Page 37 of Linenfold (The Alice Chronicles #4)

It was some twenty minutes later that Grandmother in happy self-congratulation reappeared with a shrinking Honorine in tow.

Alice had expected something worn though wearable, but the gown recalled the fashions of fifty years ago.

The neckline of the stiff, boned bodice sat excessively low.

Its skirts were cut to billow out over a wheel farthingale at waist level, without which it was dragging on the ground and threatening to trip Honorine at every step.

The organza cuffs hung limp and frayed. Honorine’s soaked shift she had removed, of course, but with no replacement offered, nothing sat between plunge-necked gown and skin.

Batting aside the girl’s reluctance, Grandmother triumphantly pushed her forward for inspection in Jeremy’s kitchen.

Honorine’s face flamed, Len and Angus froze in shocked gaze, and Jeremy demanded, ‘Are you run mad, Grandmother?’ Sulkily, Grandmother offered a cartwheel ruff which Alice politely and firmly declined, detaching instead her own partlet and restoring somewhat the girl’s ravaged modesty.

Grandmother eventually unearthed an old cloak of a gaudy, red linen, stained and thin, which Honorine has clutched around herself since.

But all these abominations share one virtue that they are dry.

Only her shoes are wet, the ones she has been wearing all along.

She refused point blank to don the proffered hand-high pattens, being perhaps of the same mind as Jeremy, who declared they would make her look like a Venetian courtesan.

Before they left, Alice drew Jeremy aside.

‘I had better have her wet clothes please, Jeremy. And this may sound strange, but I think she might have hidden some small thing that would fit in this little pocket, something your grandmother would never possess, somewhere in that chamber. Can you please look around and bring it to me without Honorine seeing?’ A few minutes later he returned bearing the sodden bundle of clothes.

‘And this was underneath Grandma’s mattress,’ dropping it into her hand.

Alice closed her fingers about it. ‘As I thought,’ she said, adding, ‘Say nothing. I will deal with this.’

At High Stoke, Alice watches Philip fit the key in the lock of the Accounts room door and usher Honorine within. Honorine is no longer shivering and her hair is nearly dry. Even so, as she turns to face them, she still looks bedraggled, arms hanging, misery in her eyes, defeat in her whole stance.

‘If Master Cranley hadn’t been dumbstruck when I asked the question, I couldn’t have been sure he had held the central piece of the riddle,’ Alice says.

They are sitting in the winter parlour, she, Philip and Jack, awaiting news of Louise-Lewis from the searchers combing the countryside around.

‘Add that to what we already suspected about the reason for the duke’s visit,’ Philip adds, ‘and it all makes sense. What are we going to do with the Frenchwomen, or rather woman and man, when the other is caught?’

He looks towards Jack, who shrugs. ‘Perhaps that’s for you to decide.

Within limits, of course. From the coroner’s verdict there is no case for them to answer, so they cannot be arrested for what has not happened.

They cannot go through the normal process of justice.

What do you consider would be a just reprisal? ’

‘I don’t know about Honorine,’ Philip says, ‘but I would fight a duel with this Lewis.’

‘Surely not!’ Alice protests. ‘He could kill you. What justice is that?’

‘No he couldn’t. I have right on my side.’

‘Well, let’s see him caught first,’ Jack suggests and turns to Alice. ‘What gave you the clue?’

Alice chuckles. ‘Believe it or not, something Sam said. The children were playing hide-and-seek. He wrapped himself in my skirts and declared they would never know it was him! All these past days,’ Alice confesses, ‘because Louise and Honorine were foreigners, I accepted the bongrace cap that hides the face. I thought Louise was timid and frightened in a strange country by the way she shrank from notice, lowered her eyes, but she was using that pretence to reduce the risk of scrutiny. She even wept at the slightest provocation, so that she could hang her head and hide her face. The pretence of weakness was cleverly calculated to irritate and disgust. I fell into the trap and avoided her where I could. You see, I still say “she” and “her”. Until I meet Lewis, I cannot truly think of her differently. The whole story of Louise’s panicked escape the other day was because she needed to go into Guildford urgently. ’

‘For what,’ Jack asks.

‘To send a messenger to the duke that things had gone wrong. That’s what brought His Grace down here.

Oh, and Lewis couldn’t send such a message as a woman, she’d be remarked upon.

So she changed into the men’s clothes she carried with her.

That’s when things went wrong again. Master Corvin the tailor discovered her in the woods south of here when she had just changed back on her return.

She had no way of carrying the men’s clothes back indoors, so hid them under a bush. ’

‘The clothes Allan found that we thought were stolen,’ Jack says.

‘And which no one has claimed,’ adds Alice.

‘I’ll check the inns in town to find out which sent a message from a young man dressed in russet,’ Jack says.

Philip is frowning in puzzlement. ‘Let me understand this,’ he says.

‘The duke is after the treasury and deduces from Marcel Boileau’s letter that Lord Hardcastle will be the courier from Paris.

His people order Cranley to go in advance and take in two fleeing Protestant women who will call at the house.

One of these so-called women is the duke’s agent Lewis Cargill, page to our Queen, probably spying on her for the duke already.

The duke, or his womenfolk now hedging the Queen, persuades her that she wants her gold fruit trenchers from Paris and that the page Lewis Cargill shall collect them.

So off goes the page, collects the trenchers, joins up with Honorine and the two travel back with us.

Then there was the so-called accident when we went into the ditch.

But I don’t understand why Honorine was part of this at all. ’

‘One woman alone could not have been sent to flee through France, any more than through England,’ Jack suggests. ‘There had to be two for modesty’s sake.’

‘Then why didn’t Lewis stay a man, don simple clothes and ask my uncle’s help for himself as a lone fleeing Protestant?’

‘A strong young man? Not likely he would be considered vulnerable enough to require your uncle’s protection. Far better to be one of two friendless women. Also, he needed help to search your uncle’s boxes.’

‘That’s true,’ Philip acknowledges. ‘So where do we go from here?’

‘As I said, I’ll go into town now,’ Jack says, his chair scraping back as he stands, ‘just to verify where a messenger was sent from, and that he did go to the duke’s house. I’ll leave the bay with you, Alice, if that’s all right.’

‘Of course, Jack,’ Alice says, ‘And I should like to—’ and at that moment there is a knock and the door opens. Pearce stands back for Jack to pass, then puts his head round.

‘Sorry to interrupt, My Lord. Just to let you know Jackson and me, we’re back. We didn’t find hide nor hair of them.’

‘We found Honorine,’ Philip says. ‘She’s under lock and key here. I thank you for your efforts, John. Please pass that on to Jackson as well.’

‘I’ll do that, My Lord.’ And Pearce backs out, latching the door.

‘What was that you were saying, Alice?’

‘I should like to take another look at that riddle, if you will fetch it.’

‘I don’t have to fetch it.’ Philip reaches into his doublet and draws out the cloth bag holding the paper. ‘I have learned fast not to leave things lying around for any spy to find.’ He smooths it out and reads.

The chainéd limbs thus spread … [space]

[Space] … her cruel shields on hardened raft

Lest cy… [space] …lated

And robber king’s gross desires be [consummated.]

[Space] … join with end of faith

Where lamb and raging … [space, ending in ‘aith’]

[The] bald one’s devotee awaits the screen

To stow in safety… [space, ending in ‘een’]

‘Master Cranley gave me the words Eve , stripped , stimulated , God’s angel , and an avenging lion and redeem, ’ she says .

‘So it’s Eve’s cruel shields.’

‘He said Eve was in the first line, and something about craftiness . What about stripped in the third line? And stimulated the last word.’

‘I’ll wager it’s cyprus-linen !’ Philip says.

‘Olivia said it’s a fine lawn. Where’s the ink?

Remember what I said about the seventh veil?

What about this? Lest, cyprus stripped, the eyes be stimulated.

This screen, it’s wrapped in cyprus-linen.

’ And he starts busily jotting. ‘What was the other thing you said? Something about an avenging lion?’

‘Roaring,’ Alice says, remembering. ‘Remember that’s what he said to Juliana over supper. The Devil as a roaring lion . What about a raging lion?’

‘A Red Lion,’ Philip jokes.

‘Perhaps that’s it! The Red Lion and The Lamb. That sounds like … an inn’s name. Two inns! We need to find two inns called that!’

‘And then what?’

‘I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘I wonder if it would be helpful if—’ she stops.

‘… roaring lion, red lion, lamb , redemption ,’ Philip says, writing, then looks up. ‘What?’

‘Do you mind if I speak with Honorine? I may be able to glean useful information while her courage is low.’

‘By all means,’ he says. ‘I’ll go on with this.’

As she opens the door, ‘It sounds as if the searchers are back,’ she tells him. ‘I’ll see if they have any information.’

In the kitchen the men stand around warming themselves, to Maureen’s preening delight. None has any news of Louise-Lewis but each vies with the rest to tell stories of their tracking until someone suggests the men go into Guildford for a drink until supper is ready.