Page 125

“That would be lovely.”

Mathilde squeezed Fen’s hands tightly. “Don’t forget,” she said cryptically.

“Forget?”

“To think of a text about female friendship,” said Mathilde with a tight smile. But strangely, Fenella did not think that was what she had meant.

She paused, but Mathilde had already let go of her hands.

“Until Friday,” Fen called after her, as she was whisked away by her tutting nurse. Mouse looked at her over her shoulder and gave her a wobbly smile.

Fen had no idea why she felt so unsettled by the whole encounter, but there was no mistaking the fact, she was rattled. She returned to change for the dance performance and don a little jewelry as befitted a royal function. Trudy helped fasten her diamond girdle around her hips, and she changed her head veil for one of the very finest gauzy ones she owned.

“Thank you Trudy,” she said delving into a drawer to find the veil she had bought for Mathilde in the marketplace, decorated with finely-stitched red breasted robins around the edges. When she found it, she carefully folded it and tied a ribbon about it, before hurrying out to find Cuthbert. “Would you be so kind as to deliver this to Lady Martindale?” Cuthbert accepted it curiously. “It’s her Solstice gift,” she explained. “You probably won’t be admitted as she has come down with a cold, but if you could give it to her nurse, I would be very grateful. She resides in Lady Doverdale’s suite of rooms.” He nodded, and Fen noticed he did not seem half as chatty today. “Is all well with you, Cuthbert?” she asked hesitantly.

He shrugged, “Roland doesn’t want a squire,” he said moodily. “Apparently he’s never had one. He refuses to.”

“Oh that’s really too bad!” exclaimed Fen. “I wonder why not?”

“He wouldn’t let me read his palm, so I don’t know,” said Cuthbert with a scowl.

“He really ought to step up and take some responsibility at his age,” said Fen. “How about if I speak to my husband?”

“Will he make him?” asked Cuthbert, with sudden enthusiasm.

“Well, he is the head of the family,” Fen reminded him. “Though I fancy he will be more subtle in his methods. He usually gets what he wants. And if I ask him for something, he generally lets me have it.”

“But…” Cuthbert hesitated. “Aren’t you in disgrace?” he asked simply.

Fen started. “What? Oh...” she remembered being dragged from the dinner table the night before and blushed. “N-no,” she said with embarrassment. “That is all quite forgotten now!”

Cuthbert nodded sagely. “That’s what my lord Cadwallader said.”

“What’s that?” asked Fen wondering what on earth Mason could have to say about the state of her marriage.

“When we was sat round eating salted herrings this morning, your maid brought out your dress and it was all ripped,” said Cuthbert. “And my lord said ‘There’s hope for their marriage yet’.”

Fen stared at Cuthbert in mingled horror and annoyance. “Yes, well,” she said weakly, as words failed her.

“But you’ll ask Lord Vawdrey?” Cuthbert fastened his blue eyes on her hopefully.

“Yes, I will,” she assured him. “By the way Cuthbert,” she asked on impulse just before he disappeared out of the door. “In a game of Livelihoods, what trumps a cleric?”

“A priest do ye mean?” he replied scratching his head.

She nodded, guessing he must play a regional version.

“A strumpet,” he supplied promptly, and shut the door behind him.

Ahah! She had thought as much!

**

Fen hurried down to the Yellow Chamber, and had a stroke of good luck when she saw her friend Bess making her way unhurriedly down the corridor. “Bess!” she called. “Wait for me!” She hurried up to her and they exchanged greetings. “I understand you are going to this dance performance with the Queen now?”

“Yes,” admitted Bess glumly. “Though not by choice I assure you!” She glowered. “Uncles are the very devil, don’t you know. I’ve got a new hawk to train and nigh on a dozen more useful things to do than gawk at a load of nubile females.”

“Yes, I had heard that your uncle is lately betrothed to one of the Queen’s ladies.”