The Stolen One (6 page)

Minstrels. The Spaniard. I had seen her son. I knew it with a certainty. “Your son. Is he dark, tall, handsome, with a merry twinkle in his eye?” I asked.

“Dear God.” Her hand flew up to her cheek. “Did my Rafael seduce you? Is that why you have flown the country?”

“Why no, of course not; he merely looked at me,” I shot back, a little too forcefully, remembering his particular stare. I blushed down to my toes again, thinking of his eyes.

“That’s more than enough, believe me, child,” she responded, taking another long swig of wine. “But you are a strong girl, I can see that,” she said. “Full of spirit you are.”
Spirit
. I thought I’d never hear that description of me again, as it only came from Grace’s lips. Then Lady Ludmore’s eyes grew large. “God’s faith, he didn’t molest your sister, did he? Is that the true reason she’s fallen ill?”

“No, no,” I assured her. “I only saw him a moment at our revel in Winchcombe and I looked away. Anna never saw him.”

“Well, I’m sure he caused some sort of mischief that night, the ruffian that he is. The apple never falls far from the tree, now does it,” she said, looking directly at me. I thought of Grace and her fear that I’d take more after my father than my mother. “Bastards,” she continued. “My son’s sired plenty of them, that I am sure of—no telling how many are strewn across the countryside.” She motioned with her head to the little boy. “I found that one in Kent begging for food, his hair full of
lice and smelling worse than the Thames. Apparently my son was acting the role of a Hessian five years before, and some blue-eyed beauty couldn’t resist.”

Christian. What if I had stayed? I would not have been able to resist him and tonight would have been our wedding night.

“And why are you blushing?” Lady Ludmore asked. “Red as a knobby-kneed maiden you are.”

“I do not know of what you speak,” I lied, but a small smile escaped my lips.

“And now, it’s time for my question,” Lady Ludmore said just as the maid came running in the door laden with full baskets, red-faced and puffing. “Who is your precious pear farmer?”

I did not answer. But I turned my eyes to the tapestry, once again looking for him.

A
nna always had been more comely than me. Elf-skinned she was—her gorgeous, pale white skin clear and soft as an eggshell. But not me. I’d gotten the pimples a few years back and I’d much fretted over them, worrying I’d be as poxed as Old Man Dar. And what man would want a pitted-face girl? Grace insisted it was my emerald eyes and kissable lips that would lure a man, spots or no. And that’s why she’d kept me at home most of the time, rarely letting me accompany her to market, so fearful she was of me attracting any man, for they were all no good.

But I knew it was much more than that now—the reasons why she hid me. Indeed I did. I could feel the necklace, the weight of it, brushing against my
ankle as I studied Anna sleeping peacefully in her bed. I held a candle over her, watching her slow, even breathing. She was beautiful, so ethereal in the dark. I wondered if perhaps I was the cause of her spell. But Grace had always said there was no rhyme or reason to them, her black spells; they could come at any moment, as every unwanted thing in life does. And this one had lasted two days, longer than most. I’d spent the entire time with her, my meals brought up to me by the maids.

I kissed Anna softly. “Sleep well, my little Wren,” I whispered. Then I went to my small chamber next door. We had never slept apart, but Lady Ludmore had insisted, saying it was unseemly for grown girls to share the same bed. It was obvious that she’d never spent much time in the country. Beds were always of a shortage there. Why, the Widower Beachum’s daughters were four to a bed, while their papa slept with the cows in the barn.

I put the candlestick on the table next to my bed. I carefully undressed, now realizing why gently born ladies had maids. It was extremely hard to extricate myself from the gown with its separate sleeves, but I somehow managed. I laid everything carefully across a small chair. I found my night shift, then placed our
traveling bags under my bed. I’d seen Lady Ludmore’s eyes linger on them the day we arrived.

I climbed under the covers and opened up Grace’s letter.
And at all costs, stay away from…Elizabeth the queen.
Bah, I sighed. Just then, the door opened slightly.

“Who is there?” I whispered. The door opened a little more, and I saw it was the boy. He peeked at me, blinking his large blue eyes, and I wondered if he ever smiled. He started to shut the door.

“Wait a minute,” I called to him quietly. “What is your name, little one?”

“Bartolome, miss.” And then he was gone.

The next morning Anna had recovered, the spell subsiding like a great wave, leaving a calm pool glowing with sadness in its wake.

We sat at the trestle table, which was laden with wonderful dishes—a round loaf of bread, called a manchet, fetched fresh from the market that morning; a dish of butter; thick pancakes; and scrambled eggs sprinkled with salted bread crumbs. Indeed, we never ate so finely at Blackchurch Cottage; watered-down porridge was the best we ever got.

Lady Ludmore was nowhere to be seen. I took a bite
of the delicious eggs and drank a sip of warm wine, this one spiced with ginger and honey, from a heavily carved silver goblet. There were other signs of wealth in the room—porcelain jars, and heavy plate lining the hearth mantle. My eye caught the tapestry again. One of the maids, carrying a large basket of soiled linen, walked past. I could see her through the doorway.

“Why, where is she going?” I asked Maisy, who continued to bring us dishes. A wonderful aroma of baking bread followed her.

“To the laundress, ma’am,” she answered, placing a little plate in front of Anna. We both stared at it. It was one of our pears, carved prettily and sugared. Anna and I exchanged a look before she picked up her spoon and began to eat.

“And where is Mrs. Ludmore this morning?” I asked.

“Lady, miss,” she corrected me. “Lady Ludmore, although she doesn’t insist on the ‘lady,’ being the pious soul that she is. And of course feeling the way she do about
him
, Lord Ludmore, and I must tell you she be at her morning prayer, up hours before dawn, and when she joins you at breakfast, you are not to speak to her.” She leaned over and picked up my empty plate. “She believes the morning is for God and the evening for the devil.”
Another maid, pinch-faced, peeked around the doorway, frowned, and shook her head before disappearing.

“And may I ask whatever that means?”

“Oh, the lady, she does enjoy the drink, she does,” she responded. Maisy, chubby cheeked and well-rounded, had the appearance of one who spent a little too much time in the kitchen. But she had a wise gleam in her eyes.

“And can you tell me”—as I guessed she probably would—“how Lady Ludmore came to be married to the lord?”

“Why, don’t you know?” She smiled, ever ready to impart more. She plopped down in one of the chairs at the end of the table. “She came over many a year ago with the Princess Katherine of Aragon, King Henry’s first poor wife. She was a sweet soul and pretty-faced back then, the queen, before she got fat, but don’t let my lady hear me say that, for she thinks it quite the nasty turn he did her, throwing her over for the dark harlot Anne Boleyn. Fernanda Salinas, she was back then, my lady. And me mother came with her as her own maid. And then many years later, Lady Ludmore met old Luddy, but he wasn’t called that then, you see, just Lord Ludmore the Handsome, and the next thing you know she married him, so taken in with his charms she was.
But handsome men are never good, are they?

“And then she had Rafael, rascal that he is,” and she giggled, a red blush rising up her neck. “And after, three little lass babes who all died in the cradle. But
him
, he grew up into a strapping lad, he did. Why, he got Ava”—she nodded toward the kitchen—“in trouble too, and her mum is raising that one. We didn’t tell the lady about the baby. She hid it under her apron, Ava did. She is afraid she’d be dismissed, though the lady is a hard biscuit, she is, she’d never hurt a soul, I tell you. Boys. Always boys Rafael sires, and they are all likely to grow up just as frisky as him.” She paused for a second, taking a breath and holding two fingers up to her lip.

“Where is Bartolome? Shouldn’t he be taking his breakfast with us?” I asked.

She rose and busied herself wiping down the table. “Oh no, miss,” she said. “He’s at prayer with the lady. She be determined to save his little soul if it be the last thing she does. Although I wonder at her determination, for I think he has a bit of the devil, I do, the way he looks at me with those eyes. Have you ever seen such strange eyes, I ask Ava? ’Course she don’t answer, being so sensitive she is about that one being raised here and hers in rags over in Smithfield. Tried to take her own
life she did, ’fore the babe was born, but the lady told us many a time the sin it is. I found her and we nursed her, without the lady even knowing, which was quite a trick, you see, for the lady seems to know all that is about, but she was gone most of this time anyway, in the country searching for her son or another bastard all the while one was being born in her own home. Ha, we did pull one over on her, and I did a hundred Hail Marys, I did, for my deceitfulness. But I am a good girl, I am, never tarry with the grooms. Why, I’ve only let Harry kiss me twice, without the tongue, of course.”

Anna had been intently reading Maisy’s lips, her eyes getting wider at the moment. Maisy glanced over at her curiously. “And may I ask, miss, does your maid always accompany you at your meals?” It was simply a question, but one that would be soon followed by more.

“Why yes, she does,” I answered, surprised that there existed someone with a bigger mouth than I. “And she always will. I will have more eggs, please. That will be enough.” Maisy bowed and left the room. I began to think I could enjoy this way of life very much.

Lady Ludmore finally joined us and, just as Maisy had said, she was silent, grasping her rosary beads. When I
asked when she could take us to market, I was roundly hushed. She no longer wore her mourning clothes, but had donned a beautiful azure silk gown with golden embroidery. Although simply stitched, it was very elegant. She wore no jewelry.

I was now on my third plate of food. Anna had finished most of her pear.

Shortly thereafter the boy came and joined us too. Maisy returned with a small plate of the freshly baked bread. He stared at it, and then over at my eggs. “Here,” I started. “Take mine, Bartolome.” I started to push my plate forward.

Lady Ludmore lifted her hand, and I knew by her stern countenance that I must stop. Bartolome quietly ate his bread.

A long time later, Lady Ludmore stood and walked to the door. “It’s time. Fetch the pieces you’d like to sell.”

I glanced upstairs, wary of only bringing a few things and leaving our precious bags behind.

Lady Ludmore chuckled. “I trust my maids completely, silly headed though they are.” I laughed inwardly at that, considering what Maisy had told me.

Anna and I scurried up the stairs. Anna sat down on my bed as I sorted through the clothing. I didn’t want to leave
the gown with the necklace behind, so I changed into it. Anna helped me button up the back, then sat down again.

“The letter,” she said.

I shook my head. “I have no interest in what that horrid woman has to say. I’ll never forgive her. Never.”

Anna looked down. I pulled her chin up. “I’m sorry,” I mouthed.

She turned away and got up from the bed. She picked up several gowns, sleeves, and a stomacher, and silently handed me the woolen cloak I’d seen her wear the day Christian had asked me to marry him. We locked eyes, and I knew with a certainty that she had seen us and was thinking of Christian’s kiss. I reached for her, but she spun and walked from the room. I quickly packed up the pieces and followed her.

Lady Ludmore waited for us. “Why, where do you think you are going? I must see your wares first,” she said. “I have no idea if we are for Cheapside or Leadenhall.”

I brought the bag to the table. Lady Ludmore gently pulled out a gown, one of carnation satin. Along the matching stomacher was the best of my stitching, daffodils with knotted seed pearls. She ran her fingers over the fabric, her face somber and severe. Perhaps we would be headed for Leadenhall.

Maisy and Ava, who had magically appeared, inched closer, their eyes big. Lady Ludmore pulled another piece from the bag, and the maids sighed. It was a lemon yellow poplin, with bees and vines stitched in black and yellow, and honeycombs stitched along the borders. “This one is not as finely done,” she pronounced flatly. Grace had stitched it, not three weeks past, all the while cursing about her weary hands and what used to be. I’d had to finish the work for her.

“I’ll take this one,” she said, smiling slightly and pointing to the daffodil gown and stomacher, “and this one,” she said, fingering the yellow, “for Ava, and if you have another simple one for Maisy.” And the maids clasped their hands and squealed. “For church.” She nodded to them, and even this did not damper their laughter. “And I’ll subtract your room and board for as long as you are here. I’ll have no wastrels and waifs hanging about.”

“My work?” I asked her. “What do you think of it?”

“Among the best,” she said simply. “Now what else do you have?” She pulled the remaining pieces from the bag and examined each one. She nodded in approval. “Don’t go getting a swollen head. I’ve seen better. Come, come, girls,” she said, walking to the door. “We are off
to Cheapside. I know of a draper who will gladly buy from you. She has the most extraordinary things. I’ve been buying from her for years.”

“Shall I call for the carriage?” Maisy asked as we went to the door. A carriage? My, she was a fine lady, she was, keeping a real carriage. Why hadn’t she taken it to Gloucester in search of her son?

“Good God, no,” she huffed. “When we could walk ourselves? God rewards those who waste not.”

We could hear bells ringing in the distance. I was lost for a moment, for it sounded just as the bells of Winchcombe Abbey that rang before every mass and on joyous occasions, although they be few.

“Why, that’s St. Margaret’s,” Maisy said. “The queen must be traveling to one of her palaces.”

And then there seemed to be a commotion outside our very door, and Maisy and Ava ran to the window.

“It’s a fancy litter, Lady Ludmore,” Maisy said over her shoulder.

Lady Ludmore opened the door, and Anna and I followed her out to the street. Maisy and Ava peeked through the window, their noses pressed up to the glass.

The crowds on the street had parted and people were
squashed up against the walls of the buildings, hushed and expectant.

I couldn’t bear to look. Finally Anna nudged me and I had the courage to lift my head. Ah, God’s me. The most beautiful contraption I’d ever seen was coming our way. It was covered in a golden and cream-colored brocade, quilted diamond-wise and set with glittering jewels at the points. A large, waving white feather steepled at the top. The base of the carriage seemed to be entirely gilded in gold. Six men, three at each side, walked in unison, their legs pumping like a millipede. Somewhere inside was the woman I’d waited my whole life to see.

I held Anna’s hand. Would I have a glimpse of the queen? Would I? Yes. Now, I could see—ruffles, and finery and red curls—then God help me—dark eyes bearing upon me. Or had I imagined it all? I truly did think I should faint, even though Grace always said I wasn’t the fainting sort. It was Anna who braced my back up.

The litter stopped. And suddenly the queen herself looked out. And it was me she was looking at, there was no doubt. She stared at my gown, starting at my elaborate stomacher, then very slowly, scanning the violet silk
down to my feet. My shoes. My muddied, tatty shoes. Oh, Lord. Her eyes narrowed and quickly rose to my face. Oh, she was beautiful! I managed a wobbly curtsy. She turned her head and leaned back into the cushions, and the litter lurched forward.