Arabella was catching them up. Staring absently out of a window of Broughton Castle, Bessie knew Arabella was catching them up, and despite herself, the realisation sent shivers down her spine.
Oh, Bessie knew she'd done all that could be asked of her and more – knew she'd picked up the pace as much as she could with a sickly infant in tow the moment she'd heard the rumours that her younger cousin, incensed by the terms of the late King James's will, was determined to waylay them and hold the little Princess ransom to her demands for power – but that didn't stop her being filled with dread now.
Her efforts to deliver the infant Princess safely to her mother's protection in London had been thwarted by the little one catching a fierce summer ague that had left her shivering and wheezing and in no condition to travel. They'd had no choice but to seek shelter at the first dwelling they came across that was large enough to house them all. That had happened to be Broughton Castle, the Fiennes family home, a building whose crenellations looked impressive enough from a distance, but which Bessie feared would never prove a real match for any serious challenger. And given the speed Arabella was said to be marching south at, she was definitely serious.
"My Lady?"
Drawn from her musings by the uncertain voice, Bessie turned and forced herself to smile at Margery, Lady Fiennes' young daughter, who had attached herself to Bessie the very day she'd set foot inside Broughton's walls.
At first, Bessie had found an odd sort of charm in the young girl's obvious admiration for her, for Margery was about the same age as her own eldest daughter. Besides, being the only daughter of the house, with several brothers much younger than she was, Margery was obviously lonely and starved for a woman's companionship, especially given how busy the lands and the nursery kept her mother. Bessie had pitied her and thought nothing of letting her tail after her if she wished, especially once the young girl had endeared herself to Lady Stanley and Lady Erskine by doting on Princess Elizabeth.
Unfortunately, after several days, the charm of Margery faithfully dogging her every move was wearing sadly thin. Matters weren't helped by the fact that Margery was a timid child, hardly likely to say boo to a goose. Bessie was rapidly tiring of having to temper her every thought, word and deed lest the silly chit took fright at something. Yet she didn't have the heart to shoo her away either.
As such, she had no choice but to answer the uncertain query.
"I'm all right, Margery, honestly." As she spoke, Bessie consciously eased her shoulders, so as not to belie her words, "I'm just wondering what we should do next. I might go and have a few words with Lady Stanley. I need to check on the Princess's health. The sooner Her Highness is fit to move on to London, the better."
"I could go for you, My Lady!" Margery offered eagerly. Bessie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from showing her irritation at the girl's slavish behaviour.
"No, thank you, Margery. That's very kind of you, but the walk through the halls will do me good."
So saying, Bessie stood up. Margery immediately bobbed a curtsy and made to fall into step behind her as she passed.
The instinctive action made Bessie's hackles rise. Surely Margery had better things to do than tail after her?
She thought quickly.
"Actually, Margery, it's lovely of you to want to accompany me. I know how fond you are of the Princess. But I have a task for you. Do you think you could run down to the stables for me and tell one of the lads to get ready to ride for London this afternoon? I'll need to send a message to Queen Rachel once I've spoken to Lady Stanley."
Margery flushed with pleasure at being given a task, even one as trivial as this.
"Of course, Lady Lancaster! I'll do it at once!"
Her fair head dropped briefly as she sketched another curtsy. Then she picked up her skirts and ran in the opposite direction, her footsteps echoing down the wooden-panelled passageway.
Breathing a sigh of relief the moment the girl was out of earshot, Bessie swept off to the east wing, where the ailing Princess lay in her commandeered bedchamber.
No sooner had Bessie's shadow darkened the doorway of said room, however, than Lady Stanley rushed over to her, clucking furiously and shaking her head.
"For heaven's sake, Your Grace! If Mistress Sowerby has told you once, then she's told you a thousand times. Her Highness is not yet fit to travel. The hot poultices are helping, but the poor mite is still wheezing and coughing fit to burst. She won't heal any faster for Your Grace pacing and fussing like an old maid."
"No," Bessie admitted, before her nerves got the better of her and she snapped.
"You do understand, Lady Stanley, that the Lady Arabella is gaining on us with every minute we tarry here? Her Majesty would not want her only daughter to end up hostage to an avowed traitor."
"I don't doubt it, Lady Lancaster, but I'm equally certain that Her Majesty would not want her daughter to end up a corpse either," Lady Stanley snarled, jaw clenching. Taken aback by her ferocity, Bessie stepped back an inch or two. Seeing it, the other woman softened, but only marginally.
"I understand your concern, Lady Lancaster, but trust me. For the sake of Her Highness's health, we simply must stay put."
For a moment, the two women glowered at one another, at a silent impasse.
Bessie was the one to yield, turning on her heel with an audible swish of brocade.
"Very well. As you say. I'll write to London. Perhaps Queen Rachel will send us some men-at-arms to protect the Princess while she recuperates. They can escort us to London when Her Highness is ready."
Bessie was halfway down the passageway when Lady Stanley, still framed in the doorway, spoke again.
"Do you really believe that necessary, Your Grace? Do you really think the Lady Arabella would go so far as to try to kidnap her own niece?"
Bessie hesitated. Several seconds passed before she spoke. When she did, her voice was heavy.
"I wish I didn't think she might, Lady Stanley. If you'd asked me that question even so much as a month ago, I'd have scorned the idea. But, little as I like it, the Lady Arabella is a rebel riding in defiance of her true Queen. Princess Elizabeth is the most precious child in all of Albion. Let's not take any chances with what Her Highness's aunt will or will not do."
Bessie came awake at once, starting at the hand on her shoulder.
She blinked blearily at the maid who bent over her, a flickering candle in her other hand. Judging by the depth of the shadows in the corners of the room, it could barely be past sunrise. If it was even that late.
"Forgive the unholy hour, My Lady, but Sir John felt you ought to be told immediately. A host came up overnight. We're surrounded."
The urgency in the young woman's voice stirred Bessie into action. Almost without coherent thought, she swung herself out of bed, holding out an imperious hand for her wrap as she did so.
She ran up to the battlements to see for herself, praying that she would see the Howard Griffin fluttering above the men-at-arms, but knowing, somehow, even as she ran, that she wouldn't be that lucky.
Bursting out on to the walkway behind the crenellations, she looked down at precisely the same instant as a ray of sunshine broke through the dawn mist, illuminating the bristling army below.
Above their heads flew a rearing golden unicorn.
Bessie cursed.