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

maid gave Kate a quick smile and hurried off, closely followed by the landlady. Kate was left alone in the corridor. She could hear the echo of the laughter from the great room, and she knew she should go back as well, but somehow she couldn’t quite make herself move. The quiet was so welcome for a moment. She leaned back against the plastered wall and thought of the lady hidden in her room. What would it be like to run away for a while, to lock a door behind her, pick up her lute, and not have to move? It would be lovely for a day or two, but maybe not for a whole fortnight.
    The sound of a door closing at the top of the stairs startled her. She pushed herself away from the wall and glanced up the narrow staircase. A girl stood on the landing above, and even in the dim, dusty light Kate could see that she was pretty, with a pale oval face crowned with a wealth of dark auburn hair worn loose over her shoulders. She was rather tall for a woman, but coltishly slender, a girl on the cusp of being a lady.
    She wore a fine gown of peach-colored taffeta trimmed with gold ribbons, and Kate realized she must be the mysterious lute-playing lady. She looked rather familiar, with that burnished hair and pointed chin, but Kate couldn’t be sure she’d seen her before.
    The girl, like the maid, looked back over her shoulder uncertainly, as if she feared someone followed her. One of her delicate hands hovered at her throat uncertainly. To Kate’s surprise, a narrow gold wedding band circled her finger. She seemed rather young for such things. Lords and ladies at court, especially the ones who commanded large estates, often married in childhood, but most people did not.
    â€œAre you Mistress Mary?” Kate called.
    The girl gasped, and her attention shot to Kate. There was only a glimpse of wide, bright green eyes, and then the girl spun around and fled. There was the sound of the door slamming and the click of a lock sliding back into place.
    Kate laughed ruefully. “I didn’t realize I was so very fearsome,” she whispered. She turned to make her way back toward the great room. It would soon be time to return to Whitehall to prepare for the night’s dancing.
    Before she could get there, she glimpsed the white fur-trimmed hem of a dark blue cloak rounding the corner of the corridor that led down into the kitchens and vanishing into the warren of rooms behind. It looked like Lady Catherine’s cloak, and Kate could hear the soft, musical murmur of her voice.
    Kate tiptoed to the corner, careful not to be seen. What was Lady Catherine doing there? Surely she was not going to the kitchens for a bit of cookery advice.
    But Lady Catherine was not there alone. Kate heard a deeper voice answer hers—Lord Hertford’s voice.
    â€œCan we not wait until we return to the palace to talk, my sweeting?” he said. “A public inn is far too crowded.”
    â€œNot as crowded as Whitehall would be! There are ears in every wall there, I vow,” Lady Catherine cried. Her voice sounded thick, gasping, as if she was on the verge of tears. “And we have not truly spoken since you came to Sheen to see my mother before she died.”
    â€œThere has been no chance to speak, as you well know,” Lord Hertford said impatiently. There was a rustle of cloth, the sounds of a kiss.
    â€œNay,” Lady Catherine said after a long moment. “I must know what is happening, Ned. I can wait no longer.”
    â€œHappening, my sweet?”
    â€œI know my mother gave you permission for us to wed, that it was her dearest wish. Yet you have not spoken to the queen.”
    â€œYou know that matters are not so simple as that.”
    â€œAre they not?”
    â€œOf course not. You are no mere maid, but the queen’s cousin. Perhaps one day you will be her declared heir. We must tread softly.”
    â€œI am sick unto death of treading softly!” Lady Catherine cried. “We have been in