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“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft, “but I don’t know how we can find my way out of this tangled mess.”
“We need to find the true assassin before they go into hiding or fulfill their quest to kill the queen.”
“But how? Especially now when we are in hiding from Walsingham?”
“A close study of all the facts,” he said. “They will lead us in a direction.” At least he hoped so.
Lucy led them out of the kitchen into the interior library. Greer set the lamp down and made certain the curtains hid the light from outside while she sat in a leather-backed chair.
“At the apothecary, before the fireball, someone seemed to run from us,” Lucy said. “Could he be our culprit?”
“The fact that he ran makes it a possibility.” And there’d been something familiar about him.
He sat across from her in an identical chair. It was large enough to accommodate his frame. Lucy looked like a wee lass in hers, having to perch on the edge so her feet touched the floor.
“And Jasper Lintel lied about his working at the Bear’s Inn,” she said. “But would he have access to Whitehall? The food and keys to Cordelia and my rooms?”
“What would be the motive for making Cordelia and then ye look guilty?” he asked.
“There needs to be a guilty person,” Lucy said, her usual smile gone. “Since our mother was revealed as a traitor, everyone has looked upon Cordelia and me as possible plotting traitors, probably waiting for the chance to strike.”
Greer rose and lifted his chair, setting it down right before Lucy so he could reach her hands. They were still bare, and he held them, rubbing them with his thumbs. “We’re assuming these are English Catholics who want Elizabeth gone so Mary of Scotland can take the throne. Elizabeth has enemies all over Europe, Scotland, and Ireland.”
“The French are talented with poison,” Lucy said.
“But this wasn’t subtle,” Greer said. “And Richard Whitby being poisoned was a mistake as well.”
“It wasn’t even Elizabeth’s sweet that was tainted, since he didn’t take hers, and William didn’t find anything in the queen’s food when he tested it. He didn’t find poison in anyone’s remaining food or wine.”
“Yet we know Whitby ate or drank something poisonous. Whose plates did he eat from?”
“Several of the ladies down the table.”
“And at the top of the table?” Greer asked.
“I believe he only ate from Lord Burghley’s plate,” she said.
“Burghley,” he murmured. “What are his true religious beliefs?”
“He’s as Protestant as the queen,” Lucy said.
“He has strong opinions on creating a unified kingdom of England, Scotland, and Ireland,” Greer said. He slid even closer until their knees touched.
She nodded. “He’s pushing for her to use force towards that end. At least in Ireland. I think Lord Burghley believes Elizabeth will make your King James her heir if she has none herself. That will connect Scotland and England, but Ireland is still apart. King Henry brought Wales under English rule when he was on the throne, and Lord Burghley wants to see more of that. He’s an empire builder.”
“And Jasper Lintel is Irish.”
Lucy’s eyes raised from their hands to Greer’s eyes. “You think Lord Burghley was the target, not the queen?”
“I think ’twas meant for someone who stands in the assassin’s way.”
“Well then you certainly shouldn’t eat anything at court,” Lucy said. “Everyone knows you’re there to warn the queen about them.”
“Anyone who protects the queen is in danger.” Greer watched Lucy fight a yawn. “Ye need to rest.” He stood. “We will find a bed.”
He pulled her from the chair and wrapped her in his arms.
“And you think I will get rest in the same bed with you?” She snorted softly against his chest.
