The Stolen One (12 page)

A
nna was waiting for me when I returned to our chambers. She was standing at the window in her night shift, peering out into the dark night. I went over to her and put my hands on her shoulders.

I turned her chin to me. “Wren, I’m sorry I’ve neglected you.” She turned her head and continued to look out the window. She pressed her forehead against the glass.

“I miss her, Kat,” Anna said softly, looking back at me. “Can you believe that? My whole life, I think, I wished to be free, for someone to love me. And now that she’s gone, I truly do miss her.”

“You’re missing home,” I said. “Blackchurch Cottage and…”
Christian
. Perhaps that’s whom she missed
most. Did I miss him? I would not think of it.

I walked to the bed and sat down. Earlier in the day I’d pored through the books Blanche Parry had given me. Oh, indeed they were wondrous—full of engravings of creatures and things I’d never seen—sea monsters, and fish of the tropics, and lions and pagodas and exotic flowers. I’d already started a sketch for the queen’s gown: a series of intertwined orchids amongst exotic creatures and birds, and in the middle a grand lion, with a golden-red flamed mane.

“Have you looked for her?” Anna asked as she glanced over my shoulder. She showed little interest in my drawing. When we were children she would pull the drawings from my hands, she was so excited.

I looked up so she could see my lips. “Who?”

She sighed. “Mrs. Eglionby,” she replied. “But I suppose your head has already been turned by the riches of the court.”

I laughed. “But of course it has, little Wren. I cannot even begin to tell you what I’ve seen. The Lady Wessex had on a brooch tonight in the shape of a ship, its hull a huge oblong-shaped pearl bigger than I’ve ever imagined. And the queen, you should have seen what the queen wore tonight. I’ve never beheld such workmanship.”

Anna’s attention returned to the window. “He’s to come for you tonight. In the garden. He has something of importance to tell you,” she said.

“Christian?” I asked. “You’ve heard from Christian?” My heart, to my surprise, was fluttering.

Anna frowned. “Lord Ludmore,” she said. “Look. I see him by the rosebushes. He waits for you as we speak.”

I walked to the window and peeked over her shoulder. Indeed. Someone was there.

A few moments later, walking quietly, keeping in the shadows, I climbed down the stairs. I crept out into the garden, hugging my arms. The smell of roses, the queen’s favorite, lingered in the air. And then, just as I spotted a couple kissing behind a filbert tree, a hand reached out and pulled me farther into the darkness.

Before I could scream, he turned me toward him and put his finger to his mouth. “Shhh.” Rafael. It was Rafael.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“What are
you
doing here, a young maid unescorted in these gardens of passion?”

“Anna told me to come to you,” I said, lifting my chin.

“It seems you didn’t have to be much persuaded.” He
smiled then like a wolf, his white teeth showing in the dark.

I pushed away from him, but he pulled me close and kissed me. It only lasted but a few seconds. And much to my own embarrassment, he was the first to pull away. We stood in the darkness staring at each other, so close, so very close.

“Why didn’t you slap me?” he asked after a moment.

“I don’t know,” I said, thinking of what Blanche Parry had read in my palms. “Are you disappointed?”

“No,” he said. His head dipped and he kissed me again.

“Is that it?” I asked, breaking away. “Is this why I’m here? For you to seduce me?”

“Yes,” he responded.

“But Anna said it was something important,” I said.

“Hmmm,” he said. “Whatever it was, I’ve forgotten it now.”

“Well, you can tell me the day after tomorrow,” I said. “The queen wants to see you. You’ve insulted her by your absence. There’s to be an outdoor amusement. And you are to come.”

“Perhaps,” he teased.

“We shall not lose you to the queen, shall we?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “Rest assured I will not fall under
her
spell,” he said. “Have you?”

“I adore her,” I answered. “I always have, I think.”

He pulled away, his face unreadable in the shadows. “Soon.” And then he was gone. As I crept back to the palace, Dorothy Broadbelt appeared next to me on the path, leaves tangled in her hair. I pulled one out and handed it to her.

“Well, now,” she said, pulling a rose petal from my own hair. She inhaled it languidly before handing it to me. “You are not so innocent either, are you?”

The next morning I found Anna had risen early and transferred my pattern expertly to the fabric.

“It will be beautiful,” she said, her voice flat when I admired it. “The queen will be much pleased when you are finished.”

“Yes,” I answered, noticing for the first time an addition in the corner. A small wolf under a tree, actually very finely drawn with a determined hand. It added a mysterious edge to the work.

I looked up at her as she busied herself retrieving my needles and threads. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“What message did Rafael have for you?” she asked
quietly after a moment. She watched my lips, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t think there was a message,” I answered, trying hard not to hide my smile. I instead bit my lip.

She rolled her eyes. “Is he pursuing you?” she asked.

“It seems so,” I answered, taking a needle from her. I looked down at the fabric. The most logical beginning would be to stitch in the background first. Oh, but I was drawn to the lion. It was there I would start, on its beautiful mane.

“I’d have a care, Kat, I would. For I don’t think he wants you,” Anna said. My sweet Anna, never had an unkind word crossed her lips.

I ran my fingers over the soft fabric. I waited a minute before asking. “What do you mean?”

“Maisy was full of talk. Lady Ludmore is much changed since her son returned home. Seems the lady has been full in her cups by day and full of fear by night. Something about Lord Rafael and his demeanor has not set her at ease at all. Lady Ludmore told me herself that his eyes have changed, gone to the devil, and she fears he will do someone some great harm.”

“Lady Ludmore is a strange woman,” I said as I drew my first stitch. Oh, how I felt the exhilaration with the
movement. I closed my eyes a moment. “And he’s harmless,” I continued. “A lost soul. There’s no evil in being lost, only sadness.”

“Are you so sure?”

I ignored her and continued to stitch, working around the lion’s mane.

“Have you not thought of Christian and Uncle Godfrey?” she asked after a moment.

I set the needle down. “Of course! Of course I have,” I said, over-loudly. Oh, but had I? As I should have?

“No, you haven’t. Not if you’ve let another man in your arms.”

I blushed as I poked the needle down into the fabric. “Did you watch us, Anna?” I asked.

“I didn’t have to. I know,” she said.

It was quiet a good long time. “I’m not welcome here,” she said finally. “I feel trapped as though I’m in cage.”

“Then come with me tomorrow to the entertainment. Please, Anna, I want you to come.”

I couldn’t help thinking of the little golden birds in the queen’s birdcages. Dorothy told me they often died, so unhappy they were. Blanche Parry had to have them replaced quickly before the queen was aware.

“No, my place is not there.”

“Your place is by my side,” I said.

There was a tap on the door. Anna opened it. Nicholas Pigeon stood in the hallway wearing an impeccable green cloak over a silk doublet. He bowed deeply, and she blushed.

“And where have you been hiding?” he asked.

She didn’t respond but stepped back as he walked into the room, looking her over.

“I have a delivery for you from the Wardrobe,” he said, handing me a small pouch. I opened it and poured the contents into my hand. Jewels, tiny but perfect: rubies, emeralds, and pearls shimmering and translucent.

“For your design,” he explained. “The queen is very fond of her jewels. These were removed from a former queen’s gown, a gown that was not salvageable. Will they work?”

“Yes, oh yes,” I answered as I ran my fingers over the jewels. The pearls could be attached to the flowers; the rubies would be perfect for the lion’s eyes. I was not sure where the emeralds would go.

“I must be back to the Wardrobe.” He bowed. “Shall I see you tomorrow at the entertainment?” He said this to the both of us.

“Yes, yes,” I responded. “Of course.” He bowed again,
then left us. Anna peered down at the jewels, her pale eyes reflecting their shimmers.

“Kat, your eyes have been turned. Have you not forgotten why you are here?” Anna asked. “You are supposed to ask of Mrs. Eglionby.”

I looked over at her but before I could answer, the door opened again. It was Dorothy Broadbelt, dressed sumptuously in yellow, her face distressed. “The queen is having one of her nervous maladies. Quite indisposed she is. No one is to know, of course, but she wants her ladies nearby. Hurry. Hurry. Bring your stitching. No telling how long
this
one shall last.”

Grace said once you can never trust a woman who doesn’t meet your eyes, for this is how a woman truly shows herself. And when Katherine Ashley sought me out, making a point of sitting next to me on my cushion as I stitched with the other ladies in the privy chamber, she would not meet my eyes, no matter how amiable and sweet her way was.

“Why, it’s lovely,” she said of the small panel I worked on. I had just given the ladies a short instruction on couch stitching and they were all sitting, working their stitches on fine cambric and lawn, delicate items for
the queen’s underclothes. It was a dark-clouded day, the birdcages had been covered, the ladies’ chatter quiet and subdued. Suddenly Blanche Parry was called into the queen’s private bedchamber as two of the maids bustled out. Day, in a new jewel-studded collar, ran after her. Soon he was put out the door, and Katherine Knevit took him into her lap. The rest of us kept stitching. “Oh, but she does love pretty things,” Mrs. Ashley continued. “Fastest way to the queen’s heart. But where is the special gown you are to make for her?”

I’d left it behind in my room, carefully hidden. “It will be a surprise,” I said.

“The queen is not fond of surprises; life has given her too many. Believe you me, she will pull it out of you. How long do you think it will take? She is not a patient woman.”

“I’m thinking it will be done by the New Year,” I responded. I wasn’t sure myself. I’d never undertaken such an elaborate work.

“You’ll still be here?” Mrs. Ashley asked, her thin, plucked eyebrows raised. She was what one would call a full-faced woman, yet chinless and thin-lipped, an unfortunate combination. As the queen’s top gentlewoman, though, her livery and jewels were the finest at court. But
Dorothy had told me Mrs. Ashley did not have a friend among the ladies, for in Mrs. Ashley’s heart there was room only for the queen. “Won’t your family have need of you in the country?” she continued. “I believe you came from Gloucestershire or somewhere abouts.”

“Yes, Gloucester,” I responded, looking at her. But her eyes were now on the chamber door. I’d come to realize her eyes hardly wavered from Elizabeth, no matter if she be behind a door or not.

“What ails her so?” I asked, speaking softly as I pulled up another stitch.

“The queen?” Mrs. Ashley asked. “Oh, but she has always been a sweet, sensitive soul, her nerves always raw. And the crosses she’s had to bear! I’ve borne them with her, I have, unbearable treacheries, some by the ones who loved her most. I’d do anything for her, anything. Even die for her.” She glanced at me from behind her lashes. “So no family, my dear, back home? No family at all?” She pulled a knot on the chemise she was making for the queen.

“Just a few to speak of. I was lucky to be taken in by my aunt, Lady Ludmore.”

“Your sleeves are lovely. You learned such beautiful work in the country?”

I nodded my head as I pulled up another stitch. Today I wore yet another of my creations, a russet silk gown, the sleeves peach with gold spangles and stitched flowers of pink carnations. The flowers were those I’d seen once growing wild near Blackchurch Cottage. Here they were called lover’s pinks. “Yes, I was taught well,” I answered.

“And your maid,” Mrs. Ashley began. “I hear she’s been as long with you practically as I’ve been with the queen.”

“Yes, indeed, Anna is like family,” I answered, wondering what question might be next. I looked at her, but still her eyes would not meet mine. Mary Shelton and Anne Windsour, working together on a piece of cambric, had their heads tilted just so, trying to catch our words. Suddenly Robert Dudley burst into the room, startling everyone. He stalked the length of the sitting room before any of the ladies could stop him, opened the door, and walked into the queen’s private bedchamber.

Mrs. Ashley jumped up after him. “Out!”

“Out!” I heard the queen scream, and soon Robert Dudley stormed back through, his face purple as a plum above his white ruffed collar. Katherine Knevit snorted with laughter and Mrs. Ashley bade her be quiet. She sat down next to me again.

“The queen has always had troubles with love,” she said, sighing. “Trouble seems to follow her around like a dark star. And believe me, I tell you, she is always innocent in the matter. Always. My good queen can do no wrong, that’s for sure. She learned early on, poor thing, how a man can manipulate, seduce. Break one’s heart. Learned a pretty lesson there she did. Could have cost her her head if it weren’t for
my
sage advice.” She sighed, looking back to the queen’s door. “But here we go again.” She waved her hand, exasperated. She’d long since forgotten her stitching. “They had a nasty row last night, they did. Seems he was quite jealous of her playful talk with James Melville, innocent as it was. And he doesn’t want to sacrifice himself on the bed of that Scottish mare. The queen rightly put him in her place, and he apparently, in turn, had some unkind words for her.”