badly. Both Mrs. Twiste and Mrs. Bea had dim views of the average gentleman.
We made our way down to the next floor, which is the Long Gallery, above the Queen’s Apartments. Itsounded as if elephants were galloping about in there. Ellie stopped me going in and we hid at the bend of the stairs to listen to the musicians playing the drum and viol while the Maids of Honour practised their dancing. The Dancing Master was wailing as usual, “And two and one and leap…” There was a thunderous series of thuds. “Like a feather!” shrieked the dancing master. “On the toes!
Mon Dieu, ce sont les vaches … vraiment …
”
Ellie giggled and so did I. After a minute the music stopped and there was a rush of footsteps on the stairs, followed more slowly by the Dancing Master and one of the musicians, both drinking from little flasks.
When they had all gone we entered and found Masou standing gravely on his hands and walking up and down—he had been roped in to provide a partner for girls who needed to practise.
“No, I cannot come,” he said to us when we told him what we were going to do. “Mr. Somers wants me to be able to walk on my hands and juggle with my feet and I must practise for a new tumble he has made.” He went up and down again, looking as if he could walk to York like that. “And also, laundrymaids may poke about in chambers but if I should be found there, they’ll think I was thieving.”
So we left him and made our way to the Grace-and-Favour Chambers to begin our search. The first place we went was my Lord Robert’s chamber. I had to be sure, before we looked elsewhere. One of his men was sitting by the door, playing a game of cards. He looked very depressed.
Ellie marched right up to him. “Mrs. Twynhoe wants me to find some sheets and pillowslips,” she said.
The man shrugged and opened the door. I slipped in quickly, carefully hiding my face, and Ellie followed. We found quite a small, odd-shaped chamber, with a bed with four tall carved corner posts, and a truckle bed, and more mess than you would believe possible. The floor was covered with chicken leg bones, half-chewed sausages, bits of paper, and dirty hose. I was fascinated. It was nearly as bad as a Maid of Honour’s chamber.
We discovered pots of ointment, with prescriptions from my Uncle Cavendish stating that they would prevent skin blemishes. Our hearts thudded when we found packets of herbs secreted in a chest amongst Lord Robert’s hose. Ellie picked up a note that was with them and handed it to me to read. It was in my uncle’s writing. He had prescribed a potion to cure a stammer.
“Boil marigolds, agrimony, and borage in posset drink, sweeten it with sugar, and letthe patient drink it going to bed,”
I read out loud. Poor Lord Robert. It clearly hadn’t worked.
Nowhere did we find a yellow powder that might be darkwort. I did discover, however, why Lord Robert was so poor. It seemed he was always losing money at cards to other courtiers, and losing more at dice in the City inns. One small chest was almost full of bills and letters about debts. He seemed to owe money to everybody I’d ever heard of, and plenty I hadn’t.
There was also a letter, written but not finished, from Lord Robert to his Lady Dowager mother, dated 14 February:
Dearest Mother,
You will be pleased to know that I have at last managed to make a good match, thanks to the Queen’s kind offices, and your good advice. I expect to be out of debt as soon as I am handfasted to the heiress of the Cavendishes. As you predicted, beloved Mother, she liked pearls better than any of the other gifts on offer, they being a flask and a knife. Luckily, I find her not too foul-visaged, although hardly begun to own womanly curves, being rather skinny. She seems virtuous andcheerful and her worst vice is that she talks constantly. No doubt time will improve her greatly.
“Huh!” I said, feeling very hurt. I’d thought the pearls meant Lord Robert had found
We made our way down to the next floor, which is the Long Gallery, above the Queen’s Apartments. Itsounded as if elephants were galloping about in there. Ellie stopped me going in and we hid at the bend of the stairs to listen to the musicians playing the drum and viol while the Maids of Honour practised their dancing. The Dancing Master was wailing as usual, “And two and one and leap…” There was a thunderous series of thuds. “Like a feather!” shrieked the dancing master. “On the toes!
Mon Dieu, ce sont les vaches … vraiment …
”
Ellie giggled and so did I. After a minute the music stopped and there was a rush of footsteps on the stairs, followed more slowly by the Dancing Master and one of the musicians, both drinking from little flasks.
When they had all gone we entered and found Masou standing gravely on his hands and walking up and down—he had been roped in to provide a partner for girls who needed to practise.
“No, I cannot come,” he said to us when we told him what we were going to do. “Mr. Somers wants me to be able to walk on my hands and juggle with my feet and I must practise for a new tumble he has made.” He went up and down again, looking as if he could walk to York like that. “And also, laundrymaids may poke about in chambers but if I should be found there, they’ll think I was thieving.”
So we left him and made our way to the Grace-and-Favour Chambers to begin our search. The first place we went was my Lord Robert’s chamber. I had to be sure, before we looked elsewhere. One of his men was sitting by the door, playing a game of cards. He looked very depressed.
Ellie marched right up to him. “Mrs. Twynhoe wants me to find some sheets and pillowslips,” she said.
The man shrugged and opened the door. I slipped in quickly, carefully hiding my face, and Ellie followed. We found quite a small, odd-shaped chamber, with a bed with four tall carved corner posts, and a truckle bed, and more mess than you would believe possible. The floor was covered with chicken leg bones, half-chewed sausages, bits of paper, and dirty hose. I was fascinated. It was nearly as bad as a Maid of Honour’s chamber.
We discovered pots of ointment, with prescriptions from my Uncle Cavendish stating that they would prevent skin blemishes. Our hearts thudded when we found packets of herbs secreted in a chest amongst Lord Robert’s hose. Ellie picked up a note that was with them and handed it to me to read. It was in my uncle’s writing. He had prescribed a potion to cure a stammer.
“Boil marigolds, agrimony, and borage in posset drink, sweeten it with sugar, and letthe patient drink it going to bed,”
I read out loud. Poor Lord Robert. It clearly hadn’t worked.
Nowhere did we find a yellow powder that might be darkwort. I did discover, however, why Lord Robert was so poor. It seemed he was always losing money at cards to other courtiers, and losing more at dice in the City inns. One small chest was almost full of bills and letters about debts. He seemed to owe money to everybody I’d ever heard of, and plenty I hadn’t.
There was also a letter, written but not finished, from Lord Robert to his Lady Dowager mother, dated 14 February:
Dearest Mother,
You will be pleased to know that I have at last managed to make a good match, thanks to the Queen’s kind offices, and your good advice. I expect to be out of debt as soon as I am handfasted to the heiress of the Cavendishes. As you predicted, beloved Mother, she liked pearls better than any of the other gifts on offer, they being a flask and a knife. Luckily, I find her not too foul-visaged, although hardly begun to own womanly curves, being rather skinny. She seems virtuous andcheerful and her worst vice is that she talks constantly. No doubt time will improve her greatly.
“Huh!” I said, feeling very hurt. I’d thought the pearls meant Lord Robert had found
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