Kit set aside the bottle and grasped her hands in his. “Alys, this is not a game. We have won a minor skirmish—we haven’t won the battle, let alone the war. Our enemies are too powerful for us. Until Walsingham gets here, there’s naught we can do but make ourselves scarce. Enough has been done to foil the conspirators’ scheme, so you can now flee this place with a clear conscience, knowing you did your best, then return when all is settled.”
“I am not going with you. For a start, I can’t climb out of that window as you did.”
Why was her courage failing her now? “I’ll help you. You can tuck your skirts up into your belt. I’d not let you fall.”
“But what if we get caught again? With both of us in their clutches, we’d have no hope of rescue.”
True. But he wasn’t prepared to leave her behind. “Walsingham, remember. Rupert will have managed to get word to him by now.”
“What if they don’t find us in time? If I stay, I can delay their pursuit of you. You need a spy to remain in the enemy camp, to inform you of their movements. Let me be that spy. I’m best placed to know what is afoot, to direct Walsingham and your friends when they come.”
Her stubborn refusal was starting to alarm him. “Foolish wench! Just because you have effected a rescue and stolen a gun does not make you a hero. It’s too dangerous for you, Alys. You must come with me.”
“If I’d run away, if I’d kept running after you failed to meet me this afternoon, where would you be now? Feeding the worms, most likely. But because I was here, I was able to read the signs, observe the enemy, work out where you were and how to rescue you. I know the house, Kit, I know the people. I am of more use to you here. Especially should they capture you again.”
“They will not.” His voice was grim. “It offends my pride to hear you say that.” But there was logic to her argument.
“I’m sorry. But I can’t see why they’d suspect me. No one knows there has ever been any connection between you and me. They think me dull, lacking in feeling. Kate would never imagine I might be aiding and abetting you.”
She might be right. But he’d faced death tonight, and while doing so, he’d seen with stark clarity she was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him. He wouldn’t abandon her now. “I’m tempted to throw you over my shoulder and haul you out of here by main force.”
She tilted her head. “But you know I’d never forgive you if you did.”
Probably true. Defeated, he slipped his shirt and doublet back on, keeping his eyes averted from hers—lest she see the fear they held. He tested the black powder and primed the arquebus.
“It seems you give me no choice, even though I will never forgive myself should anything happen to you. Shall I show you how to use the dag? For once you know how to work it, you may be forced to shoot to kill. And if you were disarmed, it could be used against you.”
She paled a little at that. “Mayhap I should just use it to deter.”
Perhaps it would be safer thus. He opened the window and leaned outside, but the darkness was absolute. He’d have to take his chance. But he would be back the very second, the very fraction of a second, he had reinforcements.
He felt her gaze pull on his shoulder blades, but he dared not turn around. She was his weakness, and weakness brought peril. As would any further delay. “Good luck to you, and thank you for giving me my freedom. Adieu.”
He squeezed through the window, steadfastly ignoring the protest of his injured arm, and made his way painstakingly down the ivy. When he reached the ground, he turned to see a pale-faced Alys gazing down, tear-streaked cheeks glistening in the faint light of her chamber.
He saluted her and pressed a hand over his heart. Then a sharp sound sent him hurrying into the darkness, not knowing if she’d seen the gesture. But knowing, with a twist of his gut, that he meant it with all his soul.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Alys barely slept. Kit’s parting words, “Thank you for my freedom”, rang a knell in her heart. She sensed he meant more than just the rescue. Had she, by being so intractable, freed him from any attachment he might have developed for her? All her bravado ebbed away, and she lay abed feeling like a lost little child, gazing despairingly into the dark.
How could she have let him go without telling him how she felt? What if she never had another chance to do so?
As soon as it was full daylight, she tried to go about her business as if nothing was wrong, but it was a hard part to play. Fortunately, Kate kept to her room. Was she packing for a speedy departure? Would the conspirators now head to Norfolk, in hopes of evading Kit’s damning testimony? Avery and Kirlham crossed her path but once, and she could tell by their thunderous brows that they’d discovered the loss of their prisoner.
Kit’s guard had been sent away after breakfast at a fast gallop, mayhap to reassemble the men who had been here upon the yester. As she watched him ride away, still sleepy and drooping over his horse’s neck, she realized she hadn’t even given a thought to the punishment he might expect for losing his captive. Did this make her as bad as the conspirators, in that she now cared nothing for her enemies? Except perhaps Kate, to whom she owed a debt of gratitude, and who had behaved much better towards her while her husband was still alive.
By mid-morning, there was still no sign of Walsingham and his
