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Captains.
    I have finished my recording just in time—it is midday, and the Maids of Honour are to eat dinner with the Queen in the Parlour.

    Hell’s teeth! Lady Sarah too is surely in love! There she was at dinner time, sighing and picking at her food because
Somebody
was having to eat in the Great Hall and wasn’t there! But she soon perked up when Her Majesty decided to invite Mr. Hawkins and the two Captains to partake of some afternoon air with us in the Privy Garden.
    As we walked, Mr. Hawkins continued to expound on ships to Her Majesty. I could see she was listening with interest, but I’m not sure she understood all he was saying because there were so many Sailorishwords mixed up in it. I certainly didn’t! So I decided to listen in on some easier conversation.
    Lady Sarah had, rather rudely, drawn Mary Shelton’s attention from Lady Jane to moan to her about the disaster that had happened to her gown the day before. “What I need is a sixteen-yard dress-length of that lovely white samite and some pearls to put with it,” she said. Mary nodded politely. “The damask is utterly ruined—it’s too bad even to give to Olwen,” Sarah went on. “And I
desperately
need a French-cut bodice and a new ruff and some blackworked sleeves and a new petticoat, and even my bumroll smells of river water now so I must throw it away…”
    “If I can take a fat Flemish merchanter, shall I bring you the booty to make you a new gown?” asked Captain Drake, who had overheard this, as he was supposed to.
    Sarah blushed—and I knew why: it would have been more seemly for him to beg the Queen to give Lady Sarah the samite, like a proper courtier, than to go round capturing ships for it! But he didn’t seem to know that—and his offer was very romantic. Lady Sarah looked quite charmed by this blatant display of his regard.
    “I could do that, too,” put in Captain Derby hopefully.
    Sarah ignored him. “But I thought only the Spaniards had treasure,” she said, simpering up at Drake and fluttering her eyelashes.
    “The Flemish are Spanish Netherlanders,” Drake explained, “and worth the spoiling, for they carry bolts and bolts of silk and velvet.”
    “Oh, Captain Drake, then could you capture me a Flemish merchanter with plenty of samite and velvet? And then could you capture me a big Spanish galleon loaded with pearls—like the ones in my lovely bracelet?” Sarah wheedled, with her head on one side and her jewelled wrist held up prettily—quite disgusting to see, really.
    “Aye, with a glad heart.” Drake laughed and bowed. “Anything my lady desires.”
    Mary Shelton, who had of course overheard this exchange, elbowed me and made a sick face at all this romantic talk.
    The Queen called Sarah over to her then, and the Captains walked off, oh so casually, in the same direction.
    I am almost beginning to feel sorry for Captain Derby: he will persist—but clearly Lady Sarah has eyes for no one but Drake.

    I have just had the most terrible shock!
    I was first to bed this even. Mary Shelton and Lady Sarah were yet to retire to our chamber. As I was about to climb in, I tripped on something bony. It was Ellie’s foot! She was curled up under my bed, shivering and shaking and coughing—not at all well!
    She explained to me that Mrs. Fadget has taken no notice of her illness and had cruelly insisted she carry on with her duties. She had sent Ellie to bring all the smocks back from the ladies’ bedchambers. But having been washing bedlinen all day, Ellie was exhausted, and she’d fallen asleep under my bed. Poor thing! Her skin was burning up and her breath foul, and she kept saying she was wretched cold.
    I decided that I would seek out my Uncle Cavendish, the Court Physician—dearly hoping that, as a favour to me, he would tend to Ellie.
    Mary Shelton came in just as I was dressing to fetch my uncle.
    “Who is that?” she asked. She didn’t sound haughty, as most of the other Maids of Honour might do on