The Doublet Affair (Ursula Blanchard Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page A

reasonable of me, for Matthew too had plotted to bring Mary Stuart and the old religion back to England. In what way, I asked myself as I stood there on the dais, was he different from Robin Dudley?
    For a moment, I wavered, wondering if I should have written to Matthew, asking myself if it would be wrong to leave Elizabeth’s court and travel to France to ally my fortunes to one of Mary Stuart’s adherents. In that moment, I wished with all my heart that my first husband, Gerald Blanchard, Meg’s father, still lived, but he was gone, and my husband now was Matthew.
    To think of Matthew was to conjure him inside my head: tall, bony, wide of shoulder, long of chin, with diamond-shaped dark eyes under dramatic black eyebrows. To think of him was to lean towards him, as though my spirit were trying to leap from my body and vault over land and sea to join him in the Château Blanchepierre in the valley of the Loire.
    No. My choice was made. I would give up the court, cease from spying into other people’s secrets. I would not be betraying England, or the Queen, as Dudley had been prepared to do; only retiring into private life with my husband and my daughter. That, surely, was not wrong.
    The Queen had ceased to speak and seemed to bewaiting for something. Cecil made an impatient movement, then Mew, as if remembering a lesson, went down on one knee and offered the shining thing to the Queen. “If Your Majesty would be p-pleased to accept this, I would be honoured.”
    Over Mew’s bent head, Elizabeth caught Cecil’s eye and he nodded. “With pleasure, Master Mew,” Elizabeth said, and taking the casket with one hand, she gave Mew the other to kiss.
    The page, who had been hovering in the background, came to escort Mew out of the room. Cecil also prepared to take his leave. Before doing so, however, he caught my eye, and while Elizabeth, at the behest of Katherine Knollys and Jane Seymour, played the musical device again, he came to speak to me.
    “My wife sends her good wishes and looks forward to seeing you at dinner tomorrow, Ursula.”
    I thanked him. Some of my fellow ladies smiled, because they knew that the Cecils had found my daughter her foster home and supposed that there was some long-established friendship between my family and the Cecils. There were also a few sour looks, because some of the Ladies of the Privy and Bedchambers thought it in poor taste for a mere Lady of the Presence Chamber to be on dining terms with the Secretary of State.
    Elizabeth, who knew the purpose which lay behind the invitation, glanced at me and wished me a pleasant time. I looked from her to Kat Ashley.
    “Ma’am—Mistress Ashley—there is a matter, a . . . a very private matter . . . of some urgency . . . on which I need to consult Her Majesty. May I have a privateinterview?” I met Elizabeth’s eyes and tried to signal the degree of urgency with my own. I wanted that interview before I went to dine with the Cecils. If all went well, I would not dine there at all.
    “We will have to see,” said Kat Ashley repressively, but Elizabeth recognised my silent signal and gave me a small nod in reply.
    “We will send for you,” she said.

CHAPTER 3
Jackdaw
    K at Ashley fetched me to the Queen’s private rooms later on that day. Elizabeth was in her study, where she often sat to examine correspondence or reports, or read the books on history and philosophy and political theory which interested her so deeply. At the Queen’s bidding, Kat left us. I executed my deepest curtsy and made my request. While I stood waiting, there was a long, long silence, and my heart grew heavy.
    The weather had turned wet. Rain blew against the tall, diamond-leaded windows behind Elizabeth’s carefully coiffured red head, and the afternoon was so overcast that she needed a cluster of candles on her desk in order to read. A fire blazed in the hearth, but even so, the Queen wore a shawl.
    “And so,” she said at last, “you want to desert us,