Frances waited for the groom to return. The sound of hammering carried to her from the range of buildings above her, to the right. She had heard it reported that Prince Henry had ordered a lavish new suite of apartments. Only a man of his pretensions could look at the cavernous palace of St James’s and judge it too small, she thought, her lip curling.
‘Sister!’
At Edward’s voice she spun round. She had not expected him to come and greet her in person. Perhaps he did not wish to be seen with her in the palace, given what he planned.
Her smile was sickly sweet as she held out her hand for his kiss. ‘Is there somewhere we may talk?’ she asked lightly.
Edward glanced over his shoulder at the cluster of liveried servants who were standing idly by the entrance to the state apartments. One looked in their direction. ‘Shall we walk in the park, dear sister?’ he replied smoothly, maintaining the pretence that her arrival was a pleasant interruption.
Frances dipped her head and placed her hand on his arm as they went towards the gatehouse. She remained silent during the short walk across the promenade and through the large gilded gates at the southern end of the park. Her hand still rested on Edward’s arm and she was gratified to feel him grow tense but, of course, he was too stubborn to ask the reason for her visit.
Only when they had reached the edge of the lake that lay at the centre of the park did she turn to address him. ‘Tell me, Edward, how is Lady Blanche?’
He quickly turned his surprise into scorn. ‘Why, sister, you are surely better placed than I to know.’
Frances gazed out over the calm waters and smiled. ‘I see her often, certainly, but the hours that you spend with her are more … intimate.’
She let the word hang briefly, then continued. ‘I should congratulate you, brother, on finding a lady whom you can trust so implicitly. Or perhaps she did not know what she agreed to conceal for you.’
She turned in time to see fleeting panic in his eyes.
‘You have always spoken in riddles, Frances. Riddles – and spells, of course.’
He ran his tongue over his lips and pretended to watch a swan as it glided silently towards the edge of the water.
‘Then let me make it clear, Edward,’ she said sharply.
She reached into her pocket and drew out the indenture. She saw her brother’s jaw drop as he stared down at it. He made as if to grab it, but she was too quick for him. ‘It is a copy, of course,’ she said, with a smile. ‘You accused me of being careless with the original once. I will not be so again – not when lives depend upon it.’
A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, despite the autumn chill. ‘What are you waiting for, sister?’ he snarled. ‘If you mean to have me beheaded as a traitor then why did you not take it straight to the king’s officials?’
Frances tutted. ‘Not beheaded, Edward,’ she said, as if she spoke to a careless pupil. ‘You surely know the punishment for treason. After all, you would have me face the same. Or perhaps you hoped to afford me the kinder death and see me hanged as a witch.’
He glared at her, mute with rage – and, she sensed, fear.
‘What a pity you will be denied both pleasures now.’ She sighed.
‘What would you have me do, Frances?’ he hissed, teeth gritted.
‘You will abandon your scheme to have me condemned for witchcraft,’ she said slowly. ‘Whatever evidence you believe you have gathered, you will destroy it. If you involved any accomplices, you must tell them you were mistaken, that your suspicions were sparked by malice, not truth. And you must persuade them to take no action. Your favour with the prince will be enough to ensure their compliance.’
She thought of Countess Cecily. How disappointed she would be to have her pleasure denied. ‘Neither will you attempt to have me accused of treason,’ she continued. ‘You can have no proof of it, beyond your desire for it to be true. Yet the proof I have of your own treachery is written here.’ She waved the document in front of his face. ‘You must know that it is treason even to think of the king’s death, let alone plan for it. Many men have been condemned for far less.’
Edward’s breath was coming rapidly now. ‘How do I know that you will honour your part, if I do as you ask?’ he demanded, as he edged closer to her.
Frances’s smile was like a splinter of ice. The knowledge of the power she now held over him was exhilarating. ‘You will have to trust me, Edward,’ she said, her eyes never leaving his. ‘But you must act quickly. I know that the Countess of Rutland is due to dine with you and the prince this evening, presumably so that you can secure her as a witness.’
She saw the truth of it in his face.
‘By the time she and her husband arrive, you must have convinced your royal master that your suspicions about me were groundless, that he will show himself a fool if he pursues them. He is vain enough to want to avoid that – as are you.’
Her brother turned away, as if unable to bear the sight of her any longer. Frances watched him carefully. What if he failed? The thought had plagued her since her meeting with Jacob Beecham. Would she still carry out her threat to have him exposed as a traitor? It would be her only chance of saving her life – and Longford. But she was repelled by the idea.
‘Very well,’ Edward muttered, almost to himself, and made as if to leave.
‘That is not all, brother.’
He turned back to her, his face twisted in dismay.
‘Although you must trust me in this, you can hardly expect me to take you at your word. I will want to see proof that you have done everything I asked, before I have the indenture destroyed.’
Edward threw back his head and gave a scornful bark of laughter. ‘What proof can I give, for God’s sake?’
Frances’s mouth lifted into a slow smile. She reached into her pocket once more and drew out another document. Edward’s eyes darted to it. ‘This is another indenture, Edward,’ she explained, as if to a child. ‘It stipulates that Prince Henry shall transfer the barony of Longford from you to me, in recognition of my faithful service to the princess. You may read it if you wish,’ she offered, pushing it towards him.
Her brother stumbled backwards, as if it were a snake. She gave a shrug and continued, ‘You will tell the prince that you have had this drawn up as a penance for the false suspicions you harboured against me. In signing it, he will be declaring his own trust in me before the world. I am sure you appreciate my need to take such a precaution, given how fickle a man’s word can be these days.’
Edward glowered at her, his face now puce with rage. ‘You ask too much, sister,’ he muttered. ‘It is not just on my account that the prince despises you. He will hardly be disposed to show you such favour.’
‘Then you must persuade him, brother, by whatever means you have at your disposal … Your life depends upon it.’
Edward snatched the document from her. ‘After all this is done, you will be dead to me. I want never to see you again.’
‘Then we are in perfect accord, brother.’