The Boleyn Deceit by Laura Andersen

said flatly. “Kept in this house of that heretic, Northumberland. It is insulting, and now you are come to mock.”
    Minuette intervened. “No, my lady, never to mock. The king’s affections will always be inclined to leniency, but you cannot allow yourself to be used by those of evil intent.”
    Elizabeth sat back and watched her sister and her friend regard each other. Mary had no cause to love Minuette after what had happened at Framlingham, but there was something gentle about Minuette that could disarm the most suspicious. Today she looked like an angel in her pale blue gown and white underskirt, a bright counterpoint of hope to Mary’s dark and fading appearance.
    “I might give the same advice to my brother,” Mary challenged Minuette. “He should take care to whom he listens, for heretics will never counsel honestly.”
    “We are not here to debate religion.”
    “And clearly you are not here for affection’s sake, so why are you here?” Mary flung this question at her sister.
    Elizabeth grudgingly admired Mary’s bluntness and replied in kind. “Do you believe that Norfolk intended open rebellion against the king?”
    This time Mary didn’t respond immediately. After a considered pause, she said, “If he did, I had no knowledge, and that, I think, makes it unlikely. The duke would have needed me forsuch a move, and it is unlikely he could have kept it secret from me for so long. I had heard nothing of rebellion.”
    “What had you heard?”
    “That there might exist a document of interest to the Catholic cause.”
    The Penitent’s Confession. Elizabeth would have to speak cautiously here. “And had you heard that such a document was in Norfolk’s hands?”
    “No.” Mary spoke definitely. “He did not have whatever he thought this document was. He was searching for it, tracking rumours and gossip that always turned to nothing in the end.”
    Until Minuette had found it in the very heart of Framlingham, hidden in the altar of the lady chapel. Elizabeth searched Mary’s face, and could not find deception there. Was this one of those things that had Rochford so worried—that he could not believe Mary would not have known if Norfolk had the inflammatory Penitent’s Confession in his hands? And if she had not known, did that mean Norfolk himself had no idea that the forged document was concealed in his house? If that were true, it indeed meant someone else had planted it to bring down the Howard family.
    And that someone remained undiscovered. Elizabeth sighed.
    Mary was no fool. “Was that the wrong answer?” she asked.
    “Not if it is true.”
    “I do not lie, sister. Say whatever else you like about me, but you know that I do not lie.”
    Not even to make her own life easier. No, Mary was inflexible and fanatic and damned irritating, but she was not a liar.
    Mary went on, cannily enough. “You will not be staying here at Syon House, now that Northumberland has overreached with his son’s marriage. Does that mean the king will release me from this pretense of confinement?”
    “That is for the king to say,” Elizabeth said bluntly.
    “I hear he will join you at Richmond shortly. Do you think …” Mary hesitated. Elizabeth knew how it pained her to plead. “Will you ask William to see me when he arrives? And if he will not see me, at least ask him if I may return to Beaulieu.”
    Elizabeth said nothing for a long moment, then she nodded curtly. “I will ask.”
    What else could she do? Mary, however reluctantly and acrimoniously, was her sister. Though Henry’s three children might have wildly different temperaments, they shared a certain turn of mind that was instantly recognizable—the call of blood, perhaps.
    When they had bade Mary goodbye, they found John Dudley waiting for them a courteous distance down the corridor—close enough to keep an eye on the doorway, but not close enough to eavesdrop. That was a courtesy afforded because of Elizabeth’s status. If Mary were to