He did what she told him, but only because he’d been wanting to talk to Bess anyway. Not because he was a little boy who was scared of his grandmother.
He found his sister waiting for him in his chamber. “Come. Sit,” she said, and pointed him to a chair. Edward sat. On the table in front of him there was a map of Europe with several wooden figures placed upon it in strategic positions. The figures all resembled lumpy dogs.
One of the ways Gracie was making herself useful.
His gaze fell on London, and he turned his thoughts to Jane. Bess had a network of E?ian raven spies at the Tower of London, and occasionally a raven made its way to Helmsley with news, the most recent of which being that the new Queen Mary had rounded up all the known E?ians on the staff and meant to make an example of them in a large bonfire at the end of the month. And after that she was planning to send soldiers into London to gather up the E?ians from there, as well.
Mary’s purge of E?ians was already well under way.
But, in spite of Bess’s best efforts, there had strangely been no word of what had become of his cousin. It was as if Jane and Gifford had simply up and vanished from London the same day that Mary had arrived there. Edward assumed that Mary probably had Jane secretly locked up in a tower somewhere, if he knew his sister. But he also knew Jane, and he knew Jane could be . . . spirited . . . when challenged, and Mary taking away her throne would be the biggest challenge of all. His cousin had a troublesome habit of speaking her mind in tense situations.
And Mary was easily offended and rather too fond of saying, “Off with her head!”
In other words, Edward was worried.
But they couldn’t rescue Jane or stop the E?ian bonfire—not yet. They weren’t ready to take on Mary’s considerable forces, i.e., the English army. At least, not according to Bess, who seemed to be working out a plan.
Edward looked over the map and the wooden figures on the table before him. “These are parts of an army?” he asked Bess incredulously. “Whose?”
Her lips turned up in what was not quite a smile. “Mine. I have my contacts, my favors owed. When I found out that you were being poisoned and Mary was building a secret army to make herself queen, I thought I might put together a secret army of my own.” She smoothed her hand over the map, and her smile vanished. “But it’s not enough men, Edward. Mary’s army is greater by half. She has the support of both the Spanish and the Holy Roman Emperor. The Spanish armada is formidable. Unbeatable, they say. I don’t know yet how we’re going to overcome them.”
He glanced up at his sister. Her face was drawn in concentration. She was staring at a line of ships in the English Channel.
“Who do these belong to?” he asked, picking up a ship and turning it over in his hand.
“France. I believe their King Henry will support you, not Mary, as the rightful monarch, once he sees that you’re alive. He’s got to be afraid of a woman usurping the throne the way she did. It’s the only solution I can think of.”
Edward had underestimated Bess. He knew that now. She knew the world in a way that Edward himself didn’t fully understand.
“If we could get ships and troops from France,” Bess continued, almost to herself, “and perhaps at the same time seek the support of Mary Queen of Scots, reinforcements from Scotland, then we might stand a chance. . . .”
He felt his face drain of color. “Did you say . . . Mary Queen of Scots?”
Bess didn’t seem to notice his dismay. “Of course, who knows the state of the Scottish army? And help from the French king won’t come cheap. He’ll want something from you in return, probably, and you’ll forever be in his debt if you succeed, but it’s the only way.”
The only way. To regain his throne. To save Jane.
Edward swallowed. “Sounds like I’m going to France,” he said lightly, but his heart was beating fast. “When do I leave?”
Bess bit her lip. “I want you to rest a few days more. Gather your strength. You’re going to need it.”
“Can’t we send someone to retrieve Jane?”
“Who would we send? Gran?” Bess shook her head.
“Gran’s not a terrible idea.”
“I know Jane is dear to you,” Bess said. “I also know that she’s in danger. But Jane is one person, Edward. There are thousands of lives at stake. There’s a kingdom on the edge of a knife. We must tread carefully.”
He sighed. On the map, London was just a finger’s length from Helmsley. But Jane was very far away.
“Very well,” he said tersely. “A few more days, and I’ll depart for France.” He rose from the chair, crossed to the window, and slung his leg up onto the sill. He wanted to be a bird now. Then he could fly away to Jane. To at least tell her that he hadn’t forgotten her. That he was coming for her, even if it took longer than he meant to.
Bess slipped out of the room behind him, closing the door.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. The sky overhead was blue and beckoning, but he resisted its call. “I’m sorry, Jane.” A wave of melancholy overtook him. “Oh, Janey, where are you?”