Fallen Angel by Tracy Borman

Author:Tracy Borman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grove Atlantic

1620

CHAPTER 35

26 January

Frances rubbed the windowpane, which was misted with her breath. The heavy grey clouds overhead threatened more snow. So much had fallen over the last two days that the roads were barely passable, and the gardens too thickly covered for walking.

‘Ouch!’

She turned back to her companion, whose head was bent over her embroidery.

‘It is no use,’ Kate said, setting it down. ‘There are more holes in my fingers than in this cloth.’

Frances smiled. ‘The light is very poor in here. Perhaps I should fetch some more candles.’

‘Please, do not do so on my behalf. It will make no difference. My thoughts are too distracted today.’ She glanced at the clock again. ‘They should have been here long before now.’

Frances came to sit next to her. ‘Try not to worry. This weather is bound to have slowed their progress. They will be here soon enough, I am sure.’ She pushed down her own anxiety. The journey from Belvoir was hazardous at the best of times, with some of the roads little more than narrow, muddy tracks. That Lord Rutland should attempt it at such a time was testament to his desperation. Frances prayed that his young son would survive the ordeal so that she might attend to him, as she had promised.

‘If only my father had heeded your counsel and remained at Belvoir until the spring. I cannot but think my poor brother would have fared better there.’

Frances was inclined to agree. ‘Shall we read for a while?’

‘I fear the words would not come easily today and you would think me a poor student after the care you have lavished on my education.’

‘You are a good deal more accomplished than most ladies here at court,’ Frances replied firmly. Kate had flourished under her tutelage and Frances had taken great pleasure in seeing her sense of wonder at the worlds that had been opened to her through the numerous books that now lined her shelves. It was one of the many things that had brought them closer since her return to court.

‘Tell me, how was the play that I missed two nights ago?’ Frances asked. She had pleaded a headache upon hearing that Doctor Faustus was to be performed. The King’s obsession with the demonic had deepened since the disappearance of his late wife’s jewels the previous year. He had become increasingly convinced that the theft was part of some wider conspiracy, and that the sickness with which he had been afflicted had been the result of a bewitchment. Frances prayed that her attendance on him would remain hidden. He would not hesitate to have her arrested, even though he owed his recovery to her.

‘I can hardly remember it,’ Kate replied.

‘What is it?’ Frances asked softly.

‘It is nothing – truly,’ her friend replied, not meeting her gaze. ‘I should be grateful, for it was meant as a kindness, I am sure. It is just . . .’ She bit her lip and fell silent.

‘Kate?’ Frances prompted.

The young woman at last raised her eyes.

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