Read Online The Tapestry by Nancy Bilyeau - Free Book Online Page B

secondhand description with the master of pages.
    “Is there some way that I could see the royal pages, one by one?” I asked.
    “Not without having to explain why. That means you’d have to say you were the person who was attacked. Up to now, I’ve kept your name out of it.”
    I said slowly, “But isn’t there some sort of inspection that could be arranged, when they must assemble, perhaps walk in a single line? And then I could observe the pages, but be myself unobserved. There must be rooms or chambers that lend themselves to that here. A tall curtain? A door partly ajar?”
    Culpepper burst out laughing.
    “Is this a matter for amusement?’ I asked. “I don’t see how.”
    “You are just so clever ,” Culpepper said. “Yes, that is a most excellent idea, Mistress Stafford. I will arrange it tomorrow. It’s too late for today—the sun’s setting and everyone will be seeing about their suppers.”
    When we stepped back into Catherine’s room, she and her maid, Sarah, were perched on the embroidered chairs, gleefully examining the dresses sent by the king. While waiting for me, they’d been nibbling the cakes Catherine sent for. A smudge of sugar clung to her lower lip.
    “This would appear an admirable place for you to reside until the King’s Majesty makes his pleasure known, Mistress Stafford,” said Culpepper with a farewell bow.
    Catherine glanced up. “I am so pleased that Master Culpepper approves,” she said, her voice hard.
    The two of them, Catherine and Culpepper, locked eyes.
    “Enjoy your cake, Mistress Howard,” he said finally, and was gone.
    I had never heard Catherine speak like that to another. Nothing he had done or said warranted her reaction. With his angelic features and quick grace, he seemed like the last man worthy of spite.
    “What is wrong?” I asked.
    But she shrugged with a little laugh and did not answer. Perhaps this was court banter, the sort of man-and-woman byplay I’d never learned—never wanted to learn. I thought no more of her odd reaction to Culpepper, for there was much to do. I wrote a message to the servant of Master Gwinn, the poor man doubtlessstill standing in the King Street outside Whitehall all these hours later. There was another message, to Agatha Gwinn, emphasizing that I’d found safe harbor with a friend and that, once my business at court was concluded, I’d write to Dartford. I hoped it would assuage her fears.
    Catherine insisted I change into one of the dresses sent by the king, so that my own “lamentable” garments could be cleaned and mended. It was distasteful to accept gifts from King Henry. But I couldn’t see a way to refuse, so I donned the kirtle and bodice of the least ostentatious one, a dark blue damask with a tight waist and billowing sleeves.
    “My, oh my, you are so slim, Joanna,” Catherine said. “This fits perfectly, which means the lady it was made for was astoundingly slim. I wonder who that could have been.”
    “Are these dresses borrowed?” I asked. “I must thank that person, and be sure she knows they will be returned.”
    “Don’t be silly. No one lends dresses like these, certainly not by way of the king. His Majesty has come into possession of them; it would be best not to inquire.”
    How nonchalantly she said it. Catherine was untroubled by the turpitude of the court. That troubled me .
    But my mounting concerns for Catherine were once again pushed aside. She dragged me with her to supper with the Howards. Just as Catherine did not serve Queen Anne alongside the other maids of honor, she didn’t eat with them. The Howards had lodgings at court. She explained as we went how they served a late supper there for the whole family. The duke himself rarely joined them, for he needed to attend the king until late into the night.
    As I listened to Catherine along the way, I could not help noticing how much attention we drew. Every man we passed stared at us, eyes flicking back and forth. Perhaps it was