Murder at Hatfield House Read Online Free PDF Page A

danger, but there was also a measure of control. And Princess Elizabeth always said one must do what one had to do to stay safe.
    “Penelope, what are you doing here?” she whispered, even though there was surely no one there to hear them.
    Penelope laughed and held her candle higher to cast a gold circle around the narrow passageway with its dingy plastered walls. Her blond hair was swept up atop her head, and her violet-blue eyes sparkled on her heart-shaped, catlike face as if she also felt a dangerous thrill at being there.
    “I was tired of being trapped listening to Lady Pope’s sermons,” Penelope said. “I wanted to know what was going on out there today. Aren’t you simply dying of the suspense, too, Kate?”
    “Aye,” Kate admitted. “I keep wondering when we shall need to flee all over again.”
    A frown flickered over Penelope’s brow, a fleeting dark shadow, and she nodded. “We have had to face doom far too many times, haven’t we? All the more reason I had to escape Lady P’s clutches for a while. I said I had desperate need for the necessary, and came here to hear what was happening in the hall. It took me a while to find the entrance, though.”
    “What have you discovered?” Kate asked, intrigued.
    “Naught as of yet. I found myself quite lost in here. Then I heard you talking to Ned, and I thought perhaps we could find out together.”
    Kate nodded. Having a task to accomplish, a way to cease feeling quite so helpless, infused her with a new energy. Of course Penelope would find a way to more excitement. Life at Hatfield had been far less lonely since she had arrived there to wait on Princess Elizabeth after her return from the Tower. She was Kate’s first friend of her own age. “We should hurry. I have the feeling that Braceton is not a man who will let the princess argue with him for long.”
    “Indeed not, the brute,” Penelope agreed. “Just like a man.” Still holding the candle high in one hand, she took Kate’s arm with the other and they made their way through the maze of corridors and twisting staircases.
    It was so narrow they could only walk single file, and the walls were so thin Kate could hear the occasional footstep or murmured word from the house beyond. It was all strange and muffled, the darkness thick beyond the small circle of Penelope’s candle. Chests and boxes were also piled up, stored there out of the way. Most of them were plain pine bound with iron, but one was a prettily painted blue chest decorated with twining vines. Penelope shoved it out of their path.
    At last they emerged through another small crack in the wall, and Kate found herself tumbled into the light of the gallery that ran the length of the house above the great hall. Tapestries and paintings hung on the walls, hiding the water stains and cracked paneling beneath. Beyond the carved balustrade that curved to the grand staircase, far below, was the entrance hall. The booming echo of voices told her that was where Braceton and Elizabeth were arguing.
    They stopped next to the wall and Kate watched, fascinated, as Penelope carefully felt around the edges of the rough plasterwork.
    “It must be here somewhere,” Penelope muttered.
    “How do you know about this place?” Kate asked.
    Penelope laughed. “Not all of us are buried in musical scores, Kate. Lady Pope keeps us running from day to night on errands. It’s good to find faster ways to get about. Ah, here we are.”
    There was a small click and the seemingly solid wall eased open a crack. The muffled voices grew louder, clearer, and Penelope and Kate hastened into this next passage and down the secret stairs.
    “. . . you have read the letters I brought, madam, and surely you know you cannot hinder me in my task,” Braceton was saying. His voice was thick with impatience, as if he had said those words before and his control would soon snap if he had to say them again.
    Kate pressed her hand to her lips to hide a laugh. Many of Queen