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gathering her own truth, for she had not said a word the entire journey, though she’d been watching us with eyes black as coal. Her voice had an odd hardness about it.
    “It was long expected,” I said, gripping Anna’s hand. And now I could see this was the God’s truth. Grace had been leaving us for a long time.
    “Well then, why isn’t the lass wearing her mourning clothes?” asked Mrs. Grove.
    “Her death, although expected, came sooner than we thought. We’ll purchase something appropriate whenwe reach London.” The lie came easily off my lips. I had no intent whatsoever of donning mourning clothes for Grace.
    And then it was quiet a few moments, everyone coming to the same sudden thought, and all our eyes turned to the dark-eyed lady, wondering who she was in mourning for. She returned our stares, nodding at each of us, like the wise owl who has no intention of imparting his wisdom.
    I peered out of the wagon at the grassy slopes and quilted farmland we were leaving behind. Although Anna had thought our land the most beautiful of all, I couldn’t help but think that we’d seen beautiful vale after beautiful vale since we’d left Blackchurch Cottage. There was so much beauty in the world to discover. And London was sure to be the most beautiful of all. I turned around and saw a man running down the road, and my breath caught for a moment thinking it was Christian, but it was only a farmer running after a young calf.
    A wide-eared young lad, who sat in the back of the wagon with two crates of leeks and who I presumed by deduction came with the lambs, spoke up. “Me own mother died of the plague,” and everyone scooted away at his last word. “Five years ago,” he added. Mrs. Grove raised a handkerchief to her mouth and scooted closerto her husband. “It took her away in less than an hour.” I thought of Agnes and her quick death. What secrets had they shared, Agnes and Grace? Had Agnes known about me? Had this humble woman agreed to take the necklace to the otherworld? Or had Grace simply wanted to hide it forever and draped it on her cold neck before she was laid in the ground?
    The eyes of the occupants who were awake swiveled around looking for the telltale signs of the plague, until I spoke up.
    “Has anyone ever seen the good queen?” I rubbed my flea-bitten ankles together. I dared hope that none of them saw our old tattered, muddied shoes, hidden under our fine skirts.
    “Good queen. Ha,” Mrs. Salinas snorted. “Why, she’s burned many a good soul at the stake, that she has.”
    Mrs. Grove frowned at her. The lad spoke up again, “’Tis treason to speak of the queen as such. I’d give my heart for the good lady. I saw her once near Cheapside. And she smiled at me, she did.”
    “Why, you are a little liar,” Mrs. Salinas said, laughing, “for it’s known she’s got rotten teeth and never smiles. Some say she’s really a man, you know. A man-child was switched with the real baby Elizabeth.”
    Mrs. Grove leaned forward and hit her on her knee with her fan. “Hush, I’ll hear no more talk of this.” And then she turned to me with a wide smile. “William and I”—she shouted his name in his ear and he roused a moment but fell asleep again—“have seen her ourselves—”
    “Oh, do tell me,” I said before I could stop myself. “Is she very beautiful?”
    “Oh yes, my dear,” she answered. “She’s noble, elegant, and of the most regal bearing. Some say she’s the most lovely queen in the world. And she did smile at us, she did, and has the most beautiful teeth, white as pearls. And her hair, why, it’s as red as yours!” she exclaimed.
    “It’s a wig,” Mrs. Salinas interjected. “The queen’s. I’ve heard she’s as bald as a newborn babe.”
    “She’s a full head of hair,” Mrs. Grove insisted. “She’s still young, you know. Strong constitution, I hear, rides every day, and hunts, and enjoys the pursuits of any king, she does. She may marry yet and