The Other Countess (4 page)

James took it and stowed it safely away. ‘We’re in everyone’s debt, Will; that’s the trouble.’

3

Lady Jane Perceval stood in front of the mottled glass in her chamber and surveyed her reflection critically. She adjusted the bodice on the tight stomacher of ivory damask to push her breasts up higher. Humming in disapproval as a small pox mark showed on the swelling mound, she dabbed her skin with ceruse, a paste of vinegar and white lead, ensuring all visible areas of skin were flawless white. Her honey brown hair was looped over her ears and caught up in a pearl-edged headdress. Her lips were fashionably reddened by cochineal dye.

‘Well?’ She spun before her maid.

‘You look very beautiful, mistress,’ Nell replied, knowing that failure to praise might result in a box on the ear. ‘You will be the loveliest lady at court. As fresh as a flower.’

Jane bit her lip, trying to feel as confident as her maid. She had many people to face down that evening. Her father’s lavish gift of a wardrobe for her appearance at court may have made her look as beautiful as a rosebud waiting to be gathered by some rich suitor, but she couldn’t forget that she had already been plucked and well swived. Tweaking her bodice even lower, she comforted herself with the thought that though
virginity was supposedly prized at court, few expected it these days in any but the Queen.

‘The servants say that many more noble gentlemen have arrived this afternoon,’ Nell said, feeding her mistress’s appetite for gossip, which was the main reason for her employment.

‘Oh? Anyone we know?’

Nell turned her attention to the discarded clothes, folding them neatly. ‘Master Walter Ralegh is lodged near the Queen’s apartments they say.’

‘How fortunate for him,’ Jane said sourly.

Worse than no longer being untouched, in Jane’s book, was the knowledge that she had been a fool, gulled by her brother’s lustful best friend, Walter Ralegh. She scowled in the mirror, trying to dismiss her unwanted memories of the titillating courtship, culminating in a sweaty coupling in the home farm barn. With what she now knew was girlish naivety, she’d thought he had been intending a declaration of love and a proposal of marriage; instead, she’d got a lost maidenhead and a moment of wild release before the horrid fact sunk in that she was just another warm body as far as Ralegh was concerned. He’d kissed her and patted her rump before riding away without a second glance.

I know better now
, she told her reflection, confident that there was no outward sign of her lapse. Her monthly courses had come on time so she did not need fear any further repercussions. Ralegh was a gentleman, or so he claimed, and comrade-in-arms of her brother, making his way as a soldier and adventurer; he surely would not reveal their secret? What would it gain him but her father’s wrath and much shame for her?

Men are not to be trusted. They are to be used as they use us
, she thought, drawing this teaching from her bitter experience. If she had not been so blinded by his dark good looks and sweet talk, she would have realized he was thinking with his codpiece, not his heart.

Her heart hadn’t been involved either. It had been flattery that had wooed her; stupidity that had her allowing him to take it further. She’d learnt her lesson. Now it was time to make Ralegh and his ilk pay. She was going to be so dazzling, so desirable, he would be panting to have her again, and she would take great pleasure in refusing any further favours.

Jane fastened a string of matched pearls around her neck. Once she was wed, she might think again. Ralegh would make a good paramour for a woman with a rich old husband – for Jane was determined to marry someone who would conveniently die and leave her a wealthy widow while she was still young. Perhaps she would be like the Countess of Essex, who had managed to catch the handsome Earl of Leicester for her second marriage. Achieve wealth and power first time at the altar; choose the compatible bedfellow for later. If a woman didn’t play the game to win, she would be trampled. Jane had no intention of being anyone’s wifely rug.

‘Tell my brother I’m ready to go down,’ Jane ordered Nell.

‘Yes, my lady.’

Nell picked up the linen towel, now soiled with smears of cosmetics, and went in search of Sir Henry. Lady Purity Perceval may think she deceived everyone with her behaviour, but Nell knew the truth. Her mistress had taken a tumble in the hay with that Devon-born jackanapes last month and didn’t want anyone to know it. Nell could’ve found some pity for
her mistress being fooled by the man if Ralegh hadn’t been so obviously a lusty buck after a quick swive. In truth, it was pleasing to see her mistress humbled.

The lady had always looked down her nose at others; now she’s no better than the rest of us
, thought Nell. The rigid ranks in their world were rarely breached, but a reminder that the Lady Jane was human would be good medicine for Her Arrogance.

Tugging her coif back to reveal the blonde curls on her forehead, Nell knocked on Sir Henry’s door.

‘Come!’

She entered and dipped a curtsy. ‘My lady is ready, my lord.’

Henry lounged on his bed and beckoned her nearer. Sandy-haired and stocky, he had the fighting spirit of a rough wild bear. ‘Is that so, sweetheart?’ He hooked his arm around her thighs and buried his face in her bodice. ‘Ah, you smell so good, Nell. Rose water?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Nell glanced over her shoulder to check she’d closed the door.

‘Because you know I like it?’

‘It may have crossed my mind, sir.’ She ran her fingers through his hair coyly. Here was another exception that broke down the barriers between the likes of her and her betters. It made her feel powerful to have a man such as Henry lusting after her.

He nuzzled her midriff. ‘Do you know what’s crossing my mind now, Nell?’

She giggled. ‘I can guess, my lord.’

He tugged her down on top of him and ran his hand up under her skirt. ‘But we’ll have to be quick. We shouldn’t keep my sister waiting.’

Nell squealed as he slapped her bared skin. ‘Oh no, sir, we couldn’t have that. I’ve work to do.’

‘Then let us have no further delays.’

Jane paced the chamber, irritated that her brother did not immediately come on her summons. Henry was always like that, stubbornly keeping to his own time without regard to the wishes of others. Four years older and fresh from Ireland, where he and Ralegh had participated in the ruthless quashing of the Desmond Rebellion, he paid no heed to the views of his younger sister.

The door opened to reveal Henry lounging in the entrance. His hair looked mussed and his clothes askew.

‘At last,’ huffed Jane. Pretending to be the innocent, she had to act as if she did not know the signs of copulation, but doubtless he’d been at it with that little hussy, Nell.

‘I got diverted, Janie. I apologize for keeping you.’ He mockingly offered her his arm. ‘You look splendid.’

‘You look a mess.’ Thinking of her family honour, she tugged his doublet straight and settled his gold chain across his chest. ‘Have many arrived yet?’

‘Yes, there’s been a rush today. Ralegh’s here. Cecil. Sidney’s around the place somewhere. The Mountjoys.’

Jane smiled despite herself. ‘Good, I rather like Charles.’

‘Charles Blount’s a good fellow but not enough coin for you, Janie. His father’s wasting it all on some foolish alchemist. Or perhaps he has his eye on the man’s luscious little daughter. I wouldn’t mind learning alchemy from her.’

Jane twitched the folds of her skirt straight. ‘Don’t be crude, Henry.’

Her brother smirked. ‘Oh, and the big news is the arrival of the Earl of Dorset. He’s not had the funds to come to court before, but someone has provided him with the necessary. He’s arrived with several gentlemen and twenty retainers in silk livery.’

Jane rapidly calculated the cost of fitting out such a household. ‘How old is he?’

‘Dorset? Eighteen. You should take a look at him, Janie. Perhaps his lack of coin will be made up by his handsome appearance. He’ll be seeking a girl with a dowry like yours.’

Jane dismissed the young earl as being far too likely to outlive her. She needed someone infirm and gullible. ‘And when does the Queen arrive?’

‘Tomorrow. That’s when the celebrations really begin.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘I can’t wait.’

Ellie sat at the end of the table occupied by Mountjoy’s household. The banqueting hall was rapidly filling up, and the servers were having a difficult time keeping pace with the healthy appetites of the young lords and ladies gathered for the feast. Ellie did not think anyone was watching her so she enjoyed herself spying on the others as she cut her capon into tiny mouthfuls to prolong the savoury taste, a marked improvement on her usual fare. The flavouring was thyme, with perhaps a hint of marjoram, roasted to perfection.

She looked along the table to see what other dishes were set out for them to try, wrinkling her nose at the soused herrings. She’d had enough fish during Lent to last her a lifetime. At the far end, in front of a dish of venison pasties, was her father, seated next to Lord Mountjoy deep in discussion
about some obscure point of philosophy. He didn’t notice that his sleeve was trailing in the gravy and that his meal was cold by now. His patron, a jovial grey-haired man with sagging jowls like a bloodhound, shared his fascination with the subject but did not let up from eating, allowing his companion to do most of the talking while he made his way through the meats on offer.

Up near the top table, the Earl of Dorset and brothers were sitting with Robert Cecil, sharing the mess of pottage between them, tearing off chunks of bread to soak up the thick soup. Lord Burghley usually chose to dine in his rooms, probably to avoid the frequent interruptions and petitions he would otherwise have to endure in the public chamber. Word was he was closeted with Sir Francis Walsingham, discussing high matters of state security. Burghley’s son, however, had opted to join the other young people, and for once looked happy in company. Ellie had exchanged only a few words with Master Cecil, enough to know that he was a man of wit and learning, even if his appearance was somewhat unfortunate. He had been quick to sound out her value, too, dubbing her Mistress Wisdom when he noticed her correcting an error in a Latin translation he had been reading. She had thought that they might perhaps be friends if their paths crossed again, but now he was close to the Laceys she would have to avoid him.

At the other end of the table from Cecil sat Walter Ralegh and his companions. Ralegh slouched, legs spread, displaying his shapely calves in his rich navy hose for all to admire. His doublet was of the finest brocade, midnight blue encrusted with pearls, his ruff tinged an azure hue to match. An earring dangled from one ear and he wore his black hair dashingly
swept back. And the codpiece! Ellie almost snorted in her wine. He was such a popinjay, sporting the largest one that was deemed decent to wear.
Here I am, ladies
, he seemed to broadcast.
Come and get me
.

Dios
, that man was transparently in love with himself! He would no doubt be on his best behaviour when the Queen arrived on the morrow, focusing all his manly attention on her, but for tonight he was anyone’s.

There was a lull in the conversation in the hall as two young nobles made a late entrance. The girl was dressed in ivory, the man in black: a clever contrast. Ellie knew them already – at least Sir Henry she had briefly met in Mountjoy’s chambers, and she could guess the lady was his sister. Envying the material of the girl’s apparel – it must have cost at least a hundred pounds with all those pearls sewn on to the fabric – Ellie watched them sweep down the hall to sit with Ralegh. The girl hesitated slightly before accepting the seat at Ralegh’s right hand. Was it Ellie’s imagination or had Ralegh actually caressed her backside as she sat? Surely that was too forward of him? She decided she must have been seeing things. But then, she wouldn’t put anything past that walking Priapus.

‘Ellie, Ellie, my love!’ Her father was calling for her attention. ‘What did Paracelsus say about the application of heat to base metals?’

Those at the table between her and her father fell silent, waiting with interest for her response. Wishing Sir Arthur to the bottom of the ocean, she gave him the answer as close to the text as she could remember.

‘Yes, yes, that’s it! Thank you, my dear: I always know I can rely on your memory.’ Sir Arthur turned back to his
conversation, leaving Ellie the focus of much attention. Charles Blount, Lord Mountjoy’s headstrong son, broke the silence.

‘Well, Lady Eleanor, you are a veritable walking library! We stand in the shade of your towering learning.’

The others chuckled at his lame joke.

‘Thank you, sir, I will take your words as a compliment.’ Ellie toyed with the food on her plate, wondering when she could make her excuses. She knew that Charles disliked her, largely because of the influence her father had over Lord Mountjoy, but he had no liking for bookish girls on principle. It was like the Earl of Dorset all over again, though this time she was held to be part of the alchemical conspiracy to extract as much money from the family as possible. Then again, looking down at her dress, which she owed to the Mountjoys, she supposed he had good reason to think this.

Charles leant across the table, dropping his voice to a confidential level. ‘I was wondering if a woman’s heart beat under that armour of scholarship you have donned. The doctors say that learning dries up the passions in a female, rendering her withered as an old apple and as sour to the taste. What say you to that?’

‘Indeed, sir, I do not consider myself a very learned person.’ She opened her eyes wide with the appearance of innocent wonderment. ‘Perhaps you should direct your enquiry to one of greater wit than myself? Her Majesty, perhaps? I am sure you would be the first to admit that our sovereign lady is famed for her scholarship and understanding.’

Blount sat back with a grunt of displeasure. ‘Clever, very clever,’ he muttered. ‘Lady Eleanor, I fear that your wit may prove your undoing. And I for one cannot wait.’