A scrabbling sound from outside. A glint of moonlight. Hands reached in. Frosty fingers grasped my wrists.
I jolted awake. Shivering and sweating all at once, I gasped pallid clouds into the air. I eased from under the covers and snatched up the flask on the bedside table. I took a huge slug, then choked.
Wine. Ugh. How are these people not all drooling alcoholics?
Still, I downed it, and by the time I woke again, Phoebe was up and gone.
The young girl, Alice, had brought up my gown, all cleaned and brushed until it looked good as new. Poor thing must’ve worked all night. Despite the ice that rimmed the wash basin, I managed to clean up and dress myself.
Thanks to Rachel, today we might get closer to finding my mother.
What if she’s there? What if we just walk in . . . and there she is?
I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Still, I couldn’t help the tiny beacon of hope that lit inside me at the thought. And as I hurried down the stairs, I felt better than I had since we’d arrived.
Halfway down the steps, raised voices filtered out from the dining hall. I paused just outside the half-closed door.
“. . . flighty and doesn’t understand the risks.” Collum’s rumble. “We lost a half a day chasing after her. We didn’t even have time to search for this Babcock. Running off like that! She’ll end up getting us all—”
“Just stop,” Phoebe said. “Hope’s doing her best. And as a matter of fact, it’s you who’s acting dodgy. You’re up to something, Collum Michael MacPherson. And don’t try to deny it, because I know you too well.”
I filled my lungs and stepped through the door. Collum turned his back to me, but not before I saw the high color in his cheeks. Phoebe crossed the room quickly and took both my hands in her smaller ones.
“You look better today,” she said. “And that bruise on your head? Well, it just brings out that purpley tint in those lovely smoke-colored eyes of yours.”
“Thanks, I guess?” I made a scrunchy-face at her, then turned to narrow an annoyed glare at Collum’s back.
You think I’m flighty? Whatever. Who got us in the castle? Phoebe motioned to the long table set at the front of the room. “The gorgon brought out some kind of fishy stew even I won’t touch. But there’s bread and cheese. You hungry?”
“Starving.”
The bread was gritty and the cheese smelled a bit like feet, but I gobbled both down anyway. I sniffed at the cup Phoebe handed me and grimaced. “Beer?”
She shrugged. “It’s that or nothing. I think old Hilde’s a bit miffed that we didn’t go to mass this morning.”
Hilde stomped into the room. “Milord,” she muttered, “someone at the door. Says she’s here for her.”
The housekeeper pointed an accusatory finger at me. By the crimson patches on her nonexistent cheekbones, I knew who it must be.
“It is a Jewess.” She snarled the last word. “Right on the front stoop. Claims she has business here.”
“That’s because she does,” I snapped as I stood, slammed the beer down, and hurried toward the entry hall.
Rachel was shivering outside the front door, muffled head to toe. Snow lay in a thick layer on her shoulders. She’d obviously been standing there a long time.
“Hilde,” I asked through clenched teeth, “how long did you leave my guest standing in the snow before you told us she was here?”
Hilde’s florid face darkened.
“Do not concern yourself, Mistress Hope,” Rachel protested. “Truly. ’Tis no trouble.”
“Yes, it is.” I glared at the servant. “We should’ve been told immediately. You let her stay there and freeze on purpose, didn’t you?”
Hilde sniffed. “Jews don’t feel the cold like Christians.”
“Ugh,” I said. “You horrible old—”
Rachel interceded, her delicate cheekbones flaming under her hood. “Mistress Hope, perhaps we should away. Queen Eleanor will be expecting her posset.”
Hilde flashed me a defiant leer, turned on her heel, and disappeared into the house.
“That was blood—” Phoebe flicked a glance at Rachel and cleared her throat. “That was brilliant, Hope. I’m glad you told the old cow off. Totally worth it, even if we end up with spit soup tonight.”
Phoebe stepped forward and enveloped Rachel in one of her exuberant hugs. “I’m Phoebe. Hope’s sister. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to thaw by the fire, Mistress Rachel?”
Rachel, rattled by the unexpected embrace, shook her head. “No. I—I am not allowed to cross your threshold, Mistress Phoebe, and we must be on our way to Baynard’s Castle. Her Grace will be especially anxious today and will need her medicine more than usual. Tonight she’ll stay inside the Tower, where I cannot enter, and on the morrow, the coronation.”
Collum bowed in Rachel’s direction. “I am Hope’s brother, Collum. And as my sisters say, you are welcome here anytime.”
Rachel’s nodded her thanks and glanced at the sky. “Shall we go?”
As we gathered our cloaks, Collum moved in front of me, eyes narrowed as he peered down into my face.