The Doublet Affair (Ursula Blanchard Mysteries) by Fiona Buckley Page A
Authors: Fiona Buckley
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Queen.
“For your information, my dear, you have been badly pulled down by a winter illness and need a rest from the court. You have no family to whom you can go—your former guardian, your Uncle Herbert, is unfortunately in the Tower. But I said I understood that you had once visited Lockhill and this had given me an idea! I trust,” said Lady Mildred austerely, “that I sounded like an interfering busybody, one of those people who organise the lives of total strangers. I did my best to give that impression. I suggested that you should go to Lockhill and help with the girls.”
“There was some correspondence on the matter,” Cecil said. “They asked for more details about you—whether you really had a good knowledge of embroidery and dancing, for one thing! As if,” he added dryly, “any of the Queen’s ladies would not! We gave you a glowing reference . . .”
“We know that you have the skills required,” put in Lady Mildred.
“And in the end,” said Cecil, “a letter came, saying that you would be very welcome and asking you to write to them yourself, to make final arrangements. Well, Ursula? Will you go to Lockhill?”
Part of me wanted to. I had been appealed to by the Queen, and here in this warm, bright room, I was being honoured—one could say flattered—by the confidence and trust of the Secretary of State and his wife. The memory of Ann Mason and my sympathy for her had been reawakened. Oh, yes. I was almost ready to consent.
However, my mind was made up. I was going to Matthew and I would not be seduced from him. OnceI was away from the court and the Cecils, this spell would break. The sooner I made my escape, the better.
For the moment, I must go on pretending, but the pretence need not go on for very long. It must be convincing, however, so I asked the right question.
“But what am I to do when I get there? Apart from teaching the girls galliards and Spanish blackwork?”
“Let us be clear,” said Cecil. “Jackdaw is dead. That amounts to a warning. This may mean danger for you and—perhaps—disaster for Lockhill. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Where does the picking of locks come into it?” I asked.
“I want you,” said Cecil, “to get into Leonard Mason’s study, and search his correspondence.”
CHAPTER 5
Ferry to the Future
O ne of the tasks which my first husband, Gerald Blanchard, carried out for Sir Thomas Gresham was to find people who could be bought, or blackmailed, into working secretly for Gresham rather than for the Spanish administration in the Netherlands. Gerald always kept a careful eye on them. “Some of them make me extravagant promises,” he told me once, “but usually under duress, and that kind of promise doesn’t count. I never expect them to be bound by their word.”
All the same, the giving of one’s word does count for something, whether you want it to, or not. To keep up my pretence of co-operation, I had said to Cecil that I would go to Lockhill and search Leonard Mason’s correspondence, and the mere fact that I had said it had a peculiar effect on me. I dithered.
I didn’t speak of my secret intentions to Brockley and Dale. They both knew that I intended to join Matthew and that the Queen had said I could go in May. Now, just as if this still held, I found myself explaining my mission to Lockhill to them, and ofcourse impressing secrecy on them. Anyone would think, I said to myself crossly, that I actually meant to go to Lockhill.
Cecil had instructed me to write two letters: one to the Masons, accepting their invitation and setting a date for my arrival there, and one to Matthew, telling him that I couldn’t come until May.
“I’ll find messengers,” Cecil said.
I didn’t write the letter to Matthew, but I penned the one to Lockhill, setting the date of my arrival there for the following week, Thursday January 20, which left me with time in hand to make my own preparations. Cecil accepted it, because it gave time for my
“For your information, my dear, you have been badly pulled down by a winter illness and need a rest from the court. You have no family to whom you can go—your former guardian, your Uncle Herbert, is unfortunately in the Tower. But I said I understood that you had once visited Lockhill and this had given me an idea! I trust,” said Lady Mildred austerely, “that I sounded like an interfering busybody, one of those people who organise the lives of total strangers. I did my best to give that impression. I suggested that you should go to Lockhill and help with the girls.”
“There was some correspondence on the matter,” Cecil said. “They asked for more details about you—whether you really had a good knowledge of embroidery and dancing, for one thing! As if,” he added dryly, “any of the Queen’s ladies would not! We gave you a glowing reference . . .”
“We know that you have the skills required,” put in Lady Mildred.
“And in the end,” said Cecil, “a letter came, saying that you would be very welcome and asking you to write to them yourself, to make final arrangements. Well, Ursula? Will you go to Lockhill?”
Part of me wanted to. I had been appealed to by the Queen, and here in this warm, bright room, I was being honoured—one could say flattered—by the confidence and trust of the Secretary of State and his wife. The memory of Ann Mason and my sympathy for her had been reawakened. Oh, yes. I was almost ready to consent.
However, my mind was made up. I was going to Matthew and I would not be seduced from him. OnceI was away from the court and the Cecils, this spell would break. The sooner I made my escape, the better.
For the moment, I must go on pretending, but the pretence need not go on for very long. It must be convincing, however, so I asked the right question.
“But what am I to do when I get there? Apart from teaching the girls galliards and Spanish blackwork?”
“Let us be clear,” said Cecil. “Jackdaw is dead. That amounts to a warning. This may mean danger for you and—perhaps—disaster for Lockhill. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Where does the picking of locks come into it?” I asked.
“I want you,” said Cecil, “to get into Leonard Mason’s study, and search his correspondence.”
CHAPTER 5
Ferry to the Future
O ne of the tasks which my first husband, Gerald Blanchard, carried out for Sir Thomas Gresham was to find people who could be bought, or blackmailed, into working secretly for Gresham rather than for the Spanish administration in the Netherlands. Gerald always kept a careful eye on them. “Some of them make me extravagant promises,” he told me once, “but usually under duress, and that kind of promise doesn’t count. I never expect them to be bound by their word.”
All the same, the giving of one’s word does count for something, whether you want it to, or not. To keep up my pretence of co-operation, I had said to Cecil that I would go to Lockhill and search Leonard Mason’s correspondence, and the mere fact that I had said it had a peculiar effect on me. I dithered.
I didn’t speak of my secret intentions to Brockley and Dale. They both knew that I intended to join Matthew and that the Queen had said I could go in May. Now, just as if this still held, I found myself explaining my mission to Lockhill to them, and ofcourse impressing secrecy on them. Anyone would think, I said to myself crossly, that I actually meant to go to Lockhill.
Cecil had instructed me to write two letters: one to the Masons, accepting their invitation and setting a date for my arrival there, and one to Matthew, telling him that I couldn’t come until May.
“I’ll find messengers,” Cecil said.
I didn’t write the letter to Matthew, but I penned the one to Lockhill, setting the date of my arrival there for the following week, Thursday January 20, which left me with time in hand to make my own preparations. Cecil accepted it, because it gave time for my
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