The Spymaster's Brother by Anna Castle

Author:Anna Castle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: elizabethan mysteries, amateur sleuth, sixteenth century, anthony bacon, set in london, british historical fiction, lawyers, spies
Publisher: Anna Castle
Published: 2019-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

Trumpet picked at her partridge pie, spooning up only the fleshy bits of mushroom. She couldn’t fault the dish — the cooks at Essex House knew their craft — but she had little appetite today. She stirred another spoonful of sugar into her wine and took a goodly swallow.

Catalina twitched her lips. The wine had already been sweetened. But Trumpet didn’t care. She craved sweetness, and sugar never hurt anybody, pregnant or no.

“What did you think of Elsa’s story?” she asked her maidservant.

“I think she lies about something, but I do not know what.”

Trumpet nodded, glad for the confirmation. “The part about the father with too many daughters was certainly a lie. Monsieur Moreau could easily have found a merchant or a thriving farmer to marry her for her pretty face alone. The lucky man would offer a handsome bride-price to boot, most likely.”

“She said she wanted to travel. That part I can believe.”

“Her father would never allow it. By the time she turned fifteen, that girl would have a line of suitors knocking on the door with their purses open.” Trumpet pushed her dish away and leaned back in her chair. “But why tell the story in the first place? Tom didn’t ask for her complete history. He just wanted to know how she’d joined the circle around Anthony Bacon.”

“She wants Mr. Tom to think she is a gentlewoman.” Catalina set aside the silver comb and brush she’d been polishing and came over to remove Trumpet’s tray. She set it on a table near the door, where the waiter would collect it.

“If she’s not a gentleman’s daughter, who is she? Could you tell anything by the way she talked?”

“Not the talk. I do not speak French so well.” Catalina returned to her stool. “But I think she is like me.”

“I thought that too,” Trumpet said, “but I don’t know why. What did you see?”

“I think she may be a player, my lady, like I was before I came to you. She acts like Columbina.”

“Who?”

“The beautiful servant in Italian commedia. When she is surprised, she is like so.” Catalina widened her dark eyes and formed a perfect O with her lips. “When she is sad, she is like so.” She slumped, rounding her shoulders and turning her wide lips down.

“That’s it exactly!” Trumpet cried, slapping her hand on the table. “I wonder if Penelope knows.”

Catalina shrugged, lifting both hands and shoulders the way Elsa — and, presumably, Columbina — would do.

“I didn’t believe the part about Lawson hitting her either,” Trumpet said. “Tom thinks he’s more likely to sneer than to strike. And what about her seeing Lawson and Ridley in the stables? She makes him sound like he went around stalking everyone, whipping out his pillicock at every opportunity.”

“Why would he risk losing his place with Mr. Anthony?” Catalina asked. “That seems very foolish.”

“She wanted us to think the worst of Lawson; that much is clear. But why? Tom said they seemed friendly that night at the Antelope. Would you hold hands with a man who’d punched you in the face?”

“No, my lady.

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