‘Perhaps I have had to erase my memory,’ I said, in a tight voice.
‘Well, you would do well to remember this.’ She drew herself up a little taller here, to fix me with a direct stare. ‘I do not have to account for myself to you. You have no right to make those accusations about men. I owe you nothing.’
I risked my life for you, I wanted to say. I was the one you came running to when you were accused of your husband’s murder, begging me to find the real killer; I saved you from the gallows then, and almost ended up there myself for my trouble. And you took me to your bed; you let me believe you loved me in return, while all along you always knew you would be leaving. Don’t try to tell me there is no debt between us.
Instead I said, stubbornly, ‘Apart from the fifty écus for the book you stole from me.’
She made a small noise of contempt. ‘If it will make you feel better, I’ll find half the money, and then we are even. Not that it was actually your book in the first place, was it?’ I did not reply. She sighed, relenting. ‘Look, I’m sorry I took it. But you understand that I had to leave England. It was all that was to hand of any value. I thought only of surviving.’
‘Well, you appear to have survived and thrived admirably,’ I said icily. ‘And I see you are a good Catholic now, Mary. I suppose you attend Mass dutifully every day.’
‘I am whatever it is expedient for me to be in the circumstances,’ she hissed in my face, her eyes flashing. ‘I thought you of all people would understand that.’
‘Then you are mistaken,’ I said, through my teeth. ‘You and I are not the same. I am at least true to myself.’ Even as I spoke, I knew I sounded ridiculous; I could hear the disdain in her laughter.
‘Well, how noble you are. I congratulate you on your unshakeable integrity. Except that’s not even true, is it? Paget told Sir Thomas you were trying to get your excommunication lifted. So don’t preach to me about pretending to be Catholic. You’re not a travelling player either,’ she added, as if this proved her case. ‘And if you are, why are you jumping off balconies?’
We glared at one another, defiant, until I realised that a smile was twitching at the corners of her mouth. I would not give her the satisfaction of returning it, I thought. She raised an eyebrow. I pressed my lips together into a hard line. Eventually I could not help it; I laughed, despite myself, and she laughed with me. I held her gaze until the laughter faded and we were left, still looking into each other’s eyes, the embers of something long-buried stirring into life.
‘Mary? Are you out here? The players are about to begin.’ A woman’s voice, calling in English. Sophia started and glanced guiltily towards the house.
‘Lady Fitzherbert. I should go.’
‘Wait. Will you—’ I left the question hanging; I could not quite bear to hear her tell me she would not see me again.
‘I will get your money, never fear,’ she whispered, the hard edge returned to her voice.
‘That wasn’t—’ I let it pass. ‘You live in the rue Neuve, I believe.’
Her eyes widened in horror. ‘For God’s sake, you can’t come to the house, are you mad?’
‘Mary?’ Lady Fitzherbert called again.
‘She will come looking for me if I don’t go in.’
‘Listen, I don’t want the money. But there is one favour you can do me by way of compensation.’
Her face grew guarded; I could see what she was thinking. I shook my head to pre-empt her objection.
‘Your admirer, Montpensier. He likes to give you gifts, yes?’
Her fingers strayed to the choker at her throat. ‘What of it?’
‘He has a dagger that belongs to me. Guise stole it and gave it to him. It’s valuable. I want it back.’
I could see her weighing it up. ‘Why would Montpensier give me his dagger?’
‘I saw his manner with you. He’d give you the bells of Notre Dame if you asked him charmingly enough. Use your womanly arts. You’re happy enough to use them when it suits you,’ I could not help adding, with venom.
She pulled away, her mouth tight. ‘I will not promise.’
‘Rue du Cimetière,’ I hissed, as she stepped out of the doorway. ‘The far end from the Swan and Cross. Ask for the house of Madame de la Fosse.’
She registered this without comment. ‘Coming, my lady,’ she replied aloud, into the courtyard. She turned back and gave me a long look. For a heartbeat it seemed she was about to add something, but the moment passed and she was gone. I heard her footsteps quicken and fade as I leaned against the wall with my pulse hammering.
My immediate difficulty was how to get back into the house without advertising my absence. The only options were to try the servants’ door where we had entered and pretend I had slipped out for a piss, but that might make it obvious I was lying. Or
