A Murder at Rosamund's Gate - By Susanna Calkins Page 0,11
“A little trick I learned at the palace.”
Judith and her mother exchanged glances. “At the palace?” Lady Embry asked, her haughty tone catching a bit.
“Yes, when I was one of Her Majesty’s own ladies-in-waiting. I was but a young girl, of course, not much over twelve when I first came.” The mistress smiled blandly at her guests. Lucy could have hugged her. “And I can tell you, during the time of Charles and Henrietta, there was no small amount of wine spilled at the palace, by nobles and servants alike.”
The mistress sat back, dabbing her mouth daintily. Lucy could have sworn she was hiding a smile but was far too well bred to show it. To have served the queen as a beautiful lady-in-waiting was no small honor. Few could say the same, and this was quite a triumph. Lady Embry nodded slightly, acknowledging the added status of her hostess, and seemed to lose her chill somewhat.
The rest of the night passed pleasantly enough with Master Hargrave pulling out the fiddle and passing it around for the household to play a merry tune. He had long insisted his children and ward learn to play. Sarah was quite good, Lucy noted with a little smile. Sarah’s music teacher had been attractive enough to keep her interest. Lucas, too, though coming to the instrument a bit late, played a few quick jigs passably.
Dutifully, Adam took his turn, his eyes half shut, ignoring Judith’s rapt attention. He seemed neither interested nor disinterested in the piece but played with little of the fervor she had seen in him on some evenings. Indeed, he seemed distracted.
Placing the violin back in the case, he caught Lucy’s eye. She raised an eyebrow, and he gave a little shrug. I do not perform for strangers, he seemed to say.
Especially ones that insult a hardworking lass in his household, Lucy added mentally on his behalf. Whether that gallantry was true, she did not know.
* * *
The next morning, Bessie and Lucy stepped out of the magistrate’s house, eager to have a day off. The mist today was tentative, a few wisps that the wind easily chased away. Since both were visiting their families south of London, the girls planned to walk together as far as Southwark. Although they didn’t admit it, neither wanted to walk alone. There were several long, lonely fields ahead of them, and Jane Hardewick’s death reminded them how vulnerable they were on their own.
Lucy was glad that their tiff had smoothed over, and Bessie seemed to feel the same way. By unspoken agreement, neither mentioned the murder again.
“Shall we pass through Aldgate?” Bessie asked.
“Aldgate?” Lucy asked, surprised. “That will add nearly three-quarters of an hour to our journey.”
“Well, I thought perhaps your brother, Will, might have the day off, too,” Bessie said, a trifle too carelessly. “We could all journey through Lambeth together.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. She knew Will had taken Bessie to the plays a few times, but she also knew that her brother had a roving eye. “He did not mention his next day off, so I do not know his plans,” she said.
Seeing Bessie smirk out of the corner of her eye, Lucy added, “However, I’m sure if he is free today, he will be quite eager to see Cecily, his sweetheart from home. They are all but promised, you know.” She wasn’t trying to be unkind, but she did hope to dampen Bessie’s hopes about Will.
“I don’t think they are promised,” Bessie said.
Lucy snorted, but pretended she had sneezed when she saw Bessie’s hurt expression. “You may be right,” she said, trying to make amends.
“I am right,” Bessie said smugly. “You’ll see.”
* * *
When they arrived at the smithy, Lucy was irritated to see that Will, indeed, was waiting for them. Clearly, he and Bessie had arranged to meet, and neither of them had told her. For a little while Lucy pouted, but then gave up when neither seemed to notice. Finally, when Will stopped to buy them some apples, Bessie linked her arm in Lucy’s. “Do you mind? About Will?” Her blue eyes seemed enormous in their worry as she waited for Lucy to respond.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lucy whispered.
Bessie shrugged. “I should have. You are my own true sister.” She paused. “There’s something else, too,” she began, but broke off when Will tossed them both an apple.
By and by, Lucy gave in to the pleasure of spending time with her brother. She could not help but eye him