Page 128 of The Favourite

Alisander eyed him warily. He did not care for the gleam in Oswald Vawdrey’s eyes. “What sort of an idea?” he asked grudgingly.

Oswald shook his head regretfully. “No, no, I’m afraid you must be kept in the dark at this stage, in order for it to work. Do you trust me?”

“Not for an instant,” he responded swiftly.

Oswald smirked. “But you should, my dear Bardulf, at least in this regard. I assure you; I have your best interests at heart.”

“Ah, but there remains the question of whether your estimation of my best interests would match with my own.”

Oswald straightened up. “Very well, I will prove it to you. I personally would list them as follows,” he said, beginning to count on his fingers. “One, your remaining in Karadok, two, retaining your official role as ambassador to the Western Isles—”

“Lascony,” Alisander corrected him.

“Three, remaining married to one Jane Cecil—”

“That goes without saying,” Alisander interrupted with a frown.

“—and four, retaining custodianship of the child Celestia. I list these things in no order, you understand.”

Alisander was silent a moment, though he felt thoroughly rattled. “You really think these things are in jeopardy?” he asked. Vawdrey’s somber expression persuaded him far more than mere words would have. Damn it. Things must be dire indeed if he was at risk of losing everything.

“There was an occasion, in the not-too-distant past, when you were kind enough as to do me a good turn, Alisander,” Vawdrey said quietly. “Do you remember? You were under no obligation, yet you issued me a warning which put me on my guard before an axe could fall upon my neck.”

“So dramatic,” Alisander murmured. “It was the merest word in your ear.” Vawdrey said nothing, just continued to gaze steadily at him. “Oh, very well,” he said irritably. “I will do it. Against my better judgment, I will place myself entirely and blindly in your hands, Vawdrey. But I warn you if you should—”

“Excellent,” Oswald Vawdrey replied glibly. “You will not regret it. Or if you do,” he added conscientiously, “not for too long.”

Alisander found himself filled with the greatest of misgivings. What did that mean? He was soon to find out.

28

Jane adjusted her stance slightly, for her knees were aching despite the embroidered kneeling mats. They had been praying now for a solid two hours. She watched the King move away from the casket. He looked exhausted; indeed, she was not sure he did not sway slightly on his feet.

Immediately the Queen appeared at his side, patting his shoulder and nodding her head in approval. After one last wistful look at her, back over his shoulder, the King departed. From his expression, Jane guessed the Queen had declined to accompany him.

Jane turned to face front again and tried to concentrate on the words the monks were muttering. Unfortunately, the rhythmic chanting had the effect of making her eyelids grow heavy. A sudden jab to the ribs revived her, and for a moment she thought it was Osanna, who must have noticed she was in danger of drifting off.

Then she realized that someone was pushing in between them. Jane had no sooner turned a look of disapproval on the newcomer than she realized it was none other than Queen Armenal.

“Jane!” the Queen hissed, “I have sent the King back to his rooms. He is most tired. He has not been sleeping well and this has all been too much for him.” To Jane’s surprise, she sounded rather pleased with herself. Seeing Jane’s expression, the Queen added quickly, “He will sleep much better in his own bed, I daresay. I know I will certainly sleep much better without him in mine!”

She leaned in closer. “I make no complaint, you understand. Your instruction proved most invaluable. It is only”—she pulled a face—“sometimes, I feel it is a little too efficacious, you understand?” Jane blinked at her. “It is most gratifying, now the King is mad for love of me,” she stated, “but sometimes it is a little much. I hardly have a moment to myself!”

Jane coughed, glancing to the right and left of them. She felt sure the Bishop of Hudde was glaring in their direction. Anyone else but the Queen would have received a severe scolding for all this whispering.

“I will confess,” the Queen continued, “to being initially a little disappointed with your advice, Jane. It seemed unfathomable to me that such a stratagem should have worked in your own circumstances, let alone mine! Then, I recalled something about Lord Bardulf’s background.” She looked smug.

Jane tried to hold her tongue but failed the test. “What did you recall?” she could not help but ask.

The Queen smiled. “I remembered that it was not just his traitorous kin he lost in childhood, but his foster family also. Then, it made more sense that your compassion and empathy should conquer him so completely. After so many losses, he would of course be susceptible to—”

Jane interrupted her. “Foster family?”

“Yes, the Herveys.”

A jarring memory stirred in Jane’s mind. “The Herveys?” she repeated with horror, thinking of the family who had treated Alisander so poorly as a child.

“Yes.” The Queen nodded. “The family of Sir Reginald Hervey suffered so many misfortunes, that it soon began to be whispered that they were a family laboring under a dark curse.”