“Interesting.” She didn’t know Walsingham yet, so she would not speak openly of William’s plans for the Spanish. Not that he wasn’t intelligent enough to guess.
“Your Highness, there was an interesting development afterward.”
She looked at him expectantly. “Yes?”
“When Exeter left the tavern, he was followed by a Spanish soldier and attacked. One blow only, and Exeter sent his attacker running quite neatly. And then another man appeared. This second man took Exeter off with him, all the way back to court.”
“Another Spanish soldier?”
“No. It was Renaud LeClerc.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, pondering. That was strange indeed. LeClerc was Dominic’s friend, as far as two nationalities could be friends. How had he known about Dominic’s meeting with the Spanish ambassador? More crucially, what would he tell the French king about it?
“Your Highness,” Walsingham said, “there are rumours about the young lady in attendance upon you. Mistress Wyatt is whispered to be a favorite of your brother. A favorite in all its shades of meanings. Is there a reason for the French to wonder about the marriage contract?”
“Do you think I would tell you if there were?”
He gave a private, approving smile. “I think that your brother could benefit from your subtlety. Unfounded or not, rumours that England is looking to the Emperor could stir trouble. Until your brother is safely married elsewhere, the French king will always be uneasy about his intentions toward Mary of Scotland. It would be a disaster for the Continent to have England and Scotland united, even in a forced union.”
“Mary Stuart is safely in the French king’s hands.”
“But Mary Stuart’s kingdom is on England’s doorstep. War can be put to many uses, Your Highness.”
Don’t worry about Mary Stuart,Elizabeth nearly told him.My brother’s hopes are quite elsewhere.“And what has Mary of Scotland to do with rumours about Mistress Wyatt?”
“Rumours don’t require one neat path of logic. They are able to twist every incident into a weapon. If this young woman is truly favoured by the king, then she can be used against him. I would keep a watchful eye on her, if I were you.”
“Thank you for your advice,” she said drily.
“There is one more thing, Your Highness. You know that I am acquainted with John Dee; indeed, we have been correspondents for some time. He has written to me from England because he is…concernedabout the current tenor of the Duke of Northumberland’s household.”
Elizabeth had asked him to impress her; clearly Walsingham had taken that to mean going beyond his immediate surroundings in searching out intelligence. And it went right to the heart of the things she needed—but didn’t necessarily wish—to know. “What is the current tenor of the duke’s household?”
“Self-contained, even more so than usual. The Dudleys have always been an insular family, but Northumberland has not even attempted to return to court since the king arrested Guildford three months ago. For a man of his ambition, that is in itself unusual.”
“Perhaps he is merely showing an unexpected degree of common sense in allowing my brother’s anger to cool.”
Walsingham inclined his head in acknowledgment, but not agreement. “Dr. Dee writes that the household has played host this summer to a number of radical Protestant gentlemen. Gentlemen who have the ability to raise armed men if need be.”
“Are you telling me that the Duke of Northumberland is preparing to raise an army against the king?” This confirmed all her worst fears. Why would Northumberland resort to soldiers if his only crime, as he claimed, was being too lenient with his son, Guildford? This level of preparation and paranoia argued for his involvement in having brought down Norfolk.
Walsingham watched her neutrally, which goaded her into asking, “Do you have an opinion of this intelligence? Do I take the written statement of a single man as proof of Northumberland’s intentions? I will not be one of those women who trembles at every shadow of a possibility!”
“There is less danger in fearing too much than too little.”
Elizabeth studied Walsingham. Already she felt comfortable with him, to a degree she rarely did with most men. His dark eyes seemed a window to his fervent desire to serve England and, more specifically, herself. Waiting now for her to speak, Walsingham sat in perfect composure, his body still but giving the impression that he was ready to spring to action any moment—whatever action might be necessary.
She had made her decision almost upon meeting him; the information he’d provided, as well as his calm demeanor in doing so, only confirmed it. “Return to England with me. My household could use a man of your talents. England may not be as varied in culture and experience as the Continent, but I assure you we have any number of conspiracies, quite enough to keep you busy for years to come.”
Walsingham paused just long enough to give the appearance of thought. “It would be an honour and a pleasure to serve you, Your Highness.”
“Make your arrangements and be ready to leave with us tomorrow.”
“I will. And if I might make a suggestion—there is little you can do about Northumberland tonight. But you can keep a careful eye on your young Mistress Wyatt. I am certain many others will be watching her tonight as well. Perhaps even one who should not be watching her in quite the manner that he is.”
He did not elaborate, but Elizabeth carried that enigmatic warning with her throughout the evening. Surely it was one of the French royals—probably the king himself—Walsingham had meant. Though Henri was known to be devoted to his mistress, Madame de Poitiers, she was not the only woman he had betrayed his marriage with and surely he could appreciate another beautiful young woman. And if he suspected that William found Minuette alluring, the enticement would be even greater. But it was their final night at court, so how much trouble could the French king lead her into?
It proved easy to watch Minuette that night, for she was as brilliant and dazzling as Elizabeth had ever seen her. Although Elizabeth herself was dressed in cloth-of-silver with a fortune in diamonds and pearls in her hair and around her neck and sewn to her gown, she knew that for once she did not match her friend for brilliance. Minuette was like a flame, in a gown of crimson and ivory velvet and her hair caught back from her face with a fillet of gold. She was beautiful and charming and, as Elizabeth watched her with increasing concern, pitch perfect in every movement.
