telling her how cool it was that she had psychometric powers and that she shouldn’t be afraid of them. ‘Perhaps I was right then to think that he’d been playing me all evening,’ she said, ‘and he was just waiting for a chance to slip away.’
‘He’d hardly ask you to go with him then, would he?’ Arthur pointed out. He sighed. ‘I feel as though we’re missing something here.’
The insistent buzz of a text interrupted them again and with a muffled curse Arthur reached for his phone. ‘Anna’s managed to see Dudley,’ he said. ‘She says Dudley denies seeing Johnny for several days.’ He scrubbed a hand through his hair. ‘Shit,’ he said. He looked up at Lizzie. ‘Apparently the police are on their way over here to see you. Anna says they’ve hinted at new evidence but won’t say what it is.’
Lizzie’s stomach dropped. Memories rose of the last time she’d been questioned, the doubts, suspicions and endless questions, the sense of isolation and fear. She’d done nothing wrong and yet she already felt guilty, off-balance and scared. She could feel herself shaking, shrinking in on herself as she had as a child for protection and self-reliance. Trust no one. Rely on no one. Once upon a time she had thought she could trust Dudley but that had been an illusion. She’d just started to forge some trust with Arthur and this had blown it apart already.
Her own phone pinged with a text – Bill, telling her that he was sending the same legal team over to Blackfriars that she’d used before. It seemed everyone knew before she did that she was about to be arrested.
‘The police will be here soon then,’ she said, as steadily as she could. ‘Good luck, Arthur. I hope you find Johnny soon.’ She smiled. ‘Not just for my sake.’
The entry phone buzzed sharply, several times, and Lizzie went to answer. She just wanted to get this over with.
The hall was awash with people: two women in suits with briefcases, several bodyguards, uniformed police officers, Kat, wearing Chanel and a distraught expression, and Bill, talking urgently on his mobile, apparently to a national newspaper. ‘Dudley Lester has already been taken in for questioning,’ Lizzie heard him say. ‘Bishopsgate police station…’
PC Morgan stepped forward and started to speak. There was a buzzing in Lizzie’s ears; she felt time slow down.
‘Ms Kingdom, we would like to ask you some more questions in connection with the death of Mrs Lester and the disappearance of John Robsart. I’m asking you to accompany us to the police station.’
‘Are you arresting me?’ Lizzie asked.
‘Not unless you refuse to come with us.’ PC Morgan smiled thinly.
‘Dudley’s under arrest,’ Kat said, helpfully. ‘He refused to go.’
That didn’t surprise Lizzie at all. Trust Dudley to turn the whole thing into a drama. Not that Bill was any better. She could see he was still on his phone.
‘We’d like to search your flat as well,’ PC Morgan said.
‘Be my guest,’ Lizzie said. ‘I just need to get my bag.’ She turned to Kat. ‘It’s really kind of you, Kat,’ she said, ‘but I don’t need either Bill or you to come with me.’
‘Sweetie!’ Kat’s face crumpled. She smoothed the Chanel skirt. ‘Of course you need us. I know we had a tiff but this is really important.’
‘I know it is,’ Lizzie said. ‘That’s why I’ll manage on my own. But thank you anyway.’
There was a movement behind her. She spun around.
‘Lizzie,’ Arthur said.
She turned to look at him. ‘I’d never do anything to hurt Johnny,’ she said, and despite the crowd of people around them she spoke to him alone and let the defences in her mind fall hoping that somehow, he could read through to her heart the way she could read him.
‘I know,’ Arthur said.
And then they took her away.
Chapter 16
Amy: Hatfield, Hertfordshire, Summer 1557
I had grown up in the country and learned to ride as a child, but it was typical of Robert’s attitude towards me that whenever we had travelled, I had either been transported by litter or been given the least challenging of horses to ride. Indeed, some of them had seemed so docile that it was difficult to encourage them to move at all. Robert loved to hunt but had seldom encouraged me to accompany him. In the beginning I had fondly interpreted this as a sign of his care for me; I felt like a china doll, so proud to be cosseted. Later I came to realise