Elizabeth’s mouth trembled, but I saw a gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Master Parry is a prodigious gossip,” she said abruptly. “Are you fond of gossip, Eloise?”
“Me? No, never, Your Grace.” I spoke with all sincerity.
“Liar.” Elizabeth laughed, the note shrill. “What a liar you are, my seamstress. I am surrounded by liars.”
I had no idea what she meant by this and did not reply. Elizabeth then growled with impatience at the fitting, so the maid and I unpinned the gown and laid it aside for another time.
Later that evening I came upon Master Parry closeted with my aunt in her chamber. Chatter, chatter, chatter—they nattered away about my Lady Elizabeth and Seymour, gossiping and speculating as though they had every right to arrange the lives of two important people of the realm.
I liked Aunt Kat’s chamber, small and cozy, lit with fragrant candles and warmed by a fire. Because Aunt Kat was a favorite of Elizabeth, she had candles made of true wax, a fire built high, cushions for her benches and stools, and a bed as plump as she was around the middle.
I remembered how, when I’d first joined Aunt Kat, the ladies and gentlemen of this household had ordered sumptuous meals to be served to the little princess in order that they could feast themselves. A small child could eat only a little of the spread, and the ladies and gentlemen had enjoyed themselves heartily on the remains.
Aunt Kat put a halt to that, much to the annoyance of the spoiled courtiers. Once Elizabeth had been restored into the succession, we all dined well and slept in comfort, lucky in our positions. A far better life, I always reminded myself, than I would have living with my mother and Sir Philip Baldwin, her priggish husband, who pretended I did not exist.
As a child, I’d amused myself drawing pictures on scraps of discarded paper of my stepfather and then sticking him with my scissors. Then I would hastily burn the papers, afraid anyone finding them would think me practicing witchcraft.
As far as I knew, however, my Sir Philip never took harm from it. Now, I simply pretended he did not exist in return.
Neither my aunt nor Parry ceased their blathering as I seated myself at Aunt Kat’s table and helped myself to a thick slice of bread. Using this as a truncheon, I heaped warm meat and sauce across it. A watchful servant brought me a goblet and poured out a large measure of hock.
All the while Parry and Aunt Kat moved their mouths in talk. So intent on each other they were that they never noticed me eating my meal at the other end of the table. Which was to my advantage, I decided, as I snatched the last sweetmeat from a tray and quickly stuffed it in my mouth before either of them saw me.
“What think you of all that, Mistress Ashley?” Parry was saying in satisfaction.
They’d kept their voices muted, but now I pricked my ears, though I kept my head down over my food.
“I’ve known of his wishes all along.” Aunt Kat sniffed. “No reason she should not have the Lord Admiral to husband.”
I remembered Uncle John’s warning, the fear in his words. “Aunt Kat,” I ventured.
Aunt Kat took as much heed of me as though I were a buzzing fly—less, because a fly she would swat.
“You’ve known no such thing.” Parry laughed, confident that he possessed better gossip than Aunt Kat.
“Indeed, I do.” My aunt leaned toward him. “The Lord Admiral was always taken with our lady, and why should he not be? A lovely girl is Elizabeth, so poised and regal. The perfect lady, not like others in her family I could mention, though they be close to her.”
I stopped eating, overwhelmed by unease. Aunt Kat did not go so far as to name Princess Mary, who was small-statured and sullen, but I knew this was who she meant. This was exactly the sort of talk Uncle John did not wish his wife to indulge in.
Parry rolled his goblet between his palms. “We have ever been friends, have we not, Mistress Ashley?”
“Of course, Master Parry,” Aunt Kat returned with warmth.
This surprised me a bit, because these two had quarreled plenty in the past, as Parry had dipped his fingers into Elizabeth’s money from time to time. We all knew it—even Elizabeth did—but Aunt Kat and I had to look the other way about it. Only Elizabeth could dismiss Master Parry, and so far, she’d shown no inclination to do so.
“Then you will tell me all, will you not?” Parry asked. “As we both have our lady’s best interests at heart, and you know so much about it.”
Aunt Kat loved to be praised. While an intelligent woman, she had a weakness for flattery.
She sent Parry a delighted smile, then to my horror proceeded to relate the entire story of Elizabeth’s encounters with Seymour at Chelsea. Every morning romp, the cut-up dress, Seymour’s visit to Elizabeth’s chamber in his nightshirt, and Catherine’s tacit condoning of his seduction until she could shut her eyes to it no more.
Thomas Parry lapped it up like a dog with a dish of scraps. He and Aunt Kat leaned closer and closer until their noses nearly touched, their sleeves in danger of ruin by cooling stew.
“I grant you,” Aunt Kat went on. “Even if the Lord Protector does not like the match between our Lady Elizabeth and the Lord Admiral, when the king is of age, he will certainly smile upon it.”
I could contain myself no more. “But surely the Lord Admiral is too old, Aunt Kat.” I used the argument I’d tried with her before. By the time King Edward reached his majority, Seymour would be well along in his forties.
Aunt Kat sent me an irritated glare. “He is of an age with me, Miss Impertinence, and none too old for our lady. What young woman does not want to marry a man of wise years? And for all his great age, as you term it, Seymour is strong and finely shaped. I saw this when he went bare-legged into my lady’s chamber.” She tittered. “No quarrel there, I imagine.”
