Rob propped his foot on the edge of the bench beside her and leaned his elbow on his knee. She saw that his boots, too, were very fine, of soft, polished Spanish leather. “Much the same as you, I would suspect. Singing for my crust of bread.”
Kate snorted. “I am no fine singer, I fear, no matter how I practice.”
“But you do well enough by your lute, I see.”
“My music is all I have,” she said softly, all too aware of how true those words were. Music was the only thing that was constant, the only thing that was always the truth.
“I am sure that won’t be true much longer.”
“How so? Do you think I shall take to the roads and the public stage like you?”
Rob suddenly reached out and gently touched the garnet earring she wore. His fingertip tangled in a dark curl of her hair, and she drew back from the heat of it. “The queen does make a pet of you.”
In a flash of anger, Kate jerked her head away from his touch. “These earrings were my father’s gift at Christmas. But certainly the queen does not neglect those who serve her. She enjoys my music, and I work hard for her. I will not starve here.”
“Then surely she will find you a prosperous marriage soon.”
A marriage? Kate almost laughed, remembering all the times Elizabeth had railed against marriage. “Her Majesty does not wish her servants to leave her so soon.”
“And mayhap she has more reason to keep you close than your way with a lively dance tune?”
Kate peered up at him suspiciously. His expression was too bland, his tone too tense. What did he know? What was he trying to discover—and why? “You speak in riddles today, Rob Cartman, and I have no time for such nonsense. I do indeed have to earn my bread and must play for the dancing tonight.”
She started up from the bench, but Rob stopped her with a touch on her sleeve. “Pax, Kate. I don’t want to quarrel with you. I have few enough friends as it is. I don’t want to lose one.”
Kate slowly sat back down. Lose her? He had never had her, not really. They sometimes seemed friends, but then he vanished again. And when he came back, it was to insult her with his strange words. Yet she had seen his kindness, too, the caring heart he tried to hide. “I hope you know I am truly your friend, Rob.”
“So you have proven time and again, fair Kate. I would have been hanged, or at least left to rot in gaol, if not for you.” He sat down beside her with a heavy sigh, and for an instant the golden mask dropped and he looked older and harder. Tired. What was amiss with him?
“The troupe has had some good fortune since the winter,” he said, “playing at noble houses around the countryside. There is a fine lord who speaks of becoming our permanent sponsor, since Lord Ambrose’s downfall. Perhaps he would even provide a real theater for us.”
“But that is wonderful, Rob!” Kate cried. Surely this piece of fortune was not what had him so downhearted? But he looked doubtful even as he said the words. She wondered who this “fine lord” could be. “Your plays deserve to be seen by so many people. Surely once this patron hears you have been commanded to perform for the queen herself, he will agree to sponsor you in an instant.” A sudden dark suspicion struck her. “Unless you have been dallying with his wife . . .”
“Not I, Kate! Your low opinion of my morals wounds me.” He flashed her a sudden brilliant grin, banishing the dark cloud of an incipient quarrel she didn’t even understand. “His wife is fifty at least.”
“His daughter, then?”
“Nor her. I have learned my lesson since the terrible events of January last. I must see to my troupe, and the only way to do that is to pay attention to the business before me. I cannot become greedy and lustful, as my uncle did. He came to Nonsuch once himself, when he was young, to play for King Henry. I hope to play for royalty, as my uncle did, but hopefully avoid his fate.”
Kate nodded, remembering the terrible end of Rob’s uncle at Hatfield, the events that had left him in charge of the then Lord Ambrose’s Men. His uncle had been murdered because he meddled in affairs of state that were beyond his understanding. She shivered to think of Rob ending thus, slaughtered in the woods. “I hope that may be so, Rob, truly.”
“I have your example before me, do I not? Your fine dedication to your work, your loyalty to Queen Elizabeth. I must emulate you now, I think.”
Kate frowned up at him, but there was only sincerity in his face now. A rueful certainty. “If you are teasing me again . . .”
He held up his hands. “I vow I am entirely serious. I have missed you, Kate. I did not know quite how much until this moment.”
She had no idea how to answer that. Flustered, she turned her gaze back to the lake. Across the sparkling expanse of water, a group of courtiers played at boules on the grass. Their jeweled doublets and gowns made them look like a veritable field of flowers, yellow and purple and apple green. Behind them, the fancifully carved red-and-white towers of the palace gleamed in the light, a fairy-tale realm. Beyond the lawn stretched the rows of tents, their embroidered pennants snapping in the breeze.
It looked like a storybook scene indeed, something from a tale of Arthur and his knights. All perfectly golden, suffused with light and warmth and laughter, ripe for romance.
Yet look what had happened to King Arthur and his realm—all the blithe, romantic perfection torn apart by the darkness of lowest human greed and jealousy. And look also at what had happened to Queen Catherine Howard only a few decades before, beheaded after her king brought her here to this lovely place.
Kate remembered Lady Anne Godwin’s story of the long-ago disappearance of Dr. Dee’s own teacher, right here at Nonsuch. It seemed the most beautiful of palaces could hide the greatest darkness of all.
Kate trembled at the thought, the perfection of the scene before her suddenly sinister.
“Are you chilled, Kate?” Rob asked. “Perhaps we should go inside.”
“Nay, I think . . .” Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the rustle of the grove of old oak trees behind their bench. This interruption to her brooding thoughts made her jump to her feet, and she whirled around to find the queen’s cousin, Lord Hunsdon, emerging onto the winding lake path. His wife, the tiny, merry-faced Anne, held on to his arm, and a party of friends clustered behind them, including the handsome Master Green, who had sung to the queen in her rose arbor.
Kate felt a wave of confusion, as she always did when she found herself facing Lord Hunsdon or his sister, Lady Knollys. She had learned how to behave with almost everyone at court, how to use words and smiles to flatter, deflect, conceal. But with the Boleyns, she could not quite forget the tale old Lady Gertrude Howard had told her in London, the truth of her long-dead mother’s parentage.
Lord Hunsdon had never said anything to her of the matter. She wasn’t really sure if he knew the tale or not, though surely he missed little about his family. His smile was warm as she curtsied to him, and she was struck by how much he resembled the queen. His fair white skin, his pointed chin and long nose, his dark Boleyn eyes—eyes much like the ones Kate saw looking back at her from her own glass. His hair and beard were reddish brown, darker than Elizabeth’s, and his gray velvet doublet was finely cut yet simple, no jewels or embroidery.
She was suddenly very aware of Rob’s tall presence at her back, his close, watchful attention on the royal party before them. Hunsdon gave them an elegant bow.
“Mistress Haywood,” he said. “And Master Cartman. Enjoying the fine weather, I see.”
“Nonsuch is very beautiful, my lord,” Kate managed to answer.
“The perfect setting for your music, I would say,” Lord Hunsdon said. “I can see why the queen would wish to bring in players to amuse her here. We shall be most merry.”
“And Arundel has certainly spared no expense on this visit! I am put in mind of the knights of olden years,” his wife said cheerfully, echoing Kate�
�s own earlier thoughts of Arthur and his knights. “Shall you play for the dancing tonight, Mistress Haywood?”
“Aye, and I should return to the house to make sure all is in readiness,” Kate said. She glanced up at Rob, who gave her a small nod. She couldn’t read his expression at all.
“I will go with you, Kate,” Violet Roland said happily. Kate saw her friend had been standing behind Lady Hunsdon, next to Master Green, her cheeks much too pink against her windblown blond curls. She took Kate’s arm, and together they hurried back through the trees toward the palace.
At the turning of the pathway, Kate glanced back over her shoulder. Lord Hunsdon and his group had continued on their way around the lake, but Rob still stood by the stone bench, staring out over the water. He looked deep in his own, unfathomable thoughts, where Kate knew she could not follow.
“Kate, you sly girl,” Violet whispered teasingly. “Everyone is full of speculation about that handsome actor, and here you are talking to him all alone. So scandalous of you!”
Kate smiled at her friend and hoped any gossip would spread no further. Her usefulness to the queen depended much on her obscurity. “I knew him in London.”
Violet’s eyes sparkled. “Did you? Oh, you must tell me all!”
“There is not much to tell. You would find it dull fare indeed.”
“You are surely no pallid Puritan, Kate, like my suitor Master Longville,” Violet said with a teasing pout. “We are allowed a tiny flirtation now and then, aren’t we?”
Kate laughed. Nay, she was certainly no Puritan, despite the lack of “flirtation” in her days. She was finding she loved pretty gowns and soft slippers far too much to eschew them for plain gray wool, not to mention the lack of elaborate music at chapel and no dancing. And she found she did not quite mind a flash of admiration from handsome eyes, either.
Eyes like Rob Cartman’s?
She pushed away such thoughts. Surely she knew better than that. She knew him too well.
And anyway—how had Lord Hunsdon known Rob’s name?
“I would wager any romantic tale I could tell would be nothing to yours,” Kate said. “Young Master Green seems to admire you . . .”
Violet shook her head and looked away, but her blush deepened. Kate thought she must care for Master Green more than she would want to admit. “He admires all the ladies. He only talks to me because he is friends with my brother. I hope I am not such a fool as to pay attention to his pretty words. But this does feel like a magical place, does it not? As if anything could happen here.”
Violet suddenly twirled around, her arms outflung, as she hummed a dance tune. Kate laughed and impulsively joined her as they spun and leaped in the air, kicking out at their skirt hems before they took off on a mad dash across the lawn. In just that one moment, she forgot all the darkening clouds that hung over beautiful Nonsuch, forgot her father and the Boleyns and the changeable Rob Cartman, and just laughed.
Violet snatched up Kate’s hand and drew her up the steps into the palace. The marble-floored entrance hall was dim and cool after the brilliant day, and Kate paused for an instant to let her eyes adjust. Her fashionably tight stays were too constricting after running, and she drew in a shallow breath.
Violet seemed to need no such respite. She dashed up the winding staircase, fancifully carved with grinning goblin faces and twisting leaves and vines, past servants laden with basins and freshly sponged gowns, past frowning courtiers bent on their own vital errands.
“Race you to our chamber, Kate!” she called.
Kate laughed ruefully, sure she should not be “racing” anyone. She needed her energy for that night’s banquet, for surely the queen would want to dance into the small hours again. And a royal musician should not be seen to be undignified, especially if she did not want to bring any attention onto herself. She followed Violet at a slower pace.
The small chamber she shared with Violet and Lady Anne Godwin was tucked away at the very top of the house, at the end of a narrow corridor overlooking a kitchen courtyard. Many of the queen’s young maids of honor were quartered near there, watched over by the stern eye of Lady Eglionby, Mistress of the Maids. From behind their closed doors, Kate could hear the bursts of giggles and the rustles of fine silks and taffetas. The air smelled of perfumes, rose and jasmine and lavender.
At the end of the corridor, near her own chamber, it was quieter. The door was already closed, so Violet must have won the race and gone inside. Kate reached for the handle, but she was stayed by a sudden rush of whispers behind her, in a small window alcove half concealed by the drape of a tapestry.
“. . . have broken your word!” a woman sobbed brokenly. “I have believed you too many times. I can do it no more.”
Kate’s curiosity clashed with her instinct to leave the romances of others completely alone. They brought nothing but trouble in the airless world of the royal court. But she knew now that her curiosity was more than that—anything that happened in the queen’s palaces could be a threat to her royal safety. Secrets had no place in her court now, not with birds of prey like Mary, Queen of Scots and Philip of Spain circling every day. Robert Dudley and William Cecil might hate each other, but they both believed ardently in Queen Elizabeth, and they had impressed on Kate the vital importance of the mission of keeping the queen safe.
Pressing her hand to her own silk skirts to quiet their rustle, she carefully peeked over her shoulder.
The tapestry, a scene of a sunlit picnic, half concealed the couple, and the shadows were thick in their hiding place. The tall man had his back to the corridor, and his garments were dark, but Kate caught a glimpse of the woman’s blond hair twisted up in elaborate curls under a lace cap, and a bright flash of silver-and-white skirts.
Catherine Grey. And surely she would have no new lover yet. Edward Seymour must have arrived at court and wasted no time in seeking her out.
“You know my feelings for you, sweeting,” he said in a soft, cajoling tone. “But we must be most careful if we are to gain our deepest desire. We will never achieve it if we are tossed into the Tower.”
Kate winced. This was the second reminder in just a day of the darkness of that night in the Tower before Elizabeth’s coronation, the unseen eyes that seemed to watch her every movement. She would not wish such a fate on anyone. But surely these two could not be that foolish, to toy with the queen’s goodwill already?
“No one would dare do such to us!” Lady Catherine hissed. “Not even her.”
“Of course she would dare. She is queen now. My father thought he was above monarchs, too, but he learned differently.”
“I do not care a fig for all that! We have waited much too long. I grow older every day. I had my horoscope drawn up by Master Constable, and my planets are aligned now for a prosperous marriage. I cannot wait any longer, biding my time, smiling as if I haven’t a care in the world. If we really want this . . .”
“You know I desire it as much as you. My beautiful girl . . .”
“Then we must fight for it. As my own grandparents fought for their love against King Henry. Even he could not gainsay them,” Catherine said haughtily, and in that instant she did sound every bit the offspring of Princess Mary Tudor, Dowager Queen of France, and Charles Brandon. Kate would not have thought she had it in her, but people were ever surprising. “Your mother will have you married off to that horse-faced Talbot harpy.”
“My mother will do no such thing if I gainsay her,” he said in a hard voice.
Lady Catherine laughed. “When have you ever said her nay? You will jump to do as she bids, and I shall be left a lonely spinster again. You have no manly will.”
She spun away in a flurry of pale skirts, and he grabbed her arm and drew her back. He pulled her roughly into his arms and up on her toes, making her squeal.
“No manly will, you say?” he growled. “What say you of this?”
His lips came down on hers and she moaned. Kate squirmed uncomfortably, half wishing she had ducked into her chamber when she had had the chance.
“My sweet Ned,” Lady Catherine sighed as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
So it really was Edward Seymour, come back to court, and his rumored love—or mayhap not so rumored after all. They grew bold to embrace in the middle of the queen’s own palace. What did they know that gave them such nerve now?
Mayhap it was the knowledge that a “prosperous marriage” was now written in the stars for Lady Catherine, at least according to the dubious Master Constable. Kate couldn’t help but wonder if that had something to do with why the man was lurking around the queen’s apartments.
She carefully pushed open her own door and slipped inside before they could see her lurking there and know they were caught. She had much to think about.
“There you are, Kate,” Violet said, completely oblivious to the dramatic little scene outside their chamber. “What think you? The gold sleeves, or the blue?”
* * *
Rob Cartman watched Kate glide away from him, swept up by the glittering, chattering crowd, over the gardens until she was beyond his sight. Her dark hair, glossy in the sunlight; her brown eyes, touched with a hazel glow brought out by her fine silk gown; the sudden radiance of her smile. Had she always been so lovely?
The memory of her as she had looked when they last met always seemed to be with him. The thought of Kate’s laugh had flashed through his mind when he meant to be writing a scene. The way she would frown, ever so faintly disapproving, when she saw some of his naughtier proclivities. The way she would suddenly laugh at a jest.
Aye, all of that was with him every day. And when he had finally seen her today, after all this time . . .
God’s teeth. It was more than all his imaginings. She was even prettier now than before, wiser, deeper, her eyes so knowing. Yet she thought he had forgotten about her, about all that had happened between them last winter.
As if he could ever forget.
Murder in the Queen's Garden Page 4
