Betrayal by Michele Kallio

dumbly, curtsied, and fled the library to find Cavendish outside. He stepped forward to enter the room but a touch of her hand on his sleeve stopped him. 
     
     
     
     
    ***
     
     
     
    Elisabeth struggled under the weight of the two carpetbags she carried as she climbed into the back of the open wagon for the drive to Westminster. An excited and giggling Sarah awaited her, nestled in the sweet-smelling hay.  Elisabeth collapsed next to the child. Gathering Sarah into her arms, Elisabeth wondered if she would ever see York Place and its Cardinal again.
    "You must be a good girl.  Remember your place and never stray from it."
    The smiling tot nodded her head, setting her red-gold curls into a frenzied halo about her face.  "Yes, Elisabeth," she said soberly.  "But Henry, I mean the King," Sarah corrected as she dropped her chin to her chest in contrition. Her cheeks flushed as she anticipated Elisabeth's rebuke, then seeing none, she continued. "He'll be there, won't he?  I mean, he'll come to see me, won't he?"
    "Truly, I do not know, for it is Saint Cecilia's Day and I am told there is to be a masque tonight."
    The wagon trundled along the embankment.  Sarah grew pensive as she looked out over the river Thames; then looking back at Elisabeth asked, "Who is Saint Cecilia? And why is she to have a party?  Oh look, Elisabeth, look!  Is that the Palace?" The little girl exclaimed excitedly as she wiggled out of Elisabeth's embrace.  "Is that where we are going?"
    "No, Sarah, we are quartered with the Lady Anne's brother, Lord Rochford. The Lady Anne's party of which we are part does not leave until the morrow.  Here, see, the wagon stops."  It had indeed stopped before a large stone cottage, the diamond shaped panes of window glass twinkling in the late afternoon sun. Hustling the wiggling child from the wagon Elisabeth slapped stray sticks of straw from Sarah's skirt, then beating her own gray habit she led the child to the side gate beside the cottage.
    "The Lady Jane, Lady Rochford, awaits you in the hall. Make haste for my lady 'ates to wait for anyone, especially servants." The scullery maid who had introduced herself as Kate said, wiping her dirty hands on her stained homespun skirt.  Tucking a strand of greasy brown hair behind her ear, she looked Elisabeth over, her glance displaying her disapproval.  Turning toward Sarah her mouth cracked a wide smile. Taking the child's hand in her own, she raised her forefinger to silence Sarah's giggles.
    Elisabeth noticed the laces of the girl's bodice were undone. Blushing at the girl's immodesty Elisabeth followed the girl and Sarah when the Cook shouted “Not you Kate! Alys will take them through. To Elisabeth she explained that Alys was Lady Rochford’s maid. The woman stepped forward and led the little party to the buttery screen. Elisabeth could hear loud and angry voices as they approached the screen.
    "What do you mean we will not attend the masque tonight? We were invited and I intend to go," a woman's high-pitched voice called sharply.
    Elisabeth heard heavy footsteps cross the paving stones of the hall.
    "Be that as it may, we are not going." A man's strong baritone voice replied, stern and unmoving.  "My sister is not attending and neither are we."
    Alys held a finger to her lips.  Elisabeth drew breath wondering what kind of a household she had come to.
    "God's Bones!  That your sister is a coward and flees to Hever on the morrow has naught to do with me.  I serve the Queen," her voice suddenly became timid, "in a minor position, I admit, but I will take part in her ball," she finished, emphasizing the word, will.
    "My word is final. We will not be attending the Palace tonight," the man said firmly.  "Go and see if Wolsey's servants have arrived. The old fool probably sent them to Greenwich," he finished, dismissing his wife from his presence.
    Throwing her hands up in exasperation Lady Rochford made for the buttery screen. "How will I have