The Winter Queen (26 page)

January 4

R
osamund lay on her side in bed, staring out of the window at the river far below. The private bedchamber the Queen had given her was a palatial one, with fine tapestries on the walls to shut out the cold and velvet bed-hangings and blankets. A fire crackled merrily in the grate.

Yet she saw none of it. She thought only of Anton, of the way he had held her so close there in the dark, cold woods. How he had kissed her as if she was precious to him, how his words had erased all the hurt of before.

He did love her, she was so sure of it. He'd come after her because he could not live without her, as she could not live without him. And the fear of the kidnapping had been worth it, as it had brought him back to her. They could face anything to be together now.

But she had not seen him since they'd returned to the palace. She had not even had a note. She wished with all her strength she knew his thoughts now. Knew what happened in the world outside her chamber.

‘Rosamund? Are you awake?' Anne Percy whispered from the doorway.

Rosamund rolled over and smiled at her friend. ‘Of course I am awake. I'm not an invalid any longer, to be slumbering away at noontime.'

‘Even if you are not, you should pretend to be. Being an invalid in the Queen's service has such fine concessions!' Anne teased, hurrying into the chamber Rosamund had occupied since Anton had brought her back from the forest. ‘A room of your own, far away from that chattering magpie Mary Howard. Nourishing wines and meat stews. Even furs!'

She gestured towards the glossy sable wrap at the foot of the bed, as Rosamund laughed and sat up against the bolsters. ‘That is all very well, but I am quite recovered now, and it is very dull to be alone here so near Twelfth Night.'

‘You have books, also sent by Her Grace,' Anne said. ‘And gifts such as these, which I am bid bring to you.' She put down a basket full of jellies and sweets on Rosamund's table, next to the stack of books from the Queen's library.

‘Her Grace is very kind,' Rosamund said. ‘But I am allowed so few guests. It is lonely.'

‘The physicians say you must be quiet for at least one more day to allow your blood to warm sufficiently,' Anne said. She straightened the velvet coverlet before perching on the edge of the bed. ‘You are not missing a great deal, I declare! There have been no scandalous elopements or duels at all. Things are especially quiet today, as the Queen is hunting again. Everyone feels safe again, now that you have caught the villains and foiled their wicked plot.'

‘Have they all been caught, then?' Rosamund asked.
‘I am sure Richard and Macintosh did not conceive such an idea themselves.'

‘Secretary Melville disavows all knowledge of such a scheme, and Queen Mary has sent word of her shock and sympathy. But Macintosh is in the Tower, and Lord Burghley is on the trail. You are acclaimed the heroine of the Court!'

Rosamund shivered, remembering Richard as he'd chased her through the snow in such a fury. Picturing him sinking beneath the ice. That terrible, bitter fear, the feeling of being so cold she could never be warm again, never feel again.

But Anton had come for her, saved her—and then had not seen her again after he had left her safe at the palace. Would they quarrel again, then? Better that than be apart, surely?

‘I should not be called a heroine,' she said, sinking deeper under the bedclothes. ‘I did naught but run away and climb up a tree to wait.'

‘You saved the Queen from being abducted!' Anne protested. ‘And I should have been far too terrified to have the presence of mind to run away.'

‘I doubt you have ever been terrified of anything in your life, Anne Percy! I have never known anyone bolder.'

‘There is a difference between boldness and bravery.'

‘Not at all. Daring to join the mummers' play and fight with Lord Langley in front of the Queen and everyone—that is bravery indeed. No other lady I know would dare such a thing.'

Anne laughed humourlessly. ‘Foolishness is more like. And that act gained me naught in the end.'

‘Do you and Lord Langley…' Rosamund began tentatively.

Anne shook her head. ‘We are a dull subject indeed.
Not like you and your swain, the brave young Swede! Since he so daringly effected your rescue, the Court ladies are even more in love with him.'

Of course they were. How could they help it? Rosamund was no different. ‘So, that is why I have not seen him of late.'

‘He has been with the Queen in private council,' Anne said. ‘But I think you need not fear. When he is not with Her Grace, he is hanging about in the corridor here, questioning all the physicians and servants about your health.'

A tiny light of hope flickered to life deep in Rosamund's heart. He had been there, she just had not seen him! Surely that was a good thing? ‘But why has he not come in to see me?'

‘You are not yet allowed visitors, remember? I am quite sure he has not forgotten you, Rosamund, nor does he pay attention to any other lady.'

Before Rosamund could question Anne further, her maid, Jane, entered the room with a curtsy. ‘I beg your pardon, my lady, but you have a caller.'

‘I thought I was not allowed visitors,' Rosamund said.

‘They could hardly refuse
me
,' a man said, sweeping through the door. He was tall, silver-haired, and blue-eyed, still clad in a travel cloak and boots. He smiled, but his bearded face was creased with worry and tiredness.

‘Father!' Rosamund cried in a rush of happiness. It was so long since she had seen her family. To see him there now was like a rush of warm, summer sunshine. She started to push back the blankets, but he rushed over to hold her there.

‘Rosie, dearest, you should not exert yourself.'

Rosamund threw her arms around her father,
hugging him close as she buried her face against his shoulder, her eyes shut as she inhaled his familiar scent. He smelled of home. ‘Father, you're here.'

‘Of course I am,' he said, kissing the top of her head. ‘I set out as soon as the Queen's messenger arrived at Ramsay Castle. Your mother is beside herself with worry. She follows in the litter, but I rode ahead as quickly as I could. We could not be easy until we had seen you ourselves.'

‘I have missed you so very much,' Rosamund said, drawing back to study him closer. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Anne easing towards the door. ‘Oh no, Anne, do not go! Come, meet my father. Father, this is Mistress Anne Percy, who has been my best friend here at Court. I could never have made my way without her.'

He stood to bow to Anne, who curtsied to him. ‘You are Mildred Percy's niece, I think?' he said. ‘We have heard much of you.'

‘I am her niece indeed, my lord,' she answered. ‘But I hope you have not heard
too
much.'

Rosamund's father laughed. ‘Well, I am most grateful for your friendship to my daughter. And for looking after her in her illness.'

‘She has been a great friend to me as well,' Anne said. ‘I will look in on you after supper, Rosamund.'

She departed, leaving Rosamund alone again with her father. She held onto his hand, still not sure he was really there. And he held very tightly to her in turn.

‘You need not worry, Father. I am quite recovered,' she said. ‘And the Queen has been very attentive.'

He shook his head. ‘Your mother and I thought you would be safe here at Court. What fools we were.'

‘Not nearly as foolish as I was. You were quite right about Richard, Father,' Rosamund admitted.

‘We had not thought him as wicked as all this. The son of our own neighbours, in a plot against the Queen!' he said sadly. ‘I did not expect such a thing.'

‘It was not a very well-thought-out plot, truly. But you thought him somewhat wicked, even then?'

‘We heard tales of debts, of other bad behaviour that could not be acceptable in your husband. Even aside from that, his personality was not suited to yours. We knew you would not be happy with him, as your mother and I have been happy together all these years. We never imagined treason, though.'

‘Nor did I,' Rosamund answered. ‘Though I have to admit, Father, that even before his terrible actions I came to see Richard was not the man for me at all. You and Mama were right to send me here to Court.'

‘Were we, daughter? In truth, we began to regret it as soon as you departed Ramsay Castle. Home is quiet without you there.'

‘It is true that I prefer the peace of home,' she said with a laugh. ‘But I have learned so much here.'

‘And perhaps even found someone to replace Richard Sutton?'

She glanced at him sharply. Did he already know, then, even as her mind tumbled with ways to tell him of Anton? To persuade him that this time she had found her right match? ‘You have heard tales?'

‘I saw my old friend Lord Ledsen as I arrived. He told me the Court is all a-buzz with the romantic story of a handsome young Swede skating to your rescue.'

Rosamund felt her cheeks grow warm, but she pressed ahead. ‘It is true, Anton did rescue me. I would surely be dead without him—or—or dishonoured by Richard.'

Her father's lips tightened, as if in deep anger. Over
Richard's threats—or her feelings for Anton? ‘It seems we owe him much, then.'

‘We do. And I have to tell you, Father, that even before this happened I had developed the most tender of feelings for him.' As he had for her, she hoped. Her heart had given her uncertainties before. Did it now, as well?

‘Ledsen did say he has a fine reputation here at Court. But, Rosie, he is Swedish. He would take you far away from here, to a rough and cold land where you would have none of the comforts you are accustomed to,' her father said sternly.

‘Perhaps he would not!' Rosamund hastened to tell him of Anton's English connections, of his estate and hopes. ‘And, Father, I do care for him. You were correct when you said one day I would meet the right man for me and I would know it. Just as you and Mama knew.'

‘But I did not take your mother away from everything she knew,' her father said gently, implacably. ‘He does not yet have this English estate, I think.'

‘Nay,' Rosamund admitted. Nor was she entirely sure he wanted her, either. ‘But I am quite sure that now the Queen will…'

‘Enough now, my dear.' He kissed her cheek, gently urging her to lie back against the cushions. ‘I fear I have tired you, after I promised the Queen's physicians I would do no such thing. You should sleep now. I will consider what you have told me.'

Rosamund knew well enough when arguing with her father would do no good. He had to be left to do his considering, and she had to go on waiting. ‘I am most glad to see you, Father. I have missed you.'

‘And we have missed you. We will talk more later.'

She nodded, watching her father depart. A few moments later, Anne returned. Her friend knelt down by
the bed to whisper, ‘Did you tell your father of Anton, Rosie? What did he say?'

Rosamund frowned, punching at the bolster with her fist. ‘He said he would consider what I have told him.'

‘Consider? Is that good or ill?'

‘I hardly know.'

 

Anton paced the corridor outside the Queen's chamber, listening closely for any word, any sound, behind that door. There was only silence. And yet he knew his entire future was in that room.

He raked his fingers through his hair impatiently, restraining the urge to curse. He had tried to see Rosamund, yet she was closely guarded in the Queen's keeping, tucked away as she regained her health. His bribes to the physicians had gained him the knowledge that she recovered, but nothing could tell him of her heart.

Had she forgiven him for ever hurting her? Did she care for him still? She had declared she did when he'd found her in the woods, but matters had been emotional then. Would she change her mind now, back at the centre of the Court?

And what would they do if the Queen denied his suit? Could he dare to ask Rosamund to go to Sweden with him, leaving behind all she knew? Or could he find the strength to leave her once more, for ever?

Suddenly the door opened, and Lord Burghley hobbled out with his walking stick. ‘You may go in now, Master Gustavson,' he said. Anton searched his lined face, but there was no hint there of his fate.

Anton smoothed his hair again, and walked into the room. It was empty of the usual gaggle of ladies, the hum of constant conversation. Queen Elizabeth sat
alone at her desk, busily writing on a sheet of parchment spread before her. Anton knelt, waiting for her to speak.

At last, he heard the scratching of the quill cease and the rustle as she folded her hands on the desk, her draped sleeves falling back.

‘Arise, Master Gustavson,' she said, laughing as he bowed to her. ‘La, but you look as if you are being sent to the Tower! Why the great frown?'