His Dark Lady Read Online Free PDF

you have seen Twist.’
    Then Goodluck was gone, squeezing out of the alleyway into the crowded street beyond.
    Lucy stood a moment, feeling the weight of the bag in her hand. Then she hooked it on to her belt beside her little dagger, folded the letter for John Twist twice over until it would fit in her leather pocket, and wrapped her cloak carefully across both.
    She shied away from the idea of meeting Master Twist. It felt like a step back into the cruel and dangerous world she had left behind at Kenilworth eight years before.
    But Goodluck would never have asked her to run this errand for him if it was not of vital importance. She remembered John Twist’s dry wit and ready smile, the narrow pointed beard that he loved to keep oiled, the way his blue eyes had always watched her with love and concern, and comforted herself with the thought that she had known him since she was a child. What danger could there be in seeing an old friend again?

Three

    THE KNOCK AT his door was so soft that Will almost missed it. He had been writing furiously all evening, hoping to get the fifth act of
The Troublesome Reign of King John
copied out in his best hand before the candle stub flickered out and left him with nothing but firelight to work by. He raised his head and frowned at the closed door as the knock came again. This interruption could cost him dear. If the good copy was not finished by morning, Burbage would not pay him, and he could lose his lodging.
    ‘Yes?’ he demanded, flinging open the door.
    A tall man in his late twenties stood outside on the London street, hooded and cloaked, his travelling boots stained with mud.
    ‘Now what kind of welcome is that?’ the man asked. ‘For a weary Warwickshire lad, far from home?’
    Will stared, amazed. ‘Cousin Richard?’
    ‘Hush, man, not so loud. Do you want all the city’s eyes on us?’ Richard Arden peered into Will’s room. ‘Are you alone in there? May I come in a while, maybe take a drink with you? I’ve only just arrived in town. Not even had a chance to wet my whistle yet.’
    ‘Of course.’
    While his cousin prowled about, his lean face watchful, even suspicious, Will hurriedly locked the door and pulled the ragged curtain across that kept out the worst of the draughts.
    ‘It’s only a poor room, as you see,’ Will commented, feeling the need to apologize for his lack of housekeeping skills. He indicated the good chair to Richard Arden, acutely aware how poor his home must seem compared with the comfortable and spacious houses of his wealthier relations. ‘But it’s all I can afford on my wages from the playhouse. I send most of my money home to Anne.’
    ‘Aye,’ Richard agreed with a sigh, removing his damp cloak and hanging it before the charcoal brazier. ‘You always were a good lad, Will. But your wife misses you sorely.’
    ‘You’ve seen Anne? Spoken with her?’
    ‘Five days ago, just before I left Warwickshire. No, don’t look like that. Your wife was in good health when I left, both her and the child.’
    ‘Thank God,’ Will muttered. He poured a generous drink of ale for them both, handing the cup to his cousin with hands that were not quite steady. ‘When I saw you on the doorstep, I thought …’
    Richard Arden sat down. ‘I’m sorry if I alarmed you. But Anne is well enough, and your baby daughter thrives.’
    ‘Then why have you come to London?’ Will realized too late how rude that must have sounded, and corrected himself, his smile dry. ‘Forgive me, but I recall you saying only thieves and whoremasters would soil themselves in the filth of this city.’
    ‘Did I say that?’ Richard snorted, then took a long draught of ale. ‘Aye, well, times change. And we must change with them.’
    ‘So what can I do for you, cousin?’
    ‘All in good time, man. They say city ale is watered down and tastes like sheep piss, but this stuff’s not half bad.’
    Will looked at him curiously. There was no point pressing the man for an