Page 35 of Linenfold (The Alice Chronicles #4)

‘They said naught of the others. They told me only that a coach would arrive for me that evening when you and His Lordship were due to be out, that it would take me to a house where I would meet an intermediary.

This person would give me the document and I was to pass it to these gentlemen when they came for it.

I was free to read it, they said, to satisfy myself that the danger to His Lordship was real.

I was to mention this to no one. They would ensure the document would be destroyed and that would be the end of the matter.

‘The coach took me to a place somewhere south of the Thames. I know because I felt the hollow sound of the wheels going over the bridge. We threaded one or two small streets and arrived at a large, jettied house. I expected to be admitted without question, as they had told me, to collect the document.’ He stops, a look of distress making his lips tremble.

‘My Lord, does she have to be here?’ indicating Alice.

‘Mistress Jerrard stays,’ Philip says. ‘Go on.’

The secretary seems to gather himself for a heroic effort.

‘Instead of being admitted, two men came out. They both wore face masks. They directed their lanterns at me so that I could not even see their eyes through the holes. They hustled me across the road to a rotted wharf. I was standing in mud, my shoes were ruined! I had to order another pair and the price had gone up so much since—’

‘Were they the same men as at Westminster Hall?’

‘No. The voice was different. Only one of them spoke. He was the leader. The other was just a bully.’

‘What did they do at the wharf?’ Philip demands.

‘They forced me to stand in the mud. They said I should tell His Lordship to answer the letters they had sent. I resisted, of course.’

‘What letters, Cranley?’

The secretary spreads his hands. ‘I know not. I replied that I would talk with His Lordship to see if I could find out why he had not replied. They said they could as easily push His Lordship in the mud. It was nothing more than that, and I never heard from them again.’

‘Nothing more?’ Alice says, incredulous. ‘They threatened your master!’

‘I thought … I thought he would just need a new pair of shoes …’ He trails off.

There’s more to it than that. What is he keeping from us?

‘Who was he supposed to reply to?’ Philip asks.

‘The duke.’

‘He didn’t receive any letters from the duke. I’m sure I’d have noticed the crest.’

This is all too strange, Alice thinks, and sees both Philip’s and Jack’s scepticism likewise. She asks, ‘What did His Lordship say when you spoke to him about it?’

The secretary flounders. ‘I … I had no time to speak with him.’

‘Had no time?’ Jack says. ‘You said this happened before you left for France.’

‘Why didn’t you speak with my uncle?’ Philip demands.

‘I … er … did not believe them.’

‘You decided not to tell my uncle he might be murdered?’

Cranley stares wordless at Philip.

‘What really happened, Master Cranley?’ Alice asks.

‘I told you! He hadn’t answered their letters. Why do you hound me in this way?’’

‘They could have spoken to His Lordship themselves.’ She is pushing hard now, sensing the truth as the veils of his story are stripped away. ‘What you have told us is a pack of lies you’ve made up to conceal the truth. I ask you again,’ she says, ‘what really happened? What did they do?’

‘They pushed my face into the mud!’ he screams. ‘I had to agree! I had to!’

In the shocked hush, she thinks, Yes, the poor man had no choice. Humiliated, terrified, what would anyone do in like circumstances?

Philip rises and rests a hand on the secretary’s shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Cranley, I understand, but you should have told us, you know.’

‘Master Cranley.’ She has one more question. ‘What did you have to agree to?’

The secretary seems to shrink before them. ‘I was to intercept all letters delivered for His Lordship. I was to make fair copies and send them to York House.’

‘My Lord of Buckingham’s London abode,’ Jack says aside to Alice.

‘He even showed me how a seal may be broken and resealed without the recipient knowing. He said I was to report any plans His Lordship made for journeying, and keep His Grace informed of His Lordship’s movements, and any other information, however small and insignificant I deemed it.

He said I was to do it until further notice, that checks would be made periodically, that they would send random letters themselves, to ensure that I omitted nothing. ’

For moments, not one of the three has anything to say, absorbing the horror of the threat Cranley faced, the depth of his betrayal of Lord Hardcastle.

The remembrance of His Lordship’s mud-plastered face causes Alice an inner shudder, and a wince of guilt at the way she hounded Cranley into confession.

Philip breaks the silence at last. ‘And you never thought to inform His Lordship that he was being spied upon? That he might take steps to counter such an outrage?’

Cranley stares, guilt written in his eyes, then murmurs low, ‘I realise now the Lord chose to chasten me for my sins.’

‘In truth, I doubt the Lord had much to do with it.’ Philip says in exasperated tones. ‘What did you say to this man?’

‘I recalled my purpose and requested he hand over the document I was to collect. He laughed in my face. He never gave it me.’

‘There was never any document,’ Alice says gently. ‘It was a trap to get you there. There were no unanswered letters.’

The secretary seems to shrink further. She can feel for him. Locked in unworldliness, he made easy prey.

‘You had better tell us what information you’ve sent His Grace,’ Jack says, ‘from that time up to his arrival here.’

Before the secretary can summon his recollections, Philip intervenes.

‘There was a letter that summoned His Lordship to France. It came from one Marcel Boileau, suggesting that it would be an opportune time to close up the Paris house. He said the sooner the better, as there was always more to transport than one expected.’

Like a Huguenot treasury . ‘Who’s Marcel Boileau?’ Alice asks.

‘I don’t know him, but that must be the letter my uncle mentioned to me, “the sort you destroy afterwards”. That was what told Buckingham we were bound for France.’

‘Where did the letter come from?’ she asks the secretary.

‘It bore no direction.’

‘And you passed a copy to Buckingham,’ Philip says. ‘Go on, Cranley, you might as well tell us the rest.’

‘They said I must contrive to go to Paris in advance of His Lordship’s arrival.’

‘What for?’ Jack asks.

The secretary hesitates. ‘To prepare the servants, perhaps.’

‘To make sure no one could see what you were up to?’ This from Philip.

‘No, My Lord, no!’

‘What, then?’

Alice says, ‘To take in two Frenchwomen? They came before His Lordship arrived, did they not? A fait accompli that he could hardly refuse to honour.’

Cranley bridles. ‘His Grace of Buckingham is known to be sympathetic to those fleeing persecution for their Protestant beliefs, as was His Lordship.’

Alice leans forward. ‘Is His Grace also known for his foresight in predicting that two fleeing women will find their relations arrested and will be directed to His Lordship’s house instead?’

Cranley looks from one to the other, realisation swiftly followed by horror in his face. ‘Oh, what a pit I have dug! Thus am I undone!’ He falls on his knees before Philip. ‘My Lord, I beg thee—’

Philip springs from his chair, tumbling it on the floor as he backs away. ‘For God’s sake, Cranley!’

‘I am at thy mercy, My Lord. Do with me as you will!’

‘Get up, man!’ Philip orders him. ‘It’s information I want, not this grovelling! Get up, I say!’

The elderly man attempts to comply, but his knees will not support his rise. It is Jack who takes him under the elbows, ‘Allow me, sir,’ and brings him to his feet.

Philip is shaking his head, incredulous and revolted and convinced at the same time. ‘So the Frenchwomen are His Grace’s agents. Jesu! They murdered my uncle! Where are they, Alice?’

‘They left the kitchen, I recall, as I was telling Maureen that Master Egerton would likely be here for midday meal.’ A thought occurs to her. ‘In fact I said “Justice Egerton”.’ She looks at Jack and Philip. ‘Of course, how stupid of me! One of them speaks English.’

‘English, French or high Dutch,’ Philip says. ‘The two of us can lay them by the heels, can we not, Jack?’

Jack is already up and heading for the door. ‘Which one speaks English?’

‘Louise,’ she calls after them. ‘But beware! Perhaps I should say “Lewis”.’

As the door slams behind them, ‘What else did you pass to the duke?’ she demands of the secretary.

He huddles on the backstool, arms clasped across his chest as though chilled, despite the healthy blaze in the hearth.

‘Nothing, on my oath.’ He rocks himself to and fro.

At any other time, she knows, he would disdain her questioning, but in fracture of spirit he wishes only to plead, to comply, to mitigate.

‘You did not inform His Grace that His Lordship’s party were stranded here?’

‘I have had no interlocution with his people, either verbal or written, since we attained these shores.’

‘What about His Grace’s visit? He had words with you. What did you tell him?’

‘Nothing that could harm His current Lordship.’

‘Tell me what you told him!’

‘I cannot recall everything,’ he protests. ‘You push like a fishwife!’

‘There was something he wanted from you, wasn’t there?’ She leans close, face in his face. ‘What was it?’

‘I may have mentioned in passing the linenfold box the late Lord Hardcastle always carried. He wanted to know what was in it. I could not tell him, I do not have a key.’

‘But just now you tried to open it, all the same.’

‘He directed me to keep trying.’

‘Don’t tell me. A secret compartment.’

‘He told me to seek one.’

‘His current Lordship had already shown the box to the duke’s men. Nothing but a few sheets of paper. What did he really want? Where is the fragment of paper Philip’s uncle gave you?’

He gazes speechless at her.

‘What is written on this paper?’

‘Nothing. Just a few meaningless words.’

‘Then you can show it to His Lordship. Can you not?’

He hangs his head, whispering, ‘I gave it to His Grace’s equerry.’

‘Who gave it straight to His Grace. God in heaven!’ She rolls her eyes. ‘So you lied again when you said you did not give His Grace anything.’

‘Nothing harmful, I said.’

‘Who are you to judge? Why did you give it to him?’

‘His Grace threatened me with arrest for being party to His Lordship’s death! I had to give him something to convince him I was loyal to him!’

‘Loyal to the duke?’ she cries. ‘Where was your loyalty to your late master? What were the words on it, Master Cranley?’

His head drops and he sits there, weeping. ‘Was ever a man so beset with tribulations?’

‘A little less self-pity might clear your mind. What words, sir?’

‘ God’s angel , I remember that. And something about Eve . It was … lewd, I was ashamed to have it in my possession. I have forgot,’ he finishes with a flash of irritation.

She knows this is her only opportunity to prise the information from him, that when he has recovered his usual reverence for himself, he will once more feel above the need to answer her.

She hardens her voice. ‘Your actions have had far-reaching effects. Evil effects, Master Cranley! You owe it to your new master to cudgel your brain. I repeat, what were the words on the paper?’

‘I’ve said!’ he wails. ‘ Eve was in the first line, her craftiness, then something about … God forgive me … stripped and … and stimulated . And God’s angel , and something about redeeming later.

It was clear to me it concerned the Temptation of Man by Woman, of God sending his angel as a lion to avenge. That was it, a lion.’

‘It doesn’t sound lewd to me. More a dull moral tale straight out of a street-corner broadside,’ she snaps. ‘What did the duke do?’

‘His equerry was all scorn, said it was a mere bawdy trifle.’

‘And threw it away? Where?’

‘No. He kept it in his hand.’

‘Then what?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Then what, Master Cranley?’

Silence.

‘Am I to assume that for your own carnal gratification you went looking for the rest of it in His Lordship’s box?’

‘No! No! It was the duke! He bade me find the rest and send to him.’

Thudding footsteps, the door bursts open and Philip appears, panting.

‘They’ve got away! Not in their room or anywhere we can see around the buildings.

Master Egerton’s riding towards Freemans and searching that way.

I’ve asked my men and yours to help with the hunt.

In God’s name, Cranley, what have you unleashed on us all? ’