I blinked, unsure how to respond; it was an unexpectedly vehement outburst, turning her face red and blotchy, her eyes bright with tears. I presumed she must be thinking of her husband, dug in with the garrison at Flushing.
‘They would tell you, my lady,’ I said gently, when it seemed the question was not merely rhetorical, ‘that they fear the sin of heresy more than England’s laws. They would say they had rather keep their immortal souls than their titles.’
‘Oh, but they don’t mind staining their souls with the sin of murder, which they say is no sin if it suits their purpose.’ Her eyes blazed at me and for an instant I saw the image of her father, his anger and ruthlessness. ‘Could they not just leave off their relics and rosaries and do as the law commands? It is the same God underneath it all, is it not?’
‘My lady—’ The maid by the window turned and stepped forward, her hands held out as if to break up a fight.
Lady Sidney sighed and seemed to subside. ‘Don’t worry, Alice – I will mind my speech. Besides, Doctor Bruno here is the last person in the world who would report me for heretical words, for he is a famous heretic himself. Is it not so?’
I inclined my head. ‘Depends who you ask. It is not a reputation I sought.’
‘But you are proud of it nonetheless,’ she said, with a faint smile. ‘Do not tell my father I said bitch. He dislikes profanity in women, even when it concerns Scotch Mary.’ She regarded me with interest. ‘You left the Roman Church, Bruno, did you not? Philip told me you were once in holy orders. But you ran away to become a good Protestant, at great risk to your life.’
She had half the story, at any rate; or perhaps Sidney had wanted the latter part to be true.
‘I am not confident I can claim to be a good anything, my lady,’ I said. ‘I have been thrown in prison for heresy by both the Roman Church and the Calvinists. My ideas do not seem to please anyone who thinks their beliefs cannot be questioned.’
She looked at me, approving. ‘Well, at least you are even-handed in the giving of offence. What God do you believe in, then? Philip says you have written that the universe is infinite, and full of other worlds. Then you think we are not the centre of God’s creation? But how can that be? It would render the whole of Scripture uncertain. For if there are other worlds, did Christ become flesh for them too?’ She jutted her chin upward, defying me to answer to her satisfaction.
I pushed my hair out of my eyes. ‘My lady, I have barely slept in the past three days, and eaten less. I’m not sure I’m fit at present to dispute theology and cosmology with a mind as rapier-sharp as yours.’
Lady Sidney laughed, and her face again looked like a girl’s. ‘Neatly sidestepped, Bruno. Though you know you may say what you like in this house, we have no Inquisition here.’
No, I thought, though your father does not shy away from their methods when he wants to wring names from some terrified student priest in the name of England’s freedom.
‘You will want to wash and rest before Father arrives. Oh, but wait!’ She clapped her hands together, as if an idea had just occurred – ‘you must pay your respects to Elizabeth before you retire.’
I stared at her. ‘The Queen is coming here?’
Her eyes danced with mischief at my amazement. ‘I mean my daughter. Wait till you see her, she is the spit of Philip, with the same little tuft of hair at the front, you know? Named for her godmother, of course.’ Her tone suggested this had not been her idea. ‘We call her Lizzie.’
‘Then the Queen has forgiven Philip?’ Sidney was one of Elizabeth’s favourite courtiers, and she could turn perverse and sulky as a child if he dared move out of her orbit; she had been staunchly set against him going to war, which had only made him more determined.
‘Fortunately for us. She gave the baby the most generous gifts of jewels and coin. And now Philip is made Governor of Flushing, and makes us all proud with his bravery and service.’ I caught it again, that tremble of her lip, a hint of sarcasm in the words. Frances Sidney was afraid; both her protectors, the men she loved, father and husband, courting death in the service of the Queen. ‘Alice, fetch the baby,’ she said, waving at the older maid.
As soon as the latch had clicked shut and we were left alone, Frances drew up a chair beside me and leaned in, her face grave.
‘Now we may talk. Providence has sent you to my door today, I am sure of it.’ I raised an eyebrow; she pressed on, her tone urgent: ‘My dear friend and companion Clara was murdered by papists two days ago, most horribly.’ Here she left a pause and looked at me with an expectant air.
‘Are they arrested?’
‘No.’ She pressed her lips together and in her white face I saw the tremor of emotion, though I was not sure if it was grief or anger. I waited for her to say more but she seemed folded in on herself.
‘But you know who they are?’
‘Yes. Well – not exactly. It’s complicated – my father has …’ She let the thought fall away and examined me again, as if trying to read something in my face. ‘Philip always said you had a talent for sniffing out a murderer.’ I held up a hand to protest but she continued, ‘I remember that business with the Queen’s lady-in-waiting, three years ago, the autumn Philip and I married. My father was called away from the wedding feast because of it. It was you who discovered the truth of all that, was it not? Father said England owed you a great deal.’
Yes, and England has not yet seen fit to settle her debt, I thought of saying, but kept my counsel. ‘Sir Francis spoke to you of that business?’
‘Not to me, exactly.’ She pushed her forefinger under the edge of her hood and scratched at her hair. ‘But he often forgot I was there, and have ears, the way he has done all my life. I probably know more of what goes on than most of the Privy Council. I swear, if I turned traitor, I could sell enough secrets to sink the realm.’ The flicker of a weary smile. ‘I know all about that conspiracy in ’83, and your part in stopping it. I’d wager you could find out what happened to Clara in no time, if my father would allow you.’
If he would allow me? The oddness of the phrase did not escape me, but I merely looked apologetic. ‘My lady, my task is to deliver these letters to Sir Francis and see if he has any further use for me in his service. If not, I must return to my employment in Paris.’ Though I hoped for Walsingham’s patronage, I could not forget what I had been dragged into during that last investigation into the murder of a young woman, and the other deaths that had followed it. I was not in a hurry to involve myself in anything similar.
‘I will make him find use for you,’ she said, fixing me with a fierce glare. ‘I can think of no one better to undertake this matter. Philip would wish you to help me, I am sure of it.’ Her eyes glittered; invoking her husband was a clever tactic, and not one I could easily dismiss. I could see she had already made up her mind; it occurred to me that Frances had inherited all her father’s stubbornness along with his name, and that both he and Sidney might have underestimated her.
Before I could quibble, the maid Alice returned carrying a chubby infant who was indeed a miniature of Sidney, swamped in a white lawn dress, her face rumpled and confused from being woken. The child looked around the company in bewilderment, then pushed her fat little fingers through her sparse hair, making it stick up at the front. I laughed in wonder, seeing an exact mirror of the gesture Sidney always made when tired or frustrated, and in that moment I felt a