Precious Bones Read online

  Chapter 19

  Richard walked carefully on wooden planks designed to serve as a walkway over the mud and filth of the street to the bear-baiting pit. He could hear the roar of approval coming from the inside, and assumed that the poor bear was being driven to a fearsome rage by the vicious dogs and rotten produce being hurled at it by the audience. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor creature. Richard did not frequent such entertainments, but he was in search of John, who loved nothing more than a mug of ale and the camaraderie of men watching a helpless beast tormented for their pleasure. Richard walked in and looked around slowly, until he finally spotted John spilling his drink and shouting obscenities at the dogs. The bear was covered in blood, patches of fur missing from his sides, as he tried desperately to avoid another attack. Richard looked away in disgust and grabbed John by the arm, dragging him outside.

  “I need you in an hour, John. Go home and clean yourself up.” Richard looked John up and down. His shirt was wet with spilled drink, his boots covered in muck from the muddy floor of the pit.

  “Yes, your lordship,” John answered sarcastically, bowing low and nearly falling on his already dirty face. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace.”

  “Just go.” Richard hated dealing with John when he was in his cups. He was a good lad most of the time, but his weakness for drink and crude entertainment was not a character trait he admired. “And clean your boots, you drunken lout!” John bowed again and sauntered off in the direction of the house, followed by an annoyed Richard.

  An hour later, a cleaned up, but still intoxicated, John brought around the carriage and Richard directed him to the Thorne house. He had invited Constance to see a play, and she had agreed despite Tom’s reservations. She confided to Richard that her parents had not permitted them to see any plays or visit the theater because they believed that plays were penned with the quill of the Devil and the only reading sanctioned by God was the Bible. The theater was a cesspool of lewdness and vulgarity and not to be patronized by decent, God-fearing persons. Richard suspected that Tom himself would have loved to come along, but he had to act the role of the head of the family, and he consoled himself by paying a call on his intended instead.

  The Theater was located in Shoreditch, just outside of London, and a crowd of people was already pouring inside eager for their entertainment. The play was advertised as a “Most Excellent Drama” and was to be performed by the Chamberlain’s Men, some unknown from Stratford-Upon-Avon playing the lead. Richard had never seen Will Shakespeare in anything, but heard from Agnes, who had seen a play or two on her days off, that he was a right talent. Richard paid the top price, consisting of two pennies for them to enter the theater, two pennies for a place in the gallery, and another two pennies for actual stools. He would never permit Constance to stand in the open yard among peasants and servants. They took their seats and focused on the stage thrust into the yard. If the decorations were anything to go by, the play should be a success.

  Constance was a little nervous at first, but once the curtains swung open and the players came out onto the stage, she forgot her reservations and became lost in the acting. Richard glanced at Constance from time to time trying not to be too obvious, but she was oblivious to his admiring looks. She was so engrossed in the drama playing out before her, cannon could have gone off behind her and she wouldn’t notice. The Theater was packed to capacity, but the masses were exceptionally quiet, enthralled by the revenge-driven murder that just happened on stage. Constance expressed surprise that the roles of women were played by young men, in an attempt to reduce impropriety, and that women were strictly forbidden on the stage by the Master of Revels.

  Richard was glad the play was neither lewd nor seditious since the Master was always closing down the theater right in the middle of the good parts. He hoped Constance would get to see the end and not have her pleasure interrupted by that puffed up poltroon. Richard was also grateful to Thomas Thorne for being a trifle more openminded than his parents, and allowing Constance to accompany him to tonight’s performance. Constance looked radiant in a gown of apple green with a cream underskirt and matching slashing in her sleeves. Her masses of chestnut curls were piled high on her head, the back twisted into a hairnet made of gold thread. Her green eyes sparkled with unshed tears as the young woman, played by a teenage boy, wept for her slain lover. Richard wasn’t paying any attention to the players on the stage. Constance was all the drama he needed.

  Richard’s mind turned to Walsingham, as he watched the drama unfold. He had requested a private meeting with the Secretary a few days before to present his case. The Secretary stroked his pointy beard absentmindedly as he listened to Richard, his gaze directed to the window behind Richard’s shoulder. He remained silent for a few moments before finally speaking.

  “Richard, I know that you are a man of honor and sound judgment, and I believe you when you say there is nothing suspect about the Thornes, despite reports to the contrary I received from various sources. You may suspend the investigation, but I strongly urge you not to get personally involved. Mistress Thorne might be a fine young woman, but she is a Catholic and that could make things difficult for you here at Court.”

  “There are many Catholics at Court, Mr. Secretary, and they are held in high esteem by Her Majesty.”

  Walsingham smiled indulgently at Richard as if he were a silly child. “My dear boy, our Sovereign Lady likes to keep her friends close, but her enemies closer. Don’t be fooled by appearances. One wrong move and these highly esteemed Catholics will find their heads mounted on spikes and greeting visitors to London as they cross the bridge. Norris will see to that.” Walsingham stood up, indicating that the interview was at an end, but suddenly changed his mind and turned back to Richard.

  “I can see that your mind is made up and you are smitten with this young lady, so why don’t you invite her to Whitehall for the May Day celebration. She can come as my guest. I would like to see her for myself. She will be made most welcome.” With that, Walsingham left the chamber by the side door leaving Richard gazing after him in confusion. He was an unpredictable man, but that’s what made him such a good spy master. As Richard left Whitehall, he hoped he wasn’t leading Constance into a trap.

  The conversation with Walsingham was forgotten, as Richard watched Constance wipe tears from her eyes and applaud with the rest of the crowd as the play came to an end. People were beginning to shuffle out still discussing the play and bad-mouthing the villain. He heard a few women comment on Shakespeare’s good looks and passionate acting. He’d hardly noticed the man himself.

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Carlisle for bringing me. It was wonderful.” Richard helped Connie with her cloak, and escorted her toward the exit into the mild April evening where John was already outside with the carriage. Richard was glad to see that John had sobered up while they were at the theater and was doing his job properly, opening the carriage door and closing it behind them. They left Shoreditch and headed back to Blackfriars. Richard watched Constance as she sat across from him in the carriage. Her face was illuminated by passing lights outside the window, shadows playing across her features making her expression unreadable.

  “Mistress Thorne, there is something I must ask you.” Now was as good a time to broach the subject and Richard hoped he wasn’t making a fool of himself. Asking her to come to Whitehall for May Day was a clear statement of his intentions, and everything would depend on her answer. “There is to be a great celebration at Whitehall Palace for May Day, and I was wondering if you would care to accompany me. My employer, Secretary Walsingham, has personally extended the invitation. I think you might enjoy it,” he added, sounding lame even to his own ears. Constance turned her head away from the window and regarded Richard in the gloom of the carriage. Emotions passed over her face like clouds over the sun and Richard felt sure she would decline.

  “So you are Walsingham’s man,” she said quietly. “I might have known. I suppose you know about us then.” She
didn’t look frightened, just disappointed and hurt.

  “Constance, I know your secret and it’s safe with me. You must believe me when I say that I mean you no harm. I’d like to be able to court you openly, with your permission.”

  Constance looked away from him and out of the window of the carriage. “Did we meet by accident, Mr. Carlisle?”

  Richard had no choice but to tell her the truth. He wanted no lies between them despite the possibility that she might never speak to him again. “No, my lady, we didn’t. I was just doing my job, and I have assured Mr. Secretary that you are a good and devoted subject to Her Majesty. The investigation has been suspended due to my report. He invited you to Whitehall as an act of good will, and I want to tell the world how I feel about you.”

  “How do you feel about me, Mr. Carlisle? Are you relieved that you won’t have to subject me or my siblings to torture, or disappointed that you found nothing to accuse us of?”

  Richard felt his heart crack a little at the cold look in her eyes. He would have given anything to go back to the theater, when her face was aglow with wonder and her eyes sparkled with joy as she watched the players on the stage. What a difference fifteen minutes could make to a man’s hopes.

  “Constance, please, let me prove to you that I am in earnest. I will do whatever it takes to win your trust. I will wait for you to forgive me.”

  “Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Carlisle, but I think you will be waiting in vain.” With that, Constance alighted from the carriage in front of her house and ran inside. Richard made to follow her, but then changed his mind. She was understandably angry and he would only infuriate her further by pressing his case. He instructed John to take him home, cursing himself for a fool.

  Chapter 20

  Constance ran up the stairs to her bedroom and closed the door before Tom had a chance to question her about her evening. She saw Jane’s anxious, freckled face peer after her up the stairs as she ran by and mumbled an apology. She took off her cloak and threw it over a chair, holding her hands out to the fire. It wasn’t that cold in the room, but she was chilled from the inside. Connie knew Richard wasn’t one of them, but she’d allowed herself to think he cared for her and that he was an honorable man.

  Now the truth came out. He was Walsingham’s creature, an instrument of intolerance and torture. How long had he been watching them before the incident at Tyburn, and what had he seen? True, they’ve done nothing wrong, but it didn’t take much to throw someone in the Tower never to be heard from again. She had been careless allowing him to call on her and take her to the theater. It was all just a ploy to get into her good graces to learn more of their activities. She knew the Queen’s men were on the hunt for Catholic priests hiding in London. Father Francis would be arrested and subjected to unspeakable horrors if anyone knew he was being hidden by Lady Devon. Connie shuddered at the thought. She sank down on the bed, feeling miserable and betrayed when there was a knock on the door. Jane was outside holding a cup of ale.

  “Connie, are you ill? You ran by so quickly.”

  “Thank you, Jane. I am well. I was just a trifle upset. I need to speak to Tom.” Connie drained the cup of ale, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and followed Jane downstairs to confess to her brother. Tom listened carefully as he paced in front of the fireplace, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his face frozen into lines of anxiety. At twenty-two he had to be the man of the house and protect his sisters, and he was doing his best to do what their parents would have wished, but it wasn’t easy.

  “Connie, you must go to Whitehall for May Day,” he finally said. Both Constance and Jane gaped at him with shock.

  “Go to Whitehall? Why?”

  “It stands to reason that someone has informed on us in order for the Secretary to put a watch on our activities. Obviously they found nothing, and suspicion has been allayed for now. Mr. Carlisle seems to have feelings for you, and he might be a powerful ally should the need ever arise. It’s not wise to make an enemy of him, Connie.” Tom looked at both girls hoping to gain support for his argument. “Carlisle would not invite you to go before the Queen with him if he thought you were guilty of anything. That would be political suicide for someone like him. He believes in your innocence and that’s the best protection we can hope for.”

  “What if he wants more, Tom?” Connie sat on the sofa, pleating the fabric of her gown with nervous fingers. “What if he wants to take me as a mistress for the price of his support?”

  “He seems an honorable man. We just have to trust him and see what transpires.” Tom nodded to himself as if his mind was made up. “Wait until tomorrow and then send a note to his lodgings telling him you’ve changed your mind. “

  “Yes, Tom.” Connie rose and went to her room. She climbed into bed shivering, and wishing Pippa was there to comfort her.

  Chapter 21

  Connie was shaking with nerves as the carriage approached Whitehall Palace. She had seen it before, but never been this close, and certainly never inside. Richard escorted her through a gate guarded by armor clad soldiers, into a large courtyard lit with numerous torches, and then through massive carved doors inside. There were people everywhere, and they ranged from the highest nobility to the lowliest servants, as they came and went about their tasks. Constance looked around in awe as they walked through several large chambers toward the Great Hall where the celebration was taking place. Richard had told her that Whitehall had over one thousand five hundred rooms and was even larger than the Palace of Versailles in France. Thousands of people resided at the palace, the apartments given and taken away based on the recipient’s standing at Court.

  Connie tried not to gape like a peasant, but she couldn’t help but be impressed by the beautiful tapestries covering the walls, the elegant furniture and gold and silver studded with gems on display everywhere. It was more crowded as they got closer to the Hall and Connie heard strains of music over the hum of conversation. Richard bowed to several people as he guided her inside, his hand warm on her lower back. He looked very handsome in his navy, velvet doublet and breeches; his sleeves slashed to reveal a lighter blue fabric shot with silver thread. His dove-gray hose matched his brocade coat, and the silver buckles on his shoes reflected the light of a thousand candles. A huge May Day pole had been erected in the middle of the hall, and its colorful ribbons hung limply, waiting for the moment when men and women would take hold of them and dance around the pole in celebration of spring.

  Constance looked away from the pole and studied the assembled company. The gentlemen were richly dressed, but the ladies stole the show with their finery. They dazzled in all shades of silk and satin, their jewels glittering on snow-white bosoms and against painted faces. Constance was even more grateful to Lady Devon, who came to her rescue when she found out about Connie’s invitation to the palace. She dressed mostly in black now in respect to her broken husband, but there was a time when she was a lady of high fashion and had gowns of the finest quality.

  Lady Devon made Connie try on gown after gown, until they found the perfect one. It was made of bronze satin which glowed in the light and went from gold to copper to cinnamon depending on the way the light fell. The high lace collar accentuated Connie’s long, white neck and the lace cuffs foamed at her wrists. The color of the gown highlighted Constance’s shiny, chestnut curls and provided a striking contrast to her green eyes. Mary Devon lent Connie a necklace of emeralds and pearls with matching earrings, and Connie had pins with tiny pearl heads glowing in her hair. She felt like a princess as she entered the room on Richard’s arm. She looked around, but she couldn’t see the Queen. “She likes to make a grand entrance,” Richard said softly in her ear. “Just curtsy when she sweeps in. She will notice if you don’t.”

  Richard quietly pointed out some of the more prominent people in the room such as the Duke of Norfolk, Lord Stafford and the Countesses of Lennox, Shrewsbury and Pembroke. Connie asked about the Earl of Leicester, curious to see the man who had, ac
cording to rumor, been the Queen’s lover and still held a special place in her heart, despite all the betrayals. Some had even heard whispers that Her Majesty had given birth to Dudley’s bastard, but she didn’t believe it. She might be a Protestant, but she was no whore.

  “Dudley is not here. The Queen has sent him to lead a campaign in support of the Dutch Revolt. It is a dubious honor. More like a punishment for Dudley, since that is probably the last place he wants to be. Allow me to introduce you to some people.” He presented Connie to several more acquaintances before an older man with a pointed beard came over to join them. His clothes were all black, relieved only by an old-fashioned white ruff. He wore a skull cap on his head, and his rheumy eyes seemed to miss very little.

  “Mistress Thorne, may I present Sir Frances Walsingham,” said Richard, as Connie sank into a curtsy. The man regarded her with watchful eyes as he bowed to her stiffly.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Thorne. Mr. Carlisle has spoken very highly of you. I hope you enjoy tonight’s festivities. I understand this is your first time at the Palace?”

  “It is, my lord. I am overwhelmed by the Palace’s splendor.”

  “Is it the Palace or the people who overwhelm you?” he asked, and melted into the crowd before Connie had a chance to respond to the barb. Suddenly, a hush fell over the assembled guests as the great doors at the far side opened and Elizabeth herself swept into the room on the arm of a handsome young man, who was presumably the Earl of Essex. She wore an exquisite gown of crimson velvet adorned with countless precious stones, her high ruff made of the finest lace, and diamonds and pearls glittering at her ears and in her fiery hair. A ruby the size of an egg and set in gold and diamonds, glowed on her chest, and her painted white face and red lips looked like a porcelain mask hiding the face behind.