Especially not to absolve Eleanor of trying to kill Minuette—for Jonathan Percy had once been in love with her. He had even asked William for permission to marry her before the war in France, though Minuette had had the good sense to decline.
“That leaves us with the Duke of Northumberland,” William mused aloud, and met Dominic’s eyes. His friend looked deeply unhappy.
As for himself, William wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Not surprised—no, definitely not surprised. The thought had been lurking in the back of his mind for months, ever since the late Duke of Norfolk’s death and the unraveling of any but the slightest circumstantial evidence against him. He had even allowed the new Duke of Norfolk to be racked in the Tower, and the man had confessed nothing. Perhaps because there was nothing to confess. Perhaps Norfolk had not intended treason after all—at least not in the detailed manner implied by Minuette’s discovery of the Penitent’s Confession.
“Do you think Northumberland could be behind it all?” he asked Dominic now.
“He could be. He has a sincere and burning personal hatred of the Catholics and he’d not balk at bringing down Norfolk. And it’s true that Guildford’s marriage occurred only after you released the younger Howard from the Tower.”
“Retaliation?” William snorted. “Why? Northumberland must have known that would come back on him.”
Dominic shrugged. “Of all your nobles, Northumberland is the most likely to act in anger. He lashes out first and considers much later. Maybe he simply gambled on having a tie, however unfortunate, to the royal family.”
“On the theory that I would be less likely to punish? He lost that gamble. Guildford stands trial tomorrow. There is little doubt that he is guilty, and the sentence for his crime is death. I think he shall have to be an example to his father.” He studied Dominic closely. “If I ask you to attend his execution, will you?”
The answer was not as long in coming as he’d feared. “Yes. But I would prefer to have more evidence of his father’s crimes.”
“Have at it. The Dudleys are all away from London just now, aren’t they?”
“They are.”
“Then search their London house. Top to bottom, cracks and crevices. Interrogate the servants and the neighbors. I want to know everything that’s gone on there in the last two years. Just you, though, no one else in this search yet. If you find something…well, then we’ll see.”
When Dominic hesitated, William snapped impatiently, “What?”
“This could be no more than an attempt on Eleanor’s part to divert suspicion. She would not hesitate to throw someone else to the wolves in order to distract attention from her own deeds.”
“Don’t let your personal dislike colour your judgment, Dom. Follow the evidence, wherever it leads. This is about more than a single poisoning and a jealous mistress.”
William spent the next hour with his secretary signing letters. He could not have said to whom they were going or what issues they addressed—for all he knew, he was signing away English possession of Calais—because he was consumed with wondering what Dominic might uncover. It was almost a relief when his uncle appeared, asking for a moment of his time in private.
Rochford waited until they were alone before speaking. “I know that you’ve kept Mistress Wyatt’s illness as quiet as possible. I understand why. However, I’ve discovered some information, from a person who might know what caused the young lady’s sudden collapse.”
Was this just Rochford trying to guess at secrets? To get him to admit Minuette had been poisoned? William couldn’t take the chance and deny it. “Who?”
“A lady in my wife’s household.”
“Tell me.”
“Apparently this young woman has been slipping out at night to meet a man. She came to my wife this morning and confessed—her conscience has been troubled by things this man’s been saying. Dropping hints about services rendered to powerful courtiers, and boasting about the promotions he will soon receive. And he’s had an unusual amount of ready money. When she asked him about it, he winked and told her gold came easy for a man with the right skills and the discretion not to talk about them.”
“And?” William prompted his uncle, who seemed reluctant to continue.
“She saw this man the day of Mistress Wyatt’s illness. In the corridor outside her bedchamber. He was coming out of another woman’s room and she was jealous for a little, until he told her he was merely delivering a message to the young lady from his patron.”
“And do we know who that patron might be?”
“He is a minor functionary in the Duke of Northumberland’s London household.”
A message—not in writing, but in poison. Here was proof to satisfy even Dominic: the attempt on Minuette’s life had indeed been masterminded by Northumberland.
William drew a deep breath and let it out. “If the clerk’s tongue is loose enough to hint to his mistress, he should have any number of things to tell us once he’s in the Tower.”
Rochford nodded in agreement. “Shall I have him arrested?”
“Discreetly. Absolutely no one must know that he has any connection, however tenuous, to Mistress Wyatt. Do I make myself clear?”
“Eminently, Your Majesty. I will see to it.” He paused. “Is there anything else you would like me to see to before Guildford Dudley’s trial tomorrow?”
