Page 55

G unnilde went along to the Queen’s rooms that afternoon, feeling somewhat mixed emotions.

She knew she and James had their own paths to follow.

She had to hand out invitations to their banquet and also, hopefully, to wait on the Queen.

James had to go off into Aphrany to spend the rest of his day working on his music.

Still, she did feel somewhat loath to part with him so soon, despite her skittishness around him all morning.

Gratifyingly, she knew she was not the only one feeling that way.

James had been remarkably inclined to tarry over their farewells.

She also now knew there was nothing remotely wrong with his heart.

Mistress Fern had been entirely right in her supposings.

Gunnilde wandered about the Queen’s presence chamber for a while, handing out her invitations to her fellow ladies-in-waiting. Some were gracious on receiving them, like Margaret Pryor and Frances Lessimore, who expressed their thanks and promised to attend.

Others, like Lucy Melvin, were more aloof, demanding to know who their fellow guests would be, should they deign to come.

They soon thawed on hearing the likes of the Vawdreys, the Bardulfs, and even the Queen would be in attendance, but privately Gunnilde knew she would not forget their initial reactions in a hurry.

“Someone is trying to catch your attention, Gunnilde,” Emma Thackeray giggled, nudging her in the ribs.

Emma had been a good deal friendlier lately and Gunnilde suspected this was due to her newfound friendship with Hal.

“Is that not Lady Harriet Portstanley and that little friend of hers?” she asked. “The bookish one.”

“Dear me,” Lucy Melvin said loudly. “I thought Lady Harriet was meant to be the shy, retiring sort. It looks most ill-bred of her to be jumping up and down like that, practically waving her arms about. I suppose she has little choice but to act in such a vulgar manner, seeing as she is not free to simply walk into the Queen’s private rooms as we are. ”

Gunnilde looked around and found they were gazing in the direction of the double doors leading out to the wider receiving chamber. “Harriet is a particular friend of mine,” she retorted, “and as such we do not stand on ceremony with one another.”

Giving the briefest of curtseys, Gunnilde exited the more exclusive room and hurried out toward Harriet, who she found stood with her friend Winifred Hawes.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, holding her hands out to them.

They were clasped warmly. “I am so glad you are both able to come to our banquet,” she said.

“Winifred, what lovely tippets! I vow they are even whiter than mine!”

Winifred flushed, glancing down with pride at her sleeves. “I have three pairs now and keep them in constant rotation!” she declared. “I have received many compliments, and my cousin has recently espoused the wearing of them too!”

“I’m so pleased!” Gunnilde said, flushing with pleasure.

“Mother has promised that I may order some when next we see the tailor,” Harriet put in hurriedly. “Only I want a light blue pair for myself and a pair of palest green. All my gowns are varying shades of either blue or green. I was once told that those colors suit me best of all.”

Gunnilde was much impressed with this. “Is that so? Those colors do assuredly become you well, Harriet, and suit your eye color and that particular shade of brown hair.”

“I only wish that I could wear more adventurous hair arrangements,” Harriet sighed. “But alas, my hair is straight and lank and will not puff out as yours does, no matter how I try to wrap it.”

“Have you tried to supplement it?” Winifred asked, lowering her voice. She cast a quick look about. “Only, I have heard that some ladies do.”

Gunnilde dimly remembered her wedding night when her fellow ladies-in-waiting had put her to bed. Someone had intimated as much then. “Yes, I have heard that rumor too, only I do not know how it works, for my own hair is very fulsome and I have never had need of it.”

“Yes, you are lucky and naturally blessed,” Winifred sighed.

“I will have to make discreet enquiries,” Harriet said thoughtfully. “I expect Lady Schaeffer would know. She is very knowledgeable.”

“Lady Schaeffer?” Gunnilde said quickly, thinking of that sophisticated lady. “Oh, I adore her headdresses. You must introduce me sometime, Harriet. I would dearly love to ask her about them.”

“Oh, most gladly,” Harriet promised. “She has asked me about you too. She said you seem a most interesting girl. She calls us all girls,” she said apologetically. “She does not mean any offense by it, but you know, she is rather older so...”

“Oh, no offense taken,” Gunnilde assured her. “None whatsoever.”

“Will there be dancing at your banquet, Gunnilde?” Winifred asked. She looked rather anxious. “Only, I am not the most proficient dancer.”

“Oh, assuredly! James knows many musicians and has promised to engage at least four. You will not be compelled to stand up though, Winifred, if you do not care to dance.”

Gunnilde was just telling them about the tippets she was having specially embroidered when Winifred’s eyes opened very wide and fixed over Gunnilde’s shoulder.

“Oh, Gunnilde!” whispered Harriet. “Mistress Bartree approaches! You must be wanted within.”

Gunnilde turned with surprise to find Mistress Bartree stood at her elbow wearing a disgruntled expression on her face. Who was keeping the Queen company in her privy chamber, seeing as her favorite had been cut loose from her tether?

“Good afternoon, Mistress Bartree,” she said, bobbing a curtsey. “Pray allow me to introduce my particular friends Lady Harriet Portstanley and Lady Winifred Hawes.”

Curtseys were exchanged, and Mistress Bartree unbent sufficiently to bestow chilly smiles upon Gunnilde’s companions before turning back to her and telling her they were needed in the Queen’s privy chamber.

“They look like reasonably sensible girls,” the older woman observed as they made their way through the presence chamber. “Surely they are not expecting you to find them husbands?”

“Oh, I do not actually do that anymore. James did not think it fitting.” As she said it, she suddenly thought of Neville.

Would not someone like Harriet or Winifred make him a good match?

Both were heiresses and exceedingly worthy young women of education.

Just the sort of partner that Neville would need. She wondered if James would agree.

“Where were you this morning?” Mistress Bartree demanded, cutting across her thoughts. “We expected you in the Queen’s chambers.”

Gunnilde was startled. “Her Majesty did not mention—”

“Were you anticipating a written invitation?” the other snapped. “If you wish to attend the Queen, you must first show willingness by turning up promptly to partake of those duties.”

Gunnilde considered this a moment. “That is interesting advice.” Mistress Bartree inclined her head coldly. “I hesitate to point this out, but there are dozens of ladies who show up day in and day out to the Queen’s chambers and receive scant attention from Her Majesty.”

Mistress Bartree’s lip curled. “This current crop are not worthy of her attention. I hope you do not pretend to be in ignorance of the many ways the Queen has condescended to give you her gracious attention and mark you out for favor.”

“I do not,” Gunnilde answered swiftly. “And I am very grateful to Her Majesty. But with all due respect, I can scarcely show up to help the Queen dress when I am not permitted to lift so much as a pair of royal stockings.”

They had entered the privy chamber now, with even fewer inhabitants. Gunnilde noticed Lady Wymarka Kloch and Millicent Everidge sat embroidering together in the window seat. Next to the door that led to the Queen’s bedchamber, two of the King’s royal guards stood to attention.

Mistress Bartree rounded on Gunnilde. “I have already explained—” she started hotly.

“You expect me to sit around and fill the room with empty chatter while you perform all the useful offices,” Gunnilde supplied.

“But I am not so presumptuous as to turn up in the Queen’s presence without even the flimsiest pretense of usefulness.

You must perceive how awkward it would be, Mistress Bartree, if you only gave yourself pause to consider it from my own point of view. ”

The other woman stiffened but did not argue. Two spots of bright color appeared on her cheeks. “You—” she began in a choked voice, before breaking off abruptly.

Gunnilde gazed about them. “We are causing quite a stir,” she said, noticing the glances thrown their way. “The other ladies are all whispering that we are at odds.”

“You flatter yourself,” Mistress Bartree said with a twist of her lips. “They are more likely gossiping about the King.”

“The King?”

“That is who is currently with her,” Mistress Bartree answered crossly. “He is always encroaching on her these days.”

Gunnilde’s eyes widened. “You mean...”

“Do not be indiscreet, Lady Wycliffe, I beg you!” the other said quickly. Gunnilde guessed she was terrified she would let something slip about the pregnancy.

“He is her husband,” Gunnilde answered mildly. “Is it not to be expected that he should be entitled to a share of her time?”

“Husbands have a time and a place,” Mistress Bartree said sourly. “Besides, he will have the young prince to take up his attention very soon, will he not? Why must he continue persecute Queen Armenal with his presence!”

Gunnilde glanced about. “Is that common knowledge now?” she asked, lowering her voice. “I understood it was still quite a secret.”

Mistress Bartree shrugged an irritable shoulder. “All of court is now awash with whispers of the royal whelp’s visit,” she said contemptuously.

Ringing footsteps had them all turning as the King emerged from the Queen’s bedchamber. Around them, everyone sank down into a sea of curtseys.