Precious Bones Page 4

  “Maybe you should allow me to question Mistress Thorne, Mr. Secretary,” volunteered Edward Norris, “I have no doubt that I can extract pertinent information from her much quicker than Mr. Carlisle. “ He gave Richard a sly smile and turned respectfully to Walsingham.

  “You have no grounds for torturing an innocent young woman,” Richard retorted. “There is absolutely no evidence against her.”

  Walsingham looked from one agent to the other and raised his hand to silence them. “Gentlemen, let us not forget that we are on the same side, and our main objective is not to torture people, but to protect our Sovereign and this great nation. Sir Edward, you will not interfere with Mr. Carlisle’s investigation and you, Mr. Carlisle, will have better results for us the next time we meet. I believe we are finished for today. Good day to you, gentlemen.” With that he rose and left the room with Norris on his heels. Richard got up to leave with the rest.

  He didn’t tell Walsingham the whole truth. He suspected that one of the families hosting the Mass was hiding a priest in their household, but he couldn’t be certain and didn’t want to subject the suspects to unnecessary questioning by the likes of Norris. He would find out more, and the best place to start would be to befriend Constance Thorne and her sister. Richard knew he would do everything possible to prevent them falling into the hands of Norris. As he walked out of the palace, he was reflecting on how deceiving appearances could be. Edward Norris had been a courtier for years and he was a favorite of the Queen. He prided himself on his devotion to the great lady and swore to do everything possible to protect her. In truth, Richard thought he was protecting his fortune and social standing, and indulging his love of power. Norris was a handsome man in his early forties and his gentle, brown eyes, and smiling mouth disguised his cruel, bloodthirsty nature. Very few people survived “questioning” by Norris, and Richard was loath to give him any opportunity to go after the Thornes.

  After stopping off at home and collecting John and the carriage, Richard set out for Blackfriars to pay a call on Constance. He settled back against the padded seat and closed his eyes. Despite the fact that he wasn’t actually courting the lady, he was terribly nervous. His experience with women had not been a happy one, and he wished he could deal with men instead. It was more straightforward and honorable. He thought of his late wife and sighed.

  He first set eyes on Amelia when he was eighteen and she was fifteen. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he had been breathless with admiration as he saw her coming out of the rain and into the church. Her huge blue eyes were fringed with sooty lashes, and the blond curls that escaped from under the hood of her cloak were damp from the rain. The rich blue velvet of her cloak set off her porcelain skin and pouty lips and Richard was struck dumb as she walked past him with her parents and settled into a pew.

  Richard’s father knew the family, and Richard begged for an introduction. Amelia did not disappoint. She was sweet, pious, and demure, and she blushed prettily when Richard declared his love for her a mere week later. He wished his mother was still alive to meet his bride, but she died when he was a child leaving him with very limited experience of women and love. His older sister, Charlotte, was already married and living in Lincolnshire with her husband, so her good opinion was not to be had either. Richard was no virgin, but his experience was limited to willing serving girls. The thought of making love to Amelia left him vibrating with anticipation, and he fantasized about her flushed face as he took her naked body in his arms and made her his.

  Richard was so impatient he barely made it through the wedding service and the feast that followed, living only for the moment when they would finally be alone. At last, the moment came, and he entered the bridal chamber ready to make Amelia his true wife. His bride was on her knees praying, clad in a lacy cap and a linen nightgown that covered her from head to toe. She wouldn’t meet Richard’s eyes and froze when he tried to kiss her. Richard untied the laces of her cap and took it off, releasing her glorious, blond hair and watching it tumble down her back. She was so beautiful, he could hardly breathe. He tried to untie the laces of the gown, but Amelia covered them with her hands and scrambled into bed pulling the coverlet up to her chin. Richard was amused by her skittishness, but it was understandable. She was a girl of fifteen who had no experience of men. She was scared. He would be gentle and understanding, and she would discover the joys of love at his hands.

  Richard climbed into bed with his wife and kissed her gently on the lips. She did not respond; just lay there stiffly, staring at the canopy above their heads. Richard tried to touch her breast, but she pushed away his hand without meeting his gaze, tears sliding down her cheeks. He tried to comfort her, whispering words of love and devotion, but his bride remained unmoved. When he finally pushed up her nightgown and exercised his husbandly rights, she sobbed silently; her eyes squeezed shut, much like her legs. She was still crying when he fell asleep and was already up and gone by the time he woke up.

  Richard was not discouraged. It was only the first night. She would get used to him and eventually, she would feel comfortable enough to let him touch her and teach her. After two months, he was beginning to doubt his theory. Amelia would start weeping every time his hand so much as went to the laces of his breeches, and although she didn’t deny him, her misery was so acute that Richard tried less and less. There was no pleasure in taking her. He felt guilty, frustrated and rejected. He finally consulted his father, who advised him to get her with child as soon as possible and take a mistress.

  Swiving another woman seemed an awful betrayal of Amelia, so Richard tried to make his marriage work. He tried talking to her of the things she liked; he took her to see a play when a company of players came by their town, and bought her little trinkets to please her. She answered his questions, clapped her hands at the play and dutifully wore the trinkets, but their relations did not get any warmer. Despite everything she became pregnant, and Richard fervently hoped that having a child would change things for the better. He no longer came to her at night and often fell asleep frustrated, his loins aching for release. He did not take a mistress or ever push a serving girl up against the wall. He would honor his marriage vows and be faithful to his wife.

  Amelia was not excited about the child and refused to even talk about her pregnancy. She pretended as if it wasn’t happening. Richard hoped it would be a boy, but a girl would be just as nice. Maybe she would look like Amelia with golden curls and blue eyes. When Amelia’s pains finally came, she was white with fear and screamed at Richard to leave. He retreated to the library with a decanter of brandy, waiting for the good news. Day turned to night and still there was no baby. Amelia’s screams tore through his heart, and he prayed that the babe would come soon sparing her any more pain. Every time he went upstairs to ask for news of his wife, he was shooed out of the room by the physician and told that he would be informed in due course. By the time the sun rose on another day, Amelia was still laboring. Her screams had become hoarse and desperate, and they sounded weaker and weaker as the morning wore on. Richard had consumed enough brandy to fell an ox and must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up, all was quiet. He roused himself as the knock on the library door became more insistent. It was the physician himself. Richard rose from the chair, but the look on the doctor’s face froze him in his tracks.

  “I am sorry, Mr. Carlisle. I did everything I could. I was forced to perform a caesarean, but it was too late.” The doctor looked small and scared standing in the doorway and Richard felt strangely sorry for him.

  “I am sure you did, Mr. Gibson. And the child…”

  “I am sorry. The babe was in a breeched presentation with the cord around its neck. We couldn’t save her.”

  “Her…” Richard whispered. It had been a girl; a daughter to love and protect and now nothing but a tiny purple corpse lying next to his wife. Richard went upstairs and entered the room unchallenged. Amelia lay peacefully on the bed, looking as if she was resting after her
ordeal. Her damp hair was plastered to her forehead, and the coverlet had been pulled up over her butchered stomach. A wad of bloody sheets was visible in the corner, a basin full of blood standing on a chair next to the bed. Richard gently touched the tiny head of the infant resting on Amelia’s chest. It had dark fuzz and its eyes were tightly shut against a world it would never see.

  Richard fell to his knees by the bed and cried until he thought his heart would break. He had killed her. He had killed Amelia with his lust. This was his punishment for forcing her and getting her with child. Now he was heartbroken and alone, his wife and child taken from him. He stayed by the bed until his father quietly entered the room and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Come away, son. There is nothing more you can do.” He led Richard out of the room and out of the house, taking him back to his childhood home. Richard’s sister, Charlotte, was there to greet them, and she took Richard by the hand and led him into the house, whispering words of comfort.

  Richard never went back home. He couldn’t stand the sight of the house or any reminder of Amelia. His father made all the necessary arrangements and eventually sold the house with everything in it. Richard remained at the family home, desperately trying to drink himself to death. After a year, his father finally wrote to his old friend Francis Walsingham and begged him to take his son into his employ and bring him to Court. Richard was packed off to London to begin a new life. He used the proceeds from his estate to buy a little house in Cheapside, and eventually began to enjoy the life of a single man at Court. He learned to flatter the Queen, and cultivate the acquaintance of important men, and life suddenly became bearable again.

  The ladies of the Court were like nothing he had ever seen in the country. Dressed in sumptuous silks and velvets and dripping with extravagant jewels, they were like priceless works of art, too precious to even consider touching. Richard was dazzled by their beauty and intimidated by their wit and they in turn, found him to be a charming youth, who needed a few lessons in court intrigue and the art of love. A few affairs followed, but Richard quickly discovered that the glittering jewels of the Queen’s Court were all just paste underneath. The women were nothing more than whores dressed up as ladies and looking to sell their favors to the highest bidder.

  Despite Richard’s wealth, he had no power or a title, and his ardor was quickly discarded for someone who had more to offer. He would have retreated from Court, but the Queen liked to have him around and ordered him to stay. She liked to surround herself with beautiful young people, and demanded constant declarations of devotion and love from the young men, who were only too happy to indulge the old lady, hoping for favors and titles. They wrote pretty verses dedicated to her beauty, and sang songs of love to charm the old spinster. Some even had secret aspirations of becoming her consort, but Richard didn’t think Elizabeth was likely to share her power with anyone. She had several favorite courtiers, and played with them like a cat plays with mice just before it eats them.

  Richard ordered John to stop before a shop and went in to buy some sugared marzipan for Mistress Thorne. In his experience, ladies always enjoyed gifts. He also picked up a bunch of violets from a young girl selling them on the corner, and climbed back into the carriage eager to make his call.

  Chapter 13

  Edward Norris threw back his head and moaned with pleasure as the boy’s lips encircled his cock, sucking rhythmically. The boy was new to the Norris household and performed his duties admirably. Norris bit back another moan, remembering his wife in the next room, and twirled his fingers through the boy’s hair, pulling his head closer and urging him to suck harder. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Richard Carlisle doing the deed instead, his blond hair lustrous in the candlelight, his generous mouth wrapped around Edward’s engorged member. The thought of Richard undid Edward as usual, and he spilled his seed into the lad’s mouth with a soft cry of release.

  He absentmindedly patted Matthew on the head and sent him from the room. He would not need his services again tonight. He was too tired from an afternoon spent in the Tower to swive the lad, regardless of how delicious his young body was, and how seductive he looked lying face down on the big bed, ready to receive Edward.

  Edward pulled a nightshirt over his head and climbed into bed, blowing out the candle. Thoughts of Richard tormented him day and night ever since he had spotted him at Court five years ago. Edward had not been in love since he was a young man, and to find himself yearning for someone after all these years was a sweet torment. Of course, Carlisle did not share his tastes, and judging from the gossip, had enjoyed the favors of several prominent ladies of the Court. To his credit, none of them had been married. Edward himself had been married these past twenty years, and the sour face of his wife was enough to drive him not only from the marriage bed, but from the house altogether.

  Grace had proven a great disappointment, and after several miscarriages, had finally produced a sickly daughter, who died a few months after birth. She looked like a woman twice her age, and Edward had quit her bed after the last miscarriage vowing never to return. He preferred the company of boys anyway. He never forced or threatened anyone, at least not in his own home. He liked them to come to him willingly and enjoy pleasuring him, and he made sure to hire “assistants” who responded to his bold gaze and didn’t flinch when he brushed his hand over their cock.

  Matthew was all of seventeen and just the sight of his naked body was enough to arouse Edward’s lust. He had long ago given up on Richard, but the feelings wouldn’t go away, turning from love to lust to resentment. The thought of him on his knees with Edward in his mouth was a sweet fantasy that brought Edward to the brink every time. He went out of his way to treat Richard with contempt in public, trying to hide his secret. Carlisle would be disgusted if he ever found out, and Edward couldn’t bear that. He’d sooner kill him.

  He finally fell asleep dreaming of Richard’s blue eyes and strong thighs.

  Chapter 14

  Constance sat in her favorite window seat mending one of Tom’s shirts. The weak sunshine streamed through the diamond-shaped panes of the leaded window, and she absentmindedly stabbed the needle into the fabric, paying little mind to what she was actually doing. A smile played about her generous mouth and she finally put the shirt down, unable to concentrate. She was caught by surprise when Richard Carlisle had shown up at the door yesterday bringing a bunch of violets and a box of sweets. He looked slightly embarrassed as he presented her with his gifts and inquired about her injured hand and bruised ribs. Constance assured him that she was quite well and introduced him to Tom, who happened to be at home. She watched Richard as the two men talked and thought how handsome he looked in his dark-blue breeches, matching leather doublet, and a coat of dove gray shot through with silver thread. Carlisle’s eyes kept straying to her as he spoke with Tom, and he asked Tom for permission to take Constance for a drive.

  Tom politely declined, explaining that it would be inappropriate for an unmarried young woman to share a carriage with a man who wasn’t her relative or fiancée, but consented to allow them to take a walk by the river. She threw on her fur-lined velvet cloak and allowed Richard to escort her from the house. The day was brisk for March, but the weak sunshine provided a little warmth against the chill of the afternoon. There was a lot of traffic on the Thames that day, and they watched the packet boats coming and going across the river, their oars dipping into the murky water and their lanterns doing little to dispel the fog swirling over the surface. The usual smell of mud and rotten fish was blown away by the fresh breeze, and the occasional whiff of roasted chestnuts reminded Connie of Christmas.

  Constance felt a little shy with Richard, but he sensed her discomfort and tried to put her at ease by telling her amusing stories of Court life. Constance had never been to Whitehall Palace and had only seen the Queen once or twice as she left the city to go on Progress followed by all her courtiers and household goods. The procession was an awesome thing to behold as the num
erous carriages and wagons rolled through the city gates toward the house of whatever nobleman had the dubious honor of hosting the Queen. It was said that entertaining the royal party had ruined many a man, and most of the Queen’s subjects prayed that she would never come their way.

  By the time Richard had escorted Constance home, she felt more at ease, and blushed prettily as he took her hand, peeled off her glove and kissed it, his eyes never leaving her face.

  “May I call on you again, Mistress Thorne?”

  “That would be most pleasant, my lord,” she replied as she let herself into the house, leaving him gazing after her.

  Connie wished she could tell Pippa all about Richard, but Pippa had already taken up her post and wouldn’t be home until Saturday evening. It was only Tuesday and Connie would have to wait to talk to her sister. In the meantime, she could dream and hope that Mr. Carlisle kept his promise and came to see her again.

  Chapter 15

  April 2010

  I’d just closed the door behind Tristan and went into the kitchen when I heard a knock. He must have forgotten something. I would have to get him a spare key. I flung open the door to find Adrian Turner standing on my doorstep holding out a huge bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine.

  “Peace offering,” he declared, waiting for me to invite him in.

  “I didn’t know we were at war,” I countered, stepping aside to let him pass. I couldn’t imagine what he was doing here.

  “Cassandra, I came to apologize for my behavior. It was unforgivable. I acted like a pompous ass and I’m truly sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” He stood there waiting for me to offer forgiveness, but I wasn’t ready to let him off the hook.