Darkness magnifies every sound.
Arabella had heard the sentiment a thousand times before, but never had it seemed so true. Even wearing the softest kidskin slippers she'd been able to cadge from Bessie, her every step seemed to echo through Broughton's passages. Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest, she was sure it must be audible in London, never mind the next passageway.
For a moment, she considered throwing the whole wild scheme away. She considered scampering back to bed and throwing herself on Rachel's mercy when the soldiers arrived to take her down to London the following evening.
But, as she froze, half-expecting a hand to clamp down on her shoulder at any moment, an image seemed to swim before her eyes. A glittering golden circlet set with rubies and black pearls in the form of crosses.
"St Margaret, thank you," she breathed, knowing the saint had sent her the vision in order to firm her resolve in what she was about to do.
Her hand clenched around the dagger she held. She felt the metal bite into her skin, as cold and hard as she knew her heart had to be.
Before she could second-guess herself any further, she whirled around the corner and into the passage leading to Princess Elizabeth's bedchamber.
She'd timed it perfectly. Even as she moved, she could hear the sentries exchanging pass phrases. With them changing shifts, and the rest of the household either in bed or at Lauds, there was no one to stop her as she slid from her place in the shadows and towards the door halfway down the passage. As she'd expected. However well-trained a garrison was, there was always a moment or two of confusion as shifts changed, and the Fiennes soldiers were hardly the most experienced of men.
For a split-second, she thought she might make it. Then a shout rang out behind her.
"Hey, you! Stop! No one's to be down here without the express permission of either Lady Stanley or the Duchess!"
The wiser course might have been to flee down the passage she'd taken to arrive here – a little used one no one had considered when they stationed guards over the Princess – or else to throw herself at the guard and hope to catch him off balance. Arabella did neither.
"I have an urgent message for Lady Stanley, you dolt!" she snapped, drawing herself up to her full height, "Leave me be!"
Whether it was the regal authority in her tone or the glint in her eye that would not be gainsaid, Arabella never knew. Whatever the reason, some part of the guard, innately used to deferring to those of a higher rank, particularly females of a higher rank, thought twice about challenging her. He hesitated. Only for a moment, but it was enough. Arabella spun on her heel, dashed into the Princess's chamber and slammed the bolt behind her.
Edith jumped as the bolt slammed home behind her. Lady Stanley or Lady Erskine wouldn't slam the bolt like that. Especially not when they knew the Princess would be sleeping.
She sprang to her feet, instinctively moving to stand between the door and the bed, to protect the Princess from the intruder.
She'd scarcely begun to move, however, before she found herself being forced back against the great four-poster that so swamped the tiny girl, a dagger pressed against her throat hard enough to draw blood.
"Scream and I'll kill both you and the Princess," a voice snarled in her ear.
Edith's heart pounded, drumming a desperate beat so loudly that she could hardly hear her attacker as they continued, "Hand Her Highness to me. Slowly. If she's still asleep, try not to wake her. Just reach down into the bed and hand her over."
Edith froze, too scared to do anything but hold her breath and hope this was all a nightmare. Time seemed to stretch to an eternity as the two young women stared at one another. In all honesty, neither was quite sure how they'd found themselves in this position.
"Open up! In the name of the Queen, open up!"
A fierce rapping broke into their stand-off. And then, it was pandemonium.
Fast as a snake, Edith's assailant released her and snatched the Princess from her bed, so that she woke, caterwauling from the shock. The guards forced the door so that it fell back, splintering and crashing, even as someone screamed for Lady Lancaster.
It was a cacophony….and then, all of a sudden, there was silence. Utter silence, of the kind that is so loud with anticipation, it is deafening.
Edith held her breath for a few more moments, but when nothing happened, she dared to open her eyes again, first one and then the other.
The Lady Arabella stood backed into one corner of the room, one arm curled threateningly around the little Princess. In her other hand, she held a dagger – a dagger she was pressing so hard into the child's jugular that droplets of blood glistened ruby red against the milk-white skin.
Unconsciously mirroring her cousin, Lady Lancaster stood on a diagonal to her, frozen in the doorway, her copper curls tousled with sleep and burly guards hovering at her shoulders.
As Edith watched, the Duchess stretched out a hand, reaching for the Princess.
"Arabella. Put the knife down. Put the knife and give Beth to me. Give Beth to me, that's it."
The older woman kept her voice soothing, much as though she was talking to a child. When she took a half-step forward, however, the Lady Arabella shrieked, her voice crazed.
"Don't! Don't come any closer or I'll kill her! I swear it, I'll kill her!"
"Arabella, this is madness. You're surrounded. You can't possibly hope to escape from this."
"Who said I'd escape?" The Lady Arabella tossed her head, golden curls wild, "I'm not going to escape. You're going to let me walk out. You're going to let me walk out and take the Princess with me."
Lady Lancaster blanched at the mere suggestion. She opened her mouth to protest, but Lady Arabella sneered, cutting her off, "Or I'll kill her. I'll kill her in a second, before you can get to me. And I'll kill myself too. You don't want to have to explain that to Rachel, do you, Bessie? You don't want to have to explain to Rachel that your actions cost her both a daughter and a sister."
The words hung heavy in the air. Edith could see Lady Lancaster eyeing up the situation, sizing up the gravity of the Lady Arabella's threat. It seemed almost impossible that the younger woman would carry out her threat. But, contrary to first appearances, rather than being forced into a corner by the guards, the Lady Arabella had been gradually backing herself into such a corner of the room that no one could get at her easily. Her eyes were wild, demented. Her every inch screamed desperation. And all it would take to end Princess Elizabeth's life would be a single slash with that finely-honed blade that was still pressed to her throat.
Seconds passed, each of them seemingly stretching into hours, even days.
Lady Lancaster stepped backwards, inclining her head so slightly it would have been easy to miss the movement. She held up a hand to stop the guards in their tracks when they would have seized the Lady Arabella as she swept past them, the little Duchess in her arms.
"Lower the drawbridge."
It was all Her Grace said, but it was all that needed to be said. Defeat was clear in her tone for all the world to hear.
No sooner had Arabella's horse vanished into the dark beyond Broughton's gates than Bessie whirled on her heel, issuing orders as fast as an expert archer releases a quiver of arrows from his string.
"Get someone after them. Don't let the Lady Arabella see you; I don't want to risk the Princess's life any more than we already have, but for God's sake, dog them as faithfully as a shadow. I don't want to lose sight of their movements for so much as a moment, do you understand me?"
Her fiery urgency, coming in such stark contrast to the beaten woman who had accepted Arabella's mocking half-curtsy of farewell mere minutes earlier, shocked those around her. That beaten woman was gone. In her place stood the Plantagenet-Howard lioness rampant, ready to battle to the death to defend those she considered hers.
"And fetch my horse the moment it's light. I ride at daybreak."
So saying, Bessie made to stalk out of the room, but Lady Fiennes waylaid her.
"If I may ask, Lady Lancaster, where are you going? Wouldn't it be wisest to stay here, at least until you've heard from those tracking the Lady Arabella? My men know where you are if you remain here."
"I trust you to forward them, Lady Fiennes. I need to get to London. I need to -"
Suddenly, the enormity of what had just happened struck Bessie like a punch to the gut. She blanched. She buried her face in her hands, breathing heavily. When she lifted her head again, her eyes were blank, unseeing. Her voice was so heavy, it seemed to echo like the passages around them.
"God help me, I need to find the words to somehow explain to the Queen that I let her sworn enemy abduct her only daughter without lifting a finger to save the child."