Murder at Fontainebleau (4 page)

“Truly? How fascinating,” Master Throckmorton said. “I have been reading his work on the Monas, the possibility that astronomical symbols, and maybe even musical notes, could be the keys to a lost universal language. . . .”

The sound of bells tolling from the royal chapel made her look up in surprise. The sky was darkening and the windows of the palace began glowing with new amber candlelight, one by one. Soon it would be time for the court to go to their supper, and for her own dinner with the queen.

“Perhaps we could more speak of this later, Mistress Haywood,” Charles Throckmorton said. He looked livelier now, his thin features more animated.

“I shall look forward to it,” Kate answered.

Master Ridley offered his arm to lead her back to the warmth of the palace. “Charles likes you as well, Mistress Haywood—I can tell. At least we shall all be able to trust one another in Paris.”

Kate nodded, but she was not entirely sure she agreed. She did not yet know these men so well, and surely they carried secrets like everyone else at court.

In the corridor, she parted from Toby and made her
way up to her chamber. The tiny space gave her a precious moment of quiet and privacy. The fire had been built up and the trunks and chests from her father's cottage had been delivered. Her precious lute, which had once been her mother's, lay in its stand, yet there was no time to pick it up now, to find her usual comfort in the feel of its strings under her fingers, the flow of notes through her mind.

She took the letters from her purse and locked Cecil's messages away beneath the false bottom of her small jewel case. Her own letter she opened, and was pleased to see she had indeed recognized the handwriting—it was from her friend Anthony Elias.

My dear Kate—

I have heard that you are at Whitehall with the queen, and I have also found myself in London for the time being. I am finishing my studies with Master Hardy and will soon be seeking my own clients, hopefully finding a home of my own one day. I hope you will have a few moments to say hello to an old friend, and allow him to tell you in person how very sorry he is for the loss of your honorable father. It has been too long since I saw you, and I have so many things I would like to say to you. Send me word, and I will meet you whenever you are able.

Your friend, Anthony E.

Kate smiled and sat down to pen a reply, telling Anthony she would be happy to see him before she departed for France. She longed to hear more about his planned life, his hopes, and to ask him about what he or Master Hardy might know about the situation in France.

But what could she write to him now? She would have to think about it most carefully. For a time, she had been alone in the country, lost in memories of her father, but now she had to think about the present. Rob and Anthony had both made appearances in her life again, and she found she needed both of them, in their own very different ways.

She went to her small window, pushed it open, and looked down at the garden below. It was not one of the grand royal promenades, but a simple kitchen garden. In the summer it would provide perfumed herbs for the queen's table. Now it seemed to slumber under a thin, pale layer of frost.

Yet it was not entirely deserted. A couple walked slowly along the narrow path, their heads together as if they whispered secrets. Kate was surprised to see Master Ridley's elaborate gold-embroidered cloak.

Next to him walked a lady with lovely silver-blond hair, bound with a twist of pearls and sapphires that matched her blue gown. He whispered in her ear, his face tense, not as open and merry as it had been when he'd talked with Kate and Charles Throckmorton. The lady shook her head and laughed. She turned as
if to leave, but Master Ridley caught her arm. She merely shook him off and hurried away as he stared after her.

So Master Ridley was thwarted in romance, as so many at Elizabeth's court were? Kate couldn't help but feel sorry for him. It would be a long journey to France, but mayhap it could help him forget, as she hoped it would do for her. Her father was gone, and she had to learn to live her life on her own terms. Perhaps that would be easier in a completely new place.

W
hen Kate made her way to the queen's small privy dining chamber later that evening, she found several people already gathered there. They stood around the oblong table, which was already spread with gleaming silver plate and goblets. Master Ridley was there, talking with Charles Throckmorton, and they both gave her bows. An older gentleman stood near the fireplace, half-turned away from her, and she assumed he must be Sir Henry Barnett. He was a stout man in a fine velvet robe of subdued gray, which matched his beard. Rob waved at her as she lingered in the doorway. Everyone was silent, gazing around with slightly confused expressions.

Kate shared their puzzlement. The queen's dining chamber was usually used only by Elizabeth herself, on evenings when there was no grand banquet or masque. She would be served by her senior ladies-in-waiting, taking the small portions of vegetables and broiled game she preferred. Sometimes she would dine with a favored courtier, such as Robert Dudley. Tonight, they
seemed a motley collection whose chief connection was the upcoming voyage to France.

The queen was not there yet, nor were Sir Henry's wife and niece. Kate found a quiet corner and surreptitiously smoothed her hair beneath her small embroidered cap and adjusted the skirt of her blue silk gown. She had feared she would be late and had rushed through her toilette, but luckily she seemed rather early.

Rob came to stand beside her. Unlike her, he did not seem to have rushed through his change of clothes, for he looked almost gleaming in his scarlet satin and black velvet in the torchlight.

“Well, Kate,” he said quietly in her ear. “Are you looking forward to our voyage?”

“Mayhap not the voyage itself,” she admitted. “I have heard little encouraging about a Channel crossing in winter. But to see France—aye, I
do
look forward to that. They say it is most beautiful, and surely Queen Catherine de Medici has brought the newest Italian plays and songs there, long before they will appear in London.”

Rob smiled. “They say there is an Italian troupe at the Queen Mother's court that allows a woman on their stage.”

“Nay!” Kate gasped, shocked.

“Aye. I suppose we shall see for ourselves. Mayhap you will even run off to join them?”

She laughed. “It does sound tempting. I look forward to seeing it.”

Rob crossed his arms, studying the room in a seemingly casual way. “Did you know Thomas is also to go with us?”

“Your apprentice?” Kate was surprised. Out of all the men in Rob's troupe, men who had traveled much and performed many roles for many different types of people, Thomas seemed an odd choice. He was young and in the past had been susceptible to romantic misadventures.

But those things could also work in his favor. Robust, and handsome, he was surely eager for adventure. He was loyal to Rob, who had given him a good place in his acting troupe. And they did say Queen Mary had a keen eye for a fine-faced young man.

She will have a good many choices of faces among this little group,
Kate thought as she studied the gathering around her. Master Ridley and Master Throckmorton were both appealing in their very different ways, and Rob was one of the most handsome men she had met.

“Someone must assist with the entertainments, and Lord Hunsdon says Thomas has no family or sweetheart here to pine for,” Rob said. “Thomas does seem excited by the prospect. Do you think he will elope with a pretty mademoiselle as soon as we arrive?”

“He very well might,” Kate said with a laugh. “He does seem to enjoy swooning for love at every opportunity, and a whole new kingdom full of ladies seems a rare opportunity.”

The door to the dining chamber flew open and three
ladies rushed inside, a blur of bright satins, jewels, and fluttering ribbons.

Kate studied them carefully. Sir Henry Barnett took the arm of the eldest lady and whispered in her ear, his bearded, lined face thunderous. Kate thought the woman must be Lady Barnett, and she did not seem in the slightest abashed by her husband's scolding. She laughed and tapped his sleeve with the peacock feather fan that dangled from the silver-and-pearl chain at her waist.

She must have once been a rare beauty, and she was still lovely and delicate, with an oval face painted lightly with white lead and cerise, and bright blue eyes echoed by the blue-and-green-satin gown trimmed with silver ribbon. The hair swept up in elaborate curls and braids beneath a silver headdress was still sunny blond, barely touched with gray.

The young lady who stood beside her had to be her niece, Amelia Wrightsman, Kate thought, for they looked as near alike as sisters. If Lady Barnett was beginning to fade, Mistress Wrightsman was like the sunrise. Her cheeks glowed a natural peachy color against her pink silk dress and the loops of her pearl necklace. More pearls wound through her pale hair, which smelled of sweet violet perfume.

Toby Ridley drifted to her side as if pulled there by an invisible chain, his plain, expressive face written with an infatuated smile. For a man of Cecil's, Master Ridley seemed shockingly poor at dissembling.

Mayhap
too
poor?
Kate wondered. The man she had talked with in the garden seemed most sensible. But
she suddenly realized she was not the only lady he walked with in the twilight. It was Mistress Wrightsman's blond head that had been close to Toby's as Kate watched them from her window.

As he whispered now to Mistress Wrightsman, who blushed the same pink as her bodice and giggled behind her beringed fingers, Kate studied the third woman. Perhaps she was a servant of sorts, for she was much more plainly dressed, in a black overskirt and bodice with tawny-striped sleeves and skirt forepart. The bit of hair that could be seen at the front of her old-fashioned headdress was plain brown, liberally frosted with gray. Her face was heavy, lined, but her eyes were bright blue.

She leaned toward Mistress Wrightsman and said something quietly, intently, to her, much as Sir Henry had done with his wife. Mistress Wrightsman took as little notice as her aunt, brushing the woman away and taking Master Ridley's arm. He led her across the room, where they could talk quietly together in the corner opposite Kate's.

Kate noticed that Charles Throckmorton did not look happy at this progress of events. He watched Toby and Mistress Wrightsman with a frown.

But there was no time to puzzle over the people around her any further, for the door that led to the queen's bedchamber opened, and Elizabeth appeared with Cecil at her side, followed by Mistress Ashley. The queen had changed from her loose robe into a gown of black-and-white velvet trimmed with ermine,
not as elaborate a garb as she would have worn at a banquet, where her courtiers and foreign ambassadors would see her.

She swept to her seat, the only armchair at the table, and gathered everyone else to the stools around her. Cecil sat beside her as Mistress Ashley hurried to place a cushion beneath Elizabeth's velvet slippers and behind her back.

“I am glad all of you are here,” Elizabeth said merrily, obviously in one of her good moods. “You must be eager to hear all the details of your journey. Have you all met?”

As servants brought in the first course of stews and salads and poured fine malmsey wine into the silver goblets, Cecil said, “Sir Henry Barnett and his wife, Lady Barnett . . .”

“Oh, I am to be Jane, surely!” Lady Barnett said with a laugh. She took a long drink of her wine and waved for more, even as her husband tried to catch her hand. She neatly evaded him. “We shall all be spending so much time together. Isn't that right, Amy, my dear? Oh, and this is my niece, Mistress Amelia Wrightsman,
naturellement
.”

“We are so looking forward to seeing France again,” Amelia chirped brightly. She really did seem like a little bird, bright and fluttering, alighting here and there on her cloud of violet perfume.

Sir Henry did not look quite as enthusiastic as his kinswomen. “We shall do our duty wherever we are sent.”

“And you have served me very well, Sir Henry,” Elizabeth said. “This lady is . . .” She gestured toward the woman in black and tawny with a puzzled frown.

“This is Brigit Berry, our companion,” Lady Barnett said dismissively. “My health is not so robust, so I need her assistance at all times.”

“I am sure the voyage will revive you, Lady Barnett,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh, aye, Your Grace!” Lady Barnett cried. “We shall be forever grateful you are sending us on this important mission.”

“And this is Master Ridley and Master Throckmorton, who will be joining his kinsman, our ambassador to France,” the queen continued. “Also, my chief musician, Mistress Haywood, who is fluent in French and is to bring back to my court all the latest songs and dances. She will be assisted by my cousin Lord Hunsdon's man, Master Cartman. Ah, good, more wine!”

As more wine was poured and dishes of venison in apricot sauce and trout dressed in cherries were passed around, Master Ridley gave Kate a wink, but no one else seemed to pay the least attention to her and Rob. All the better for them to do their tasks unnoticed.

Except for Amelia Wrightsman. Kate caught her watching Rob, her bright smile momentarily dimmed. But then she laughed again, and that fleeting expression vanished. No one else seemed to see that instant of a mask slipping, but Kate wondered if she shouldn't keep a closer eye on Mistress Wrightsman.

“So, Sir Henry, tell us of the situation in France since King Francis's sad demise,” the queen said.

Sir Henry shook his head. “France is in great disarray, I fear, Your Grace, as it has been ever since King Henri died. Under King Francis and Queen Mary, the Guise have reigned unchecked. They chased away Antoine de Bourbon, the King of Navarre, who should have been next in line to the throne. The public debt, thanks to their lavishness, is near forty million livres, while the royal tax revenue is only ten thousand per annum. Rebellion and religious conflict are always threatening, as it was at Amboise.”

Elizabeth and Cecil nodded solemnly. The bloodbath at Amboise was notorious, and said to have been entirely engineered by the Guise to eliminate their enemies.

Elizabeth frowned. She surely knew what it was like to have such troubles in her own kingdom. She had inherited a throne beset with debt, thanks to Queen Mary's warfare abroad, and conflict over the religious settlement. There had been no open rebellion yet, thanks to the work of Cecil and his men.

“But the Guise have fallen now?” the queen said, popping a sugared wafer into her mouth.

Sir Henry smiled at last, and it made him look much younger, though still stout and jowly and gray. “Virtually overnight. Queen Catherine, whom everyone thought so quiet and complacent, struck quickly after King Francis died. She had herself declared regent and
governor of the kingdom before anyone knew what was happening. Monsieur de L'Hôpital is her chancellor. He is said to be very wise and calm, and no friend to the Guise. She has summoned the Estates-General to help reform the royal finances, but there is no doubt she in charge. There is none now to stand in her way.”

“It is too bad she is so very unattractive!” Lady Barnett cried. Her husband gave her a disapproving glance, but she just smiled and waved her fan to summon more wine. Amelia giggled. “So short and stout, and never wearing anything but black. Queen Mary made the court so fashionable.”

“Oh, aye,” Amelia said in disappointment. “I do recall one gown she wore, cloth of silver, trimmed with sapphires and pearls, with an ermine cloak. And her hair! Such a glorious auburn. She surely will be in mourning when we return, Aunt Jane.”

“Yes—a shame,” Queen Elizabeth snapped in a cold voice. “You must take the finest of our English fashions to
her
. Now, Master Throckmorton, what does your kinsman at my embassy write to you about these matters?”

As Charles and the queen talked, Kate looked up to find Rob watching her, his lips twitching as if he was about to laugh. That made her long to laugh as well, and she had to look away to keep from bursting out. Platters of sweet wafers and the queen's favorite, sticky fruit suckets, were brought in—a welcome distraction.

At least the voyage would not be dull with Rob beside
her.