The Stolen One (9 page)

I turned my attention to the walls, which were dark-paneled with heavy carved rosettes. And fine tapestries
ten times as glorious as the one in Lady Ludmore’s home, and heavy chests with hunting scenes, and gold plate everywhere.

“Where is she?” I whispered to Rafael.

“She’ll show herself soon enough,” he remarked. “She likes to make a grand appearance.” He downed the goblet of wine a servant had handed him. My eyes grew large—the goblet had a ruby set within it.

At the front of the large hall was a stage with grand scaffolding. Roses and vines and shimmering iridescent fabrics were intertwined over a great woodland arbor.

“What is that?” I asked Rafael, my fingers clutching his sleeve.

“There will be some sort of theatrical after dinner,” he answered. “A garden allegory, my guess, in honor of the queen, the maker of our garden of paradise.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Dancing, even later, into the night.”

“Perhaps you should be up there.” I smiled, tilting my head to the arbor. “As I recall, you are quite the actor.”

He laughed. “My minstrel days are over.”

I could hear loud music—trumpets, perhaps. “Yes, just why have you come home?” I asked, tipping up on my toes for a better look. He didn’t answer me, but was
as much interested as I as a parade of ladies, young and old, walked in.

“Her maids of honor,” Rafael murmured. The crowd grew silent. My heart thumped in my chest. Five whole seconds passed by, or was it forever?

And then she came.

M
agnificence. Pure magnificence. My heart soared as she entered on the arm of a distinguished-looking man. “Robert Dudley,” I heard whispered around me. And indeed he was handsome, almost as handsome and dark as Rafael. Elizabeth nodded regally as she walked down the room, people bowing to her.

“You look as though you could eat her,” Rafael whispered to me.

“Hush!” I said, pulling my arm from his. I remembered Ava’s suggestion that I lose him, and she was right. “That lady over there,” I said, nodding my head to the first woman I saw. “She’s been waving her mask at you since we arrived.”

He grinned, and for the first time I saw it reached his eyes. “Not so easy, my love. I have strict instructions to stick to you like honey.” Still, though, he nodded at the lady with a generous smile. She tipped her mask in return.

Queen Elizabeth was making her way down the room. She wore the most elaborate creation I’d ever seen, the black silk gown richly embroidered and tufted with glimmering jewels, the large white satin harlequined sleeves and forepart decorated with ribboned bows at the points. Among the interlacing designs were images of clasped hands, hearts with crossed arrows and flames, daffodils and gillyflowers. And even a grotesque sea creature. Her red hair was crimped and intertwined. And at her waist hung a tiny prayer book, attached by a beautiful rope of pearls.

My heart fluttered as she neared. And then she stopped directly in front of me. I curtsied deeply, then rose. Her face was pale white, the whitest I’d ever seen on any human being except Anna. Her dark eyes were piercing yet fine, and her nose, a little hooked, was regal. Robert Dudley, at her side, held his nose so high in the air that all I could see was his swarthy chin atop his large ruffle. He wore a gorgeous cloak, embroidered with peacock feathers, over his silk doublet.

Elizabeth inspected me just as she had earlier in the
day. “Lovely gown, my dear,” she finally said. “Seawater green. Velvet. Any finer, and perhaps I’d send you home. One must never upstage a queen, you know.” She laughed. There was a murmur of laughter, although I had the feeling the queen was not jesting. “And I see, darling, you have forgotten your jewelry. Poor dear.”

My hand flew up to my bare neck.

“Sometimes beauty needs no adornment,” I said, before I even knew it. It was something Grace had said to me often when I had begged to wear our creations. The queen arched an eyebrow as several of her ladies gasped. I could hear Rafael chuckling in the hushed silence around us.

Elizabeth now turned her sharp eyes on Rafael.

“And who are you?” she said haughtily, but I could see her desire and curiosity. She looked at him as one might admire a beautifully colored snake. Robert Dudley’s chin came down as Rafael bowed. “Lord Ludmore, Your Majesty.” Lord Dudley lowered his mark at Rafael, his look pure indifference.

“
You
have forgotten your mask,” said the queen. She smiled at him before turning back to me. Lifting her hand dramatically, she pulled off a small gold ring and stepped forward.

“Your glove,” Rafael whispered. I fumbled and pulled it off. She slipped the ring on my finger. It was two hands clasped with a small ruby in the middle. It was lovely.

“Appreciating beauty is a way to acknowledge God’s gifts,” she said, looking at me, and Rafael chuckled again. “The ring was from an old friend. It signifies lasting friendship.”

“But I must not accept it,” I said, tears stinging my eyes, “if it has meaning to you.”

“Friendship can be a folly.” She smiled. “Sometimes it does not last.”

“Well, then I must give you a gift,” I responded, my voice shaking. I pulled off my other glove and held the pair out to her. It seemed an eternity before she took them from me. She looked at the gloves carefully, with hardly a change in her expression.

“Nicely done,” she said, and I bowed my head. A page stepped forward and took the gloves. When I looked up, the queen had walked on. But it seemed that everyone else stared upon me with onion-eyed curiosity.

“Bravo,” Rafael said as the crowd began to talk amongst themselves, the queen’s ladies following her like ducklings behind their mother.

“I thought you said it was best to curb my tongue,” I responded, not sure if I had impressed the queen or utterly insulted her.

“Yes, it is in most cases, but I think she did enjoy it. I certainly did.” He took my arm again and we walked a few lengths behind the queen’s ladies. I studied their beautiful gowns.

“She didn’t seem to know you,” I said, nodding to some of the people who continued to stare at me.

“Keep your eyes down,” he whispered. “You have not been introduced to any of these people.” Then, “She doesn’t. Never met me a day of her life. Why, I could be the king of Spain come to look her over for all she knows.”

“You weren’t at court before you left?”

“No.” He frowned. “My father kept me at home, in case anyone should see the many bruises from his beatings. And Elizabeth was kept in the country and even in the Tower should she try to wrest the crown from her sister. I guess we have that in common, the two of us.” He laughed. “We were treated terribly by the ones who should have loved us.”

“Your mother, she was not good to you?” I asked. Another beautiful gown went by, a peach-colored silk
with a diamond pattern of Venice gold embroidered on the sleeves and forepart, little birds and grasshoppers stitched within. The lady blinked at me curiously from behind her mask, before I remembered and lowered my eyes.

“No, my mother looked the other way,” he said. “And in so doing damned me.”

“I believe she suffered much,” I began, “while you were gone.” He didn’t respond, so I added, “May I ask, sir, if you have never met the queen, how in the world she could be the cause of the scar on your arm?”

He was quiet a moment before answering. “She caused it simply by her words.” And then, despite his pledge to stick to me like honey, he walked away.

Before I even had a moment to worry, someone was at my side. “My, you look ravishing, you do.”

I turned and looked into the most beautiful blue-gray eyes. Nicholas Pigeon. And dressed sumptuously, with a stiff ruff, gold leggings, a celestial blue jerkin with embroidered gold guards.

I tried to lower my gaze but I couldn’t. But then his eyes dipped to my chest and then my waist. I blushed.

“That is the most gorgeous stitching I’ve ever seen,” he finally said. “What kind is it? Double thread? Couched?
How long does it take to make such a thing?”

I was taken aback. “Weeks,” I responded. “Maybe more. Grace did the sewing. My talent is with the needle.”

“Grace?” he asked. Over his shoulder I could see Rafael heading back our way with the look of a giant bear who’s left his mate.

“She was my maid…my maid in the country.”

“I see.” He smiled, and I noticed he had fine teeth, too. “We’ll have to send for her as well.”

“Send for her?” I choked. “Why ever would you do that?”

“You’ve not been told?” he asked.

“Told what?”

“I’ve misspoken,” he said. “So where is this Grace? She did the sewing, you said? The cut is beautiful. My tailors could learn a thing or two from her.”

“But she is dead,” I responded, too quickly. “Buried not a week ago.” I suddenly felt sick.

He stared at my breasts again. “God but your designs are beautiful. Where did you get them?”

“Why, right outside my door!” I laughed. “They are my own designs, drawn from the beauty of nature. I keep them in a notebook.”

Then Rafael was at my side, taking my elbow. He
bowed to Nicholas, who did not nod back.

“Lord Ludmore,” Rafael said. “And you are?”

“Nicholas Pigeon, Clerk of the Wardrobe of Robes.”

“You mean you carry Elizabeth’s train.”

“And I would wipe her feet if she bade me,” Nicholas quickly responded. He blinked. “As any true gentleman would.”

“Many things make a man,” Rafael said with a tiredness in his voice that sounded ingrained forever. “Many things make a
good
man. You are a mere boy who’s done nothing more than sew the queen’s buttons.”

“She has men for that. Dozens of them. I’m in charge of her entire wardrobe, including the robes of state that kings upon kings have worn through centuries. And what have you done, Lord Ludmore? More than roam the countryside?”

“More than any of you here would know.” Rafael looked at me, his entire expression demanding I behave, and then he stalked off to join a pretty lady in blue motioning to him with her fan. He quickly took her arm and whispered in her ear.

Nicholas turned to me. “So where has he been all these years? The court is all atwitter of his return.”

I watched Rafael. “I don’t know.” And it wasn’t really
a lie. “I think perhaps he was lost.” This was more the truth.

The queen and her ladies continued to walk the room in procession and I stood quietly next to Nicholas Pigeon, watching with wonder.

“Who is the child?” I asked, for there was a little girl in the procession, dressed as sumptuously as the other ladies.

“The queen’s current pet,” Nicholas answered. “Ipollyta the Tarletan she’s called. A dwarf. The queen is quite besotted, although fearful of her.”

A dwarf, like Jane the fool. “Where did she come from?”

“She appeared at court a couple of years ago,” he said, “drunk as a skybird. The queen herself nursed her, forming an ill attachment to her, and when she recovered she ordered a small fortune in clothes for her. It is said she’s the child Elizabeth will never have.”

“But the queen is young,” I proclaimed. “Is she not very much in love with him?” I asked, nodding to Robert Dudley.

“My, you are forward, aren’t you?” he said, but with a smile. “Eyes. That’s her nickname for him. She’s even had her embroiderers stitch an eye secretly on her gowns. Usually underneath the hem. I have no reason
why; it’s not exactly a romantic symbol. Pray me, now I’ll have to kill you.” He laughed. “I’ve divulged a secret of the Wardrobe.”

“I shall not tell a soul.” I smiled, looking away from his own commanding eyes, perhaps guessing why the queen had chosen such a nickname. “But tell me, does she truly love him?”

“I do not know.” He frowned suddenly. “But one cannot always marry for love. Especially a queen.” He turned from me as he talked. “He’s not good enough for her; he will always be her horseman. But some say she will have her way anyway and make him royal, and the whole world will come down around her. Even now her council seeks a suitable husband for her overseas, but everyone they parade before her she dislikes for some reason or another.” A masked lady in russet walked by, nodding her head to Nicholas.

“Now
she
has an admirer, a merchant too low,” Nicholas said of the lady in russet. “He who sends her a rose every single day. She will never marry him, but still she has us embroider roses in her gowns. It seems we all suffer as the queen does.”

I frowned. “Do you speak for yourself, Mr. Pigeon?” I asked him.

“It’s Nicholas,” he said. “Please call me Nicholas.”

“Now who is being too forward?” I said as I realized I’d again been looking at him too long. I turned my attention back to the rose lady, as did Nicholas.

“What do you say of our work?” he said.

I looked at the gown, an orange tawny satin lined with a blue sarcenet, done all over with spangles of gold. The pomegranate and butterflies were couch stitched and knotted. “Nicely done,” I said.

“Nicely done,” he repeated, impressed.

“There was no need for the extra knotting,” I added, and his smile dropped. “The stitching was lovely; it would have been enough.”

“Trueloves,” he murmured.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“The knots are named trueloves, for they are overly complicated, as most love is. I think perhaps your escort has abandoned you.” He smiled broadly, and I realized he had dimples—Satan seducers, Grace used to call them. I blushed, but his smile quickly faded as one of the queen’s ladies approached us.

She took a breath, as one does who is about to make a speech and is nervous about it. “The queen has taken a liking to your work,” she said to me, averting her eyes
from Nicholas. She was young, perhaps my age, with large blue eyes and blond hair. “You are to be a lady of her chamber. You are to teach us ladies your stitching. And make things for the queen, too, of course. You will report tomorrow and you will have your own room at court. Your maid may accompany you for your comfort.” She looked me over then, a little puzzled. And then she added, “I think I shall like you.” She turned and quickly walked away, stifling a giggle.

I was stunned. I looked up at Nicholas. “I was dying to tell you,” he said. He lifted his arm and I took it. “But stay away from her; that one will pull you deep into mischief.”

“I see. And the reason she wouldn’t look upon you? Perhaps she’s your true love?”

He laughed. “Ahh, indeed. You have much to learn. Come, the masque is about to begin. And I shall have your first dance.”

On the way home in the carriage, I couldn’t stop thinking of Anna. Once when we were children, I’d eaten a whole pie on the way home from the village, knowing quite well that Anna loved sweets. But I wasn’t able to clean the stain of the dewberries off my lips, as sinful
stains never leave. Grace had smiled and said, “You have a cruel streak, Spirit. And someday you will break her heart.” Anna had only smiles, but she knew. Somehow I felt I’d betrayed her again at the queen’s masque.

Rafael was silent until we pulled up to his mother’s house. But I knew he watched me from the shadows of the dark carriage. “Consider yourself warned,” he said as he handed me down. He lifted my hand and peered at the ring. “You are playing with fire.”

He bowed to me low, smiling and turning my hand in his. He placed a kiss on the inside of my wrist. My stomach dropped. But then his face turned somber, and he backed away and stalked into the house. I followed, but he was already gone. I went upstairs. The house was quiet. Anna was in my room waiting for me. A small lit candle was next to the bed.

Silently she helped me undress, but I could feel her mood, as I always could. Anna was gently tethered to this world. And here in London, her tether was unraveling.