The Stolen One (10 page)

I could barely meet her eyes, with what I had to tell her. I was standing in my chemise when our eyes finally met. Then she reached down and lifted my hand. She looked at the ring and let my hand go.

Our eyes met again. “Christian,” she whispered.

“We can’t go back, Anna,” I said to her. “Not yet.”

“How can you be so heartless? He’s hurt.”

“Rafael, for all we know, was only jesting. His words are neither here nor there, full of riddles and false talk.” I knew, though, deep in my heart that Christian needed us, needed me, but I couldn’t go back. I wouldn’t.

Anna just stood looking at me, her eyes empty, her chest slowly rising and falling.

“The queen has asked us to become part of her chamber. It’s quite an honor. Beyond my dreams.”

One pale eyebrow lifted. “Both of us? Or just you?”

“Yes, both of us are expected.”

“And am I to be your maid?” She frowned.

“Only for a little while, Anna, I promise. I’m sorry. Truly I am. People just assumed you were my maid and I let it be. But once I find out the truth, I’ll take you home.”

“Grace warned you to stay away from the queen.”

“And in doing so I believe she gave me the clue I’ve waited for my whole life. Perhaps the only true thing she ever gave me. And what would Grace know of the queen and court life anyway? Nothing. She was always full of false predictions and omens. Loose of her senses. Everyone said so.”

“She gave
you
everything, Kat. Everything. And what did you give her? My mother, hard as she was, was right about you.” She didn’t have to say it. She had heard those words all those years ago, just as I had.
You have a cruel streak, Spirit. And someday you will break her heart.

T
he next morning I was awakened to Ava’s excited babbling as she lit a meager fire in the fireplace. “And Maribel just saw her yesterday at market, happy as a canary, buying her mistress fish pies for dinner, she was. And then today dead as a dormouse, and blood everywhere all over the linen sheets and floor. It was the groom’s son who found her, poor thing. The mistress had to call for the doctor, not for Millie. She’d been gone for hours, the doctor said. But for the poor boy, he was given quite a fright by what he saw. Gave him a sleeping potion, he did, and he still hasn’t awoken.”

There was a sudden commotion on the street. I sat up. Anna was gone. She’d slept with me most of the night,
but must have slipped away in the wee hours.

“Come look, miss.” Ava motioned for me. “Aah, it’s an awful sight. Indeed it is.”

I joined her at the window. It was strangely quiet. A man pushing a cart, its wheels eerily squeaking, was coming up the street. I could see a body completely wrapped in linen.

“What happened to her?” I asked.

“Why, she took the shears to her own neck, she did,” Ava said, crossing herself as the cart went by. “And will be buried with the other unfortunates at Bedlam Court. Poor thing. She was such a sweet girl. But too pretty for her own good, she was. Just like your Anna. A pretty maid is always trouble. I hear she tarried with a groom of the court and got herself in trouble, but who knows.”

I frowned at her. “Oh, I do apologize. The lady is always saying how I run my mouth so,” Ava said.

I started to turn away from the window, but a movement on the street below caught my eye. A woman was peering up at me intently. It was Mrs. Miniver, the draper. Ava stopped to look too. “She came for you last evening, she did. But you were at the masque. She was insistent that she speak with you. The lady says you can trust her as far as you can heave her.”

“Can you bring her to me? Up here?”

“I suppose so,” Ava said, looking at me with one half-closed eye full of suspicion. “The Lady and Lord Ludmore are off on some important business. But you aren’t dressed, miss.”

“That’s all right. I’ll dress now. Hurry. Go get her.”

I threw on a simple poplin frock, and not a moment later Mrs. Miniver appeared. Ava stood in the doorway till I motioned her to leave. She shut the door behind her.

“Who are you? I need to know,” Mrs. Miniver said, wringing her hands.

“I’m Katherine Ludmore.” I began to put my shoes on.

“Daughter of that whore from Winchcombe,” she hissed through her teeth.

I dropped my shoe and I looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

“Me Charlie’s run off with her, I know it,” she said, a distinctly common accent revealed in her distress. “I haven’t seen him in weeks. Once a month he’d come see me, and I’d give him specifications, and he’d return with the most gorgeous garments—yours, I was sure of it when I saw your things yesterday—that he’d brought from Stow-on-the-Wold. All these years I’ve shared him
with her, you see, but he always comes back to me. And this month he doesn’t come, so I figure he’s run off with the Winchcombe witch.”

“She’s dead,” I said flatly. “Less than a fortnight ago. He’s not with her, I can assure you.”

“Dead,” she repeated. “Are ye sure?”

“Yes,” I said as I leaned back down to put my shoe on. “She’s dead and buried.”

She crossed herself. “God’s faith, I’ve dreamed of this day. My Charlie Bab will come back for me.”

“Bab?” I asked.

“Charlie Bab, that’s his name,” she responded, looking at me carefully. “Did you know him?”

“No, not at all,” I answered, astounded that perhaps there was indeed a real Mr. Bab. Had Grace married him? Was he Anna’s father? Was he my father? “Can you tell me please,” I asked, fighting a sinking feeling in my chest, “why you felt she was a rival for your Charlie’s affections?”

“He talked of her, said she had the hands of a witch.” She started for the door. And then turned back, “But she was also the dumbest half-wit he ever knew, for he cheated her, you see, all these years, he cheated her. And I got my revenge too, making my own pretty shilling off the court.”

“Well, that’s all come to an end.” Grace was no half-wit, that’s for sure. She must have known. Or perhaps she had no choice. She’d said that many times. She couldn’t come to London on her own and sell our things. “You’ll have no more things from me,” I hissed. “I’m to go to the queen. As a lady in her chamber, no less.”

“You’ll be a servant. A chamberer,” she said. “Meaning you’ll be flopping the chamber pots out the window into the Thames, you will,” And then as she left, “Those are the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen.”

I couldn’t stop my tongue. “Yes, and I’ll have new shoes tomorrow, and where will you be?”

Ava came back, combed my hair, and began to curl it in tight rings around my face. She was quiet, but I knew she wondered what had happened.

After carefully packing our things, I went downstairs. There was a lovely breakfast spread, almost a feast really, with a large ham, freshly baked breads, and fat sausages. Around the table sat Anna, Lady Ludmore, Rafael, and Bartolome. He sat next to Rafael, and they were like mirror images, they were, so similar were their dark countenances. But Bartolome had a light in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before as he looked up at his father. Rafael
mussed his hair affectionately. I sat down next to Anna, who didn’t look at me. Her full plate was untouched.

“Mamá, you haven’t changed a bit. It’s just like you to bring in waifs and strays. Shall I go fetch another from off the street?” Rafael laughed.

We all passed loaded looks across the table, including Maisy, who crossed herself as she walked by with a serving tray.

“Pour her a glass,” Lady Ludmore said to Ava. Ava poured me a full glass of mulled wine. “We are celebrating, my dear.”

I glanced at Anna, who was still as a statue. Had she told them my news? I doubted it. Her eyes were on my ring, the gift from the queen.

“Isn’t it quite early to be partaking of wine?” I asked as I took a generous gulp. It would help my resolve, and God’s me, it did run down my throat easily.

“It’s never too early for news such as this,” Lady Ludmore said, taking her own generous gulp. “We have had our fortune restored, you see. Luddy’s will—God rest his blasted ratty soul—was contingent on Rafael assuming the role of Lord Ludmore and taking on his rightful inheritance before the age of thirty. Something Luddy rightly guessed his long-suffering son had no
intention of doing. But now Rafael’s back, and he has agreed to become the man he was born to be.” She took another gulp of wine, then tapped her glass for Maisy to pour more. Maisy frowned as she poured a tiny splash. Lady Ludmore tapped her glass again and Maisy poured another drop.

I glanced at Rafael. He returned my gaze with a mysterious calm. He raised his glass to me.

“Perhaps you have heard I have good news myself,” I said, looking away from Rafael, fixing my eyes firmly on his mother. “The queen has asked Anna and me to come to court.” And here Maisy and Ava suddenly appeared, fussing at the table. “To embroider,” I added.

All eyes shifted to Lady Ludmore. “Well, well,” she finally said. “I guess you made quite the impression.”

“Yes, she was the beauty of the night,” Rafael said darkly. “The queen even gave her a gift.”

“Let’s see, let’s see,” said Lady Ludmore.

I sighed and held my hand up.

“Lovely. A ruby. Desire. Hands clasped. Friendship. An interesting combination, coming from the queen. I suppose you are to go right away.”

“Yes.” I was surprised at her response. There must be something coming. As I learned well with Grace, a wise
woman bides her time. “We are to leave today.”

“Oh, but you do not intend on taking Anna, do you?”

Ah. Here we go. “Of course,” I said, taking Anna’s cold hand. “We are never apart. Never.”

“Why, she’d be eaten alive at court,” said Lady Ludmore. “And it would not be good for her health. See, she’s already peaked this morning, the time of day when a lady should shine the most.”

“I beg to differ, Mamá. A lady looks most beautiful in the hues of the night.”

I snuck a glance at Rafael and then took another gulp of wine. “We’ll leave this morning, if you please. Both of us.”

Anna pulled her hand out of mine.

Later in my room I checked our belongings one last time. I pulled out the lute and held it to my chest. I strummed it softly, and Anna, who was folding her own few things, turned and smiled. I kept on, running my fingers across the delicate strings.

“Do you like it?” I asked as she continued to smile.

“Yes. Beautiful.”

Suddenly, behind me, the door opened. It was Rafael.
He came in, closing the door behind him.

“Lord Ludmore,” I said, tucking the lute behind my back. “What do you want?”

“I have something to ask, if I may,” he said, looking at Anna.

“She can’t hear you,” I said.

“My mother wants me to call upon you at court from time to time,” he said. He leaned against the door.

“Is that why she is not trying harder to keep us here?”

“She’s still not happy about Anna going, and you are welcome here anytime.” He looked at Anna and she nodded back. He smiled at me, letting me know he was slyer than me. “But, yes, that’s part of the reason. My mother wants me to be accepted back into society.”

“You don’t seem the sort who would have a care for society,” I said before I could stop myself.

He laughed. “Well, at some time one must grow up, seek a wife. Produce heirs.”

I hid a smile beneath my hand.

“May I call upon you sometime at court?” he asked. God’s me, but he was handsome.

“I suppose you may,” I answered. But I wondered what he was up to.

W
hen she shines, we all bask in her happiness, but when the thunderstorms come in, let me warn you, find a faraway hiding hole,” said Dorothy Broadbelt, the maid of honor who’d informed me at the masque of my new position. She’d been charged with settling Anna and me in. We’d been given a tiny room, spare but livable, with two comfortable feather beds. “Kat Ashley and Blanche Parry,” Dorothy continued, “senior ladies of the bedchamber, always stay with her and weather it out, poor things, both of them being with her through many tough times since the queen was but a child, you see. Blanche even rocked her as a babe, I hear. Stay clear of Kat Ashley; no one likes her. Blanche is divine, oldest of us all and
wisest of the wise. And she’ll read your palms if you like, tell you if you’ve fated a good life. Her cousin, Lord Burghly, is one of the queen’s high councilors. Be wary what Blanche tells you, though, for she says I’m to marry some handsome low-born. My father would have the fits if he heard her talk so, for he paid a pretty penny and bowed deep to get me here.” She finally paused as Anna put our bags down.

“And
she’s
to stay in hidden, not underfoot, I tell you, batting her eyes, trying to raise herself up, as many of the lower chamberers do. Why, Elizabeth Marbery, the little nit, managed to get a gift of a petticoat from the queen before she figured what she was about. The queen is very careful now on who attends her.” Dorothy, pretty and blond herself, looked Anna over.

“I assure you,” I said quickly, before she could go on, “you will not see her.”

Dorothy eyed our bags. “We maids of honor, you see, are very beholden to the queen. Why, every girl in all of England would die to take our place.” She looked wistfully out a small window that faced a garden of peach trees. “She’ll find us a husband, you see, a suitable one of rank. Hopefully it will be one to our liking.” She sighed.

“What if you detest the man, what if he smells and is old and has fish breath?” I asked.

Dorothy laughed, a hearty, horsey laugh. “Why, you are a funny girl aren’t you?” she said. “Anyone knows it’s a rich girl’s lot that she may not choose her husband. We’ll be lucky if we land a fifty-year-old baronet, no less. Even if he has hair on his back and between his toes, we must fall at the queen’s feet and bless her.”

And I thought to myself, It is a poor girl’s lot too. Could any girl ever choose her destiny? Rich or poor?

“Laundry day is Wednesday, Anne Twiste is our laundress. Stay away from her son Oliver, and George the sweeper, too, although a half-wit—knaves the both of them,” Dorothy said, aiming her words at Anna. “They’ve both tried for my maid Beatrice,” she continued. “It’s so hard to find good maids these days, don’t you think? They are forever running off, or getting into some mess or another.

“You must change out of your traveling shoes now,” she said, looking down at my feet. “My goodness, did you swim in the Thames?”

“Ohh,” I said trying not to blink, trying to think of a valuable half truth.

“I understand,” Dorothy said, suddenly serious.
“Completely. My own mother at home is practically in rags, so I’d be presentable at court. Illusions, Katherine. It’s all about illusions.”

A little while later, she escorted me, her pinked, peach-colored shoes upon my feet, into the queen’s privy chamber. The floors were covered in woven rush matting, the walls in tapestries. There were three windows, and in each birdcages with little golden birds. A young lady sat at a harpsichord and played soft music as other ladies perched on large cushions, some watching, others stitching. Dorothy led me to a cushion and we both sat down. “Ouch!” I squealed, and a few of the younger maids giggled. I reached under my bottom and pulled out a hoop of embroidery, the knife-sharp needle sticking straight up. The half-finished needlework, a panel of stitched strawberries, was pitifully done; no wonder it had been abandoned.

I looked around for the queen, but she was not there. “She’s with her privy council,” Dorothy whispered to me, seeming to read my mind. “Mary Howard.” Dorothy nodded to the lady at the harpsichord. “The queen’s cousin.” Dorothy ran her finger across her neck and made a ghastly face. “Mary’s relative,” she whispered.
Then around the room: “Anne Windsour—thinks she’s better than us. Katherine Bridge—duck face, talks of ghosts in her sleep. Anne Russell—a bit of a pea goose, but as sweet as can be—will marry next year, it is predicted. And Mary Ratcliff—shall never marry, claims Blanche Parry, and it’s a good thing, for who shall abide that breath? And Katherine Knevit—flap-mouthed, mischief-maker, pray me never confide a thing in her. And Mary Shelton, dumb as a flea.” They were all taking their turns looking at me, gracefully but intently from under their lashes.

A moment later the queen walked in. She was beautiful. She was dressed in a simple yet gorgeous gown of black velvet, quilted chevron-wise, her hair captured in a caul spangled in gold, with pearls and stones set upon it. She was followed by several ladies, all dressed in black satin and velvet. “Blanche Parry, Catherine Carey, and Katherine Ashley, senior ladies of the privy chamber,” whispered Dorothy. “Only they among us are allowed her black livery.” Blanche held some sort of small black-furred creature, a ruby and diamond collar around its neck. And then finally, behind them, the dwarf I’d seen the night before, dressed like a miniature version of the queen, her head held high. “Ipollyta,
the little witch,” Dorothy breathed in my ear.

“Continue playing, Mary,” the queen said as she sat. She patted the edge of her cushion and the little witch sat down next to her. Mary continued to play, and I found the music beautiful and soothing.

I watched the queen from the corner of my eye. She wore my gloves. I was pleased to see that she continually pulled one off and put it back on, holding a hand out every now and then to admire my workmanship. When the music stopped, the queen politely clapped, and everyone followed suit. Mary Howard got up from the harpsichord and joined Anne Windsour on a cushion. Next to the queen, Ipollyta worked on something carefully with tiny tools.

“What is she about?” I whispered to Dorothy.

“Sharpening our needles and pins. That was one of hers you sat on.” Dorothy snorted. I winced, still aching from the prick. “Stay away from her; she is sharp in more ways than one.”

“Ladies, this is Katherine Ludmore,” the queen suddenly announced. “She will be instructing us on the finer points of embroidery. Hers is amongst the finest ever seen. Some of you need her guidance more than others.”

Several of the maids of honor narrowed their eyes upon me, some with simple interest, others with jealousy. But the dwarf, Ipollyta—her stare sent shivers down my spine, as if a fairy demon had set a spell upon me. A door opened. A servant brought in a silvered tray of sugared fruit and a small ewer and laid it at the queen’s feet. Katherine Ashley leaned over and poured from the ewer into a small gilt goblet.

“A posset,” Dorothy whispered to me. “Hot sugared milk. The queen has little appetite. It is her senior ladies’ duty to tempt her.”

“What is the creature in Blanche Parry’s lap?” I asked as I watched the thing nibble at the tufts in the queen’s dress.

“A musk cat,” Dorothy whispered. “A ferret. It was a gift to the queen. Day, she calls it, for it never seems to sleep, day or night. Poor Blanche must keep charge of it.”

The queen spoke. “My cousin and kinswoman, I think, will reject a marriage for my Robert.” She sighed as she pulled off a glove once again. She took a grape and rolled it between her fingers. “What am I to do with the poor man? Perhaps I’ll have to marry him.” She laughed, and everyone laughed with her. “Blanche, what say you, shall I ever marry?”

Blanche Parry smiled as she petted the little creature in her lap. Its fur shone like velvet. “Your Majesty, I’ve told you many a time that’s the one thing I shall never predict.”

“Oh, how you tease me,” the queen said as she turned her eyes on me. “But I do think perhaps I’d rather be a beggar woman and poor than a queen and married.” She clapped her hands and Blanche handed the queen the musk cat, who immediately nipped at her gloved hand. “Tell me, Katherine…oh, I shall have to think of a nickname for you. I’m very fond of a nickname. We’ve too many Katherines now, don’t we? Most named for queens, some good, some bad. So pray tell, what do you think makes a man handsome?”

I looked around the room, for indeed there were many Katherines, but the queen was looking at me. I blushed. “Handsome. Hmmmm. Why, I think perhaps his eyes, and a goodly head of hair, for a man without any, well, you know…” It was something Grace had said, although I didn’t have a whit of what it meant. It was quiet a good moment and my heart dropped. Then Elizabeth burst out laughing, followed by her senior ladies.

“My, you are a fresh thing, aren’t you? You are delightful! And you are right, my dear. There is nothing more
important than the eyes.” Holding tight to Day, she patted the other corner of her cushion. I sat frozen where I was until Dorothy nudged me.

I rose and joined the queen. She was so close. Aah. So close I could almost feel her warmth, and her musk cat stared at me with eyes like little black beads. “Tell me, my sweet,” she began. “What kind of eyes attract you?” I thought of Rafael’s sky blue eyes and then Christian’s honey eyes. “Why, look at her, her cheeks shall match her hair in a moment. We’ll not get another word from her, will we now?” The queen laughed and Day reached to nip at me before she pulled him back. “She’s keeping a secret from us. Blanche, come read her hand and tell us what it is, or who it is.” And although she said it with great merriment, her eyes were on me sharply like the little beast upon her lap.

I pulled my hands from my lap slowly, ever so slowly, and hid them down at my sides. Blanche, laughing, got up from her cushion and came over to me. She was much older than the other ladies, although her face was unlined and kindly. And she had the largest eyes I had ever seen. Everyone laughed again when she had to tug to retrieve one of my hands.

“My, oh my, dear one, I am not Day; I shall not bite
you,” she said, her voice low and soft. Finally I relaxed my arm and Blanche lifted my hand up, close to her face. She stared at it a good long time. Then she looked at me, and her smile vanished.

“Tell us,” the queen said, laughing. “Break the suspense!”

“She does not know her own heart,” Blanche proclaimed. “But she may have happiness one day if she is wise.” She forced a smile upon her face, stood up, and walked away.

“Fa!” The queen frowned. “That could be any of us now, couldn’t it? But it is only the lucky who are wise.” She took my hand in hers and turned it over, running her gloved finger over the lines of my palm. “I see you shall have twelve babies like my good Catherine Carey.” Everyone laughed, and I saw the queen was just jesting with me, so I smiled too. Ha. Twelve children. I had no plans for having any.

“I shall have none,” I found myself proclaiming.

“Why, whoever has put such silly notions in your head.” She smiled and Day seemed to smile with her, its little teeth sharp and white.

“I think one has to have had a good mother to be a good mother.” It was something Grace had said often, since her own sweet mother had died young and she had
been raised motherless. The queen dropped my hand. The room was silent. And then I realized. The queen’s own mother, Anne Boleyn, had been beheaded.

“Well now, I was very lucky,” the queen said finally, after an endless silence. “For I had my good Katherines, I did. Kat Ashley,” she said, nodding to her across the room, “and the most loving of mothers, my good mother Katherine Parr. The only one of my ghastly stepmothers to befriend me.”

Katherine Parr. The queen who died at Sudeley. “I carry her words with me at all times,” the queen continued. She let Day loose and the ferret ran across the room and curled itself on Blanche Parry’s lap. “No one else have I ever held in higher esteem.” She lifted the prayer book that was chained to her kirtle and kissed it. “Except for perhaps my father.” Her face seemed to fall. “But no more talk of the dreary past. Tell me a story of the country,” she said, looking at me. “A tale of fairies and beasties.” Everyone laughed. “I can’t get anything out of my sweet Ipollyta. Her past is still quite a mystery. And everyone knows a fool’s greatest talent is the telling of tales.”

“Oh, but I am saving my voice, my fair queen,” Ipollyta said, her voice high and melodious, like a songbird. “For when I sing to you.”

“How I do treasure your voice,” the queen said to her. “You are right, dear one. You must give me a song tonight. Something new.”

Then she turned to me. “A story. From you I have asked for a story.”

I closed my eyes a moment. “A fairy…” I stuttered. “A fairy came upon a village on a cold revel night not a fortnight ago, and scared a band of minstrels and then thiefed her way into a cottage, stole a child’s golden dress spun of gold, and then climbed into bed.”

Ipollyta leaned back and looked at me, her eyes barely blinking, like a rat discovered in the rum roll.

“Whose bed?” The queen laughed. “Was it a man’s?” And all the ladies, even the young maids, tittered.

“Why, yes,” I exclaimed. “And the next morning the man woke up with the tail of a pig and the ears of a jackass.”

“Why, I guess the fairy was not well-served,” the queen responded, and everyone burst into laughter. “Wondrous,” she said suddenly as she pulled a glove off and examined the stitching. “I want you to stitch me wondrous things—beautiful beasts and exotic flowers. Things that no other queen or noble has, prettier than anything my sweet cousin, Mary of the Scots, shall
ever own. And you shall attend Dorothy in the wardrobe store, where you’ll quickly learn my taste. I should have you installed in my Wardrobe of Robes, but I think your allure would cause great havoc and I’d have a riot on my hands.” The ladies nodded to me. All but Blanche Parry, the reader of palms, who watched me with a firm, closed mouth, and puzzled eyes, like a child who’s seen her reflection in the mill pond for the first time.

Later, as Dorothy and I walked down a great hall back to my room, Blanche Parry appeared from around a corner. In her arms she held several leather-bound books, their bindings the likes of which I’ve never seen before, nothing like the simple books Grace had taught us from. “I shall have a word with her, please,” she said, her thin lips pursed. Dorothy looked between the two of us and walked away, glancing back over her shoulder suspiciously.