Page 33 of The Favourite

Then something horrible and unexpected had happened, calling all her loyalties into question. Her sister had died, but not before wringing from her a promise which had turned her life completely upside down. Jane had gone against the Queen, had lost her favor, and found herself stood at the altar with the person at court she disliked most.

Alisander smiled broadly. Enter Bardulf. His good humor restored, he pursed his lips and started to whistle a tune whose name eluded him. He whistled it all the way back to the house, thrice over, and he was just approaching the east side of the house via a raised terrace when a wooden shutter was flung wide.

Sir Phillip Cecil’s head appeared at the opening, and he regarded Alisander balefully. “Ah, there you are Bardulf,” he said coldly. “Wondered who the devil that was. The Merry Husband of Narrimoor, if I’m not mistaken. Curious choice of tune for one in your shoes.”

“Do you think so? I thought it rather apt.” Sir Phillip’s eyebrows rose but Alisander did not elaborate.

“I would like a word with you, if I may,” the other continued after an awkward pause. “Man to man.”

Alisander stifled a sigh. What a bore. “But of course,” he answered smoothly. “Where might I find you within?”

“My st—I mean, er, the study.” Sir Phillip amended himself quickly and cleared his throat. He cast a quick, furtive look at someone stood by the door, but Alisander had already seen Mistress Beth hovering there. Alisander gave him a nod and continued unhurriedly on his way. He had known, of course, that such a confrontation was inevitable. Best they got it over with at once; but what a perfectly dreary ending to an already ghastly day.

*

Alisander could only be grateful that Sir Phillip possessed the presence of mind to not appear at dinner that evening. He credited him with neither tact nor finer feeling on the subject, instead suspecting the older man was still sulking after their interview that afternoon.

In the end, he had rather enjoyed himself, making the wicked uncle’s nostrils flare with anger as he had to bite back angry words. Alisander had been all disinterested politeness as he had let Sir Phillip know that he had no intention of letting him hold any position of influence over “his little family” as he had so touchingly phrased it.

“You mean to reap the reward then, of my labor!” the old man had exploded, thumping a fist down on the desk.

“Your labor?” He had quirked a brow. “My good sir, the result of your labor lies in a grave in the nearby churchyard.”

“The child still lives; that is the important thing!” Sir Phillip had replied hoarsely. “I have a vested interest in it, and I will not be cheated of my due!”

Alisander had inspected the braiding at his cuffs. “My daughter, you mean?” he’d asked softly. “By royal decree.”

Sir Phillip’s face had turned a mottled purple in color. “This will not stand! This is a travesty of the natural order! I will not abide by such arbitrary—!”

“If you will not abide by your King’s pronouncement, then you must take that up with him,” Alisander had interrupted the fuming man. “For my part, I recommend you seek an audience with him at once. Why delay? In any case, there is no place for you here.” Sir Phillip’s mouth had opened and closed, for he had seemingly been struck speechless.

“We shall be vastly reducing the staff here,” Alisander continued, “and putting the house on half board while the family winters at court. Sir Phillip’s jaw had dropped. “My wife and I have positions to maintain,” he concluded blandly. “And cannot tarry in the country until the summer months.” And not then for too long, if he could help it.

After supper, he followed Jane up the staircase to the solar, which was a good deal cozier than the draughty Great Hall. “We ought to have supped in here,” he commented, throwing himself down onto a cushioned bench next to the flickering fire.

“We had not known then that my uncle would not be joining us,” she said, glancing over at the small table with only four chairs.

“Ah yes, I should not wish to be cloistered with him in such a cozy setting,” he agreed, pulling a face. “But as a matter of fact, I had a suspicion he might not join us tonight.”

Jane, who was selecting a book, looked over her shoulder at him. “You did?” she asked.

“I let it be known we expected him to take leave of us very soon,” he admitted, draping an arm along the back of the settle. “I trust I did right?”

She turned from the bookcase and gave him a solemn nod. “Quite right, but tell me, how did he make reply?”

“With lots of bluster and hot air,” he admitted. “And avowals to take up his cause with the King.”

Jane’s eyes widened as she took a seat opposite him. “Do you suppose he will actually do so?”

“Not if he has any sense. Does he?”

“Some,” she admitted cautiously, “along with a good deal of self-interest.”

“Both of which ought to prevent him from making a fool of himself in front of Wymer.”

Jane bit her lip. “One would hope so.”

“For his own sake,” Alisander added. She looked rather pale, even in the golden candlelight. “You should not look so worried. It mars your expression. What have you been about this afternoon?”