“And?”
“Uncle John, of course.”
“And?”
I swallowed. “Her Grace Elizabeth.”
Aunt Kat nodded, satisfied, and plied me with no more ands. “Keep your thoughts to yourself and your mouth closed,” she said. “Close your eyes as well, if need be.”
I deflated, something inside me curling into a small, tight ball. “I understand nothing of this.”
Aunt Kat resumed her book. “I suppose your lack of astuteness comes of your mother marrying low. I’d at first expected you to grow up to be a bearer of false tales, like your actor father. Instead, God has gifted you with a straightforward tongue and shining honesty. Unfortunately, these gifts are not always useful in the world of the court.”
“You would rather I learned to lie?” I asked in amazement.
Aunt Kat patted my cheek. “Of course not, dear. But I would like you to discover the meaning of the word discretion and apply it well.”
“Discretion,” I repeated.
“Yes, dear.” My aunt returned to her reading while I struggled to comprehend.
“Are you saying that the occurrence today was political?” I asked.
“I am saying nothing, you silly girl. I already know how to apply discretion.”
I stared at her. “But Queen Catherine is married to Lord Sudeley.”
“Yes, Eloise, I know that,” Aunt Kat said patiently. “But my first loyalty is to Elizabeth. What is best for her is best for me, and for you.”
I closed my gaping mouth, my jaw aching. “Perhaps you ought to send me home to Grandmama.”
I winced as I suggested this, because I had no desire to come under control of that sharp-tongued lady. She was a bit kinder to me than she was to my mother, but her bluntness could be unsettling.
Aunt Kat patted my cheek once more. “Nonsense, dear. I want you here with me. I’d miss you terribly.”
“Would you?” I asked in genuine surprise.
Aunt Kat was an affectionate woman, but she’d never once told me she was pleased to have me about. I’d thought of myself as rather a nuisance, except when there were gowns to be made.
“Indeed.” Aunt Kat quieted. “I need you, Eloise. Be my eyes and ears. I want to know every word Lord Sudeley speaks to our Elizabeth in my absence. Every word. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Aunt Kat,” I said meekly.
“Good girl. Now off to bed with you.”
I kissed Aunt Kat and departed her chamber for my own chilled room, where I sat up far into the night.
I’d gone to Aunt Kat supposing she would listen to my tale, grow horrified, and insist that Elizabeth, with herself, me, and Uncle John, leave the house immediately. Instead, she’d behaved as though the event between myself and Seymour in the passage had been simply bothersome. An unlooked-for incident to be suppressed at all costs.
You are slow, Eloise, Aunt Kat had been saying. You comprehend neither Greek nor Latin nor the subtleties of the court.
I wondered, as I blew out the candle, into what troubles those subtleties were rushing us.
In the morning, I was a wary creature. I performed the same rituals as I did every day—washing my face, brushing my unruly dark hair, cleaning the grime from under my fingernails. I rinsed my mouth, chewing a bit of anise to make my breath pleasant, then turned to the breakfast a maidservant had delivered to the outer chamber.
I ate bread smeared with thick, sweet butter and took a few bites of the porridge that Aunt Kat had regularly forced upon me since the age of four.
After I’d eaten, the maid helped me don a dark blue undergown, lacing my bodice in the back. Over this went a robe of plain brown, the sleeves the maid helped me fasten on pinned back to reveal the white linen of my chemise. The pointed edge of my stomacher was tied to a skirt that flared from tucks that I had taken pains to make exactly even. The maid adjusted what we called a French hood, which was a wide band that pushed my hair from my forehead, with a fine cloth to cover its length in back.
