accusers come before him and that he be given an open trial where he might make his declaration before all the world. But Seymour was to have no trial. Parliament passed an Act of Attainder against him.
On the third of March, Seymour was informed there was to be no trial, and he did speak out. He denied that he had ever meant to usurp his brother's position as Protector or abduct the king. He denied all the serious charges, only confessing to sending the king pocket money. And he never once mentioned Lady Elizabeth, as if she was not part of his plans.
That news came to Hatfield in the evening. It was a disappointment. Tyrwhitt's finger itched and he rubbed the ruby ring. Well, but only he knew that Seymour had denied everything. He swallowed down a slight queasiness, for in general he was an honest man and decided to try one last time to wring a confession from Elizabeth. It was for her own good after all. He would tell her that Seymour had confessed he intended to marry her so she need no longer lie to protect him. To save herself she should speak the truth.
She had been reading when he came in. To his surprise, she laid the book down on a small table and waved away the attendant maidens. Lady Tyrwhitt sighed but went with them to be sure that their conversation would cover any words between her husband and Elizabeth.
"I bring you sad news about the Lord High Admiral. The Council has evidence of many crimes and has brought against him thirty-three Articles—"
Elizabeth lifted her head. "Bod oergeulo."
Her voice was just above a murmur. If any sound carried to the women across the room, it would seem that she answered something Tyrwhitt had said. Hurriedly, trembling with hope, she brought out the cross that she had been carrying in her pocket for days and touched it to the ruby ring.
Nothing seemed to happen. Tears rose in Elizabeth's eyes and she swallowed hard and muttered, "Dihuno" because she did not dare keep Sir Robert frozen. Someone might notice.
"—of which the Admiral denied all except that of giving pocket money to the king," Tyrwhitt continued, with no sign he knew a few minutes had been carved out of his life. "This gives you one more chance to state your own case to the Protector before any confession by Sir Thomas involves you."
Elizabeth blinked away her tears of disappointment. "I have told you a thousand times that there is nothing on my part to confess, no matter what Sir Thomas says. Yes, there were rumors in my household that the Admiral wished to marry me, but I did not agree, and no one urged me to accept him unless the offer was made with the permission of the king and Council."
Tyrwhitt stared at her with a rather puzzled expression. "So you have," he said. "So you have."