Murder at Whitehall by Amanda Carmack Read Free Book Online Page A

“I am sorry, Your Grace. I just received a letter from my father, and was distracted.”
    â€œFrom Matthew?” The queen glanced up, a small smile breaking through her reverie. “How does he fare? I hope he is not ill.”
    â€œNot at all. He says an old friend has arrived to staywith him. Perhaps you remember him from Queen Catherine Parr’s household? Master Gerald Finsley?”
    â€œMaster Finsley.” Elizabeth frowned in thought. “Aye, I do recall him. A most solemn man, almost puritanical, yet he had a surprisingly deft touch with a madrigal lyric. Did he not have a sister, too, who waited on my stepmother?”
    â€œMistress Allison Finsley, my godmother, though my father says she is now gone. You remember more of Master Finsley than I do, Your Grace, though I do recall the black clothes.”
    Elizabeth laughed. “Somber clothing can hide much, as I learned when my brother was king and praised me for my plain dress. You were very small then, Kate. But those were lovely days indeed, when my stepmother came to my father’s court and transformed our lives. She acted as a mother to me in truth, which was something I had never known until then. She was a kind and sensible lady, and I learned much from her when she served as my father’s regent for a time. Music was always an important part of the day with her.”
    Kate moved closer, thinking of her childhood days, when she had hidden behind her father as he played for the queen. She, too, had learned much then, listening to the ladies talk of their books. Watching their courtly manners. “I do well remember Queen Catherine, though. She was so pretty, with such lovely clothes, and I had never heard a lady speak in such a learned way as she did before.”
    â€œIndeed she did. Perhaps you will recall more of life at her home in Chelsea, after my father died?”Elizabeth said, her tone revealing a small strain under the light words.
    Kate hesitated. She had indeed grown a bit older by then, and remembered the house where Queen Catherine had retreated after she was widowed—and where she quickly remarried a few months later. It had been a pretty house, elegant redbrick and white stone, with beautiful gardens. “I was not there long. My father sent me to the country before Queen Catherine moved to Sudeley.” Before the downward spiral of Catherine’s life with Thomas Seymour.
    â€œThat was wise of him. You did grow up very fair, Kate, and my stepmother’s husband had a keen eye for a pretty young face, as I am sure you have heard.” Elizabeth’s fingers crashed down on the keys, sending out a discordant note, and she stared out the window with a defiant frown.
    â€œI remember Lord Thomas a bit,” Kate said carefully. “He was very large, and very well dressed, I think. I think of him always laughing.”
    Elizabeth smiled. “A man of much wit and little judgment, I do fear. Though I was a girl of little judgment then, too. I learned it quickly, but I would have been better served to have followed more of my stepmother’s example. She was wise and serene—until love felled her, as it does so many.”
    The queen stared out the window into the black night, dotted only with the light flurries of snow falling to the garden below, and Kate wondered what she really saw there. Sunny days at Chelsea? A man who was long dead—and who had almost taken Elizabeth withhim when he was beheaded for treason? Or Queen Catherine, a beautiful, intelligent woman killed in childbed of the dreaded fever? The lost little baby daughter of Queen Catherine?
    â€œBut, aye,” Elizabeth said suddenly. “Life at court was grand for a time with my stepmother, especially at Yuletide. It was the first time I remember being at court with my brother and sister for the holidays, like a true family. And there was dancing and mummeries, just as I intend to have this year. Perhaps