The Winter Queen Read Online Free PDF Page A

scarce imagine a man like that in dispute with anyone. Surely he could charm the very birds of the trees into his hand?’
    Anne gave her a sharp glance. ‘You have met Master Gustavson, then?’
    Rosamund shook her head. ‘That is merely what I observe from watching him now.’
    â€˜Oh, you must be wary of such observations! Here at Court, appearances are always deceiving. One never shows one’s true nature; it is the only way to survive.’
    â€˜Indeed? And must I be wary of you, too, Mistress Percy?’
    â€˜Of course,’ Anne said happily. ‘My family, you see, is an old and wealthy one, but also stubbornly Catholic. I am here only on sufferance, because my aunt is friends with the Queen. But I will tell you this, Lady Rosamund—I am always an honest source of delicious gossip for my friends.’
    Rosamund laughed. ‘Tell me this, then, Mistress Honesty—who is that lady with Master Gustavson? Does he seek an English wife to go along with that new estate?’
    Anne peered out of the window again. ‘If he does, he has made a great mistake with that one. That is Lettice Devereaux, Countess of Essex—the Queen’s cousin. Her husband the earl is away fighting the wild Irish, but it does not stop her making merry at Court.’ She tugged at Rosamund’s arm, drawing her away from the window and its enticing view. ‘Come, let me showyou our chamber. I will have much more gossip to share before the feast tonight.’
    The feast in honour of those same quarrelling delegations, Rosamund remembered as she followed Anne along the corridor. It certainly should be a most interesting evening.
    Perhaps if she wrote to Richard about it he would write to her in return? If he ever received the letter, that was. He was a country gentleman, not much interested in labyrinthine Court affairs, but he did enjoy a fine jest. It was one of the things she had liked about him. That was if she still wanted to hear from him, which she was not at all sure of.
    Anne led Rosamund back to one of the quieter, narrower halls. It was dark here, as there were no windows, and the torches in their sconces were not yet lit. The painted cloths that hung along the walls swayed as they passed. Rosamund thought surely the intrigues of Court were already affecting her, for she imagined all the schemes that could be whispered of in such a spot.
    â€˜That is the Privy Council Chamber,’ Anne whispered, indicating a half-open door. The room was empty, but Rosamund glimpsed a long table lined with straight-backed chairs. ‘We maids never go in there.’
    â€˜Don’t you ever wonder what happens there?’ Rosamund whispered in return. ‘What is said?’
    â€˜Of course! But Her Grace does not ask our opinion on matters of state. Though she does ask us for news of Court doings, which is much the same thing.’
    She tugged on Rosamund’s arm again, leading her into what could only be the chamber of the maids of honour. A long, narrow, rectangular space, it was lined with three beds on each side. They were certainly notas large and grand as the Queen’s own sleeping space. The beds were made of dark, uncarved wood, but they were spread with warm, green velvet-and-wool quilts and hung with heavy, gold-embroidered green curtains. A large clothes chest and a washstand stood by each bed, and the rest of the room was filled with dressing tables and looking glasses.
    It was a peaceful enough space now, but Rosamund could imagine the cacophony when six ladies were in residence.
    Her maid Jane was at one of the beds on the far end, unpacking Rosamund’s trunks; she clucked and fussed over the creased garments. The satins, velvets, brocades and furs her parents had provided were all piled up in a gleaming heap.
    â€˜Oh, wonderful!’ Anne exclaimed. ‘You are in the bed beside mine. We can whisper at night. It has been so quiet since Eleanor Mortimer