The crowd went nuts.
Phoebe wormed her way to my side. “No sign of Sarah yet. But there’re a lot of people here. It may take a while.”
She was still talking, but her words faded into nothing when I saw something that froze the breath in my lungs.
“Hope?” Phoebe said, “Did you hear me? I said I don’t know where Collum went. I think he’s up to something. He’s disappeared.”
Tomorrow, the course of England would change forever, when two of England’s greatest rulers were crowned in Westminster Abbey. A dynasty empire was being born before my eyes. None of that mattered, because I’d just caught a glimpse of someone on the far side of the room. A tall woman with athletic shoulders.
“Cripes,” Phoebe muttered. “I have to find him. I’ll kill him if he does something stupid.”
Mute, I grabbed for my friend’s sleeve to tell her what I’d just seen, but she’d already darted off. My hand fell slowly back to my side. My attention lasered in on one thing. The spindly pale-strawberry braid that hung limp down the woman’s broad back.
Chapter 26
SHE LET IT GROW OUT.
It was a frivolous thought. Mom had always kept her hair bobbed to shoulder length, claiming middle-aged women with long hair were trying too hard to hold on to something that was long gone. But here, where only nuns chopped their hair, she’d had little choice, apparently.
Go. What are you waiting for? My snarled thoughts trapped me in place.
When she turned, just enough for me to catch sight of her profile, my body leaned in her direction, until I was poised on my toes.
Move, I commanded my feet. She’s right there. Your mother, your supposedly dead mother, is right there. Why can’t you move?
I clenched my fists. Took a step.
“Not yet, child.” A gnarled claw, with cracked yellow nails, gripped my forearm. Its strength startled me. I hadn’t even seen her approach. How can someone so old move like that?
“Hold,” the ancient nun, Sister Hectare, whispered as she towed me back toward the wall.
As I started to protest, a man appeared at my mother’s side. His greasy bald head barely reaching the level of her chin. His pudgy fingers clutched her elbow.
“Lord Babcock is a venal man,” Sister Hectare’s rusty voice said. “Though that is only part of his charm. He’s also cruel and overproud. And he has the brains of a beheaded fowl, besides. You must not approach until he leaves her side.”
“Wait.” I blinked as it hit me. “That’s her husband?”
“Yes. Sarah de Carlyle, now wife of Lord Henry Babcock. In the war just past, Babcock fought on the wrong side. But our new king seeks peace with his barons. Even minor, idiotic ones. He restored Babcock’s lands but kept most of the family fortune—such as it was. Did your cousin come with a great dowry, perhaps?”
“No.” I still had no idea why this tiny woman was helping me.
“Hmm,” Sister Hectare mused. “She’s not young. Though young enough, I see. And somewhat comely. Still, Lord Babcock is not known to pick a wife merely because her face isn’t pox scarred. ’Tis odd. He does seem taken with her.”
“Yes, I see that.”
The little toad never took his hands off my mother. Not even when he snatched a chicken leg and began gnawing at it with little gray teeth. Juice glistened in his straggly beard. The bewilderment I’d felt turned to pity as I watched her husband’s pale, protuberant eyes narrow when another man greeted my mother.
What happened here, Mom?
“Ahhh,” Sister Hectare breathed.
William Lucie approached the pair. At first, Babcock glared suspiciously at the handsome soldier. But William only gave my mother the briefest of nods before turning to her husband. Babcock’s amphibious eyes nearly popped from his head at whatever William told him. He whirled and stared toward the royal table.
“That would be a summons from our queen, requesting to meet one of her most loyal subjects.” Sister Hectare chuckled as Babcock growled a command at my mother and followed William like a preening peacock toward the high table. As they passed, William Lucie shot us a wink.
“Best go, child,” the nun said. “Eleanor won’t be able to tolerate Babcock’s company for long, but she wanted you to have a moment with your cousin.”
She dragged out the word, her hooded eyes glittering as she looked up at me. She knew something. But how?
As if she’d read my mind, she smiled. “Does it matter, child?”
It didn’t. Not a bit.
“Thank you,” I rasped. “And, please, thank Her Grace for me.”
Mom’s back was turned to me. I edged forward as if my feet were mired in quicksand. Now that the time had finally come, I was weirdly reluctant. My mouth dried up, and my lips felt glued shut.
“Mo—” My voice cracked. I tried again. “Lady Sarah?”
She froze, fingers twitching at her sides in a nervous habit I knew so well. Her shoulders rose. She turned slowly. When she caught sight of me, her eyes widened, then closed as if in pain.