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

your father and Master Finsley would care to visit our court now, and see how our holidays compare?”
    Kate almost clapped her hands in excitement at the thought of seeing her father again. To sit by the fire with him, to look over their music, to play duets on their lutes—to have him see her now, with such a fine place she was building for herself. “I am sure they would be most honored, Your Grace.”
    â€œIf it would not tire Matthew too much, of course,” Elizabeth said. “We are meant to be celebrating the festive season as they did in olden times, aye? I should love to remember what it felt like when I was a girl, and they can share their memories of Queen Catherine and my father. In fact—did your father not have other friends who played for my stepmother then? I remember them always together.”
    â€œYes. There was Master Finsley and his sister, who was my godmother. And the Parks.”
    â€œAye, I do remember them. We shall find them, and bring them all to court!” Elizabeth’s earlier sadness over the thought of Thomas Seymour seemed to bedrowned out in fresh eagerness. “Yes, indeed. I want music everywhere this Christmas, and no more dark memories. What think you, Kate?”
    Kate laughed, swept up in the queen’s excitement. “I should dearly love to see my father again, Your Grace. And you know I like there to be music everywhere, all the time!”
    Elizabeth gave her an indulgent smile. “How fortunate you are, Kate, to have a father you are so eager to see. I always prayed for a summons to court when my own father was alive, but it frightened me to tears at the same time. I shall write to Matthew, and all of our old friends, this very night. But for now, come here and play this song for me. I want to learn it to play for the Bishop de Quadra, and cannot quite decipher this section . . .”

CHAPTER FIVE
    â€œO h, cupids, Kate! There must be cupids.”
    Kate laughed at Violet’s eager words. They were working on the queen’s new masque for the Scottish visitors, and the scribbled pages of all their ideas were scattered across the table in the great gallery. “Flying cupids, Vi?”
    â€œOf course. I am sure someone could devise a way for them to ride on the clouds above the gods and goddesses. Tiny children in white draperies and golden curls. Singing as they float across the heavens . . .”
    â€œAs delightful as that would be, I can’t think which of the courtiers would loan us their babes to use as flying cupids.” Or of any who had their children at court at all. Elizabeth wanted all her nobles to have their full attention on their business—which was
her
. There was no room in the crowded, noisy palace for children underfoot. Even favorites like the queen’s cousin, Lady Catherine Carey, had to leave her many babies in the country.
    The thought of families made Kate remember her father’s letter, and the past when she herself had lived as a child of the court. It had all been so wondrously colorful and exciting then, but she had known nothingof the dark currents that always swirled beneath the merriment.
    Violet laid her hand gently over the small swell of her belly beneath the dark green silk of her surcoat. “You are quite right, of course, Kate. Perhaps some painted cupids, then?”
    â€œI’m sure that can be done, if the scene painters in the Office of the Revels won’t scream too loudly about having yet more work pushed on them for the Yule season.” Kate scribbled a note to herself to visit Sir Thomas Benger, the new Master of the Revels, in person to ask about the new scenery and which costumes to borrow. He did seem much easier to charm into helping when confronted with a rueful, beseeching smile than with a note.
    Kate laughed at herself. S’blood, but she was surely becoming as adept at being a courtier-performer as Rob Cartman! He would laugh