“Who talked about it?!” she yelled, and was darkly amused by the shock on his face. He had not expected her to raise her voice.
Shock quickly turned to anger. “I’m not going to indulge your curiosity while you’re in a temper.”
She pitched her next words with care. “Who in your family made a mockery of my mother’s name?”
“The Penitent’s Confession was signed with your mother’s name?” Though it was half a question, he did not need her confirmation. “That is why you burnt it, because you did not want your mother’s name seen.”
She did not trust any of the Howards, but her stepfather…She remembered what Carrie had told her, grudgingly, about her mother’s death.He slept in a chair, when he slept at all, and he ordered us around as though he could keep Death away if he just willed it hard enough.
Stephen Howard had loved her mother, she trusted that. So finally, grudgingly, she told him the truth. “My mother was the supposed penitent, confessing that Henry was not William’s father. But that confession was false from beginning to end, including her signature, because it was dated just one daybeforeher death.”
Her stepfather grasped that detail immediately. “No one in my family would be stupid enough to make such an elementary mistake. We were at Framlingham with the others when she died—everyone knew that your mother was out of her mind those last days. No one who was there would ever believe she was in a condition to make such a confession, false or not.”
“What about your nephew, Giles? He would have been a child, only…what? Nine, ten? And you said yourself he had a personal issue with me. He might have used her name to hurt me.”
He shook his head. “This entire plan was far too clever and subtle for Giles. Far be it from me to disparage family, but Giles was not our brightest mind.” He paused, then said, “What about his wife? Eleanor makes no secret of her dislike of you. And she is both clever and cruel.”
“And truly attached to the king. Everything she has she owes to William. Eleanor would do nothing to threaten his rule.”
“Unless,” he argued, “she was playing a double game. Threaten the throne—in order to strengthen it.”
It was Minuette’s turn to blink. “I don’t—”
“Think about it.” Stephen Howard leaned forward, hands clasped loosely together, the firelight glinting off the threads of gold in his brown velvet doublet and dancing on the snowy linen of his cuffs. “The primary threat to the king’s rule has been neutralized. With my brother dead and his heir under question in the Tower, the Catholic powers are in retreat. Mary is under house arrest, her position has never been weaker, and the king’s public approval could not be higher after his victory in France.”
“Are you saying all of this was a feint? That Norfolkneverintended rebellion?” Minuette thought of Alyce, her friend whose untimely death had begun the unraveling of Norfolk’s treason, and of how scarcely anyone even remembered her. The thought that her friend had been a casualty of a mere game made her sick.
“I’m saying that these sorts of maneuvers are still well beyond you, Minuette. Go back to court, serve your princess, and keep your head down. I will find out who defamed your mother’s name. You can trust me for that.”
She did—though she couldn’t swear that his intent was to bring the perpetrator to the king’s justice. He looked rather as though he would kill the person himself. For the first time, she realized that there were aspects of her stepfather that reminded her of Dominic.
“I will promise,” she replied. “On one condition—I want to know who was behind it all. Not just for my mother’s sake. There was a woman, my friend…Her name was Alyce de Clare and she died at the beginning of all this. Alyce was part of it and in over her head, and she…” It seemed wrong to tell him all of it, though most of the court had known. Known, and now forgotten.
“She what?”
“She was with child when she died. The child’s father was almost certain to have been part of the whole conspiracy. I thought it was Giles, after you told me he’d lied about being home in March of 1553.”
“He was quarantined with the pox that month.”
“Well yes, I know that now. If you’d bothered to be specific when I asked about his whereabouts before, I might have saved a good deal of time. But what matters is that whoever fathered Alyce de Clare’s child is still unknown. If you really think this was a feint, a double-dealing method of tainting your family, that man could be the key to discovery.”
“Yes, he could. Very good, Minuette.”
“I have a list of names I was going through, I could send them to you.”
“That would be useful. But that is the end of it, do you hear me? No more games for you. Remember that the next time Rochford comes calling. You stay out of this.”
Oh yes, she thought wryly. Definitely like Dominic. Although Stephen Howard didn’t know her as well, so she was able to lie much more easily.
“I’ll stay out of it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Happy?” Robert murmured.
Elizabeth twitched as his breath caressed her cheek. “You’re distracting me,” she protested, her fingers moving smoothly across the strings of her lute. Happy, yes; but also suspicious. Robert had been more than attentive this winter. He had been ever on hand, and for once neither her brother nor her uncle had made any comment on it.
William’s lack of observance was easy enough to understand—he had eyes only for Minuette. And people were beginning to whisper.
