And then he thought of the pendant, his gift that had been turned against her, and sighed. “Tell her she is still the sweetest and merriest star of all.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After a few hours of snatched sleep, Elizabeth met with her brother and Dominic in her privy chamber. It had been an awful night, reminiscent of Hever last summer when it had been her mother struggling to breathe on her deathbed while Minuette had held her hand. There had been no one to hold Elizabeth’s hand last night. William stayed just long enough to ensure that Minuette was being cared for, then locked himself away in his own rooms. Elizabeth suspected he’d spent much of that time drinking. She didn’t know what Dominic had been doing, but when he appeared he looked no more rested than her brother.
In spite of the lack of sleep, Elizabeth had managed to behave as normal for public eyes, dismissing Minuette’s illness as a severe headache. The physician and Carrie were sworn to secrecy and Minuette had been returned to her own chambers just after dawn. But Elizabeth saw more than one thoughtful expression amongst her women as her story made the rounds, and she felt, with a sinking heart, that they were now in a different kind of trouble. When a woman was as near to a man as Minuette was to William, any illness would be credited to one cause.
It was a point she tried to make when the three shut themselves away in privacy. Dominic was in no mood to hear it. As he had once before, he wanted Minuette sent away from court at the earliest possible moment. And as she had once before, Elizabeth argued. She pointed out that speculation was no doubt already bubbling that Minuette was pregnant, that the only way to refute such rumours was to keep her here and show her off as much as possible. Let the court see that she did not continue ill, or swell with child. Send her away, and tongues would wag that she was going to bear William’s child in secret.
But William was entirely on Dominic’s side. “Someone meant to kill her. Monkshood is not playing. Minuette must go until we know who that person is and have dealt with him—or her.”
He knew it meant further weeks of separation. He knew that rumours of an illicit pregnancy would further impede his marriage plans. It was the first time Elizabeth had seen her brother do something truly disinterested, and she realized with a bittersweet pang that his love for Minuette did go beyond desire.
“This time, she doesn’t go to Wynfield,” William ordered. “Sending adequate royal guards with her would only spark more gossip. You must take her to Hatfield, Elizabeth. No one will blink twice if I increase your protection.”
Elizabeth had hoped for that solution, for she had a plan of her own. First was to get Minuette well. A week or two, the physician thought, and she would be strong enough to travel. They would travel to Hatfield, right enough, but from there it wouldn’t be hard to persuade Minuette to travel to Dudley Castle with her. Even William would have to approve that plan, for she would have a chaperone around Robert—if Elizabeth had meant to tell him. Which she didn’t—at least not in advance. But when he found out later, she would be able to point out that she’d known very well that, as a Howard widow, Eleanor Percy would never show her face in such a Protestant household as the Dudleys. For surely Eleanor must be considered the most likely assassin.
That was for William and Dominic to discover—how to deal with the matter of poison. And poisoner.
For the first time in their friendship, William found himself trying to restrain Dominic from too hasty action. No, not the first time, he corrected himself. As William watched his friend pace the perimeter of his private closet, he could almost see Dominic’s knife once more at Giles Howard’s throat. And just look how that had ended.
William was no less angry. But he knew how to use his anger, how to let white-hot emotion cool into deadly resolve. It was something he had learned, ironically enough, from Dominic—think before you act.There were too many traps here, possibilities and consequences that must be considered. He would take his time and act when he was ready. If only he could keep Dominic reined in.
“Why have you not put Eleanor under arrest?” Dominic growled for the fourth time that hour.
And, for the fourth time, William gave the same reply. “We have no evidence.”
“She hates Minuette, she always has. Do you think she’d balk at killing? You said it yourself once—the woman’s only virtue is devotion to her own interests. No doubt Eleanor believes that with Minuette dead, you’d turn back to her.”
“I’ve given her no cause to think so.”
“You met her daughter this summer. That alone would have given Eleanor cause to hope. And then you invited her to return here to court.”
“Even you cannot fault my behavior since her return.”
“And before her return?” Dominic asked brusquely.
William forced himself not to blink. Dominic did not listen to gossip—if there had been gossip, which was unlikely. They had been extremely discreet at Kenninghall.
If there was any act of his life William wished undone, it was admitting Eleanor to his chambers that summer night two months ago. He had first met Eleanor’s daughter that day.Hisdaughter, William was sure of it. The girl looked like Elizabeth, and had an air about her disconcertingly like their mother. He’d been disarmed by the child and by the emotions she’d raised. And Eleanor had been…familiar. Tempting. She knew him well, and no doubt she played the moment for all it was worth, but he had let her. He had argued against his conscience ever since, certain that Minuette would not expect complete celibacy from him, that she would know what men need and understand that his love for her was completely different than an hour’s dalliance with another woman…
But if he learned that Eleanor had deliberately harmed Minuette after he had allowed her to return to court, he would never forgive himself. And he would do more than throw Eleanor in the Tower.
“I’m not disagreeing with you,” he said. “I don’t trust Eleanor, and I’m quite willing to see her punished. But I’m nowhere near convinced she could do this alone. It was planned, Dominic. One doesn’t keep monkshood on one’s person merely in hopes that an opportunity of using it will arise.” William wasn’t quite sure if that was really what he believed or if he was just grasping for an answer that made his own failure less.
For the first time today, Dominic stopped and listened to him. “If not Eleanor alone…whom do you suspect, Will?”
“Eleanor must be questioned—but I don’t want her arrested, not yet. That sets off too many alarms. Bully her if you like, but don’t spread it widely. If there’s more to this than her jealousy of Minuette, I don’t want us missing anything from prejudice.”
Dominic could have sent a page after Eleanor, but he could not be still. It wasn’t anger or fear driving him—just a clarity of purpose that had narrowed to one objective. Find Minuette’s enemy.
It took him nearly an hour to track down Eleanor, playing the virginals in one of the medieval galleries in the older section of the palace. She was surrounded by a crowd of appreciative men. Most of them seemed more appreciative of her attributes than her musical talent.
“I’d like to speak with you, Mistress Percy. Privately.”
She smiled at him, as smooth and bland as cream. “It will be my pleasure, Lord Exeter.”
Leaving the disappointed and envious men behind, Dominic did not take her to his own rooms this time. Instead, he led her into the empty chapel.
