Nora knew something was wrong the moment she saw the Duchess of Lancaster ride in beneath the gatehouse. Rachel had ordered the older woman to bring Beth to London so that the little girl could be invested as Crown Princess of Albion, yet she had ridden in alone. Lady Lancaster wouldn't have disobeyed a royal order, Nora knew. Not at such a crucial time for Rachel, with the Lady Arabella posing such a threat to her crown. Something must have happened for the Duchess to be riding in alone.
No sooner had Nora reached that conclusion than she caught sight of the older woman's face. Her heart missed a beat. No one was that naturally pale. No one had eyes that dark. Not without grief and exhaustion playing their part.
Breath hitching in her throat, Nora turned and fled towards Rachel's Privy Chamber, forgetting the errand that had brought her out into Westminster's corridors in the first place. Upon reaching them, she threw the door open so hard that it crashed against the wall behind her.
"Rachel."
The name had passed her lips before she knew what she was saying. Gasps rippled through the room. How dare the Rose chit be so familiar with her Queen?
Rachel, too, was startled. Nora knew better than to call her by her given name, at least where others might hear. She opened her mouth to chide her. But then the urgency in her half-sister's voice registered. Her head snapped up and she spun round.
"Nora."
"I've just seen Lady Lancaster in the courtyard. She…well… She came alone."
Nora's words fell into the silence like stones into the depths of a well. Rachel felt the blood drain from her cheeks as she stared at her sister, knowing the horror she saw in Nora's eyes was reflected in her own. Bessie, at Court alone? How...? What could have…?
Rachel's mind spun, leaping from train of thought to train of thought without daring to finish a single one. It was several seconds before she realised Nora was talking to her.
"She was in a tearing hurry and heading this way. She'll be here any moment. It would probably be best if you spoke to her alone, My Lady."
Rachel nodded absently, watching with blank eyes as Nora nudged the rest of her ladies out of the room. There was a little grumbling; Nora didn't hold her place at Rachel's side easily, but most of the waiting women sensed the potential gravity of the situation too keenly to really voice any resistance.
Nora would have left as well, had Rachel not emitted a strangled, half-conscious noise that stopped her in her tracks. Glancing over her shoulder, she hesitated and then retreated to a discreet window embrasure so that she could both be there for moral support and yet give the older women some privacy for what was sure to be a very difficult conversation.
"I'm sure there will be some explanation," she ventured at last, not sure, even as she spoke, whether she was trying to convince Rachel or herself.
Rachel jerked her head in a convulsive imitation of a nod, but there was no time to say anything else, for the herald was throwing the door wide and announcing, "Her Grace, the Duchess of Lancaster!"
Even as the last syllable echoed through the room, Bessie pushed past her and fell to her knees, her bright copper head bent in supplication. Several seconds passed before, visibly steeling herself, she raised her head to meet Rachel's inquiring gaze.
"Your Grace. I wish… I wish with all my heart that I didn't have – have to tell you – what I'm about to tell you."
Haltingly, as though she had to drag every word from the very depths of her soul, Lady Lancaster confessed to the whole story. How Arabella had caught up with her party at Broughton. How they'd feared the castle wouldn't withstand a siege, if it came to it, so had offered to parley. How Arabella had taken them all by surprise by begging Bessie's pardon, pleading that Alexander and Margaret Drummond had led her astray. How Bessie, taken in by the act, had taken her inside, doubling the guard on Beth's rooms and had sent a rider in the direction of London to ask for extra soldiers to act as Arabella's guards for the rest of her journey south.
How, despite every precaution they had taken, Arabella had succeeded in kidnapping the Duchess of Carnarvon. How the last anyone had seen of them had been their shadows as they disappeared into the night, riding north.
The silence stretched ominously as Bessie finished. As the moments passed, she dared raise her head to glance at Rachel in a way she hadn't done while she was telling her story.
Rachel sat bolt upright, her gaze unfathomably blank. Her hands were clenching the arms of her chair so hard her knuckles threatened to pop out of her skin. Her teeth were gritted so tightly it had to be hurting her, yet she seemed to feel no pain.
Eventually, Bessie couldn't take it anymore.
"Rachel, please," she begged, "Say something. Anything."
"I named my daughter for you," Rachel's voice was choked, "I named my daughter for you. I made you her godmother. I made you her godmother and this is how you repay me? By letting my sister, my rival, skip into a castle and take her? Right under your very nose?"
"I doubled the guard; I made it very clear to all the household that no one was to be allowed anywhere the Princess's rooms without either my permission or her governess's. I did everything I thought was reasonable!"
"It wasn't enough, though, was it?"
For a moment, Rachel and Bessie were no longer Queen and subject. They were simply two young women staring at one another, one with anguish and accusation in her eyes, the other with pleading.
"I don't know what else to say, Rachel. I made a mistake, a mistake that may well have cost you everything. I know that. My God, don't you think I know it? Don't you think I've spent every minute of my ride here berating myself for ever letting this happen in the first place? But… No one could have predicted that Arabella would be audacious enough – crazed enough – to even dream of such a ploy, let alone attempt it. And she seemed genuine, I swear. You would have been taken in by her act too."
"Don't you dare tell me what I would have and would not have done, cousin. You don't get to exercise that privilege. Not anymore. Not after this."
Several heartbeats passed. Suddenly, Rachel exhaled heavily.
"Get out of my sight," she murmured, "Before I say something I'll regret."
Bessie nodded briefly before rising. She padded to the door on slow, noiseless feet. As she crossed the threshold, she turned and paused, sinking down into a deep, silent curtsy. She held said obeisance until the doors had closed in front of her, cutting her off from Rachel's sight.
"Rachel," Nora began, before cutting herself off as her half-sister whirled round on her, fury in her eyes, "Madam. I am sorry, but no. I know it pains you, but you know that what I am saying is right. Your Grace cannot ride in pursuit of the Lady Arabella. Not in your condition."
"Arabella has my daughter! My daughter! You cannot seriously expect me to sit here and do nothing while her life dangles by the frail thread of Arabella's mercy!"
Rachel's voice was icy granite. Her eyes were staring out of her head in grief and rage. Her temper was so uncertain that only a handful of her most trusted, Nora among them, dared wait upon her now.
Even fewer of those chosen ones would have dreamed of raising their voice to her in dispute, of trying to stop her riding to her daughter's rescue. But Nora was one of those foolhardy enough to do so. After all, she knew that no one else in Rachel's inner circle, except David himself, was as close to the young Queen as she was. Besides, she'd inherited her mother's northern steel – or bullishness, as their detractors liked to call it.
She set her jaw, "Actually, My Lady, I can and I will. What's more, were he here, His Highness would agree with me. You need to protect yourself. Now more than ever. If, God forbid, anything should happen to the Crown Princess, the child you carry is our only security for the Succession. We cannot allow you to take any risks at all, no matter how small."
"I cannot just sit here and do nothing!"
"Then call the banners out. Raise the country in your daughter's name. Do everything you can to ensure that, should it come to a pitched battle, the Lord David has such an army at his back as has never been seen before. But please do not travel north yourself. It's too dangerous."
"I don't see who you are to presume to give me orders," Rachel grumbled, but the two-fold approach of appealing to both her husband and her pregnancy was having an effect. She was weakening.
Sensing it, Nora pressed harder, "Besides, aren't you always determined to have the country see you and His Highness almost as equals, the way they did your mother and father? If that's true, then you need to show them that you trust your husband to bring your daughter home to you, whether you ride with him or not."
"I was going to agree, Nora, damn you!" Rachel snarled, "Very well! I'll stay in London, since you have your heart set on it, but that's as far as I'll yield. Don't think you can stop me raising troops here."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Nora assured her sister, before pulling a quill and an ink bottle from the pocket of her dress and pressing it into Rachel's hand, "There. Send word to Lord David and draft a muster for some men."
Her anticipation of Rachel's need wasn't quite enough to spare her from a cutting glance or two, but within a moment, the older woman had sighed quietly and bent her head to the task without another word.
The city rang with the shouts of a thousand men, with the sound of stamping horses striking sparks from cobbled streets, with the rasp of hundreds of sword belts being burnished and buckled into place.
Having retreated into the safety of the Tower at the urging of her councillors and midwives, Rachel heard the hubbub from her sanctuary. Despite the gravity of the situation, she smiled to herself. The Londoners had always loved her, had always been fiercely proud that, for all her mother had invested her first as Princess of Wales and then as Crown Princess of Albion, she'd been born in their midst, as one of them. And, by God, they'd shown that in the past few days. Rachel had never seen an army of such size assemble so quickly. Men had poured in from all over the city and the surrounding villages, clamouring to be allowed to claim a place in the ranks, to take up their badges of a griffin encircled by intertwined thistles and ostrich feathers – in other words, to raise their swords in Beth's cause.
What chance did Arabella have of holding on to the little girl, in the face of loyalty like that? What chance did she have of seizing the throne?
A knock at the door startled her out of her musing. She swung round.
Her Uncle Charles stood there, helmet under his arm.
"We're ready for you, Your Grace," he bowed, "All we need is your word and we'll be off."
"Of course," Rachel returned his look and placed her hand first against the cool window pane to steady herself as she rose, and then, as she crossed the room, his arm, "Take me down."
The two of them descended the spiralling stairs to the courtyard without a word. The silence, however, was a gentle one considering the circumstances, and, as they reached the courtyard, Charles took advantage of it to look down at Rachel, concern in his eyes.
"Are you sure you're all right with my leaving, Madam? I am, after all, Lieutenant and Constable of the Tower as well as…" He trailed off, unsure what he was trying to say, "Well, anyway," he said at last, "If you feel I ought to…"
"No," Rachel said softly, loving him too much to want to watch him make a fool of himself much longer, "I appreciate what you're trying to say, Uncle Charles, and I love you dearly for being as loyal to me as you ever were to my mother, but honestly, I'll be fine. You've left me a fine deputy in Lord Kingston. Besides, in truth, I'll be a lot easier in my mind if you lead the troops to meet David and join him in Beth's rescue. I learnt a long time ago that the Howards find it a lot easier to accomplish their objectives with a Brandon at their side. Since I already have Aunt Sybil in my household, you'd better be at David's side. Besides, does my daughter not deserve to have the finest swordsman in England riding to her rescue?"
"Of course she does!" The words sprang to Charles's lips and Rachel nodded.
"Then go. Go and bring her home to me. Her and David both."
So saying, Rachel leaned up and kissed Charles lightly on the cheek, before allowing him to escort her to stand within full view of the soldiers who had gathered in the courtyard.
A resounding cheer went up at the sight of her, "God Save the Queen! God Save Queen Rachel!"
She waited a few moments, then held up a hand for silence.
"Gentlemen," she began, "I come before you today, not only as a Queen, but as a mother twice over. The mother of our blessed country and the mother of a child who now lies in mortal danger. My child's future is our country's future. You all know that. You know that, just as I know that every one of you here today loves me enough to be willing to die for me. I beseech you, spread that love just a little further. Spread that love to my daughter, your Crown Princess. When you ride out today, ride out for my daughter. Do whatever you must to bring her home. For God, St George and the Princess Elizabeth!"
"God, St George and the Princess Elizabeth!"
The cry reverberated around the courtyard. Rachel let her eyes roam over the multitude gathered before her. For an instant, she caught Bessie's gaze with hers.
The Duchess of Lancaster stood in the shadow of a pillar, clearly not wanting to draw attention to herself, but also unable to stay away from such a dreadful, momentous occasion.
Though neither of them could find any words, the glance they shared was so potent that Rachel was almost relieved when Charles heaved himself into his saddle, buckled on his helmet and saluted her, breaking the moment.
"With your grace, Madam?"
"And the Lord Almighty's. Godspeed, Lord Brandon."
Charles inclined his head.
"For God, St George and the Princess Elizabeth! Forward!"
A horn blared. Scores of men, so many scores it was almost impossible to count them all, began marching out. Marching out with a single objective in mind. To defeat Arabella and bring Beth safe home to her mother.
5