Feud Read Online Free PDF Page B

parts. Perchance he could be a poet.”
    “That won't make him rich, either,” Sarah said sadly.
    I am going to go to sleep as soon as I have finished writing, so I don't have to hear any more witteringabout Richard Fitzgrey. I am far more interested in Carmina's sickness. Poor Carmina, I wonder what can be wrong with her. It is such a puzzle, for she has no fever at all. I asked Mary Shelton what she thought it could be and she became serious at once.
    “I was worried it might be a gaol fever,” Mary said with a sigh. “Except she hasn't got any fever, so it can't be.”
    “Gaol fever!” squeaked Lady Sarah in horror.
    “I'm sure it is not,” said Mary quickly. “Though I don't know what else it could be.”
    Gaol fever isn't as bad as plague or smallpox but it can easily be deadly—though I don't know how Carmina would have caught it, because she hasn't been near a gaol, of course.
    So it
isn't
gaol fever that is making Carmina ill, but nobody seems to know what it
is
. I have no mystery to solve for Her Majesty at present. Perhaps I should investigate whatever is ailing Carmina, since that is become such a mystery.
    But now I'm sleepy and have ink all over my fingers. I did not want to waste my graphite pens when I wasn't wearing my white damask, so there's ink on the sheets too. Hell's teeth! Now Ellie will be cross with me; she hates scrubbing ink stains.

This graphite pen is wonderful, for it never blots at all. I am just writing in my daybooke at the Workroom, while I wait for Mrs. Champernowne to help Lady Sarah with the Queen's robes—they have to be arranged perfectly for the portraits.
    The Queen is busy with the Scottish Ambassadors again, and thankfully, we have all been given this morning free. Mary Shelton said she was going to fetch some comfits for poor Carmina, who is still unwell. Carmina has been strictly ordered by the Queen to stay in bed, though there is still no fever. I was going to go with Mary and see if I could collect any sweetmeats for Ellie and Masou (and myself ) when Sarah stopped me in the passage and told me grumpily that she had to go to the Workroom and stand for the Queen's portrait again, and I must go and read to her. So here I am.
    Oh, Sarah is ready now so I must stop writing andread. I hope we have more fighting and less speechifying, clothes, and lovesickness in the next chapters. I hate it when everyone is so noble and good in a story that you can't imagine it being true at all.
Later, also at the Workroom
    I have taken the chance to write in my daybooke while all is quiet. Lady Sarah has gone off with Olwen to change and Mrs. Teerlinc is casting up her accounts again. If I sit quietly on the window-seat and write, they might not notice me. I am using graphite so as not to get any ink on my fingers. The only trouble is that it smudges easily, and I notice that my shift cuffs are going quite grey with it. Never mind, it is still better than ink.
    I think Sarah is such a fusspot. I read to her for ages and received no thanks at all. She was looking out of the big windows a lot and sighing and constantly nibbling at some sugar ribbons she had brought with her. The only time she actually stood still was when the players came out into the courtyard and started practising a swordfight.
    I was distracted, too, because it was fun to watchthem practise a veney with staves instead of swords. Then they changed to blunted blades and did the exact same moves over and over again, speeding up each time.
    Meanwhile, old Ned was painting slowly and squinting hard. Nick Hilliard was doing his own painting at his usual impatient speed, while the other limners discussed cockfighting and painted away carefully.
    Then Lady Horsley arrived. She greeted Mrs. Teerlinc as an old friend and stood to watch the work. Lady Sarah was fanning herself and scowling again now that Richard Fitzgrey had gone indoors.
    Ned left off painting and rubbed his eyes, then squinted at Lady Horsley and looked