For Philip to be dilatory up to a point suited Sir Nicholas very well, since, as he saw it, nothing could be done in his affair while Dominica still lay at Madrid. If Philip delayed too long, however, he would have to employ another messenger to carry his answer back to the Guise. Sir Nicholas would be very well pleased to get that answer into his own hands, for it promised to be interesting to an English Protestant. Walsingham would be glad of it, but Sir Nicholas had no notion of serving Master Secretary to his own plan’s undoing. There was food enough for Walsingham in the Guise’s ciphered letter, a copy of which was safe in Beauvallet’s possession. It concerned one Mary Stewart, unfortunate lady, at present a state prisoner in England, and certain illuminating schemes for her future as compiled by his Majesty King Philip, and the Duc de Guise. Fine doings there! Enough to make Master Secretary’s hair stand on end.
For the rest Sir Nicholas went junketing about the town, and by the way gleaned some useful information likely to interest not only Walsingham, but Sir Francis Drake too, and not less the Lord Admiral, Howard of Effingham. There was a fleet building in Cadiz harbour; Sir Nicholas made copious mental notes of the size and strength of those tall galleons, and even toyed with the notion of travelling south to see for himself.
His behaviour during this period provoked nervous qualms in Joshua Dimmock, who declared himself to be a meacock creature, and shivered from time to time. He had reason for his qualms, for he had good cause to know that never was Beauvallet so reckless as when he played with danger on every hand. “Master,” said he, “is there never one who suspects?”
“Ay, the French Ambassador,” Sir Nicholas answered. “One of his satellites hath been set to question me—very cleverly, so he thought.”
“God’s me! this is to undo all! And you said, master?”
“Oh, I gave him a bountiful answer, be sure,” was all he could get from Sir Nicholas.
On Monday evening Dominica was to be seen at the Alepero house, off the Calle Mayor. When Sir Nicholas could escape from the amiable clutches of her aunt, he made his way to her side, ousted an admiring caballero from his place of vantage there, and proceeded, to all appearances, to pay his court to her.
Don Diego, watchful in the background, was swift to interpose his presence, but got little by that.
“Ah, my bridal friend!” said Sir Nicholas, very urbane. “You are come in a good hour, señor. Doña Beatrice is inquiring for you. You shall not let us keep you.”
“My mother, señor?” said Don Diego, glaring his disbelief.
“Your mother, my dear friend. You are loth to leave us, I perceive, and I should be flattered but that I suspect the charms of this lady to be the true cause.” He bowed to Dominica.
“I cannot suppose, señor, that my mother’s need of me is urgent,” said Don Diego, colder still.
“I am sure you underrate yourself,” returned Sir Nicholas.
Don Diego looked furious, but did not see how he might remain. “I am obliged to you, Chevalier,” he said, mighty sarcastic. “I do not permit myself to forget that you are a visitor to Spain.” There was a good deal of meaning to this. Dominica stirred uneasily, and shot a quick look up at Sir Nicholas.
The mobile eyebrow was up; Sir Nicholas waited. Don Diego met his look for a moment, then bowed ceremoniously, and walked away. They understood one another well enough: what the tongues were not permitted to say the eyes said fully.
“Oh, folly!” Dominica breathed. “Why anger him? To what purpose?”
Sir Nicholas was watching Don Diego go across the room. “I am certain I shall not leave Spain until that paraquito and I have measured swords,” he said thoughtfully.
“Señor Nicholas, I do not think that I was ever afraid until I met you,” Dominica said. “Why will you do these things?”
He looked down at her. “What, afraid for me? Let be, child; there’s no need.”
“You run on your fate!” she insisted.
He laughed impenitently. “I had liefer do that than run from it, sweetheart,” he said. “What news for me?”
Her face clouded. “Not as we had hoped, Señor Nicholas. The King puts off his removal to Valladolid, and we wait upon him. My uncle is in attendance till then, you see. But I think I could contrive a little.” She looked up inquiringly.
His eyes were warm with amusement. “Let me hear your plot, little contriver.”
“Then do not laugh at me—robber,” she retaliated. “Don Miguel de Tobar is coming to town, and he is my uncle upon my mother’s side, and I am very sure that he would like me for his son Miguel.” She nodded wisely, and compressed her lips.
“How she is sought after!” marvelled Sir Nicholas. “Surely it needs a robber to win her.”
A dimple quivered. “Maybe, señor. Now I think it would not suit my good aunt to have me throw myself upon Don Miguel’s protection, for he has influence with the King, and he might well get an injunction to have me away from the Carvalhos. I think, Señor Nicholas, that if I were to talk roundabout a little they would be very glad to bear me away to Vasconosa, out of reach of Don Miguel. And there marry me, doubtless, but you will be at hand.”
“Be very sure of it. Weave your toils, fondling, but walk warily, for I misdoubt me that aunt of yours hath the seeing eye.”
Her eyes sparkled with mockery. “A word out of your
