Maid of Deception (28 page)

“On second thought, you may tell me now, Beatrice,” the
Queen declared, her words overloud in the small space. “Since you seem to feel your news is so urgent, pray tell enlighten us all!”

“Your Grace?” I barely managed as hot blood rushed to my cheeks at her unexpected attack. She well knew that my words were for her ears alone, but now the whole of her inner circle was eyeing me with malicious amusement and no small amount of curiosity, wondering what I would say next.

“Speak, girl, speak!” the Queen demanded. She leaned back in her chair, the symbol of the intolerant despot. “What is it you have learned that is of such interest to the Crown?”

My mind was scrambling for purchase, but every idea I came up with I rejected just as quickly. The Queen was wholly aware that I was going to share with her privileged information, even if she did not suspect my sources. She knew this was information I could not report to all and sundry.

Yet still she was mocking me, daring me to come up with some credible tidbit to feed the voracious vultures that now pressed close around her. She was asking me to tell them something new. She understood my role within this court, and how much I set store by secrets. She wanted me to reveal one of them now, just to get myself out of a scrape.

But I had nothing. Anything I’d learned at Marion Hall was either too sensitive to share or not interesting enough. None of it would do.

I was being made to look the fool, on a stage made excruciatingly more public by the fact that it was so small. This was a tidbit of gossip that the courtiers would relish spreading. This was a moment to laugh about behind opened fans as
I was tracked with amusement through the halls of Windsor Castle. Instantly I saw the web of whispers cast out over the court, and the sheer panic at the disaster that would follow jolted me into action.

I straightened, looking at the Queen with resigned disappointment. “Very well, Your Grace. I had hoped to keep it a secret from the court for a bit longer, but I have learned that a highly secretive and astounding new play is being written in your honor, by the players of the Golden Rose. They so enjoyed honoring you at your birthday that they began at once on a play to be staged as part of the Samhain festival at October’s end.”

The Queen narrowed her eyes at me. If she found Master James and interrogated him, I hoped he would have the good sense to play along. “And why was this play so important that you must interrupt my leisure and inform me tonight?”

“Well, I . . .” I slid my gaze out to the court. “I sincerely beg of you not to share this—”

“What? What is it?” The Queen straightened in her throne, the first indication that even she was beginning to believe my deception.

I clasped my hands together beseechingly. “For this production to work I must enjoin you all to absolute secrecy.”

The entire crowd was leaning into the space surrounding the Queen now, curiosity lacing their breaths like sour ale.

“The play is being quite cunningly written to reveal a particular secret of each of its players. And the actors in this entertainment—if you dare!—shall be chosen from the Queen’s court itself!”

I was now being completely preposterous, and for a moment you could have heard a scuttling mouse in the room, so silent and shocked were the courtiers. Then at once there was a great cry and clamor as each member of the group sought to support or dispute or seek enlightenment, depending without question on how intent they were on keeping their secrets . . . well, secret.

Elizabeth, not being a fool, watched their reactions with unmasked interest, and then her eyes found mine. She knew I’d tricked them all—even she had faltered at the end. And she approved. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to make my life a living—

“I heartily approve!” she cried out, and that drove the courtiers’ reactions to an even higher pitch. “Let the play be enacted at the festival of Samhain!”

A cheer rang out then, punctuated only by Cecil and Walsingham striding into the room, their faces a comical mask of confusion and forced jollity.

“Your Grace!” Walsingham intoned, and the man so rarely spoke that everyone quieted immediately and turned, their eyes bright with what this new entertainment might provide. “We present you a final . . . distraction for your evening.” He gave a flourished bow, then gestured to the Great Hall. “Your people await you in the Presence Chamber.”

“What now is this?” Elizabeth asked. She stood, and her hands went to her hair as her closest ladies-in-waiting fluttered around her, smoothing her from gown to crown. But her expression betrayed her delight. “What have you planned, Walsingham?”

Cecil had commandeered the musicians and was already ushering them out of the room, while Walsingham smiled indulgently as the Queen made her way through the parting, whispering crowd. “Your people have missed you, my Queen, with your recent progress. They wish only to see you again.”

With that, a lyrical cascade of music sounded from the Presence Chamber, and Walsingham produced a taper from his doublet and lit it in the nearest sconce. “Pray that you bring light to them all?” he asked, and he handed her the taper.

She frowned at him, but I could tell she was intrigued. My heart was finally getting back to normal after my own series of lies, and the information about the Lords of the Congregation still burned inside me. But the Queen sailed away from me into the Presence Chamber, and four courtiers immediately greeted her, their tapers raised high. Obligingly she lit each of their candles with her own, and they turned in a rustle of capes. The Queen gasped at what happened next, and from my vantage point still atop her dais in the Privy Chamber, I marveled at it too.

Walsingham and Cecil were geniuses.

Within a few short minutes the entire Presence Chamber was filled with winking, blinking lights, each held by a courtier or lady that the advisors seemed to have produced out of thin air, in clothing fine enough to pass for ballroom attire. The music struck up, and a tall, well-dressed man—had to be Dudley, which just showed you how desperate they were to distract the Queen, that they’d enlist the help of a man they detested—escorted Elizabeth to the center of the floor. They
began to dance, looking for all the world like a fairy Queen and her suitor. Even I was enchanted, and I had the least reason to be.

I moved into the Presence Chamber as servants began to fan out through the crowd, replacing tapers with cups of ale or wine. The sconces around the hall were all lit, and the great fireplace was ablaze at the corner of the room, but without the large candelabra lit high above us, the room retained a romantic, warm glow.

I caught sight of Meg, who gestured to me urgently. With one last furious glance at Walsingham, who returned my scowl with a smug smile of his own, I moved over to Meg, unsurprised to see her standing with Jane, Sophia, and Anna.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s another blasted dance, not a full day after we’ve arrived back in this godforsaken hulk of rock,” muttered Jane as she stood atop a short bench, giving her already impressive height the added advantage to see over the crowd. “That’s what it is.”

“Cecil and Walsingham must have known you wanted a private audience with the Queen, and came up with this to distract her for a few more hours, at least.” Anna arched her brows. “But with a dance come dancers. And in the rush of rousting attendees to join in this ‘special surprise’ for the Queen, our favorite advisors gathered up both Brighton and Lady Ariane. If we have any luck at all—”

“We do,” Jane said from her perch. “They are standing quite close together at the west wall, looking like they know they should separate but are not quite able to do so.”

“Indeed.” I tilted my head and surveyed the gathered assembly. If I couldn’t get to the Queen immediately, at least I could do this while I waited. “I rather think it’s time for the dancing to begin, then, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps a Branle leading into a Gavotte?”

“A Gavotte!” Anna’s eyes were bright. “But not everyone might know that dance as yet. It’s only just come up from France, and there’s the—there’s the— Oh.” Even in the warm light of candles, I could see her blush. She’d just remembered the precise dance step required at the end of the Gavotte—one that would serve our needs ably, as it happened.

Meg frowned at Anna, then at me. “The Gavotte?” she asked, deadpan. “Please tell me I do not need to learn another dance.”

“You would like it, Meg. It would allow you to divest your partner of every piece of coin he carries.”

“What is this of Meg and dancing?” The rich Spanish baritone of Rafe Luis Medina flowed over us, and Meg turned a bit too quickly for propriety, but not so much for sin. Rafe bowed to her elegantly. “I should be honored to escort you, sweet Meg.”

“And I shall be honored to step on your feet,” Meg answered, but she beamed nevertheless, and I felt an odd pang in my chest as the music shifted and flowed around us. Had I ever looked like that with Lord Cavanaugh? Open, and happy, and brimming with love?

I put that thought right out of my head as Meg put her hands out to Rafe. “Do you know the Branle and the Gavotte?”

Rafe quirked a brow as he bowed over Meg’s fingers. “I do indeed, but I suspect not all of the worthy courtiers here this night will fare so well.”

“It’s dark,” I replied. “They’ll manage. Jane, can you let the musicians know? They never turn you down.”

Jane’s smile was inscrutable as she stepped off her bench. “They learned quickly.”

“Meg, Anna, and yes, even you, Sophia—you need to get dancers. Make it seem natural, like you’re just pairing off lords and ladies standing near each other—”

“Oh!” Sophia nodded. “Yes, that should do nicely.” We all turned to go, but I held out a staying hand to Jane, keeping her a moment more.

“Ah, Jane . . . ,” I began, ruing the speed with which I had to do this. There was still something of great import for us to discuss, and I had not the time to do it justice!

She frowned at me, suddenly tense. “What is it, Beatrice? What’s wrong?”

I fished in the pouch at my skirt and drew out the thin chain of gold with its lovely locket. “Nothing’s wrong,” I said. “Here—this is for you.”

She frowned, taking the delicate strand from me as if it might bite her. “You’re giving me a necklace?”

“Not I,” I said, watching her closely. “James McDonald bade me give it to you. As a gift to make you more comfortable in your home of courts and kings.”

Jane blinked at me, stunned, and in that moment I was glad I hadn’t found a way to taunt the girl. I don’t think I could have surprised her more if I’d gifted her with an
elephant. Closing her hand over the slender necklace, I gave her fingers a light squeeze. “It’s true,” I said. “It’s yours.”

Another several seconds passed. Then suddenly, as if realizing anew where she was, Jane straightened, scowling as she thrust the necklace into her bodice without taking the time to clasp it around her neck. “James McDonald is ridiculous,” she said, but there was no denying her heightened color, no mistaking the brightness of her eyes. “And we have no time for this. I’m going to go badger the musicians now.”

Just that quickly we were off. True to her word, Jane pounced on the musicians, but I had no concerns there. They of all people would know the latest music, and would be desperate to try it. Out of the first few dozen couples I approached, more than half expressed delight that they knew the dance—and the rest, frustration that they didn’t. This would be a small court coup for those who could take part in it.

And then I was on Lord Brighton, who appeared to be trying very hard not to stand so close to Lady Ariane but was failing miserably. “Lord Brighton, Lady Ariane,” I said, curtsying before them, although I did not by rights need to do so. “We are assembling a dance to please the Queen. Do say you know the Branle?”

This was a coy beginning, but I could not afford a no. Everyone knew the Branle.

“Oh, yes—I mean—I—” Lady Ariane blushed furiously, her gaze fluttering to Lord Brighton and then away, as if she were a girl of sixteen and not a woman aged thirty years. I found I liked her immediately. Her first husband, I had
learned, had been a boor and a drunk, and had left her widowed after an especially unfortunate combination of wine and horse-riding. He’d also left her rich, but too old for many of the men of court to consider as a bride.

Lord Brighton was of sterner stuff, and he eyed me with concern. “I should mayhap dance with my betrothed, Lady Beatrice,” he said quietly, his words low enough to evade Lady Ariane’s ears.

“Oh, pish,” I protested. “ ’Tis a dance, nothing more. Please do say you’ll join it? Both of you?”

Lord Brighton looked over at Lady Ariane then, and I felt the tremor of their attraction shudder through me like fire. So he did love her as well. Then this was even more to the good.

“I daresay one dance would not be seen as amiss,” he ventured.

“Oh, Lord Brighton, I would not want you to do anything that makes you—” Lady Ariane began.

“It’s decided, then,” I said crisply. “The music will start shortly, into a traditional round of Branles. I must gather additional dancers.” Boldly I reached out, took their hands, and joined them together. I wished I had Sophia’s gift for secreting out truths, but even I could feel the heat of their joined hands, the quickening of their pulses. “Thank you ever so—” I pulled away then, tossing my last words over my shoulder. “And oh, yes—it ends in a Gavotte.”

“A what?” Lady Ariane called out, but I was already into the crowd, whisking away. The music started a bare few moments later, and I saw Anna’s bent head next to the
Queen’s, sharing with her this newest excitement for her pleasure. Anna also adroitly moved Elizabeth and Dudley into the circle now occupied by Lord Brighton and Lady Ariane. The Queen seemed well-pleased, and I hid myself against a column. A quick search of the room revealed that apparently the Scots had not been included in the roistering of nobles that had filled the Presence Chamber; Alasdair was not among us. To my everlasting relief Lord Cavanaugh had also chosen to ignore the advisors’ summons; he was nowhere in evidence. Thus freed from distractions both enjoyable and loathsome, I could pay careful attention to the action unfolding before me.