How could Father Ignatius retrieve the reliquary then?
Lady Marie leaned closer. “I would see Royce cheated of all he has stolen and cast out naked in the night, if it is the last deed I do.” She raised her gaze to that of Father Ignatius. “This keep was built with my inheritance, a prison wrought for me of my father’s coin! I will reclaim my dowry that I might wed the man I desire to father my sons.”
“I would ask, my lady, for your aid in ensuring that the reliquary is returned to its custodians. It is not an item that would be wise to mislay.”
The lady smiled and parted her robe. Around her waist was slung a round bundle that could only be what he most desired. “Our thoughts are as one, Father. I meant to offer this to you as a gift, in thanks for your silence about my choice.”
“You have it, my lady.”
She surrendered the reliquary to him, pausing to kiss the edge of the bundle. “Perhaps you might request the aid of Saint Euphemia in ensuring the cause of righteousness is served.”
“But how shall it be taken from this keep without any noting it?”
Lady Marie dropped her hand to the coffin, her gaze knowing. Father Ignatius might have simply set the prize inside the box, but the lady lifted her dead maid’s skirts. She placed the bundle on Agnes’ belly, beneath her folded hands. It looked as if she had been with child when she passed away, yet not so far along that the fullness of her kirtle might not have hidden it. “No one truly looks at a maid,” Marie murmured and gathered the fabric around Agnes’ hips to disguise the bump yet more.
Father Ignatius heard the other maid inhale sharply and guessed that she was offended. The lady did not appear to notice.
She bent and kissed the dead maid’s brow. “Still you serve me,” she murmured. “Godspeed to you, Agnes.”
Father Ignatius gave a blessing and the lid was closed again.
The lady spoke more loudly then. “Emma, we must see that Agnes is laid to her eternal rest. I know that my lord husband has other concerns this day, but would not delay in fulfilling my duty to Agnes. Would you aid me in retrieving her belongings, that they might be distributed to the poor?” She met Father Ignatius’ gaze steadily. “Could you give the final blessing at the old cemetery, Father? Perhaps at midday?”
“Of course, my lady.” He understood that he was to take the responsibility for smuggling the prize through the gates. The ruse was a good one, and the risk well worth the prize. He had to remind himself of such in an effort to steady the flutter of his heart. Father Ignatius had never been a bold man, but the cause of righteousness demanded that he do as much this time. He prayed for boldness as well as Agnes’ soul while the lady turned to leave left the chapel.
“Oh! Have you a key to the chapel, Father?” the lady asked sweetly, turning to face him. “I would see it locked after your departure, the better to ensure that Royce is confounded in his search for it.”
“Surely Sir Royce also has a key.”
“I will claim that, as well.” The lady put out her hand, her manner imperious.
Father Ignatius could only trust her in the details of her scheme. He retrieved the hidden key and granted it to her. She smiled and pivoted, quickly leaving the chapel.
He took a deep breath and eyed the coffin, preparing himself for the bold deed he must do.
But it proved that Father Ignatius had misunderstood the lady’s intent.
He heard the key turn in the lock of the portal and spun in dismay. He knocked on the portal, but the lady laughed softly. “No one will ever again cheat me of my due, Father. I may need this prize to negotiate all that I would make my own, and you will not have the chance to take it from me.”
Father Ignatius’ hand dropped to the ring of keys on his belt out of habit, but it was gone. Too late he recalled that the maid had collided with him. She had stolen his keys!
And Lady Marie had requested the one that was missing from the ring.
He had only the key to the empty sanctuary by the altar.
“My lady!” he protested and tried to force the door. It was of considerable weight and the lock was good.
Father Ignatius bent and peered through the keyhole. He could discern Lady Marie striding away. The maid cast an impish smile over her shoulder and Father Ignatius felt a shadow of dread slide over his heart.
Did Lady Marie mean to betray him?
What was her intent?
He saw the wagon leave the bailey, accompanied by Royce’s men. Was Bartholomew amongst them?
He pivoted and leaned against the door, surveying the small windowless chapel with dissatisfaction. What could he do to help?
For once in all his days, Father Ignatius found prayer to be a less than compelling choice.
