Murder at Hatfield House (30 page)

“You did not. Mistress Bassett served me for many months, and she served my cousins before that. I never saw her true intentions, never even guessed them, and I am older than you and have a great deal more experience in courtly deceit. I have been playing this dangerous game since I was three. I didn’t suspect her intentions. But I am only one person, Kate, as are you. A great change is coming very soon. I know that because Mistress Dormer was sent to me by my sister and brought me some of the royal jewels. And when this change does come, I will need many people around me to be my eyes and ears. People I can trust.”

Kate shivered. She wanted so much to be one of those so trusted, but how could she? She wasn’t sure she could even trust herself. “People such as Cecil and Mistress Ashley?”

“Aye, of course them. They have been loyal to me since I was a child. But also you. I shall need you to come with me as well.”

“But I failed you, Your Grace! I did not stop Penelope when I should have.”

“You never failed me. In fact, you proved your worth. It is your great kindness I need now, Kate. Your sweetness and your steadfastness. Real kindness is rare in this world. You care about people, truly care about them, and that draws them close to you. It persuades them to confide in you, as no one ever would with a queen. And you can go places where I cannot, like kitchens and playhouses. Aye, I shall assuredly need you close to me.”

Kate turned Elizabeth’s words over in her mind, along with everything that had happened since Lord Braceton stormed into Hatfield. She remembered what Penelope had said, that Kate could never match the cruelty of those who sought to play games of crowns. But her heart was harder now, and her trust was cracked. She would surely never be so easily deceived again.

Though maybe Elizabeth was also right, and kindness could be an asset and a weapon in itself. Perhaps, with time, she
could
learn to use it to protect the people she loved.

Like in music, it took many disparate strands to make a coherent whole, to make a beautiful madrigal.

“I only know one thing now, Your Grace,” she said. “I will serve you however you require, for as long as you need me.”

Elizabeth gave a strangely sad smile. “My sweet Kate. I hope you shall never regret those words, for I shall certainly hold you to them.”

One of the other ladies came dashing up the slope of the hill, the breeze threatening to sweep her cap from her head. “My lady! My lady, riders are approaching.”

Elizabeth turned and shielded her eyes with her hand. Kate peered over her shoulder to see a large party of riders indeed, thundering through the gates, throwing up clouds of dirt. As they came closer, Kate could see that the leaders were men she recognized from court, the powerful earls of Pembroke and Arundel.

Elizabeth’s face turned white and her hand trembled, but she stood very still as they galloped nearer. At the foot of the hill, Lord Arundel drew in his horse and slid to his feet. Out of breath, he climbed the hill to kneel before the unmoving Elizabeth.

“Your Majesty,” he gasped. “I bring tidings from London.”

He held up his hand, and on his gloved palm gleamed the coronation ring. The large ruby stone that never left a monarch’s hand until he or she was dead. He did not need to say anything else.

“This is the Lord’s doing,” Elizabeth said, quietly but strongly. “And it is marvelous in our eyes.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I
have been fascinated by the Tudors ever since I watched
Anne of the Thousand Days
on TV when I was about ten! Though I have to admit the gorgeous clothes were a big part of the attraction (and I still love the history of fashion), the big emotions and larger-than-life characters drew me in. I wanted to know more about them, so I ran to the library the day after I saw the movie and asked a very helpful librarian for anything they had about Tudor England. She gave me a large stack of books—and I haven’t stopped reading about this extraordinary time ever since.

The one image that has always stuck with me most from
Anne
is that at the very end, of the little red-haired girl in a satin gown, looking up startled at the sound of the cannon announcing her mother’s death. I was amazed to find out that little girl grew up to be Elizabeth I, a figure I had thought of up until then as being almost unreal and impossibly remote, wrapped in the dense symbolism of old, stiff portraits. Queen Elizabeth, and her vibrant, colorful, bawdy, dangerous times, sometimes seem more real to me than my own everyday life of grocery shopping, dog feeding, and yoga classes—and I’m hoping for the next time I get to travel to England!

With Kate Haywood, I get to immerse myself in Tudor times like I never have before, and I’m so excited about it. Kate, of course, is fictional, though she is somewhat based on the historical figure of Amelia (or Emilia) Lanier, who was a member of the famous musical Bassano family (and is one of the candidates to be Shakespeare’s Dark Lady). Kate is the daughter of a court musician and loves music herself. It’s her whole life—until Princess Elizabeth asks for her help in solving mysteries! Musicians, and performing artists of all sorts, were often in a perfect position to act as spies and mediators. They were generally well educated, mobile both physically and socially, and when they played at banquets and state occasions often overheard useful conversations. An intelligent, talented, and pretty (but not
too
pretty!) young lady like Kate would have much more freedom than most women in her strata.

And while Kate and her father (as well as her friends—the lawyer Anthony, the actor Rob Cartman, and the lady-in-waiting Penelope) are fictional, I had fun weaving real historical figures into my plot as well. Among the true characters are: Elizabeth’s keeper-gaoler, Sir Thomas Pope (who actually was not very restrictive); the family of Nicholas Bacon at Gorhambury (who was later Elizabeth’s Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal); the Count (later Duke) de Feria, Philip II of Spain’s emissary (the dinner at Brocket Hall with Lady Clinton, Elizabeth’s old friend “the fair Geraldine”—another true figure!—actually happened much the way I’ve written it, though I have had to fiddle with the timing a bit); and the count’s English fiancée and Queen Mary’s lady-in-waiting Jane Dormer (who lived a fascinating and very long life in her own right, though she makes only a quick appearance in this tale). I loved getting to spend more time with all these people.

I’ve also loved spending time in their homes and spaces! When I visited Hatfield many years ago, this story wasn’t even in my mind, but since I always take lots of notes and photos at every historical site I visit (and am addicted to buying guidebooks!), I had lots of memories and materials to use for this book. Most of the house Elizabeth knew is gone now, except for Hatfield Old Palace, which gives a taste of what life must have been like for the young princess and her household.

(Also, if you happen to visit Hatfield, it’s worth a look at the nearby churchyard, where Lady Caroline Lamb and her husband, Lord Melbourne, are buried! Along with the Tudors, I also love the Regency period.)

I also have to say that, though Queen Mary has to be a villain of sorts in this story, I’ve always felt sorry for her! She is one of the saddest, most misunderstood figures in English history, and I apologize to her for giving her such a vile servant as Lord Braceton.

I had so much fun visiting Elizabeth’s world for
Murder at Hatfield House
, and can’t wait to dip into it again for the next story (centered around the queen’s glittering coronation—stalked by a serial killer!). I hope you enjoyed reading it. For more behind-the-book info, Tudor history sources, and lots of fun stuff, visit my Web site at amandacarmack.com!

Read on for a sneak peek at the next Elizabethan mystery from Amanda Carmack,

MURDER AT WESTMINSTER ABBEY

Available from Obsidian in April 2014.

Whitehall Palace

“H
urry, Kate! We mustn’t be late.”

“I am coming!” Kate Haywood called after her friend Lady Mary Everley as she dashed down the palace corridor outside Kate’s chamber. It would be a terrible thing indeed to be tardy taking their places in Queen Elizabeth’s procession to the Tower, where all new monarchs spent the nights before their coronations. Kate was meant to play with the queen’s musicians on the royal barge.

The queen.
How very new and strange those words seemed, and how very wonderful. Queen Elizabeth. It seemed only a moment ago that she was mere Princess Elizabeth, and they were living quietly in the countryside. Now they were in the midst of London itself, stepping into the color and whirl of a real royal court. Into life itself.

Kate’s head was spinning with the excitement and urgency of it all. Part of her, most of her, wanted to run out and embrace it all. And part of her . . .

Part of her felt like she was standing tiptoe at the edge of a precipice, about to leap into something dark and unknown. Something that would catch her up like a whirlwind and toss her around until she didn’t know herself any longer.

As she took up her lute from where it lay on its stand by the fire in her small sitting room, her father leaned forward from his chair and caught her hand in his. She felt the familiar roughness of his fingertips, callused from long years on the lute strings, and it steadied her pounding heart.

She smiled up at him. Matthew Haywood had served at royal courts since he was a child, first old King Henry, then as chief musician to Queen Catherine Parr, then Elizabeth in her years of exile and danger. But though he had written much of the new celebratory madrigals and pavanes for the coronation festivities, he couldn’t play at the processions and banquets himself. His days in the cold, damp gaol before Queen Mary died had weakened him, and he had to stay close to the fire, wrapped in warm robes and with his rheumatic leg bandaged and propped on a stool.

Kate looked into his watery eyes, at the beard that was nearly all white now, and had to force herself to smile brightly. She would not worry her father with her own uncertainties, not for the world. He was all her family, and she his, and it had been thus since her mother, Eleanor, died when Kate was born nineteen years ago.

“I wish you could come today, Father,” she said. “It will be so glorious! You’ve been working so hard to make the music just right. . . .”

“And so, don’t I deserve my rest? Christmas was
too
merry. It has all worn me out. And it is too cold out there for an old man like me. I will do well enough here at Whitehall with Peg to look after me. You can tell me every detail when you return.”

Kate held up the thick sheaf of vellum in her hand. “But this is
your
music.”

“I can think of no safer caretaker for it than you, my Kate. You will make the notes come to true life.”

“Kate!” Lady Mary called out again from the corridor. Kate could hear her friend’s footsteps pattering closer.

“Go now,” Matthew said. “You cannot keep Her Majesty waiting. You did wonderfully well at all the Christmas festivities. Even Lord Robert Dudley himself praised your music. Today will be no different. There must always be a Haywood in the monarch’s musical consort.”

Kate gave a rueful laugh. The days of Christmas had indeed been a whirl—a gala month of banquets, dances, plays, and masques, all organized to the most lavish degree by the queen’s handsome childhood friend and new Master of the Horse, Lord Robert Dudley. Kate had played and sang until her voice grew hoarse and she felt giddy with it all. Not since she was a child at Queen Catherine’s court had she seen so many people, heard such fascinating conversations, and eaten such grand food.

Only now it was a hundred times more intense, more merry. The new queen was like the sun, brilliant and hot, to a world too long in chilly darkness; all was drawn into her orbit. And Kate was lucky enough not only to see it all, but to be given glimpses of the extraordinary woman behind the royal mask.

“You’re quite right, Father,” she said. “It will all be grand indeed. I will do your music its justice, I promise.”

“And don’t forget—your mother is always with you, too.” Matthew stroked a gentle touch over the polished wood of Kate’s lute. The lute that had once belonged to her mother.

Kate felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes and blinked them away. “I don’t forget, Father. Ever.”

“Kate!” Lady Mary’s head popped around the door. The gray-yellow rays of sunlight from the window caught on her pale red hair, twined with pearls, and the jeweled trim of her red satin bodice. “We must go.”

With a last kiss to her father’s cheek, Kate hurried out of the room after her friend. Their rooms were at the back of the vast corridors and courtyards of Whitehall, and they ran down and up staircases, circling around servants and courtiers intent on their own important errands on this momentous day. It seemed there couldn’t possibly be anyone left on the streets of London; they were surely all packed into the palace.

Lady Mary grabbed Kate’s free hand and pulled her along, so eager and joyful that Kate had to laugh with her. Her father was right. This was a day for celebration, not worries. All their desperate hopes and prayers had come true at last, and the future was young and bright, opening up before them all with endless promise. Elizabeth was queen now.

And Kate had a new life at court, with the music she loved and friends to make. Lady Mary Everley had been one of the first. The daughter of a Protestant family, neighbors of the Grey family at Bradgate Manor who had lived quietly in the country under Queen Mary’s reign, Mary Everley was a bright, vivacious spirit who seemed to burst from her exiled cocoon into the whirl of court. At a Twelfth Night banquet, she had sat next to Kate and insisted on learning how to play a new song—one of Kate’s own compositions. In return, she taught Kate the new Italian dance, the volta, which was the queen’s favorite.

It was good to have a friend again, Kate thought as Mary pulled her onward through a picture gallery. The portraits hung there—of young King Edward all puffed up in his padded satin doublet; old, bluff King Henry with his red beard and redder face; and the queen’s various stepmothers and cousins—seemed to glare down at their laughter. After— Well, after she lost her last female friend, and after Anthony Elias disappeared into his world of studying the law and making his future, Kate felt a bit lonely. But Mary banished all that.