When Rupert helped her down, she was stiff and bone-weary she felt. It took considerable effort to straighten her back and hold her head high as a host of liveried servants took charge of the horses and baggage. As she followed him towards a stone-edged doorway beneath one of the towers, she sensed she was being watched. A brief glance revealed a round-faced gentleman wearing a high felt hat. Surely she knew that face? But wait, he was standing next to Kit. Heaven forbid he should think she was staring at him! She ducked her head and moved rapidly away.
But as soon as she and Lettice had been shown to their chamber, she chased to the window to stare down at Kit, her pulse skittering. The familiar gentleman had gone, but now a young woman had appeared, sweeping up to him with a great billowing of her ornamented skirt. There was no doubt she was of wealthy stock—the jewels adorning her gown, and the chains and necklaces about her throat, and resting on her barely-covered bosom, proclaimed it. Something about the way the girl moved suggested she had a close familiarity with Kit.
Could this be she? The one for whose sake Kit had been exiled? Surely not, for if he had shamed her, she would not now be leaning on his arm, and gazing winningly up into his face. And if it was not that woman, only one explanation remained—Kit had more than one paramour at court. Mayhap this was the reason he’d avoided her company on the journey to Hatfield—he had a great deal too much to hide. Well, she would do her best to avoid him from now on, so she wouldn’t have to cope with the searing pain that stabbed at her heart.
As she turned miserably away from the window, there was a scratching at the door.
Lettice abandoned her efforts to smooth out Alys’ crumpled clothing and admitted a young boy in livery bearing a tray of bread, meat and wine. His voice must be on the edge of breaking, for he croaked at them when he spoke. “The compliments of the steward, my lady, and apologies that you have not a better view, but there were few rooms left to choose from.”
Alys smiled encouragingly and was rewarded by a hearty blush. “But… but you may still see a little of the gardens from here, and the roses are very fine.”
“Indeed, I have spied them already.” She tilted her head and waited.
“Oh, Jason, my lady. Just call my name if you need me.” He removed his hat with a flourish.
“Aye, Jason. The rose trellises remind me of my home.”
“Thank you, my lady.” The boy backed out of the room.
Oh, such luxury, to be waited upon hand-and-foot, and not to have to worry about the expense. She signaled Lettice to join her, relishing some company at the table, but barely had they finished eating than someone else scratched at the door. Alys leapt up to open it, expecting Jason come to clear away their platters, then froze in surprise to see a woman, of a similar age to herself, dressed in the finest clothes she had ever seen, waiting outside.
For a moment, she wondered if this was the queen herself, and her knees collapsed into a curtsey. Ignoring it, the newcomer flounced into the chamber.
“They said you’d be provincial.” The woman’s ringing tones reverberated around the room. “And I can see they were right. Never mind. We shall be honest with each other, you and I, and I’ll help polish your manners and your apparel. Will that serve?”
Alys was too distracted by the woman’s finery to reply at once. The stranger’s skirts were so puffed out that they’d brushed both sides of the doorway as she entered. They were of a deep, velvety gold, open at the front to reveal an elaborately stitched satin under-kirtle. The neckline of the bodice was uncovered, indicating that the wearer was unmarried, and the pale flesh below her neck was adorned with a fine chain of gold and pearls. Pearls had also been strung in her frizzed and puffed-out hair, and a tiny cap, edged with lace, formed a border to the coiffure. Before such splendor, Alys felt herself to be very lowly indeed.
“I’m Jane Haslitt, one of the ladies-in-waiting. I’m here to prepare you for supper this evening and your meeting with the queen.”
Alys exchanged looks with Lettice, who produced a curtsey of her own, then backed away. “Alys Barchard at your service.”
“Yes, yes, I already know that. Supper is at five, so we don’t have long to make you presentable. Come with me, and we’ll find you a decent gown to wear. Then your woman can dress your hair.”
As Alys allowed herself to be marched away by her new helpmate, she shot a look at Lettice. The girl’s eyes were round, and she looked positively petrified. In truth, she felt little better herself. But it was her own actions that had set her life upon this course, so she must hide her fears, and make the best of it.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jane Haslitt was inclined to be friendly. “You have been stout-hearted in foiling this plot, I’m sure,” she said, as she led the way to her chamber. “And deserve the praise and gratitude of all who serve the queen. Let me be among the first to thank you, as I am ever in her company and would like as not been killed along with many others. Rumor has it this armed attack was to be at Whitehall. I am dying to hear more.”
Alys entered a room even larger than Kate’s at Selwood. A maid stood
