S. Parris - Treachery

I let out an involuntary curse in Italian as my heart thumps like a blacksmith’s hammer before slowing again. Lady Arden steps forward from the far end of the room, a glass in her hand. She smiles and takes a sip of wine.

‘Forgive me — I didn’t mean to frighten you. Sir Philip said you would be back soon and I thought it would be a good joke to catch you by surprise.’

‘I could not be more amused.’

‘Oh dear. You are angry with me. That is not a good start.’

‘To what?’ I catch the brusqueness in my voice and take a deep breath; she is not to know about the unseen presence in the shadows, the invisible man in black. I am more angry with myself for my own carelessness; if she can wait for me in my room without my noticing, who else might do the same?

She looks a little stung by my tone, but she pushes a loose tendril of hair from her eyes and tilts her chin up, determined. Her cheeks are flushed. ‘I took the liberty of asking them to send up some wine. I’m afraid I had to make a start on it without you, though. Sir Philip said you had gone to church?’ She raises a neatly plucked brow. ‘You didn’t strike me as the pious type.’

‘Now and again the devotional urge overtakes me. Where is Sidney?’

‘Playing cards with Lady Drake, I believe.’ She lifts the glass to her lips and flashes a coquettish smile from behind it, as if inviting me to take my own meaning, then lowers her eyes.

‘Cards?’ Will Sidney never learn? Not content with writing endless poems to his childhood sweetheart Penelope Devereux, which he allows to be freely circulated around the court so that her husband, Lord Rich, cannot help but know of them, he now publicly courts the wife of another powerful man right under his nose — one whose patronage he depends on. If my fortunes were not so bound up with Sidney’s — and if I didn’t care for him as my friend — I might laugh at his audacity. As it is, he risks serious consequences; not least the damage to Lady Drake’s honour and reputation in a town where she is well known. I lace my breeches again and make for the door.

‘Wait, Bruno.’ Lady Arden steps towards me, her hand outstretched. ‘Are you Sir Philip’s keeper?’ Firelight dances on one side of her face, highlighting her fine bones and ivory skin. She is unquestionably a beautiful woman.

‘I am the nearest he has to one,’ I say, resting my hand on the latch.

Her voice softens. ‘But does he need one? He is, after all, a grown man. And Lady Drake is likewise capable of making her own choices. You are not their chaperone, Bruno, though it is touching that you wish to play the part.’

‘And Sir Francis, how would he feel? To be told that half of Plymouth has seen a man visiting his wife’s chamber alone? Is he as broad-minded as you, I wonder?’

She laughs, a carefree, tinkling sound that implicitly reproaches me. ‘Few men are, I find. There is a back staircase that comes out at the end of the corridor by our chamber. No one will see Sir Philip come or go, if that’s what you are worried about. Besides, it is you who cast aspersions on the honour of your friend and mine. What harm if they are merely playing cards and talking?’

‘The harm …’ I pause, running a hand through my hair, ‘the harm is all in what people perceive. Surely you, as a woman, can appreciate that?’

‘Goodness, Bruno, you sound like one of the old beldames at court. “ As a woman? ”’ She arches her brow again, pours a measure of wine into the second glass and moves towards me, holding it out, but just beyond my reach, as you might try to entice a dog with the promise of a treat. Against my better judgement, I let go of the door handle and step towards her.

‘I would not like my friend to find himself on the wrong end of Captain Drake’s cutlass,’ I say, taking the glass. ‘If they are only playing cards, why did you not join them?’

‘I didn’t want you to be lonely.’ This time she holds my gaze and does not look away. I recall Sidney earlier, his blunt assertion that I would have her before I left Plymouth. I had assumed she made herself scarce as a favour to Sidney and Lady Drake, but perhaps it is they who believe they are bestowing the favour.

‘Have no fear on that score, my lady. I am well practised at being in my own company. I have formidable inner resources.’ But I hear my resolve falter, and so does she.

‘I don’t doubt it.’ She smiles.

There is a long pause. I take a sip of the wine, keeping my eyes fixed on hers. I should go and save Sidney from his own folly. But I am not his keeper, as she says. Let him take responsibility for his own actions; it is all one to me if Drake refuses to take him on the voyage. It is another matter if Drake kills him a duel, persists the voice of reason. But Drake would not fight him, surely; or would he? Even if-

Lady Arden takes a step closer to me. I lower the glass slowly from my lips and experience a treacherous stirring in my groin. My heart may be firmly — uselessly — bound to a woman long vanished to France, but the body can be traitor to the heart. It is rare that such an opportunity presents itself, and rarer still the man who would turn it down out of some misplaced loyalty. And loyalty to someone, moreover, who gave me nothing in return but betrayal. Anger flashes through me at the memory; the colour in my face rises and, as if in direct response, I set the glass down on a table and move another step towards Lady Arden, who lifts her face expectantly. That is when I hear it; the unmistakable sound of a board creaking outside the door.

She opens her mouth to ask what is the matter, but I hold up a hand to silence her as I stand, tensed, straining to hear more. I gesture Lady Arden to the far end of the room and lunge across to grab my knife from the bed. There it is again; a creak, a faint shuffling. Through the crack beneath the door I see the waver of a shadow. I draw the knife from its sheath, lower the latch as silently as I can, and in one sudden movement, I pull back the door to reveal the serving girl from this morning, her fist raised in the act of knocking. She lets out a piercing scream and I realise she has spotted the knife. I lay it carefully down on the floor and show her my empty hands, shushing her as I do so. After the initial shock has passed, she stops the noise abruptly and stands there, staring at me, a sheet of paper rustling in her trembling hands.

‘I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t eavesdropping, you startled me,’ she mumbles. ‘And the knife-’

‘Hetty, isn’t it? I didn’t mean to frighten you. I thought you were someone else. That is to say … what do you want?’

She looks at the knife on the floor with a doubtful expression. ‘I was just delivering this, sir.’ She thrusts the paper at me and I have time to glimpse a red wax seal at the fold. ‘Only, I wasn’t sure if you had company and I didn’t want to disturb-’

‘No, just me,’ I say, stepping into the doorway as she leans forward, her curious eyes flitting around as much of the room as she can see. ‘Who gave you this?’

‘A gentleman delivered it earlier. Because, you see, I thought I heard voices-’

‘I was reading aloud.’ I lift the paper to examine the seal. It bears the imprint of a shallow dish with a tongue of flame rising above it, just like the token hidden under Robert Dunne’s bunk. My pulse quickens. The sacred flame. ‘Who was he, this gentleman?’

‘He didn’t leave a name. Maybe it’s on the letter.’ She gives a little cough. ‘Because Mistress Judith doesn’t approve of gentlemen bringing company here, if you know what I mean,’ she persists, nodding firmly to corroborate her own point. ‘She says the Star is not that kind of house. She has asked guests to leave in the past for that sort of thing.’