Chapter 4
On her last day in London before traveling home to Scotland, Lady Ann asked Margaret to dine with her. She had ordered food brought to her rooms in the sumptuous residence in which she resided, a far cry from the modest lodgings that Margaret occupied. Her servants, a white-haired older couple in neat white linen and plaid woolens, Thomas and Annabelle, fussed over both of them like children. Ann affectionately called them “Auntie” and “Uncle,” and invited Margaret to do the same. The table was laid with monogrammed cloths, all of the finest quality. Crystal glowed in the light of a silver candelabrum heavy with an enameled coat of arms. Margaret felt honored to sit at such a table.
“At the least, we can empty a bottle of wine togaither,” her friend insisted, as Thomas poured a sweet-smelling red into a cup for Margaret. “Ye’ve been in the dumps for a day or more. No’ that I can blame ye for it, but ye’ve done all ye can. I’ve faith in your father to make as well as he can out of the situation. He sounds a sensible sort.”
“And so he is,” Margaret said, taking a sip. The wine was excellent and warmed her to her core. “I only wish I had better news to give him. I sent word to Master Bywell to make arrangements for me and Hettie to take ship upstream. He said with the spring rains easing, we could travel as far as Oxford.”
“Better on your backside,” Lady Ann said, with a laugh. “My journey will be mostly by sea. I doubt not I’ll be well sprinkled with the spring rains by the time I see home again.”
“Tell me about your home and your family,” Margaret said. “I feel as though I’ve known you all my life, but we’ve had only a few days together.”
“I hope ye’ll see it one day,” Lady Ann said, lifting her glass to her friend. “Tis the truth, but I’ll be happy to set eeyn on it again. Weel na, it’s an old pile of stones in the farthest north of the farthest north.…”
Late that evening, they made warm farewells, with promises of letters every month, or as often as possible. With the warmth of the wine and the company raising her spirits more than a little, Margaret, with Hettie and Percy, set out again for their rooms. Lady Ann insisted on calling a sedan chair for them, “to spare ye the mud,” as the spring rains had indeed begun, and insisted on paying for it. The enclosed conveyance, borne between two horses fore and aft, with lanterns swinging like the lights on a ship, was painted with a coat of arms that she didn’t recognize. Master Bywell had told her of many a noble house that allowed the servants to make a few coins in the hours that they were not needed by the family. London was so expensive that Margaret understood the need to eke out one’s wages. She would be grateful to be going home, even if it was as the bearer of bad news. Exciting as it had been to come to the city, it had been hard on her pocketbook, and harder still on her hopes. And yet, she had made good friends, shining stars in the sorrowful sky.
Lady Ann’s footman, a tall man clad in neat dark blue livery, helped her and the maid through the door and offered them blankets against the cold of the night. Though Lady Ann had paid, this was yet another call for a coin or so to exchange hands. Margaret was ready with a tip. It seemed to please the footman, for he tucked the cloth around her feet with some care and only slightly less for her maid who sat opposite. With a half-salute to her, Percy swung up onto the back of the horse at the rear. The door closed and she heard the man cluck to his horses. The carriage lurched slightly as they set off.
“It shouldn’t be more than half an hour’s ride,” Margaret said.
The chair was well-kept and clean, smelling of sandalwood and beeswax. The inside had been lined with tapestries showing riders and hounds on the hunt. There were leathern windows to lower for air, but she found herself staring at the closed shades instead and let her body move with the rocking of the carriage. So much had happened in their visit to London, only the news from the Earl of Cork had been bad. Otherwise, she had much reason to be grateful.
“Are you all right, mistress?” Hettie asked, after a long silence.
“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” Margaret assured her. “I’ll miss Lady Ann, and Rita and Lady Mailey. I hope it’s as all of them said, ‘au revoir,’ not ‘farewell forever.’”
“Goodbyes are hard,” Hettie said, sympathetically. “What’s ahead won’t be so easy, neither.”
Margaret shook her head. Her heart felt heavy. She had been so excited to come to London and to speak to the king as her father’s representative. How terribly she had failed him. “Best not to borrow trouble until we must. Father is resourceful. We will all put our heads together and come up with some manner of saving our estates.”
“God will provide,” Hettie said, and crossed herself. Margaret followed the gesture absently.
“Here, now, this is no’ the way to me lady’s lodgings!” Percy protested. “Ye should’a turned at that corner there! Wheel around, man!”
“No, lad, we’re goin’ that way,” the footman said. “Sit tight, lad. I know a better way.”
Margaret lowered the blind. A wave of stench redolent with urine and rotten fish washed in over them. The buildings around them, ill-lit by yellow flames coming from filthy lanterns, were not of even the modest quality of the street near the castle. They were heading east, well away from Whitehall.
“Hold on!” she called to the footman. “This isn’t the way we are supposed to go! You must have been given the wrong directions. Take us to Great George Street, sir!”
The man frowned down at her.
“Sorry for the ruse, your highness, but there’s someone who has to talk with you. Won’t take but a moment.”
Margaret was shocked.
“Am I being kidnapped?” she demanded. “Let me tell you, sir, I have very little money, and my father is heavily indebted. I will be worth nothing to you as a hostage. Or…” Her resolve wavered. Worse things could happen to a couple of lone women in the alleys of London, or so she had heard. She drew the knife from her garter and held it before her. “We’ll sell our honor dear, sir. That I assure you!”
The man grinned. “You have spirit, no doubt about it. Your virtue is safe, your highness. Bide a moment, and all will be revealed.”
Percy jumped down from his mount and pulled open the door of the sedan chair.
“Get out, me lady,” the boy said, holding a rough hand in to her. “I’ll take ye to yon inn until I can make arrangements for yer safety.”
Margaret and Hettie cast aside their blankets.
“Ah, no, you don’t,” the footman said, swinging down from his saddle. He walked toward them, his hands up to show that they were empty. “There’s people who want a word with your mistress. It’ll only be a short time.”
Percy turned to confront him, drawing his own knife.
“Run, me lady!” he shouted, leaping at the blue-clad man. “I swore blind to yer sire I’d bring ye back safe! Get in the hostelry! Th’ innkeeper will mind you!”
“Ah, you young fool,” the tall man said, shaking his head. He elbowed the door of the sedan chair closed. Percy jumped for him, but the man caught his arm as he lunged. With a downward chop of his free hand, he knocked the knife out of the boy’s grasp. It bounced noisily away over the cobblestones. Percy grappled with the man, seeking to twist his arm up behind his back. The footman shook his head, as if in disbelief that the boy would challenge him. He countered every move, and grabbed Percy by the nape of the neck. He had the skills of a practiced soldier.
Terrified, Margaret fought with the door. The footman had somehow secured it so she couldn’t open the latch.
“Go out the winder, my lady,” Hettie said. “I’ll boost you. Go on!”
“I can’t leave you!”
“What will your father say if I let harm come to you?”
“We will both be safe,” Margaret said. She leaned out the window and pricked the rump of the forward horse with the tip of her knife.
The horse let out a loud whinny of surprise and galloped down the street. The rear horse had no choice but to follow.
She looked back. The man gawked for a moment.
“Runaway horse!” he shouted, dashing after them. Percy followed, keeping almost abreast of his opponent. “Save my lady!”
Curse his quick wits, Margaret thought.
People scuttled off the busy street, away from the panicking horses. A couple of men clad in stained aprons stepped out and attempted to catch the forward mount’s harness. The confusion did succeed in slowing down their progress a little. A wagon full of barrels lumbered out in front of them, blocking their passage. The lead horse neighed and rose to its rear hooves, pawing the air. Margaret and Hettie held onto the sedan chair’s frame. A slender man with sleek black hair took the moment to jump up and catch the lead horse’s bridle.
“There ye’are, me darlings,” he said. “Safe and sound.” Margaret plunged her hand into her pocket and handed him whatever coin came first to her fingers.
“Thank you, my good sir,” she said. At last, the door yielded to her efforts and sprang ajar. “Come on, Hettie.”
The man gawked astonished at the gold in his palm. Margaret dragged Hettie out of the chair and into the nearest doorway.
The shop, a draper’s, was closed for the night, but the deep recess before the closed portal gave them a moment’s shelter.
“We’ll have to find a carriage,” Margaret said. She pulled her hood over her head and crept out from the doorway. The dark-haired man was holding onto the halter of the now calm horse. The footman had caught up with him, and was casting about to find Margaret.
Percy, bless him for the innocent that he was, spotted them turning out into the street, and headed toward them with a glad cry.
“Why, tha’ she is! Mistress de Beauchamp, come with me now!”
Margaret groaned inwardly, as the footman opened his long legs and outpaced her escort. Before she could escape, he clamped her firmly by the arm. His expression was a combination of concern and innocence.
“My lady, I regret the bad behavior of the horses! Let me see you safely into this hostelry, where you may have refreshment while I make all ready for your conveyance homeward. How his grace will chide me for my inattention to the steeds!”
A crowd had gathered from the shops and inns nearby. Margaret opened her mouth to scream that he was not her servant, and that she was being abducted.
“Do not make another sound,” the tall man said in a low and menacing voice that belied his bland expression. “I’ve got a dagger in my hand, and I’ll do more than prick you in the rump with it. Make this easy, and I’ll get you back to your rooms before you know it.”
Margaret nodded without speaking. She shot a warning look to Hettie and Percy, who followed her, wide-eyed with fear. She glanced back toward the sedan chair, but it had disappeared.
“Nay, I don’t trust you enough to stay within it,” the footman said. “We stay on foot.”
Her best shoes were coming to ruins over the soiled cobblestones of East London. She had to jump to avoid splashes of filth being flung out of upper story windows to drain into the open sewers at the center of the road. More than one woman with an indecently low-cut bodice eyed her, wondering if she had come to ruin and was competing for their customers. Margaret felt her cheeks burn with shame. Her escort, curse him, seemed to read her mind, and was amused by what he perused there.
“Quality doesn’t come to these parts often, except to attend the theater,” he said. “You’re far afield for that. Never mind. The inn ahead is respectable enough.”
He led them over the busy bridge toward Southwark. Indeed, she could see the golden shell of the Globe Theater rising almost on the water’s edge. Its upper edge seemed ablaze with lanterns. Pennants fluttered in between them, welcoming theatergoers. She found herself gawking at it over the shoulders of other pedestrians who were abroad at this late hour.
“Show’s ended for the night,” the man said. He identified himself as Tony, but gave no more information. “Not as fine as in Master Shakespeare’s day, but well enow. I saw him once, when I was a lad, in his last play, eighteen years gone.”
“I’ve never been,” Margaret said, intrigued despite her situation. The night winds whistled down the black expanse of the Thames and made her shiver. She held her cloak close around her shoulders and thanked divine Providence for her warm clothing. “My neighbor, Lady Pierce, went frequently as an attendant of Her Sainted Majesty Queen Elizabeth. She told me many tales.”
“Go sometime. I know many who would give all their teeth and one hand to attend. Don’t miss the chance. As much as it has diminished, there’s still none finer.”
Hettie looked nervous the whole time, though she admitted that the market where she shopped for Margaret’s meals was not far from their path. Margaret absorbed the information in a trance, soothing her maid with pats on the arm. She no longer felt in danger, but it was more as if she was drawn into one of those storied plays herself. Could she be the heroine, like Rosalind, to confront a foe who might come to be a friend? Still, she kept her dagger near to hand.
Disconcertingly, Tony, as he insisted she call him, spotted it.
“You can keep the sewing-needle if you wish,” he said. “I can take it away from you anytime I want. And no one will mind your cries. I promise no ill will come to you, and possibly much good. Keep walking. We’re nearly there.”
* * *
Harry Lefferts sat at a table in the rear of the inn, his long legs stretched out and crossed nonchalantly at the ankle, his sword at easy reach. The innkeeper had kept the pitchers of beer coming to the four men. The barmaid, an attractive, plump girl with thick blonde hair and pink cheeks, hovered close, sending him longing glances. She was worth a good leer, so Harry obliged her, but kept his hand on his mug. Gerd Fuhrmann did take a grab at the girl’s buttocks. She danced away with a coy, “Oh, sir!” Juliet would have scored her a seven out of ten for delivery. Felix Kasza grinned and flipped the girl a small coin, which she ostentatiously put down between a pair of sumptuous breasts. Harry had no doubt that action had indicated a willingness for either a quick fondle or a more extended session in one of the rooms at the top of the dark stairs in exchange for more coins. George Sutherland had said this place was just on the low edge of respectability, but suited to their needs of the moment.
He glanced surreptitiously at his watch, which he kept hidden most of the time under his ruffled cuff. Getting two of his men to keep an eye on Lady Ann’s quarters hadn’t been difficult. George Sutherland also knew a couple of grooms who would lend him a carriage or another light vehicle, and Tony Leebrick looked like a trustworthy senior servant. The lady’s elderly servant had confided to the guy delivering a cooked roast to the apartment that Lady Ann was leaving in the morning, so he knew Melissa’s prospect wouldn’t be staying late. What was taking so long?
At last, Tony’s face appeared over the heads of the other patrons in the smoky room. After a quick scan, his eyes met Harry’s and he pushed forward, a small group in tow. As they got closer, Harry eyed the three people. The tall, lanky boy he dismissed immediately as the necessary male escort for women traveling alone. The girl in plain clothes and a good but not fashionable green cloak was obviously the maid. He started to study the brown-haired woman in blue whose arm Tony held fast to but his eyes were caught by a pair of intelligent hazel eyes. They were sizing him up as much as he was appraising their owner. He grinned.
“Mistress de Beauchamp? I’m Harry Lefferts. Have a seat and let’s talk. I think we can do each other some good.”
“No, thank you. I prefer to stand. I will not be staying long.” She shook George’s hand off her. “I do not wish to deal with strangers who abduct me.”
“I’m not a stranger,” Harry said, with his most winning smile. “I’m a friend of a friend. Rita Simpson. Have a drink, Miss de Beauchamp. The beer’s not too bad.”
The girl tossed her head. “Anyone can know a name. I am going. Come, Hettie. Percy!” She turned and took a couple of steps toward the innkeeper, probably to ask him to supply her with an escort.
Harry smiled. She had all the guts Melissa had told him about. “Show me your flashlight, Miss de Beauchamp.” In spite of herself, she glanced back at him, her mouth agape. “How would I know about that unless I knew her?”
“But she’s imprisoned in the Tower,” Margaret said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “How could she tell you?”
“How did you get to meet her?” Lefferts countered. “It’s not sealed up like a drum. A lot of people come and go every day. The right price greases a lot of palms. Maybe I swept in like the wind and out again. Anyhow, prove you’re the right person.”
The hazel eyes narrowed with annoyance.
“I’m not the one who has a favor to ask!”
“Don’t you? I hear you came to town to get help from the crown and got the bum’s rush. That’s what my old grampaw used to say. I’d say we have the grounds for bargaining.” He beckoned with one long hand. “Come on, let’s see it.”
“God’s blood, sir!” came an exclamation, followed by a loud crash.
Margaret and everyone in the tavern turned their heads to see.
The buxom server had dropped her tray and turned to confront one the customers. “You keep your bloody hands to yourself, or I’ll haul ye to the gutter!”
The loud clatter distracted and silenced everyone, which emphasized the woman’s loud and profane reaction. It was a few minutes before Margaret could react. She was not unaware of how carefully the man was studying her reaction. If he was truly a friend of Rita’s, the device in her pocket was a token of good faith. If not…
Margaret was uncertain. She knew that what she did next would perhaps change her life, hopefully, but not necessarily for the better. Harry Lefferts beckoned again. His accent did sound like the peculiar English that Rita and Lady Mailey spoke. Unnerved, Margaret felt for the bench. The big man clad in black shifted over to give her room. Hettie helped her to sit.
Feeling as if she was even more out of control of the situation than she had been in the Earl of Cork’s company, she reached into the pocket around her waist and brought out the little black square. Harry clapped a hand on top of it before it could be seen by anyone nearby and drew it to him across the tabletop. He cradled it in his palm and glanced at it as though reading a playing card. He smiled, and Margaret suddenly realized he was a very attractive man, very certainly used to getting his own way by force or by charm. Well, she had plenty of charming men in her family, and didn’t let them get away with liberties. She extended her palm to get her treasure back, but Harry put it into his own belt pouch.
“Trade you,” he said. “I have to prove to Rita I saw you. Here’s mine in exchange.”
Instead of a black box, he offered her a small golden cylinder the length of her forefinger with a button on one end and the same kind of glass sequin on the other. Words were printed upon it, but she didn’t take the time to read them. Flashlights must come in many shapes and sizes in this marvelous, faraway United States of America. She didn’t dare try it out in the common room of the inn, or ask him all the questions knocking at her lips, but tucked it away.
“So, you’re an—” Margaret stopped when Harry put his finger to his lips. “So, you come from there, too. But what do you want from me? If you spoke to…to her, you must know all. I have nothing that I can offer…people like you.”
“You have connections,” Harry said, leaning over the tabletop and staring deeply into her eyes. “We need help.”
“What kind of connections?” Margaret asked, bewildered. “My father owns sheep and employs shepherds, weavers, and dyers.”
“Men who can keep their lips zipped,” Harry said, his voice very low.
“I…” Margaret stared at him. “I don’t know what that means.”
The muscular man with the scarred face at Harry’s right let out a guffaw. “The Mädchen is right to tell you to speak plainly! Tell her your needs, and no more of your movie-gangster talk.”
Harry seemed abashed.
“All right! Miss de Beauchamp, I need a wagon and horses, maybe two wagons. Not flashy, just sturdy. I need two river boats that can carry a lot of weight, and I need them pretty soon. I mean really soon. Like tomorrow. I’ll pay good money, more than fair prices for them. But more important is that I need people who will take the money and not talk about it before or afterwards. Do you know anyone you can trust around here?”
Margaret stared at him. “Is that all? A barge and a couple of wagons? I can easily find you a captain who will take your goods from Tilmouth. What kind of cargo will you be carrying?” Now Harry hesitated. Margaret peered at him, summing up his expression with a practiced eye. He wasn’t lying to her, but he was afraid to say too much. The confidence he wore like armor concealed genuine fear. That puzzled her. “Rita sent you to me for a reason. You’re trusting me now with these questions. Why the need for secrecy?”
“The less you know about it, the better,” the tall man said, his expression serious.
“No,” she said firmly. “If it’s contraband, you had better let me go now. I swear I will say nothing, but I can’t be involved in anything illegal. I have nothing of my own, but my father’s lands could be confiscated if I am accused of abetting a crime. But I will help you to a noble goal.”
“It’s noble, all right,” Harry assured her. “The noblest. Rita and Melissa’ll be very grateful. I will, too. I really can’t say anymore here. Lives are at stake. Will you help us?”
Margaret made up her mind and nodded once. She could ponder over her regrets later.
“You’re one of a kind with Rita and Melissa,” Harry said. “And Rebecca Stearns. You don’t know what kind of a compliment that is.”
“I understand other people’s secrets,” Margaret assured him. She hesitated, knowing what shape such negotiations might take. “I may have to offer coin in advance to those I approach. And…”
Harry needs must have been on the sharp end of a bargain or three himself, for he smiled.
“You’ll be taken care of,” he promised. “You’re giving me a shortcut I don’t have the means to take myself. And here’s an advance for your connections.” He leaned forward and pushed the hammered pewter pitcher toward her. Almost like a magician’s trick, a small cloth bag appeared alongside it. Margaret accepted the pitcher and urged the bag over the table until it fell into her lap. “When’s the soonest you can you talk to your people?”
“Is dawn soon enough?” Margaret asked. Keeping her hand low, she guided the purse into her pocket. It felt heavy. Even if it was full of coppers, it would do as a goodly bribe. “You said the matter is urgent, but I believe that I would cause a stir if I went to the docks at this hour. They’ll be up and working at the crest of the sun.”
Harry sat back, clearly relieved. “Dawn’s soon enough, for sure.”
“One more thing,” Margaret said. She nodded toward her lap. “I will use this well to smooth the way, but I am taking a tremendous risk on your behalf, becoming involved with…you.” Harry nodded, and she knew he understood. “I believe that my services should also be rewarded.”
For a moment, she wondered if Harry thought her too bold, but he grinned. “Sounds fair. How much do you want, Mistress de Beauchamp?”
At least she would be able to bring some largesse back to her father. She raised her chin in defiance. “Fifty pounds.” It was a princely sum, and she expected him to negotiate, but he didn’t even blink.
“Okay, it’s a deal. I don’t want anyone else seeing us together, so I’m sending a guy tomorrow. He’ll be waiting outside your lodgings. I’ll vouch for him. You make sure your connections are worth trusting. Tony will drive you home now. Thanks for listening, Mistress de Beauchamp.”
“I am glad to have done so, sir, though I may regret my impulsiveness later.” Margaret extended her hand. He clasped it.
“Soft but strong,” Harry said, running a thumb over her fingertips. Margaret felt a frisson run up her body. Such an intense, intimate touch. She wanted to pull her hand back, but at the same time, she didn’t. “Calluses on your fingers and palm. You do work back there in Staffordshire, don’t you? Not snooty at all. You probably won’t see me again, Mistress de Beauchamp. And don’t go back to the Tower, got it?”
Margaret was glad to understand her first American slang. “I…got it, sir. Tell them it was my pleasure to make their acquaintance. And yours.”
Harry grinned at her. “Likewise.”