The Lady in the Tower Read Online Free PDF

mother is not Sir Walter’s first wife you know, Mistress,’ she said darkly.
    ‘I know that,’ I replied. ‘He was married twice before. There’s no secret about that. His previous wives died … ’ My sentence trailed into silence as I took in the significance of what I was saying. ‘What are you suggesting?’ I faltered. ‘That my father murders his wives?’
    Betsey shook her head, but the expression on her face frightened me.
    ‘I’m just saying they died. Nothing more, nothing less. And he weren’t happy with them. Treated them something terrible. But your mother was different. He did well married to her. Till these last years.’
    ‘Why is he doing this, Betsey?’ I asked, my voice choked. ‘She’s never done him any harm.’
    ‘I don’t know any more than you do, Mistress,’ Betsey replied, shaking her head.
    There was a shout and a clatter from the kitchen and we both jumped.
    ‘I must get back to work before the supper is spoiled,’ said Betsey, her mind veering back to her duties. ‘But you warn her ladyship, Mistress Eleanor.’
    ‘I am about to, Betsy,’ I told her, holding up the note I intended to lay inside the bundle of food. Betsey nodded grimly and we left the stillroom together. At once she became distracted by a dozen kitchen servants’ questions. And we could both see the lad who was supposed to be minding the spit. He had his back to the fire and was leaning over the shoulder of a young kitchen maid as she kneaded dough, one hand on her slim waist. Judging by her blushes he was whispering in her ear. Betsey sallied over before he knew she was there and boxed his ears.
    I grabbed the bundle of food and fled the kitchen, the spit-boy’s howls ringing in my ears.
    I was deeply shaken by what Betsey had told me. I had grown used to my mother being locked away now. It no longer shocked me, though I still missed her terribly. But this news had shaken me to my very bones. Suddenly, murderers lurked around every corner. I imagined phials of poison in the chaplain’s hands dripping their deadly contents into Mother’s mouth. As I crossed the court and walked to the gatehouse, my mind filled with images of dismembered bodies consumed in flames, I was breathing in short gasps, my limbs heavy and unresponsive as I walked.
    The guards at the gatehouse let me pass without comment. They were used to my daily outings to Farleigh Hungerford village. I went sometimes to visit the poor and the sick as my mother used to do, so my regular visits to Alice went unnoticed. I walked across the wooden drawbridge, my bundle concealed beneath my cloak.
    I tried to push the images of murder from my mind and focus instead on how I could reach Mother. I took several deep steadying breaths. It would not do to frighten myself so that I couldn’t think.
    I poured my woes out to Alice when I reached her tiny cottage. Alice had been very sick some years ago and Mother had cared for her, bringing her food and even calling a doctor. Alice had recovered from her illness, and had been devoted to Mother ever since. She would do anything for her, convinced Mother had saved her life.
    Alice listened, while she rocked her tiny newborn baby in its cradle. It was crying fretfully, its face pinched and sallow.
    ‘And so you see, I must find some way of speaking with Mother, before they … before anything dreadful is done to her,’ I concluded, twisting my hands together in distress.
    Alice laid one rough, work-worn hand on mine.
    ‘Her ladyship will not take food from the chaplain again,’ she said soothingly. ‘Not as long as I and the other women take her food each night.’
    ‘But he might find some way to trick her,’ I protested.
    Alice shook her head, but asked: ‘There’s no way you can get to speak to her, is there? They keep the Lady Tower locked.’
    ‘Yes. The chaplain has the keys. I see them every day, Alice. He has them hanging from that cord around his waist. He grows fatter with every month