Ladies and gentlemen returned to the floor. Colby offered his hand to me and led me out.
Colby danced well, as trained as any courtier. As we moved in the steps of the pavane, I realized I still knew very little about him. He came from Shropshire, had been married young and was now a widower, as he’d told me, and Robert Dudley counted him a friend. Nothing more.
“At Lord Robert’s wedding, you danced with me,” I reminded him.
“Yes,” Colby said as we turned toward the couple opposite us. “I recall.”
“You seemed to find it tedious.” I put annoyance into my tone.
Colby did not apologize or even appear contrite. “My mind was on other things that evening.”
“Some scheme you were concocting with Lord Robert, no doubt.”
“No doubt,” he said, his amusement returning.
“I saw little of you at court before this,” I remarked once we were relatively alone in the dance again.
A shrug. “I spend much time in the country.”
“In Shropshire?”
“There, and other places,” Colby answered without changing expression.
“You have many lands then?”
Colby bent an exasperated glare on me. “Not really. Why do you wish to know?”
I wanted to know because I was curious about this man no one ever talked of, and of whom I knew almost nothing.
Growing up in Elizabeth’s household, and under the tutelage of Aunt Kat, I could recite the family trees of almost everyone Elizabeth came into contact with. I knew where they lived, what estates they owned, and could pinpoint them almost as well as Elizabeth herself.
Against this knowledge, James Colby was an enigma. It was clear he resented my prying, so I gave him a banal smile and went silent.
Colby continued the pavane with a frown. After the dance finished, he led me back to Elizabeth’s ladies, bowed courteously, and departed without further word.
I watched him stride away, more curious about him than ever.
No one mentioned me speaking with Colby in a corner or even dancing with him, but when I returned with Elizabeth to her chamber later that night, she pinned me with a cold stare.
“I hope I shall not have to search for another seamstress once you marry yourself to a nobody, Eloise.”
Marriage being the furthest thought from my mind, I gaped at her in amazement.
“Do close your mouth,” Elizabeth said in irritation. “It will rust open if you do not.”
I popped my lips together, but I could not let the matter pass. “I have seen too few good examples of marriage that would make me want to pursue that state,” I said vehemently. “Aunt Kat and Uncle John perhaps, but none other.”
“Good.” The word held finality. “I dislike it when my ladies marry and leave me, as though they no longer care for me. Would they all be like my mistress Blanche, who has been with me since my cradle.” Her waspishness faded, and Elizabeth sent me a placating smile. “I have too much affection for you to let you go, Eloise.”
I assured her again she would never lose me to marriage, and the matter was dropped.
Chapter 13
Autumn 1553
Several days later, the agate-hard light reentered Elizabeth’s eyes as she marched through Richmond Palace to have another audience with Mary. As I scuttled along behind her, I wondered if she would express her hot rage to Mary or be coldly offensive with her sister as she had been with Bishop Gardiner.
Mary likewise was in a temper by the time we reached her chamber. She thrust out her hand for Elizabeth to kneel to and kiss then snatched it away, leaving Elizabeth on her knees with no permission to rise.
