Passe.”
“Vell, I vas taking a constitutional,” Dirck said, sitting up even straighter. “A valk, and the air in St. Martin’s fields is fresh, that’s all. Ja, I varrant I vas near the poor voman’s place, but hardly vent to see her—vouldn’t. Dere vas no need, for our starch house is far better than hers …”
He must have realized he might be digging himself a deeper hole, for he suddenly stopped in midthought.
“Ve regret the death of one so young and promising,” Dingen said, her voice wavering. “How did she die? Vat really happened?”
“That,” Elizabeth said, “is what the constable and coroner intend to discover. And since Hannah is gone, can your shop rise to the increased demands you will now face?”
As they both effusively assured her of that, she felt again they might indeed have arranged Hannah’s demise. Why, then, had Hannah sent her workers away? That smacked of preparation for some sort of lovers’ tryst, not a visit from the husband of her rival.
As the couple disembarked the royal coach, the queen looked past them and saw William Paulet’s lackey, Hugh Dauntsey, standing well back in the crowd. She refused to believe it mere circumstance—like Dirck just happening to be in Hannah’s neighborhood the day she died.
If Dauntsey didn’t live in this immediate area, she’d summon him to find out why he happened to be lurking here. She didn’t trust his puppetmaster Paulet not to try to upset her plans for England’s economic growth without him at the helm. Both he and his underlings needed watching.
Dauntsey’s icy gaze chilled her, so she sent Clifford to fetch Dingen back to the coach again. She came, this time, with her round, rosy face dour and her lips pressed so tightly together her mouth looked like a purse drawn in by strings.
The moment the coach door was closed again, the queen asked, “Are you familiar with a man named Hugh Dauntsey?”
“Hugh? Ja, he’s our money man, helps us good vit sums and figures, knows English taxes ve didn’t at first. He been seen near Hannah’s, too?”
“He’s in the crowd outside your door, that’s all.”
“Your Majesty, just’cause a starcher got herself killed, don’t mean me or my family involved. Just’cause Hugh Dauntsey outside our door or vorks for us, don’t mean a thing. If—if my Dirck loses the fine reputation ve got here—a reputation he long built as a Flemish knight, and ve left our homeland to come here … I just not go on. I just close my starch house and not go on.”
“Stay calm, Mrs. van der Passe. I simply wanted to bring the sad news to you myself and clear up a few things. There is no need for such fears and dire predictions. You may go now, as I’m sure you and your starchers have much to do.”
The woman scuttled out of the coach as if she had been burned. Elizabeth leaned back against the tapestried seat as the door closed yet again, and the coach bounced into motion. After all, she also had much to do.
Chapter the Sixth
“SO, NED, TO SUMMARIZE,” ELIZABETH CUT IN AS HE continued his extended, dramatized report to the assembled Privy Plot Council, “none of the neighbors you interviewed saw aught amiss at or near Hannah’s place the day she died, including anyone climbing out or in that large open window.”
Everyone seemed to take a breath when she interrupted Ned. It was nearly ten o’clock that night, and they were all exhausted.
“God’s truth, Your Grace, I thought you needed ample details about those I asked. All claim they were going on about their business. So it seems that Ursala Hemmings is the only one who saw anything suspicious, that being the Gresham girl hanging about—”
“Yes, I will deal with that later. It seems, then, we either have a murderer who did not seem out of place, even if seen, or one who is so wily that, even if a stranger, he convinced Hannah to send her women away so she would be alone in the loft.”
“Indeed, our prey seems
“Vell, I vas taking a constitutional,” Dirck said, sitting up even straighter. “A valk, and the air in St. Martin’s fields is fresh, that’s all. Ja, I varrant I vas near the poor voman’s place, but hardly vent to see her—vouldn’t. Dere vas no need, for our starch house is far better than hers …”
He must have realized he might be digging himself a deeper hole, for he suddenly stopped in midthought.
“Ve regret the death of one so young and promising,” Dingen said, her voice wavering. “How did she die? Vat really happened?”
“That,” Elizabeth said, “is what the constable and coroner intend to discover. And since Hannah is gone, can your shop rise to the increased demands you will now face?”
As they both effusively assured her of that, she felt again they might indeed have arranged Hannah’s demise. Why, then, had Hannah sent her workers away? That smacked of preparation for some sort of lovers’ tryst, not a visit from the husband of her rival.
As the couple disembarked the royal coach, the queen looked past them and saw William Paulet’s lackey, Hugh Dauntsey, standing well back in the crowd. She refused to believe it mere circumstance—like Dirck just happening to be in Hannah’s neighborhood the day she died.
If Dauntsey didn’t live in this immediate area, she’d summon him to find out why he happened to be lurking here. She didn’t trust his puppetmaster Paulet not to try to upset her plans for England’s economic growth without him at the helm. Both he and his underlings needed watching.
Dauntsey’s icy gaze chilled her, so she sent Clifford to fetch Dingen back to the coach again. She came, this time, with her round, rosy face dour and her lips pressed so tightly together her mouth looked like a purse drawn in by strings.
The moment the coach door was closed again, the queen asked, “Are you familiar with a man named Hugh Dauntsey?”
“Hugh? Ja, he’s our money man, helps us good vit sums and figures, knows English taxes ve didn’t at first. He been seen near Hannah’s, too?”
“He’s in the crowd outside your door, that’s all.”
“Your Majesty, just’cause a starcher got herself killed, don’t mean me or my family involved. Just’cause Hugh Dauntsey outside our door or vorks for us, don’t mean a thing. If—if my Dirck loses the fine reputation ve got here—a reputation he long built as a Flemish knight, and ve left our homeland to come here … I just not go on. I just close my starch house and not go on.”
“Stay calm, Mrs. van der Passe. I simply wanted to bring the sad news to you myself and clear up a few things. There is no need for such fears and dire predictions. You may go now, as I’m sure you and your starchers have much to do.”
The woman scuttled out of the coach as if she had been burned. Elizabeth leaned back against the tapestried seat as the door closed yet again, and the coach bounced into motion. After all, she also had much to do.
Chapter the Sixth
“SO, NED, TO SUMMARIZE,” ELIZABETH CUT IN AS HE continued his extended, dramatized report to the assembled Privy Plot Council, “none of the neighbors you interviewed saw aught amiss at or near Hannah’s place the day she died, including anyone climbing out or in that large open window.”
Everyone seemed to take a breath when she interrupted Ned. It was nearly ten o’clock that night, and they were all exhausted.
“God’s truth, Your Grace, I thought you needed ample details about those I asked. All claim they were going on about their business. So it seems that Ursala Hemmings is the only one who saw anything suspicious, that being the Gresham girl hanging about—”
“Yes, I will deal with that later. It seems, then, we either have a murderer who did not seem out of place, even if seen, or one who is so wily that, even if a stranger, he convinced Hannah to send her women away so she would be alone in the loft.”
“Indeed, our prey seems
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