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

here—their clothes are always so lovely.”
    â€œDo they come here often?” Kate asked.
    â€œWhen the queen is at Whitehall Palace, mistress. We are near to there but not so far, especially for the gentlemen, if you know what I mean,” the maidservant said with a laugh and a wink.
    Kate nodded. The queen encouraged flirtation at court, but only if it was centered on her own royal person, and she always watched everyone around her with the keen attention of a hawk. At an inn, lords and ladies could laugh together freely—and the men could look for other distractions, as well. Kate had glimpsed such things often enough, in the darkened corners of the palace and at places like the Cardinal’s Hat in Southwark, run by her friend Mistress Celine.
    â€œIt should make things quite interesting,” she murmured.
    The maid studied Kate’s fur-trimmed red cloak and fine Spanish leather boots. “But you’re from the queen’s court yourself, aren’t you, mistress?”
    â€œMy father is a musician to the queen,” Kate answered. She often found it was much easier to say that than explain how she came to be a court musician herself.
    The maid’s eyes widened. “Music? We do love a good song here, though we don’t get to hear it as much as we like, unless you count it when the customers getale-shot and sing bawdy chants. The Spanish gentlemen seem to like that sort of thing more than anyone.”
    Kate laughed, trying to imagine Bishop de Quadra and his black-clad retainers singing bawdy songs. She could almost picture the new secretary Senor Gomez doing that, but not his solemn friend Senor Vasquez.
    â€œBut we do have a lady staying here now who plays the lute very finely,” the maid said. “I like to stand outside her room and listen when I can. I would get my ear twisted by the landlady if she knew, though.”
    â€œA lady who plays the lute?” Kate thought of the crowd she had passed in the great room, the prosperous-looking travelers with their cacophony of languages. “Is she the wife of one of those merchants I saw in the great room?”
    â€œNay, that is the odd thing, mistress.” The maid glanced over her shoulder, as if to make sure the inn’s ear-twisting landlady was nowhere in sight. When she saw they were alone in the dim corridor, she leaned closer and whispered, “She is dressed very fine, but she stays all alone up there in her room. A gentleman brought her here almost a fortnight ago, and left a large purse to pay for her keep, but we haven’t seen him since.”
    â€œHow very odd.” Kate was rather intrigued. It sounded like a poem or a play, a fine lady left in distress, waiting for a knight to ride to her rescue. Perhaps she was a kidnapped princess, spirited away from her home, or a runaway bride. Most interesting.
    â€œWe do have the wives of lots of foreign merchants stay here, since the palace is so near. Dutch, and FrenchHugenots, people of that sort. But this lady is
English
. We take her meals up to her, and she says very little. All I know is that she is called Mary. I think it must get lonely there.”
    â€œI daresay it must be,” Kate murmured. She wondered who she could be, an English lady called Mary who played music all day. It would be interesting to meet her. Kate was with people all the time at court, and everyone there had to play music to one degree or another to please the queen. But there were few she could speak to freely, and fewer still whose secrets were quite so intriguing.
    â€œHester! There you are,” a woman shrieked. She was a portly, red-faced lady dressed in fine green wool and a lace-trimmed cap, but she was scowling under its frill as she rushed toward the maid and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing standing about here when we have so many customers? Take the wine out immediately!”
    â€œOf course, Mistress Fawlkes. Right away.” The