Her Highness, the Traitor - By Susan Higginbotham Page 0,48

swift stroke, the goose’s head was severed from its body.

“Thank the Lord,” said the Countess of Warwick. “Such folly men engage in.” She turned to my eldest daughter as Guildford ambled back. “They tell me you are remarkably skilled in languages, my lady.”

“I speak several, my lady,” Jane said without a great deal of modesty.

“I speak only French, and little enough of that,” the countess said. “It was not fashionable when I was young for ladies to learn more than that, unless they were very great indeed. But all of our children are learning French and Italian, and our sons know the ancient languages, as well. Or at least some of them do.” The countess looked at Guildford indulgently. “You would put Guildford to shame in Greek, my lady, but he speaks Italian quite well. Don’t you?”

Guildford dutifully said something in that language to Jane, who responded in kind. Though I could not understand a word either was saying, or judge how well they were saying it, I sensed the conversation was a forced one. When another lady claimed the countess’s attention and steered her away, Jane abruptly switched to English. “Is your mother tipsy?”

“Of course not,” Guildford said huffily. He smiled, a gesture that revealed him to be easily the most handsome of the five Dudley sons. “She is naturally retiring, you know, and at affairs like this she becomes ill at ease and starts to babble, especially with my father not here. And the goose did upset her.”

“Such pastimes are foolish and idle,” Jane said. “Like hunting for pleasure.”

“I like hunting for pleasure,” admitted Guildford, who had suddenly acquired the look of a trapped deer himself. “It is good exercise, and it helps with the art of war. Of course, it might not help all that much, as the deer isn’t shooting a crossbow,” he acknowledged. “But I am sorry, my ladies, I must go. My brother is waving to me.”

“He seems a pleasant young man,” I commented after Guildford had left us.

“A ninny,” said Jane. “Deer not shooting a crossbow!”

“He was trying to be amusing, Jane.”

“And his Italian conversation is commonplace. Do you know what he said to me?”

I shook my head.

“He said that my dress was very pretty and that the color suited me. And then he asked me if I would dance with him later today!”

“Really, Jane, the poor young man was only trying to make gallant conversation. It can’t be as easy for men as women think it should be, in English or Italian.”

“He could have saved himself the trouble and not made such conversation at all.”

“I hope you did not refuse to dance with him. That would have been quite rude.”

“No, I agreed. Though I am not looking forward to it.” Jane gazed over to where Guildford was talking with his brothers. “Perhaps I could get sick, like the Earl of Warwick.”

***

When I wrote to Mary, asking to visit her on my way to Bradgate, I received a strangely noncommittal response, to my distress. Had I angered my cousin in some way? I wrote back to that effect and was told I had not offended in any way and to come as soon as I wanted.

“Perhaps she is ill,” I told Harry.

“Perhaps,” said Harry without a great deal of concern. “Don’t let her trap you into attending her Mass this time.” He winked at my guilty look. “Oh, you can’t fool me, my dear. I know she inveigled you into going the last time you visited her. Jane told me.”

***

Mary, it turned out, had moved for the summer to Woodham Walter in Essex, which was not on our way to Bradgate, so I sent the girls on to Leicestershire with a suitable entourage and went to Woodham Walter by myself. Jane, for one, put up no argument about being deprived of a visit to the lady Mary.

Woodham Walter, about two miles from the sea, was an attractive manor, but it was small for a person of Mary’s station—the sort of place one might use for a few days while en route to somewhere else. It seemed odd to be there for over a month, as Mary apparently had been, but as I drew closer to the manor, I found that the air that blew in from the sea felt good across my cheeks. Perhaps that was the appeal for Mary.

I was shown to Mary’s private chamber just moments after I came through the manor gates. To my surprise, she dismissed her ladies and