He's not related to her in any way,” I pointed out.
“Mayhap the true villain paid him,” Masou pressed, refusing to give up, “or enchanted him, or—”
“Anyway, how could he do it?” I demanded. “He's not allowed anywhere near Carmina—or the kitchens.”
Masou shrugged. “Isn't he supposed to be an actor? Maybe he disguised himself as a ratcatcher.”
“Hmf,” Ellie said. “I'm sure someone as kind as Mr. Fitzgrey would never—”
“Kind?” I interrupted Ellie.
“
Mr.
Fitzgrey?” sneered Masou.
Ellie went pink. “Well, he wanted bread and cheesefetched from the Hall Kitchen, so I went and got them for 'im, di'n't I?” she muttered. “Very polite he was, too,
and
he gave me a groat for my trouble.”
Masou scowled and looked even more put out. “You never fetch bread and cheese for me!” he accused Ellie.
“Why should I? You can go to the kitchen for yourself,” snapped Ellie. “Nor you wouldn't give me a groat, neither.”
“Why should I?” began Masou hotly.
“Stop it, both of you!” I said. “None of the players is being poisoned—”
“More's the pity,” muttered Masou.
“—or I'd know
exactly
where to look,” I told him severely. “I can't believe you're being so jealous. They'll be gone at the end of the week.”
“Hmf,” said Masou, starting to juggle again.
It occurred to me that the poisoner had to be getting the poison from somewhere. The painters' Workroom was one possibility—I knew there was orpiment there—but the ratcatcher was another.
“I really need you to ask about the ratcatcher for me, Masou,” I said. “Find out if he's been called in recently, or if anyone knows him well. I can't do it because I can't talk to the right people.”
“All right,” grunted Masou, still juggling as hewandered off to annoy the players with more tumbling tricks.
Ellie and I took the kerchiefs and the clean bedlinen up to Carmina's chamber. Then Ellie hurried back to the laundry while I went in search of Lady Sarah, who is the best source of gossip I know.
I first tried our bedchamber, which turned out to be empty. So here I am seizing the opportunity to write in my daybooke. But now that is done, so I shall stop writing and continue my search for Sarah. I am hopeful that she will be able to tell me all about Carmina's possible heirs.
Later, after dinner, with Carmina in her chamber
I found Lady Sarah sitting on a bench in the Lesser Courtyard with Penelope. They were both working on their embroidery and said they needed the bright daylight to see clearly. Coincidentally, the players were rehearsing their lines nearby, and I noticed that Sarah's eyes were more often on Richard Fitzgrey than on her embroidery.
“And how is Carmina today?” Sarah asked, knowing that I had been to her chamber. “Mrs. Champernowne wouldn't let me go and see her thismorning, even though I needed to borrow some of her rouge. Apparently, she needs to rest.”
“She was sick many times in the night, poor dear,” Penelope said. “I think she must be very tired.”
“Yes, she was sleeping when I saw her,” I agreed. And then I saw the perfect opportunity to find out what I needed to know. “Poor thing, and she was so pleased about her inheritance,” I remarked. “I wonder who it came from?”
“Oh, from a great-aunt nobody liked very much, except Carmina,” declared Sarah authoritatively. “She was famously mean and strict but was fond of Carmina when she was a little girl.”
“How do you know?” I asked, a little breathless because my plan was working so brilliantly.
“My mother is friends with her mother because they were at Court together in the train of Queen Catherine Parr, way back under King Henry,” explained Sarah with a toss of her head.
“So who gets the inheritance if Carmina should die?” I asked, then thought that that was a bit bald and tactless and I didn't want to start any more wild rumours. So I added, “I mean, I'm sure she won't, but
“Mayhap the true villain paid him,” Masou pressed, refusing to give up, “or enchanted him, or—”
“Anyway, how could he do it?” I demanded. “He's not allowed anywhere near Carmina—or the kitchens.”
Masou shrugged. “Isn't he supposed to be an actor? Maybe he disguised himself as a ratcatcher.”
“Hmf,” Ellie said. “I'm sure someone as kind as Mr. Fitzgrey would never—”
“Kind?” I interrupted Ellie.
“
Mr.
Fitzgrey?” sneered Masou.
Ellie went pink. “Well, he wanted bread and cheesefetched from the Hall Kitchen, so I went and got them for 'im, di'n't I?” she muttered. “Very polite he was, too,
and
he gave me a groat for my trouble.”
Masou scowled and looked even more put out. “You never fetch bread and cheese for me!” he accused Ellie.
“Why should I? You can go to the kitchen for yourself,” snapped Ellie. “Nor you wouldn't give me a groat, neither.”
“Why should I?” began Masou hotly.
“Stop it, both of you!” I said. “None of the players is being poisoned—”
“More's the pity,” muttered Masou.
“—or I'd know
exactly
where to look,” I told him severely. “I can't believe you're being so jealous. They'll be gone at the end of the week.”
“Hmf,” said Masou, starting to juggle again.
It occurred to me that the poisoner had to be getting the poison from somewhere. The painters' Workroom was one possibility—I knew there was orpiment there—but the ratcatcher was another.
“I really need you to ask about the ratcatcher for me, Masou,” I said. “Find out if he's been called in recently, or if anyone knows him well. I can't do it because I can't talk to the right people.”
“All right,” grunted Masou, still juggling as hewandered off to annoy the players with more tumbling tricks.
Ellie and I took the kerchiefs and the clean bedlinen up to Carmina's chamber. Then Ellie hurried back to the laundry while I went in search of Lady Sarah, who is the best source of gossip I know.
I first tried our bedchamber, which turned out to be empty. So here I am seizing the opportunity to write in my daybooke. But now that is done, so I shall stop writing and continue my search for Sarah. I am hopeful that she will be able to tell me all about Carmina's possible heirs.
Later, after dinner, with Carmina in her chamber
I found Lady Sarah sitting on a bench in the Lesser Courtyard with Penelope. They were both working on their embroidery and said they needed the bright daylight to see clearly. Coincidentally, the players were rehearsing their lines nearby, and I noticed that Sarah's eyes were more often on Richard Fitzgrey than on her embroidery.
“And how is Carmina today?” Sarah asked, knowing that I had been to her chamber. “Mrs. Champernowne wouldn't let me go and see her thismorning, even though I needed to borrow some of her rouge. Apparently, she needs to rest.”
“She was sick many times in the night, poor dear,” Penelope said. “I think she must be very tired.”
“Yes, she was sleeping when I saw her,” I agreed. And then I saw the perfect opportunity to find out what I needed to know. “Poor thing, and she was so pleased about her inheritance,” I remarked. “I wonder who it came from?”
“Oh, from a great-aunt nobody liked very much, except Carmina,” declared Sarah authoritatively. “She was famously mean and strict but was fond of Carmina when she was a little girl.”
“How do you know?” I asked, a little breathless because my plan was working so brilliantly.
“My mother is friends with her mother because they were at Court together in the train of Queen Catherine Parr, way back under King Henry,” explained Sarah with a toss of her head.
“So who gets the inheritance if Carmina should die?” I asked, then thought that that was a bit bald and tactless and I didn't want to start any more wild rumours. So I added, “I mean, I'm sure she won't, but
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