Page 123

Mathilde, whose mind was clearly elsewhere, gave a small start. “Cards?” she repeated blankly.

Suddenly it occurred to Fen that, with her friends extremely sheltered upbringing she might not be permitted to play. “Oh! Of course, if you would rather not-”

“No, no, I would love to,” Mathilde hastened to assure her. “And Nurse is not collecting me until one o’clock, so no-one need know.”

Fen bit her lip. “I would not wish to put you in any moral quandary-” she started.

Mathilde reached across and touched her hand. “It won’t.”

She smiled at her, but to Fen’s mind she did look like she had something on her mind.

“Fenella,” she started hesitantly. Here it comes, thought Fenella. But to her surprise her friend was drawing something out of her alms purse. “I hope you will accept this small token as a Solstice gift. It is only a trifle and I promise you, it is mine to bestow.”

“Oh!” said Fen, looking down at the small carved trinket box. “Why, it’s beautiful Mathilde! And I have bought something for you also, but I thought to give it to you on Solstice Eve.”

Mathilde flushed slightly. “I think I might – that is, Mother often takes us into the country for the midwinter festival.”

“Then I must give you mine this morning when we return to the living quarters,” Fen told her. “Do you think your nurse will permit you to call at my chambers for it?”

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” said Mathilde. “And perhaps, I might have another hold of Lady Linnet’s baby.”

Fen laughed. “He would be very pleased to see you again, I’m sure. You are quite the favorite.” She opened and closed her trinket box, then clasped it to her chest. “How thoughtful you are. I love it.”

Mathilde flushed. “I think we must endeavor to complete this design today,” she said looking down at their design for the flower panel. “Or it will not be completed at all.”

Fen looked at her in surprise.

“I mean,” Mathilde corrected herself hastily. “In time for the new year.”

“Oh, I see,” said Fen. “Yes, we do need to get a move on, or ours will not be done in time to join the others.”

They bent their heads over the paper until Signor Arnotti signaled his displeasure and Fen had to sit up straighter, and peer down her nose to see it.

“What say you to some marigolds, entwined with the cowslips?” suggested Fen, as Mathilde added finer detail to their preliminary sketches.

“I think that would look very pretty,” her friend agreed. “I did show you my technique, did I not for building up the petals?” she looked slightly anxious as she peered up at Fen. “You see, I have made a note in the border, when to use that particular stitch?”

“Yes,” Fen assured her. “You did.” To her surprise, she noticed Mathilde was making meticulous notes with directions for every stitch to use. Maybe her friend always did her designs this way? It was certainly very thorough. “I thought we could entwine our initials at the bottom corner,” suggested Fen. “Or maybe use a floral device to suggest our names, using the language of flowers.”

A funny look passed over Mathilde’s face. “I think that’s a lovely idea,” she said in a muffled voice. “But perhaps we could decide that later.”

“Yes, whatever you think is best,” said Fen, but it did seem a bit odd not to note that down when she was being so precise about everything else.

“Stop screwing up the face!” barked signor Arnotti, emerging purple-faced from behind his canvas. “This is not to be borne!”

Fen gave him an irritated look. “I would have thought you’d have finished my face by now, signor!”

“It is the light diffusion on your face that occupies me,” he spat out. “Not your features.”

Fen sighed and tried to relax her facial muscles.

“Are you going to watch the dancing in the Yellow Chamber this afternoon?” Fen asked. “I believe Eden is dancing and the Queen will be in attendance.”

“Oh!” said Mathilde. “No, for I have a small, troubling cough today,” she coughed delicately on cue. “And will not be able to stand around and watch the performance this afternoon. My mother will be there,” she added as an afterthought.

Fen did not receive this news with any enthusiasm. “That’s a shame,” she said. “About your cough,” she added, quickly hoping her friend did not perceive an insult to her mother. “I doubt very much Hester will be going, as she avoids such gatherings like the plague.” She sighed. “It is hard when you are faced with a roomful of strangers.”

“I have heard that Lady Bess Hartleby is going,” Mathilde told her, which perked Fen up. At least she would have someone friendly to stand with, even if Bess had been acting quite oddly lately. “Her uncle Sir Reginald Hartleby is lately engaged to one of the Queen’s ladies, Lady Constance Pryor.”