Murder at Whitehall

by Amanda Carmack

  She made her way down the winding stairs and out the gate that led to the queen’s privy stairs, where she usually boarded her own barge and greeted official guests. Elizabeth’s pale-blue–and-silver gown blended into the icy river beyond, the pearls in her hair gleaming like the snowflakes that drifted around them. Robert Dudley stood next to her, also in blue and silver, whispering into her ear as she laughed and pushed him away with the ermine muff on her arm.

  “You sent for me, Your Grace?” Kate said with a curtsy.

  Elizabeth glanced toward her with a smile. “Ah, Kate, there you are. Good. We have a surprise for you.”

  “For me?” Kate said. She looked around, but could see nothing except the stone walls of the palace, the boats slicing past on the river.

  Elizabeth laughed, and pointed her gloved hand upriver. “Just coming into view there.”

  Kate shielded her eyes against the gray glare of the light, and saw one of the queen’s barges sliding into view. It was not the royal barge Elizabeth herself used to navigate the river, but one used to transport her court from palace to palace. It was very fine nonetheless, painted gold and white, with royal green banners snapping in the cold wind. The oars cut through the icy waters with slow, laborious movements; soon they would be too frozen for vessels to pass at all.

  She glimpsed a figure standing in the prow, a tall, stooped man wrapped in a fur-trimmed cloak, leaning on the gilded railing. There was something very familiar about his posture, and Kate caught her breath, hardly daring to hope.

  As the barge came closer, sliding toward the moorings of the privy steps, Kate saw that it truly was her father who stood there. She cried out with a surge of happiness, and completely forgot the dignity of palace etiquette to jump up and wave at him.

  Matthew Haywood waved back, and as soon as the barge docked he hurried up the steps as quickly as his walking stick would let him. Kate ran to throw her arms around him, to hold him close enough that she knew he was really there.

  “My Kate,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek with his cold lips. He still smelled of parchment and ink, of dusty, fire-warmed rooms, and a hint of cinnamon from his favorite cider drink, just as she always remembered from when she was a child and he would tuck her in as she begged for one more song.

  Yet when she drew back to look up at him, she saw that he was not quite the same man he had been when she last saw him in the autumn. He was paler, his face more heavily lined beneath the edge of his velvet cap, his eyes shadowed. She knew she had to take care of him now, as he once did her.

  “Oh, Father,” she said, going up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek in turn. “How wonderful it is to see you! I didn’t think you would be here for days yet.”

  “Her Grace sent her own barge for us, as you see, and insisted we had to be here to celebrate a royal Christmas,” Matthew answered.

  Kate glanced back at Elizabeth. The queen laughed and clapped her hands, her dark eyes shining, as she did always love surprises, both ones given to her and ones she bestowed on her favorites. “I need all my best musicians around me at this time of year, especially with so many foreign ambassadors who must be impressed with the glories of the English court. There is not a moment to be lost.”

  “And I longed to see my dearest girl again,” Matthew said. He laid his gloved hand gently to Kate’s cheek, and to her surprise she found he trembled. She looked up into his eyes, the same grayish blue as her own, and thought she saw the shimmer of a tear. “You have become such a grand, elegant lady here at court, my Kate. Just like your mother.”

  Before Kate could answer, three other passengers came down the barge steps behind Matthew, an older couple and a gentleman in a brown woolen cloak. Kate had not seen them since she was a child, but she remembered them right away, and the sight of them brought back all her old memories of hiding under tables to hear them playing music late into the night.

  “Kate, do you remember Edward and Hester Park? And Gerald Finsley? They were in Queen Catherine’s household with us. You have not seen them since you were about ten years old,” Matthew said. Mistress Park, who had been golden blond then, now had whorls of luxuriant white hair beneath the hood of her cloak, and Kate recalled her exquisite voice. Her husband was still much shorter than she, with a merry smile, and Master Finsley still sported a luxuriant salt-and-pepper mustache. His eyes were pale gray, taking in everything around him with quick, darting glances.

  Master Finsley and the Parks came hurrying over to make their bows to the queen, and to kiss Kate’s cheek.

  “Your father was quite right, my dear,” Mistress Park said, her voice still resonating like a golden bell. “You have become most elegant indeed. Why, I remember when you would steal comfits from my sweet bowl! But you were too adorable for anyone ever to be angry with you.”

  “And too talented with your lute,” Master Finsley added. His eyes, bright blue under bushy silver brows, sparkled with laughter she well remembered. But he had been quick to lose his temper then, too, as she recalled. Quiet and rather puritanical, except when he played his music. “We knew you would go far with your lute.”

  “I do remember Christmases when I was a girl and you all served my dear stepmother,” Elizabeth said. “How Queen Catherine loved this time of year! I never remember it being so merry before her. I hope we can re-create something of those days this year.”

  Master Finsley bowed, and held up a rolled leather case. “We have brought many of those old songs with us, Your Grace, just as you asked. We also love to talk of those days with Queen Catherine.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” Elizabeth said. “Now I must go. I am to meet with the Swedish ambassador. But I hope you will all dine with me this evening, so we may talk more about the old days.”

  “We would be honored, Your Grace,” Matthew said. He tried to bow again, but Elizabeth stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm and a smile. She swept back into the palace, leaving the rest of them to follow.

  Kate took her father’s arm with one hand and Master Finsley’s with the other. She felt a sudden wave of contentment wash over her, with her father and their old friends nearby. She had not quite realized how very alone she sometimes felt until that feeling was gone. There would be glorious music now! “Come, let us find a fire where we can sit and talk. I have missed you all so very much!”

  “As we have missed you,” Mistress Park said. She and her husband followed as Kate led them into the warmth and noise of the palace. “We would never have expected such a very gracious welcome to court, by the queen herself! I am most overcome.”

  Her husband patted her arm with a fond smile. “We have certainly lived very quietly in retirement these last few years, Kate, at a cottage our patron Lord Melville gave us. It is a comfortable life, but not a grand one, and only ourselves to make music for. I know Hester has missed some of the glitter and fashion.”

  “I don’t miss it so very much—not certain parts of it, anyway,” Mistress Park protested. She turned her head to watch as the Duchess of Stratfield hurried past in a pearl-embroidered scarlet gown, followed by her pet monkey in a matching jacket. “But I admit I have missed the clothes. How very wide skirts have become of late! And tell me, Kate, do all ladies keep monkeys?”

  Kate found that the chamber where Senor Gomez had played his vihuela was now empty, and she hurried to find cushioned stools and chairs for her father and his friends. “What of you, Master Finsley? Have you missed court life?”

  Gerald Finsley gave her a smile, and in it she could see a glimpse of his sister, who had been her godmother. A sweetness, combined with courtly wariness. His eyes were bracketed with deep lines, as if he had spent much time outdoors of late, and she wondered where he had been since leaving Queen Catherine’s employ. “I like my quiet life, Kate, but I have missed the company certainly. There is a certain satisfaction to knowing one is part of something so important, is there not? I am
sure you have found it so. I did during our days with Queen Catherine. She was a great lady indeed, and commanded the loyalty of even the lowliest of her servants. There was a nursemaid who insisted on staying with her since her days as Lady Latimer, I remember. I am sure the new queen commands just such loyalty.”

  Kate nodded warily. “I enjoy serving the queen. She is what is important here.”

  “Of course,” Gerald said with another smile. “She has certainly always thought it thus—even when she was merely the Lady Elizabeth. Things change so quickly at court, do they not?”

  “I prefer the country now,” Mistress Park said, not entirely convincingly. “A person always knows where they stand there.”

  “And sometimes they must stand far too long,” Matthew said with a low groan. He leaned heavily on his walking stick, and Kate took his arm with a start of guilt.

  “Let me show you to your chamber, Father,” Kate said. “The queen made sure you have a nice, warm spot with a large fire.”

  “That was most kind of Her Grace. I well know how space is more precious than gold at court this time of year,” Matthew said. He leaned on her arm and let her help him make his way along the corridor. It had grown quieter, as everyone went to change into their finery for supper and dancing. The light from the windows had turned to slate gray, ice creeping to coat the glass. “You are certainly doing well here, my Kate.”

  Kate laughed. “Thanks to you. The queen enjoys Haywood music.”

  “Nay, not on my account. You have built a life here for yourself, my dearest. I am so very proud of you, and your mother would be as well. You have come to resemble her so much.”

  Kate swallowed hard at the sudden press of tears in her throat. She was glad that they had reached the chamber Elizabeth said she was setting aside for Matthew, glad of the distraction of settling him in, as a page led the Parks and Master Finsley to their lodgings nearby. Thoughts of her mother, especially at Christmas, made her feel too wistful. She pulled a cushioned cross-backed chair close to the fireplace, and made sure her father’s lute case and the boxes of his music were away from the chilly windows. “Would she truly?”

  “Of course.” Matthew sighed as she stretched his swollen legs to the fire. “You do have so much of Eleanor in you. She was of such a sweet nature, willing to do anything for those she loved. But there was a core of steel in her, as well.”

  Kate thought of the things her friend the elderly Lady Gertrude Howard, had told her, finally the truth about her Boleyn heritage. She’d spoken of Eleanor’s musical talents, her beautiful dark eyes and lustrous dark hair—Boleyn hair. But of the Boleyn temper, Eleanor had none. Kate feared sometimes she had more of her aunt Anne Boleyn’s vinegar in her than her own mother’s sweetness.

  She sat down on the stool next to her father’s chair. “Do you think of her very much, Father?”

  “All the time. Especially at this time of year. How she loved Christmas! The dancing, the laughter. Long evenings singing and telling stories by the fire. This season has me thinking much of days past.”

  “And seeing your old friends again?”

  “Aye. Tis good to see Gerald and the Parks again, and talk of life in Queen Catherine’s household. Those were heady days indeed.”

  “The queen has been speaking much of Queen Catherine lately, as well.”

  “Has she?”

  “Indeed. She says Queen Catherine also loved Christmas, that it was the first time she could recall being part of a true family.”

  “It is truly the season for families—of all sorts.” Matthew frowned into the fire. “I do sometimes regret I did not marry again and give you siblings. Mistress Park used to try to play matchmaker for me with her lady friends at court, and for Gerald. I think she might want to try it again, even now that we are old and gray and set in our lonely ways.”

  “Father, no!” Kate cried. He had never said such a thing to her, of wanting more children. “I could never have been happier than I have with our little family—unless we still had my mother, of course. But if you have been lonely . . .”

  “Never! You made me so happy, and I’ve had my music, and memories of Eleanor. But I have been alone for a long while, my dearest, and seen much. That doesn’t come entirely without regret.”

  Kate thought of their life, of moving from palace to palace, years of sparkle and royal palaces, but also years of uncertainty and danger. “What are your regrets, Father?”

  Matthew gave her a small smile and patted her hand. “Would you hand me that small box there, Kate?”

  She hurried to fetch the small chest that sat with her father’s trunk and lute case. It was surprisingly light, but inlaid with fine mother-of-pearl work and set with a lock.

  “I have long wanted to show this to you,” he said as he unlocked it. It was filled with papers, and as he sorted through them, Kate saw that most of them were musical notes. “And now that I am growing older, I know I must do it now.”

  “What is it, Father?” Kate said, curious. “A secret?”

  “Aye, it seems so. But not mine.”

  Kate was most puzzled. Aside from the truth of her mother’s parentage, she thought her father had never kept anything from her. “I do not understand.”

  Matthew took out a scroll in leather wrappings, much like the one Gerald Finsley had carried from the barge, and unfurled it to hand it to Kate. It was also a musical score, the ink faded and the parchment slightly yellowed, and as she glanced over it she saw the lyrics were from one of Queen Catherine Parr’s own published writings, The Lamentation of a Sinner. The music seemed to be slow and stately, as such solemn and contemplative words deserved.

  “Did you write this, Father?” Kate asked, but she could see it was not his handwriting.

  “I did not. Queen Catherine gave it into my safekeeping on a terrible night, long ago when you were just a child, and she never took it back. I have kept it safe since then, as she asked me to.” He quickly told her a strange, nightmarish tale, of a queen in danger of her life from her own husband, of powerful men arrayed against her, and only her wits to defend her. Of a piece of music pressed into Matthew’s hands, on a long, dark night, that only slowly faded into day.

  “Oh, my Kate,” Matthew said wearily, rubbing his hand over his bearded jaw as he stared into the fire. “I am glad those days are over. Queen Catherine was a grand lady, and I am proud to have served her. But I do grow tired now. I am relieved to give this into your hands. Look at it, see what you think.”

  But what did it mean? Kate studied the music closer, but she could decipher nothing in those faded notes. She could almost fancy she smelled a whiff of Queen Catherine’s rosewater perfume on the paper, but surely that could not be, it was so old. But in the curls and lines of the music she fancied she could see the mark of the late queen and see the lady sitting up into the deepest night, scribbling her song in haste by candlelight as she tried to save her life and those of her family and allies. Kate thought of her studies of Plato’s musical codes, and longed to compare the ideas to this newer piece of work.

  She glanced up and saw that her father had dozed off by his fire. She quickly tucked the music back into its hiding place, and wrapped a blanket over his legs. There would be time for more questions, more remembrances of the past, later. The queen had bade them to supper.

  * * *

  The small room just beyond the queen’s bedchamber, where Elizabeth took many of her meals in private when there was no grand banquet to attend, was laid out with platters of venison and sliced beef complemented by honeyed vegetables and dressed salads, steaming at the far end of the table along with pitchers of spiced wine. To Kate’s surprise, that was where she was led by Mistress Ashley when the queen summoned her for supper before the night’s revelry began. The table, covered with a fine white damask cloth embroidered with Tudor roses and six places, was yet empty.

  “Ar
e you quite sure this is where Her Grace wants me, Mistress Ashley?” she asked.

  Mistress Ashley gave a puzzled frown, as if she actually wasn’t quite sure, but she nodded. “The queen asked if you would have a small meal with her before playing for the dancing. Your father and his friends have been summoned as well.”

  Kate nodded, stunned by this show of favor.

  “Well, I have much work to do, and have not the time to be standing around here,” Mistress Ashley said briskly.

  “I will wait for the queen, then. Thank you, Mistress Ashley,” Kate answered with a little curtsy.

  As the Mistress of the Robes hurried away, Kate suddenly found herself somewhere she had seldom been before—alone in one of the queen’s private chambers. She scarcely knew what to do.

  She turned in a slow circle, taking in the small space. It was shaped in an octagon, with one window along one of the sides, intimate but lavish in its appointments, as all the queen’s rooms were. Instead of rushes, a carpet lay over the floor; silver oil holders in the corner scented the air with lavender; and portraits of the queen’s parents and Queen Catherine Parr watched from the shadowed walls.

  Kate had been in there before, of course—the queen liked music even when she dined alone. But now the perfect silence was striking. Royal palaces were always anything but silent. There were always people crowded around, gossiping, laughing, whispering, always dogs barking, servants hurrying past on errands. It was often only very late at night, alone in her own small chamber, that Kate could quiet her mind enough to work on her own music.

  The quiet in the queen’s private dining chamber, when no one else was there to rattle the serving platters and wine goblets, to whisper with the queen, was astonishing. Sound seemed swallowed up by the rich green velvet hangings and the carved paneling.