D. Wilson - The Traitor’s Mark

‘I’m sorry. So you were left alone, at the age of fifteen or sixteen, to fend for yourself and your sister. That must have been very hard.’

He nodded. ‘We owe everything to Lord Graves. He was like a second father to us. He kept me as his falconer and had Adriana taught with his own daughters. He promised to find a husband for her.’

‘But not, I fancy, with a gentleman third in line to an earldom.’

The young man looked down into his glass. ‘Well, that might have been a bit of an exaggeration. His lordship urged her to accept one of his tenant farmers whose wife had recently died.’

‘How old was this farmer?’

Ignatius shrugged. ‘About fifty.’

‘I imagine that was a union Adriana did not altogether relish.’

‘He’s a good man. Adriana would have been well cared for and she could not expect anything better.’

‘Perhaps she hoped to find a man more to her liking.’

‘It would be a strange world, Master Treviot, in which women chose their husbands! As I said earlier, his lordship was most displeased with her stubbornness.’

‘That must have made life difficult for you.’

He nodded enthusiastically, abandoning his image. At last I saw something of his real feelings. ‘It was so thoughtless of her, so selfish. After all Lord Graves had done for us. It could have ruined everything – for both of us.’

‘You were caught in the middle.’

‘Yes, his lordship said I should assert my authority over my sister but she’s a proud, malapert little jade, as you may have discovered.’

‘How came she to work for Master Holbein?’

‘Twas as I said. The painter was come to make portraits for Lord and Lady Graves. He remarked that he needed a nurse for his children and Adriana begged to be allowed to leave with him. His lordship said she could go to the devil for all he cared. And he was right, wasn’t he? I gather Holbein is now dead. So Adriana is cast adrift in the world, without any prospects. Shameful!’

‘Your sister is currently under my protection.’

‘Protection! From what I hear, your care for her has driven her to the sin of suicide.’

‘She told you that?’

He evaded the question. ‘She didn’t need to. I have eyes and ears.’

I was losing patience with this hubristic yonker, whose only concern was his own standing with his patron. ‘Then I urge you to use them more carefully. If you do you will realise that she has been battered by cruel fate till she can bear no more. She still grieves for her parents. She has been vilely abused by violent men. She can see no future for herself, save as the bedfellow of some rural clod old enough to be her father. Her only relative is a brother who regards her as an embarrassment. Life for her seems empty. Can you wonder that she sought to end it?’

Imray’s sullen scowl returned. ‘And what is there for her here?’

‘Friends who will nurse her back to health of body and spirit and help her to find a future that has some prospect of happiness.’

Imray shrugged. ‘I see you have some strange ideas about women, Master Treviot. If you are determined to send me back empty-handed, I suppose I must give way. What am I to tell his lordship?’

‘You don’t need my advice on that. You are a gifted storyteller. Except that you must be more careful to get your facts right. Antwerp cathedral is not the largest in Europe. In fact, it is smaller than St Paul’s. Now, let us rejoin the others and you can demonstrate your skill at primero.’

*

Later I went to Adie’s chamber but she was sleeping. Before I withdrew I left instructions with the servants that Ignatius was not to be readmitted without me being present also.

The stipulation proved unnecessary: young Master Imray departed early the next day without seeking to trouble his sister further. Over the next couple of days Adie rid herself completely of the fever that had racked her body but not of the melancholy that gripped her mind. Bart also lapsed into a sombre mood that contrasted with his usual liveliness. When jthe men who had escorted our prisoners to Canterbury returned; when all the stories of the Fletcham venture had been told and retold until the hearers tired of them, an air of quiet anxiety settled over Hemmings. We all felt the anti-climax. The days of excitement were over but still the underlying problems remained. Reports arrived of the progress of Legh’s commission: of houses ransacked in the search for incriminating material; of jails filling with prisoners; of troops being used to disperse little groups of protesters. There seemed no end to the religious conflicts riving society, no resolution to the underlying problems facing Kent – and the nation. As to the specific questions still disturbing my own mind, I finally decided to seek advice from friends.

Ned and Lizzie joined me in my chamber one morning when wind and rain were, once again, rattling the casements. I shared with them what I had gleaned from Ignatius about Adie and their family background.

‘Small wonder she was driven to a desperate act,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ll wager if she went with that puffed-up barnyard cock of a brother, she’d soon try again.’

Ned agreed. ‘She lacks hope. She doesn’t want to go back to Leicestershire. She knows that the respite you have provided can only be temporary. Once there were places where such as she could find solace and even a purpose in life.’

‘The nunneries?’

‘Aye. And now they have gone, there remains only one estate she can embrace – marriage.’

‘And her treatment at the hands of Black Harry’s gang will make it hard for her to yield herself to a husband’s demands,’ Lizzie said.

‘So what can we do?’I asked.

‘Continue showing her kindness,’ Ned suggested. ‘Tis a slow cure but one that …’

At that Lizzie glared at us. ‘Men! All you think of is doing ! As though some wise words or generous actions will change her. What Adie needs is to be somebody; to know that she has it within her to perform a role in life; to believe that she matters to at least someone. Think!' she almost shouted. ‘When is she happiest?’

‘When she’s with the children,’ I said.

‘Right! And she knows that children grow up. One day they will no longer need her. And then what can she live for? Who can she live for? What you may not have noticed,’ Lizzie went on, ‘is that we women live for others. We give ourselves to people who need us. Take away that sense of being needed and what remains?’

After a long silence, I said diffidently, ‘So what we should do is find what she is good at and provide opportunities for her to … do it.’

‘That would make a start,’ Lizzie agreed, ‘until she discovers the person for whom she would be willing to do anything.’

‘As you do for Bart,’ I said hurriedly, diverting the conversation from the channel Lizzie was digging for it. ‘And that brings me to the other problem I have on my mind. The strain of all this business on Bart is, I think, beginning to tell.’

Lizzie said, ‘He feels he has suffered long enough. He managed to keep his spirits up until your raid on Fleteham, by persuading himself that, once you’d caught Black Harry, his troubles would be over. Now it seems he still has to wait to clear his name.’

‘Perhaps that’s my fault,’ I said.

‘Why do you say that?’

I told her about Black Harry’s offer and my rejection of it. ‘The thought of helping that bestial, blood-soaked monster to go free … Well, it just seemed utterly wrong. Now I’m not so sure. If I’d agreed to do a deal, Bart would probably, by now, have gone to the magistrates with Black Harry’s confession and would no longer be a wanted man.’