The Sun in Splendour - Plaidy Jean - Страница 41
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Richard gave himself up to the search. He could not imagine where she could have been taken. He went to Isabel and talked to her when George was absent but she could offer no clue. She had thought that Anne had run away in which case she would go to their mother. Where else? And if she were not there, she had no idea where she could be.
'I believe George to be concerned in this/ said Richard.
'He has always said that he would look after her and that she and I should be together.'
'We know George. He loves you, but he does want the whole of your father's estates for himself.'
Isabel was silent.
'Therefore I believe my brother has hidden her somewhere. Where, Isabel?'
'I do not know.'
'Isabel,' he caught her hands and held them tightly. 'If you knew you would tell me, would you not?'
She was silent again.
'I beg you, Isabel, for Anne's sake... for my sake. I love Anne. I always have. When we were children I used to think when we grew up we would be married. We talked of it once. You know how I care for her. You will tell, Isabel.'
'Yes, I would of course if I could, but I simply do not know where she is. George tells very little and I swear on my soul that I do not know where she is.'
Poor Isabel. Tom between her husband and her sister. But he was convinced that she did not know.
Somehow the conviction came to him that Anne was in London for the big city would be the best place in which to hide her. She could not have gone to any of Clarence's friends because the news would assuredly leak out as to where she was.
In addition to his noble friends Clarence had an army of hangers-on. People who spied for him and worked for him in many devious ways. Richard knew his brother well. He was one of those men who surrounded himself with drama. He was a bom intriguant. Where intrigue did not exist he created it. He was always working on some twisted project. Edward was right not to trust him. For one thing George always had his eye on the throne. He was resentful against a fate which had not made him the elder brother. Richard knew he had to be watchful of George not only for his own sake but for that of Edward. Edward was
well aware of George's perfidious nature of course, but being Edward he pretended to ignore it, to preserve the peace and a show of amity between them.
Then if Anne were not hidden in one of the noble houses she must be in one of the lesser ones.
He would search every one of them. He would set his own spies to discover who was on the payroll of his brother in however small a way, and if necessary he would take an armed guard to search their houses. He knew that Edward would approve of what he was doing for he understood his feelings for Anne. His had been as strong for Elizabeth. Moreover he might take whatever action he cared to as long as he did not involve the King. In quarrels between his brothers Edward would wish to stand outside. But Richard knew that Edward's support would be for him against George.
He decided to call in the help of a woman he had once known very well indeed for whom he still had a great regard. Katherine had borne him two children during their relationship—a boy John and a girl Katherine. Richard visited her now and then and had always made sure that the children had every advantage. It had never been a grand passion between them, and Katherine had become a true and grateful friend.
Katherine lived modestly in the city of London and would perhaps have knowledge and access to places which were denied him. There could never have been any question of marriage between Katherine and the Duke of Gloucester and he had often talked to her about Anne and explained to her that he would probably marry Anne in due course.
So to Katherine he took his problem and he knew that she would do everything she could to discover if Anne were indeed in London.
It was a forlorn hope for indeed she might have been removed from the city; but Richard was determined to make quite sure that she was not in London before he abandoned the search there.
It was Katherine who discovered that there was talk among the servants.
There was working in one of the houses a strange crazy girl who imagined that she was really a great lady.
She was, so the story went, a poor waif who had been found wandering in the streets and given a home by a magnanimous lady. The girl worked in the kitchens and was practically useless
and it was a wonder she was not driven out into the streets, but in spite of everything the mistress kept her there. She was quite crazy. She had even said that she was the daughter of the great Earl of Warwick.
Richard could hardly contain himself.
'Find out where the house is,' he said. 'Let me know at once and I shall be there.'
One day seemed to merge into another. Anne was bewildered still. Somerimes she wondered whether she had imagined another life, whether she was indeed the crazy waif who believed herself to have been a great lady. But that was rarely. She remembered so much . . . Middleham, Richard, Isabel, her mother and Isabel's husband George who was gracious to her and yet whom she feared.
No, she must cling to sanity. She must try to turn attention from herself. She must try to do these kitchen tasks for which she had no aptitude and which she never knew had to be done until she came here. She must try to be patient and quiet and wait until some way of escape was offered to her.
It was an ordinary morning. She was roused from the pile of rags on the floor which was her bed and in the room which she shared with six others she awoke to a new day.
She endured the usual teasing from the kitchen girls. She never agreed with them that she was mad and although she did not insist that she was the Lady Anne, she never denied it. They laughed at her fancy ways, at her manners of speaking and eating. Some of them even inclined to think that there might be something in her story, but any suggestion that there was would be reported to the mistress and that meant a threat that they might be driven out into the streets for talking such nonsense. 'We can't do with two loonies in one kitchen,' the cook had once said threateningly.
How long she had endured this wretched life, Anne did not know. She lost count of the days. She seemed to sit for hours watching the spit—the task usually given to her. 'It's all she's fit for,' said the cook.
And so the morning began to pass and was like any other until suddenly there was commotion without. She heard a voice which
seemed to her familier but it could not be. She was dreaming. She had fancied she had heard that voice before.
'I demand to see your kitchens. Stand aside.' Then the door was flung open. She stood up, pushed her lank and dirty hair from her face to stare. Then she cried out shrilly: 'Richard!'
He strode across the kitchen. He could not believe this dirty creature was Anne; but it was her voice.
'Anne! Anne! Have I found you at last?'
She ran to him and threw herself against him. He held her tightly, her greasy dress soiling the richness of his jacket.
'Anne . . . Anne ... let me look at you. I have searched and searched. Who would have thought to find you thus. But let us get out of this place as quickly as we can.'
The woman who had brought her here and taken her clothes had come into the kitchen.
'What is happening here?' she demanded while the cook and the maids looked on in astonishment. They had never seen anything like this in their lives—and never would again. The rich and noble-looking man had come for their loony kitchen girl and it was dawning on them that she had been speaking the truth all the time.
'This is the woman who brought me here. She has my clothes,' said Anne.
'You will bring the Lady Anne's clothes.'
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