The Stolen One

by Suzanne Crowley

  Our eyes met again. “Christian,” she whispered.

  “We can’t go back, Anna,” I said to her. “Not yet.”

  “How can you be so heartless? He’s hurt.”

  “Rafael, for all we know, was only jesting. His words are neither here nor there, full of riddles and false talk.” I knew, though, deep in my heart that Christian needed us, needed me, but I couldn’t go back. I wouldn’t.

  Anna just stood looking at me, her eyes empty, her chest slowly rising and falling.

  “The queen has asked us to become part of her chamber. It’s quite an honor. Beyond my dreams.”

  One pale eyebrow lifted. “Both of us? Or just you?”

  “Yes, both of us are expected.”

  “And am I to be your maid?” She frowned.

  “Only for a little while, Anna, I promise. I’m sorry. Truly I am. People just assumed you were my maid and I let it be. But once I find out the truth, I’ll take you home.”

  “Grace warned you to stay away from the queen.”

  “And in doing so I believe she gave me the clue I’ve waited for my whole life. Perhaps the only true thing she ever gave me. And what would Grace know of the queen and court life anyway? Nothing. She was always full of false predictions and omens. Loose of her senses. Everyone said so.”

  “She gave you everything, Kat. Everything. And what did you give her? My mother, hard as she was, was right about you.” She didn’t have to say it. She had heard those words all those years ago, just as I had. You have a cruel streak, Spirit. And someday you will break her heart.

  I now know he is the devil. For he talked to me of sweet things and kissed me ardently that day in the orchard, and before I knew it we had sinned. And afterward, when he had finally had me, he turned from me and has never looked upon me again. And now he’s set his eyes on the young princess, who is by no means an innocent herself. They deserve each other, I say. She laughs and giggles when he visits her in her room in the morn even before she has arisen. And he tickles and teases her and slaps her on her backside, Agnes has informed me, for she saw it herself. I stood listening at the door one day and I heard him call her “Spirit” and “Fair Nymph,” his name for me, and I thought perhaps I would kill him right there if I had had a dagger in my hands. And she, the little strumpet, calls him “Moon,” for he has a perfectly shaped crescent on the back of his ear, I’d seen it myself. The devil’s mark.

  CHAPTER 15

  The next morning I was awakened to Ava’s excited babbling as she lit a meager fire in the fireplace. “And Maribel just saw her yesterday at market, happy as a canary, buying her mistress fish pies for dinner, she was. And then today dead as a dormouse, and blood everywhere all over the linen sheets and floor. It was the groom’s son who found her, poor thing. The mistress had to call for the doctor, not for Millie. She’d been gone for hours, the doctor said. But for the poor boy, he was given quite a fright by what he saw. Gave him a sleeping potion, he did, and he still hasn’t awoken.”

  There was a sudden commotion on the street. I sat up. Anna was gone. She’d slept with me most of the night, but must have slipped away in the wee hours.

  “Come look, miss.” Ava motioned for me. “Aah, it’s an awful sight. Indeed it is.”

  I joined her at the window. It was strangely quiet. A man pushing a cart, its wheels eerily squeaking, was coming up the street. I could see a body completely wrapped in linen.

  “What happened to her?” I asked.

  “Why, she took the shears to her own neck, she did,” Ava said, crossing herself as the cart went by. “And will be buried with the other unfortunates at Bedlam Court. Poor thing. She was such a sweet girl. But too pretty for her own good, she was. Just like your Anna. A pretty maid is always trouble. I hear she tarried with a groom of the court and got herself in trouble, but who knows.”

  I frowned at her. “Oh, I do apologize. The lady is always saying how I run my mouth so,” Ava said.

  I started to turn away from the window, but a movement on the street below caught my eye. A woman was peering up at me intently. It was Mrs. Miniver, the draper. Ava stopped to look too. “She came for you last evening, she did. But you were at the masque. She was insistent that she speak with you. The lady says you can trust her as far as you can heave her.”

  “Can you bring her to me? Up here?”

  “I suppose so,” Ava said, looking at me with one half-closed eye full of suspicion. “The Lady and Lord Ludmore are off on some important business. But you aren’t dressed, miss.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll dress now. Hurry. Go get her.”

  I threw on a simple poplin frock, and not a moment later Mrs. Miniver appeared. Ava stood in the doorway till I motioned her to leave. She shut the door behind her.

  “Who are you? I need to know,” Mrs. Miniver said, wringing her hands.

  “I’m Katherine Ludmore.” I began to put my shoes on.

  “Daughter of that whore from Winchcombe,” she hissed through her teeth.

  I dropped my shoe and I looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Me Charlie’s run off with her, I know it,” she said, a distinctly common accent revealed in her distress. “I haven’t seen him in weeks. Once a month he’d come see me, and I’d give him specifications, and he’d return with the most gorgeous garments—yours, I was sure of it when I saw your things yesterday—that he’d brought from Stow-on-the-Wold. All these years I’ve shared him with her, you see, but he always comes back to me. And this month he doesn’t come, so I figure he’s run off with the Winchcombe witch.”

  “She’s dead,” I said flatly. “Less than a fortnight ago. He’s not with her, I can assure you.”

  “Dead,” she repeated. “Are ye sure?”

  “Yes,” I said as I leaned back down to put my shoe on. “She’s dead and buried.”

  She crossed herself. “God’s faith, I’ve dreamed of this day. My Charlie Bab will come back for me.”

  “Bab?” I asked.

  “Charlie Bab, that’s his name,” she responded, looking at me carefully. “Did you know him?”

  “No, not at all,” I answered, astounded that perhaps there was indeed a real Mr. Bab. Had Grace married him? Was he Anna’s father? Was he my father? “Can you tell me please,” I asked, fighting a sinking feeling in my chest, “why you felt she was a rival for your Charlie’s affections?”

  “He talked of her, said she had the hands of a witch.” She started for the door. And then turned back, “But she was also the dumbest half-wit he ever knew, for he cheated her, you see, all these years, he cheated her. And I got my revenge too, making my own pretty shilling off the court.”

  “Well, that’s all come to an end.” Grace was no half-wit, that’s for sure. She must have known. Or perhaps she had no choice. She’d said that many times. She couldn’t come to London on her own and sell our things. “You’ll have no more things from me,” I hissed. “I’m to go to the queen. As a lady in her chamber, no less.”

  “You’ll be a servant. A chamberer,” she said. “Meaning you’ll be flopping the chamber pots out the window into the Thames, you will,” And then as she left, “Those are the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen.”

  I couldn’t stop my tongue. “Yes, and I’ll have new shoes tomorrow, and where will you be?”

  Ava came back, combed my hair, and began to curl it in tight rings around my face. She was quiet, but I knew she wondered what had happened.

  After carefully packing our things, I went downstairs. There was a lovely breakfast spread, almost a feast really, with a large ham, freshly baked breads, and fat sausages. Around the table sat Anna, Lady Ludmore, Rafael, and Bartolome. He sat next to Rafael, and they were like mirror images, they were, so similar were their dark countenances. But Bartolome had a light in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before as he looked up at his father. Rafael mussed his hair affectionately. I sat down next to Anna, who didn’t look at me. Her full plate was untouched.

  “Mamá, yo
u haven’t changed a bit. It’s just like you to bring in waifs and strays. Shall I go fetch another from off the street?” Rafael laughed.

  We all passed loaded looks across the table, including Maisy, who crossed herself as she walked by with a serving tray.

  “Pour her a glass,” Lady Ludmore said to Ava. Ava poured me a full glass of mulled wine. “We are celebrating, my dear.”

  I glanced at Anna, who was still as a statue. Had she told them my news? I doubted it. Her eyes were on my ring, the gift from the queen.

  “Isn’t it quite early to be partaking of wine?” I asked as I took a generous gulp. It would help my resolve, and God’s me, it did run down my throat easily.

  “It’s never too early for news such as this,” Lady Ludmore said, taking her own generous gulp. “We have had our fortune restored, you see. Luddy’s will—God rest his blasted ratty soul—was contingent on Rafael assuming the role of Lord Ludmore and taking on his rightful inheritance before the age of thirty. Something Luddy rightly guessed his long-suffering son had no intention of doing. But now Rafael’s back, and he has agreed to become the man he was born to be.” She took another gulp of wine, then tapped her glass for Maisy to pour more. Maisy frowned as she poured a tiny splash. Lady Ludmore tapped her glass again and Maisy poured another drop.

  I glanced at Rafael. He returned my gaze with a mysterious calm. He raised his glass to me.

  “Perhaps you have heard I have good news myself,” I said, looking away from Rafael, fixing my eyes firmly on his mother. “The queen has asked Anna and me to come to court.” And here Maisy and Ava suddenly appeared, fussing at the table. “To embroider,” I added.

  All eyes shifted to Lady Ludmore. “Well, well,” she finally said. “I guess you made quite the impression.”

  “Yes, she was the beauty of the night,” Rafael said darkly. “The queen even gave her a gift.”

  “Let’s see, let’s see,” said Lady Ludmore.

  I sighed and held my hand up.

  “Lovely. A ruby. Desire. Hands clasped. Friendship. An interesting combination, coming from the queen. I suppose you are to go right away.”

  “Yes.” I was surprised at her response. There must be something coming. As I learned well with Grace, a wise woman bides her time. “We are to leave today.”

  “Oh, but you do not intend on taking Anna, do you?”

  Ah. Here we go. “Of course,” I said, taking Anna’s cold hand. “We are never apart. Never.”

  “Why, she’d be eaten alive at court,” said Lady Ludmore. “And it would not be good for her health. See, she’s already peaked this morning, the time of day when a lady should shine the most.”

  “I beg to differ, Mamá. A lady looks most beautiful in the hues of the night.”

  I snuck a glance at Rafael and then took another gulp of wine. “We’ll leave this morning, if you please. Both of us.”

  Anna pulled her hand out of mine.

  Later in my room I checked our belongings one last time. I pulled out the lute and held it to my chest. I strummed it softly, and Anna, who was folding her own few things, turned and smiled. I kept on, running my fingers across the delicate strings.

  “Do you like it?” I asked as she continued to smile.

  “Yes. Beautiful.”

  Suddenly, behind me, the door opened. It was Rafael. He came in, closing the door behind him.

  “Lord Ludmore,” I said, tucking the lute behind my back. “What do you want?”

  “I have something to ask, if I may,” he said, looking at Anna.

  “She can’t hear you,” I said.

  “My mother wants me to call upon you at court from time to time,” he said. He leaned against the door.

  “Is that why she is not trying harder to keep us here?”

  “She’s still not happy about Anna going, and you are welcome here anytime.” He looked at Anna and she nodded back. He smiled at me, letting me know he was slyer than me. “But, yes, that’s part of the reason. My mother wants me to be accepted back into society.”

  “You don’t seem the sort who would have a care for society,” I said before I could stop myself.

  He laughed. “Well, at some time one must grow up, seek a wife. Produce heirs.”

  I hid a smile beneath my hand.

  “May I call upon you sometime at court?” he asked. God’s me, but he was handsome.

  “I suppose you may,” I answered. But I wondered what he was up to.

  It continues, this madness between the two. There is much talk among the servants of it—that it can’t last much longer before word of their unseemly romping reaches the admiral’s brother, the Lord Protector. It’s treason it is. But her governess boasts, like an idle-headed nincompoop, that someday they might make a merry match and it will be all her doing. I think she too has come under his spell. He seems to have every female at Chelsea dancing a merry tune at his feet. My lady the queen still very much loves the both of them and puts on a brave face and is much pleased for the babe to come. If I could only feel the same for mine—although Jane the fool gave me a foul weed to rid myself of it, when it came time I knew I could not double my sin. Agnes, my only true friend, consoles me at night, for I am most fearful for my soul. But I cannot sleep, for many demons plague me in my dreams. So one night a week past, I came upon the man himself in the hall, hovering outside the princess’s door, and I hid myself and watched. And just as he was about to turn the knob, I wailed like a ghost, and he was much startled and ran down the hall like a fool.

  CHAPTER 16

  When she shines, we all bask in her happiness, but when the thunderstorms come in, let me warn you, find a faraway hiding hole,” said Dorothy Broadbelt, the maid of honor who’d informed me at the masque of my new position. She’d been charged with settling Anna and me in. We’d been given a tiny room, spare but livable, with two comfortable feather beds. “Kat Ashley and Blanche Parry,” Dorothy continued, “senior ladies of the bedchamber, always stay with her and weather it out, poor things, both of them being with her through many tough times since the queen was but a child, you see. Blanche even rocked her as a babe, I hear. Stay clear of Kat Ashley; no one likes her. Blanche is divine, oldest of us all and wisest of the wise. And she’ll read your palms if you like, tell you if you’ve fated a good life. Her cousin, Lord Burghly, is one of the queen’s high councilors. Be wary what Blanche tells you, though, for she says I’m to marry some handsome low-born. My father would have the fits if he heard her talk so, for he paid a pretty penny and bowed deep to get me here.” She finally paused as Anna put our bags down.

  “And she’s to stay in hidden, not underfoot, I tell you, batting her eyes, trying to raise herself up, as many of the lower chamberers do. Why, Elizabeth Marbery, the little nit, managed to get a gift of a petticoat from the queen before she figured what she was about. The queen is very careful now on who attends her.” Dorothy, pretty and blond herself, looked Anna over.

  “I assure you,” I said quickly, before she could go on, “you will not see her.”

  Dorothy eyed our bags. “We maids of honor, you see, are very beholden to the queen. Why, every girl in all of England would die to take our place.” She looked wistfully out a small window that faced a garden of peach trees. “She’ll find us a husband, you see, a suitable one of rank. Hopefully it will be one to our liking.” She sighed.

  “What if you detest the man, what if he smells and is old and has fish breath?” I asked.

  Dorothy laughed, a hearty, horsey laugh. “Why, you are a funny girl aren’t you?” she said. “Anyone knows it’s a rich girl’s lot that she may not choose her husband. We’ll be lucky if we land a fifty-year-old baronet, no less. Even if he has hair on his back and between his toes, we must fall at the queen’s feet and bless her.”

  And I thought to myself, It is a poor girl’s lot too. Could any girl ever choose her destiny? Rich or poor?

  “Laundry day is Wednesday, Anne Twiste is our laundress. Stay away from her son Oliver, and
George the sweeper, too, although a half-wit—knaves the both of them,” Dorothy said, aiming her words at Anna. “They’ve both tried for my maid Beatrice,” she continued. “It’s so hard to find good maids these days, don’t you think? They are forever running off, or getting into some mess or another.

  “You must change out of your traveling shoes now,” she said, looking down at my feet. “My goodness, did you swim in the Thames?”

  “Ohh,” I said trying not to blink, trying to think of a valuable half truth.

  “I understand,” Dorothy said, suddenly serious. “Completely. My own mother at home is practically in rags, so I’d be presentable at court. Illusions, Katherine. It’s all about illusions.”

  A little while later, she escorted me, her pinked, peach-colored shoes upon my feet, into the queen’s privy chamber. The floors were covered in woven rush matting, the walls in tapestries. There were three windows, and in each birdcages with little golden birds. A young lady sat at a harpsichord and played soft music as other ladies perched on large cushions, some watching, others stitching. Dorothy led me to a cushion and we both sat down. “Ouch!” I squealed, and a few of the younger maids giggled. I reached under my bottom and pulled out a hoop of embroidery, the knife-sharp needle sticking straight up. The half-finished needlework, a panel of stitched strawberries, was pitifully done; no wonder it had been abandoned.

  I looked around for the queen, but she was not there. “She’s with her privy council,” Dorothy whispered to me, seeming to read my mind. “Mary Howard.” Dorothy nodded to the lady at the harpsichord. “The queen’s cousin.” Dorothy ran her finger across her neck and made a ghastly face. “Mary’s relative,” she whispered. Then around the room: “Anne Windsour—thinks she’s better than us. Katherine Bridge—duck face, talks of ghosts in her sleep. Anne Russell—a bit of a pea goose, but as sweet as can be—will marry next year, it is predicted. And Mary Ratcliff—shall never marry, claims Blanche Parry, and it’s a good thing, for who shall abide that breath? And Katherine Knevit—flap-mouthed, mischief-maker, pray me never confide a thing in her. And Mary Shelton, dumb as a flea.” They were all taking their turns looking at me, gracefully but intently from under their lashes.