The Poyson Garden
shall have to see."
    "Then I shall go up straightaway and write my letter to my dear sister. Sir Thomas, I would count it a favor if you would send my man Jenks to me to ride to London with it."
    She swept from the room with Blanche in her wake. In Kent she could search for the poisoner, Nettie's background and her ties to the master herbalist. Unfortunately, to send Jenks with that missive, she'd have to do without him when she went to Bushey Cot. At least he could also get a letter to her cousin Harry at William Cecil's house, because she had some questions for both of them too. And since Meg had not been positive about the dried tincture on the arrow point, Jenks could take it to them to have it studied.
    "Oh, it looks like the storm's quite let up," Blanche observed as they made the turn on the grand staircase and looked out the window on the landing.
    "I pray so," Elizabeth said only and hurried on.
     
    By ten of the clock that night, skittish moonlight had replaced the rain clouds. Holding her breath, in boy's garb that was now all too familiar to her, Elizabeth tiptoed down the narrow back servants' stairs. The house lay silent but for a few inward creaks from age and outward moans from the wind, but Meg's and Kat's protests still rang in her ears.
    "But you can't go there at night unchaperoned--with just that player," Kat had insisted. "You hardly know the man. Can he ride or handle a sword like Jenks?"
    "And why," Meg had chimed in, "must I stay here in your bed? I'm not a player. They'd know it wasn't you if they looked close."
    "Hush your caterwauling," Elizabeth commanded, "or I won't have either of you privy to my needs. This is something I must do, for my family--for my own sake. If I cannot trust you and depend on you to help me, I will send you both away." She had even quoted the Holy Word to muzzle them: "He who is not with me is against me."
    "Or she," Meg had muttered with a scowl. "You just beware of that one we call "she.""
    They took two lanterns yet unlit. Elizabeth blessed the moonlight, but she had to lead the way because she had just been this route and it was new to Ned. She could tell he was eager to please her, yet this night ride to a place where Meg had prattled a witch might live did not sit well with him.
    "A witch? Stuff and nonsense. Village superstitions," she assured the dark-cloaked man as they crested the hill above the village. "Of course I believe in demon possession, but untutored rustics go overboard dubbing any old hag a witch."
    "This woman is old, then?" he asked. He'd annoyed her at first with his spate of questions, but he had a sharp mind and it had helped her hone her own thinking. They must search and perhaps seize things from Bushey Cot--the woman herself if they could.
    "I do not know if she is old," Elizabeth admitted as they turned their horses to skirt the village itself. "That is hearsay and what we must learn. I can only pray she does not expect a visit--that there is no one in my household who could warn her. That is partly why I wanted us to come tonight, so the woman could not be warned in time even if someone overheard me speak to Kat or Meg."
    "Meg," he said, almost to himself as they turned off the road into the fringe of forest. "She seems to live in fortune's star, stumbling on that news about the girl Nettie and that sampler that sends us here."
    "It's all logical. I think she's proved herself true. And you, too, have stumbled into this," she reminded him, hisby being there to save my cousin and then perform at Wivenhoe. Life is like that, Ned, happenstance."
    "And that is why you stand next in line to the throne?" he dared.
    "Little things are happenstance," she corrected herself. "The vast, life-changing ones are God-ordained and comguided."
    "Aye, Your Grace, as you say."
    He had annoyed her now, but this was no time to quibble, as they had to concentrate on keeping low branches out of their eyes. "Can you use that sword of yours if need be?" she whispered

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