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“My lord,” replied the jeweler with a bow.

“Will you not take the belt with you for safe-keeping?” asked Fen, in alarm when he headed for the door.

Oswald turned back to her. “Fenella, you are at court. The very reason you have jewels is to show them off to others.” He waved toward the table. “Try on the necklace. I will be back presently for supper.” He disappeared along with the bowing Antonys and she watched the door shut behind him with dismay.

**

“I got a god-daughter,” said Meldon confrontationally as Fenella sat kneeling on the floor in the bedroom. She had found space in the cupboard next to her side of the bed to keep her new head-wear and was folding her new veils and tidying them away. He stuck out his jaw as if expecting her to argue.

She paused, casting about for a suitable reply. “You have?” she settled on warily.

“Aye. I’m not saying she’s anything special,” he said shaking his head.

Fenella blinked. “I’m sure you’re fond of her,” she said uncertainly. He snorted.

“Was it her mother or her father you are close to?”

He bridled. “Neither!” he snapped. “They’m both dead!”

“I see,” said Fenella, who did not see remotely why he was telling her this. Instead she turned back to her task and started filling up the bottom shelf. She could tell he had not moved away and was still stood watching her. Still, she took her time arranging things to her satisfaction before turning back to him.

He was stood watching her critically. “You shouldn’t be grubbing about on your knees. She could do that for you.”

Light dawned. Meldon wanted to secure a lady’s maid position for his god-daughter. She hoped the girl’s attitude was better than his, but in truth, it could scarcely be any worse.

“Shall I bring her by then?” he asked impatiently.

Fenella rose from her knees to shut the cupboard door and then turned to face him. “Very well,” she said coolly. “But you should be aware Meldon, that I have run my own household for eight years. I have standards I will expect. Has she acted as lady’s maid before?”

He looked taken aback. “She’s been all sorts. Aphrany born and bred,” he prevaricated. “But she’s been working in a cooper’s shop since she took up with that useless lump of a husband of hers.” By the curl of his lip she could tell he did not approve of the fact.

“Well, the fact she’s a city girl could be useful to me,” she conceded. “What is her name?”

“Trudy.”

“Her age?”

“Thirty-five or thereabouts,” said Meldon reluctantly. He scratched his chin.

Hardly a girl then, thought Fenella. “Has she any children?”

“Aye, but they’m apprenticed out now and not suckling babes.”

“By all means, bring her by,” Fenella agreed with a nod. “I would be happy to meet her.”

Meldon shut his mouth tightly and nodded.

“And could you possibly find me some writing ink and parchment?” she asked. “I would like to write a letter to my sister-in-law.”

He stalked off and Fen placed the heavy ruby and emerald necklace and the diamond belt on the bed neatly. She had glanced around but could see no strong-box in the bedroom. Perhaps Lord Vawdrey kept it under the bed or under a loose floorboard. She hardly felt she had the right to go poking around his room in search of it, so instead she placed both the necklace and the belt into an empty drawer and went back to the outer room, taking a seat at the table next to the fire where Bors was dozing. How on earth was one supposed to fill one’s time as a courtier anyway? She couldn’t even walk her dog when she had no decent clothes to wear! And she had not even been to check on her horse since she had left her in the palace stables. Hopefully poor Rowena was being adequately cared for. With a frown, she wondered if she should try and venture out. Her cloak would cover the scarlet robe. But where was her cloak? With a start, she realized she had not seen it since that disastrous meeting in Oswald Vawdrey’s study. It was probably being cleaned along with her dress, she surmised hopefully. They had been quite muddy from the road after all. Her thoughts were interrupted as a tray was set down in front of her with a rattle. On it lay a metal pen with two different nibs, a sheaf of parchment and a bottle of black ink.

“Thank you Meldon,” she said picking up the pen at once and inspecting the state of the nibs. To her relief they were in good order and she would not have to scratch over the page, blotting ink as she went. Immediately she set about composing a missive to Orla which proved most difficult to write and took her the best part of an hour. She scratched her temple and scrunched her nose as she tried to find a delicate way to tell her sister of eight years that far from halting her divorce, she had instead found that she was legally wed to a completely different man! Orla would be scandalized, and who could blame her, thought Fen dolefully. She then apologized for any worry her sister-in-law might have experienced on Bors’ disappearance and assured her he was safely with his mistress at court. Then she wrote out a paragraph with instructions to forward her personal possessions and clothes to her brother’s house and finished with a postscript hoping that Turvey the household steward was well and Langdon the cook. Their relationships with Orla were strained to say the least and Fen wondered how long things would continue amicably there, without her to smooth any ruffled feathers. She thought longingly of Thurrold where everything was familiar and ordered. In truth, she had always loved it far more than Sitchmarsh Hall, her girlhood home. All she could remember of Vawdrey Keep was a tall stone fortress with a draughty great hall and a booming-voiced master. He was gone now of course, and from everything her new husband had told her, she would be free to make it her home without any involvement from him. It was five years since he had even been there by all accounts. What a strange set-up, she reflected as she heard a door open and Roland Vawdrey stomp through wearing a chain mail shirt and hood over his head. He spared her a scornful glance before wrenching open the main door, exiting through it and then slamming it behind him. She sighed, drew another piece of paper across the table and started a letter to her brother Gil, this time assuring him that she was fine and asking him to take care of any of her things that Orla would be sending his way. She didn’t like to have them sent straight to Vawdrey Keep as it seemed presumptuous somehow. Besides, they would be neighbors soon and it would be easy enough to have her possessions fetched over in a cart.

Lord Vawdrey was carrying something when he arrived back at their rooms. “We are attending a banquet tonight,” he announced and dropped a parcel onto one of the chairs.

“But I have nothing to wear,” blurted Fen in alarm.

He gestured toward the parcel. “You can wear this,” he said.