Winter Blockbuster 2012 (84 page)

Rob poured the wine past Anna’s white lips, drop by precious drop, until it was gone and she lay back down among the pillows. She did seem to rest easier with the herbs, not tossing or crying out.

Lady Essex smoothed the sheets and tucked the blankets closer around Anna’s shoulders. ‘My father still thinks the doctor should be brought back.’

‘Your father is a wise man in many ways,’ Rob said. ‘But the doctor has already bled her twice, and it only seemed to weaken her more. I won’t have him do it again—or feed her powdered unicorn horn or lamb dung mixed with pearls.’

Lady Essex chuckled. ‘Indeed such things have not helped my father very much. I’m sure rest will do her more good.’ She paused, and then went on, ‘My father does want to make amends for what happened to Mistress Barrett.’

‘Does he?’ Rob muttered. He doubted Walsingham regretted anything that gained him his goals. Not even the pain of an innocent woman. But wasn’t Rob himself just the same? That was what had brought Anna to this bed.

‘I know it does not always appear so, but he has a heart in his way.’

Rob just nodded and reached for the basin of water to bathe Anna’s fevered skin again. He had no time for Walsingham’s complexities now, or to think of the future at all. He could only think of Anna.

‘You do care for her very much, don’t you, Master Alden?’ Lady Essex said questioningly, as she watched him.

‘I love her,’ he said simply. And somehow merely saying those words aloud made him feel free. He had been a fool to think anything mattered but the people he loved. And that was why he would leave her. He had to be unselfish for the first time in his life and think about her first.

‘Do you?’ she asked sadly. ‘What must that feel like?’

Rob heard her move away across the room, the click of the door closing behind her.

What did love feel like? He had thought he knew the answer to that before. He made his living by his pen, creating words of love and desire, but he saw now that had all been counterfeit—a pale reflection of real love. He had lived all his life thinking only of himself, but that was impossible now. He must think only of Anna.

‘Anna, you must live,’ he said. ‘And I swear to you I will not put you in any more danger. I will leave you to live your life in peace, as you deserve.’

She deserved a man of kindness and tranquillity after all she had been through. A man not like her boar-pig of a husband, nor a man with a twisted life and past like himself. It would be the hardest thing he had ever done, but he would give her that.

‘I will do anything for you, Anna, if you will fight to live,’ he said.

As if she could hear him, Anna shuddered. The chills were
returning, hard behind the hot fever. Rob climbed onto the bed beside her and took her into his arms to hold her close to the warmth of his body. She trembled and shivered, as if buffeted by icy winds, and he held her even tighter.

He would hold her tethered to earth, to life, no matter what.

The softness of a feather bed under her was the first thing Anna felt as she slowly swam up from the hot, smothering folds of dark sleep. It felt smooth and cool against her body, so fluffy she could sink back into it and let it surround her.

But then—then there was pain. It swept over her from her scalp to her toes, a deep, raw aching feeling that held her pinned down and wouldn’t let her move. Her mind went blank and white. She could remember nothing but the ache.

I must cease these adventures
, she thought. Too often of late she had woken in such a state. But where was she now?

With all her strength, Anna prised open her eyes and focused them until she saw the pleated folds of dark blue bed-hangings high above her. She could smell smoke from a fire and hear its crackle, and soft pillows were piled behind her head. She was not in some bare prison, but neither was she in her own bed at her father’s house.

She tried to move, but a sharper pain shot up her side beneath the folds of her chemise. She carefully laid her hand over her ribs and felt the lump of a bandage there.

Then she remembered. Henry Ennis grabbing her, driving his blade into her side. Rob falling onto him. The whole violent, chaotic scene came crashing back over her and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

But Robert! Where was he now? Had he been hurt in that fight?

She gritted her teeth together and levered herself up on her
elbow to try and rise from the bed and call for help. Surely someone was nearby?

That was when she saw him. Rob slept in a chair by her bed, slumped over with his head cradled in his arms at the edge of her mattress. His wrinkled shirtsleeves were pushed back from his bronzed forearms, his hair was rumpled, and dark purple circles were etched under his eyes. He was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

Cursing the weakness that made her move as slowly as an old woman, Anna gently shook his arm. ‘Robert,’ she whispered.

He leaped awake, his hand flying to his hip as if he would draw a sword that was not there. For a second he looked baffled, but then his gaze focused on her and a brilliant smile broke across his face.

‘You’re awake!’ he shouted jubilantly. ‘Anna, you’re awake.’

‘Am I?’ she said. It felt as if she still dreamed—a wondrous vision of being with Rob, the two of them alone together, safe at last.

He gently cradled her face between his hands, his touch cool on her skin. He kissed her brow, her cheek, and smoothed her tangled hair back from her temples. ‘The fever has gone,’ he said. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Battered and sore, and rather tired, but alive,’ she answered. She covered his hands with hers, holding him to her as if he would fly away like one of those dreams. ‘What happened? I remember Henry and that dungeon, but nothing after. Where are we?’

‘In a chamber at Walsingham’s house. We’ve been here three days now.’

‘Three days?’ Anna stared at him and saw that his face
was drawn, his eyes hollow, as if he too had been ill. ‘Have you been here with me all that time?’

He kissed her hand. ‘Someone had to drive away that clownish doctor before he bled you dry.’

‘Oh, Robert.’ She almost cried at the realisation that he had stayed with her in her fever, that he had nursed her. ‘Are we safe, then? Or are we prisoners still?’

‘Safe? Your fever has broken. Surely you will recover your strength now.’ His voice was low and terribly gentle, as if to hold her at a distance.

‘Nay, I mean—you are not under arrest? My father is not suspected?’ she asked, desperate to know.

Rob laughed wryly. ‘The last we heard of your father he was drinking ale at the Three Bells. It was thought better not to tell him of your illness until you were improved. And Sheldon has given up all his allies under Walsingham’s questioning. The mere sight of the torture implements made him tell all. It was only Ennis and two other actors, as well as another disgruntled man in Sheldon’s circle. Not the most organised conspiracy Walsingham has ever faced.’

Anna nodded, feeling the deepest sense of relief—and a deeper wave of exhaustion. Rob and her father were safe—for now, anyway. Rob was with her. She was alive.

But she was also so very tired. ‘I think I need to sleep now,’ she murmured.

‘Of course,’ Rob said quickly. He helped her lie back down on her soft pillows and drew the bedclothes around her. ‘You need to be strong again, and rest will make you well.’

Anna held on to his hand as she drifted back into sleep. Surely she had all she needed to make her well now.

Just before the darkness claimed her, she felt his kiss on her brow and heard him whisper, ‘Sleep now. I will see you well and happy before I go …’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

‘I cannot
wait
to leave this place,’ Anna whispered as she tucked her meagre belongings into a travel case. The Walsingham house was a silent, dark edifice that seemed to press in around her with the terrible weight of all that had happened there, and Secretary Walsingham’s illness. The very walls seemed to hold on to Anna’s own pain and fear, and even though Lady Essex and her mother had been very kind Anna wanted nothing more than to go home.

Wherever ‘home’ was.

She paused in folding a chemise to consider that word
home
. She would go back to her father’s house behind the White Heron, of course, for there was nowhere else to go. Back to the bustle and noise of the Southwark streets, ledger books and collecting rents, and keeping her father from drinking too much.

Yet in her illness she had had such dreams—a tantalising glimpse of other possibilities. A place of her own, quiet and peaceful, with her own garden, her own books of poetry to read, her own hearth to sit by in the evenings. And Robert sitting there with her, talking and laughing about the day they had just passed and their hopes for tomorrow.

Anna reached for
Demetrius and Diana
, cradling its soft cover in her hands. It was already worn with all her reading. Could Robert ever leave his London house of adventure and danger, his adoring audiences and tumultuous street brawls, to write poetry in the country with her? Could he be happy there?

She thought of how he had sat by her in her illness, bathing her fevered skin, holding her hand. How tender and careful he was—and how close they were bound by all that had happened. Surely there was hope in that? Surely he cared for her, and one day might …?

Might come to love her as she loved him?

Did she even dare to hope?

There was a knock at the door, and Lady Essex peered inside. ‘Mistress Barrett, I came to see if you needed any assistance in packing, but I see you are nearly done. I hope you haven’t tired yourself too much.’

Anna smiled at her. She had come to like Lady Essex in the time she had spent sitting by Anna’s bed while Rob rested, reading to her or talking of Court fashions and gossip. There was a kindness to her, but also a great sadness that showed how even the greatest nobility were not excluded from the troubles of the world. The pains of love.

‘I have so little to pack I could hardly grow tired from it,’ Anna said. ‘I needed to move about before I became too accustomed to sitting by the fire being waited on. You and your mother have been the most excellent of hostesses.’

‘Although the circumstances have been deplorable, we’ve been glad you’re here. You’ve given my mother a welcome distraction when she most needs it.’ Lady Essex carefully folded a pile of snowy handkerchiefs. ‘Now I suppose you will go back to your theatre?’

‘Yes. My own father needs me, as yours needs you.’

‘My father does not need anyone—not really,’ Lady Essex said. ‘Nor does my husband. Not as Master Alden needs you.’

‘Rob doesn’t need me. He only …’ Anna suddenly heard a noise from the courtyard below her window, and she hurried over to investigate. A groom had led a horse onto the cobblestones and was settling a saddle on its back. It was an unusual sight, for it seemed no one had come or gone from the house since Sheldon and Ennis had been hauled to the Tower.

‘Does your father have an errand today?’ Anna asked.

Lady Essex peered over Anna’s shoulder and shook her head. ‘My father hasn’t ridden in a long time. Everyone comes here to him now.’

As they watched, it was Rob who emerged from the house with a leather messenger bag slung over his back. He spoke to the groom and glanced up at Anna’s window. She instinctively shrank back behind the curtain, where she could not be seen, and saw him climb up into the saddle.

He looked grim and sad, and very determined, and that look on his face planted a touch of chilly disquiet in Anna’s heart.

‘Is your father sending him on another mission?’ Anna asked Lady Essex, who shrugged and looked just as confused as Anna felt.

‘My father sometimes lets me deliver messages for him, as lately I did to Hart Castle,’ she said, ‘but he seldom talks to anyone about his work, or about the people he employs. I would have thought Master Alden would be of no use to him now, after this escapade.’

‘Why is that?’ Anna asked in alarm. To be ‘of no use’ to Walsingham sounded like a dangerous thing.

‘It has gained attention, and Master Alden has worked for my father for a long while now. Such people are usually given a pension and retired.’ Lady Essex took Anna’s hand
and said soothingly, ‘I am sure he is only on an errand of his own and will soon return.’

Anna was not so sure as she studied Rob’s solemn face through the windowpane. She knew him well by now, and had learned his expressions and gestures—the way he tried to hide his darker side from her and protect her. Something told her something was amiss now.

She lifted the hem of her skirts and ran from the chamber and down the stairs, ignoring the pain in her side from the bandaged, healing wound. She took a couple of wrong turns, but finally tumbled out into the courtyard as Rob gathered the reins in his gloved hands.

‘Where are you going?’ she demanded.

He looked at her calmly, as if he had been expecting her, but his face was cool and polite. So very different from when she’d been ill and he had never left her side. ‘I have a new task to perform for Secretary Walsingham, since my old one is now concluded. Clumsily so, I admit, but I have been given another chance.’

‘Another chance to risk your life among villains?’ Anna demanded, fear rising up in her.

‘To do my work,’ he said impatiently, and Anna felt she had never known him at all. Never sighed in passion in his arms, never felt his tenderness. He was a stranger.

‘And where might this work be?’ she countered tightly.

‘In France,’ he said, as lightly as he might have said
in Spitalfields
.

‘France!’ she cried. He was going away to France—across the sea, to hunt down En gland’s enemies and perhaps die—and he had not even said farewell? After everything they had done together?

After—after she had thought herself in love with him, and even dared think he might come to love her, too?

She felt as if she was sinking into the ground, her heart like a stone in her chest, and a loud buzzing grew in her ears. She grabbed on to his saddle to keep from falling.