at Norfolk House with all manner of strange marks in it. Mary Shelton says that even if a singer has never heard the song before, she can reproduce it just by looking at those notations.”
Raindrops pattered against the window at my back, for a moment the only sound in the hall. Without sunshine, the chamber was steeped in shadow. I could not make out Jack’s expression.
He cleared his throat. “Musical composition and theory are not fit subjects for amateur study. It is not necessary for you to read music.”
“The Duchess of Richmond can.”
“She is a noblewoman.”
“ You can.”
“I am a professional musician.”
“Are you well paid to sing?” Bridget was always interested in how much a man earned. She leaned forward with an eager expression on her face, forgetting all about the cittern. It fell to the floor, making a discordant sound as it landed on her feet.
Jack chuckled but there was a wry expression on his face as he answered her. “Not enough to buy land in the country or a house in the city, and to earn my stipend, I must teach you well.”
“Teach us something new,” I suggested, still thinking of musical notation.
“Improvising is a skill highly prized at court. Since you already know the tune to ‘And I Was a Maiden,’ you should be able to sing it in parts. It is all a matter of judging the length of the intervals.”
In spite of Bridget’s many deficiencies as a singer, we managed well enough and went on to sing “By the Bank as I Lay” as a round. Then Jack joined in to make a three-man song of “As I Walked the World So Wild.”
By then the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared.
“Next time we will work on figuration,” Jack promised, bringing the lesson to an end. “That is the ornamentation of a melody.”
“I will walk out with you,” I said. “Pocket needs to visit the yard.”
We went down together to the small, walled-in space between the kitchen and Father’s warehouse. Sensing that I wanted a few minutes alone with Jack to ask if he’d had any word from our mutual friends in Norfolk, Bridget insisted upon coming along. Shooting her a wary look, Jack sat gingerly on the edge of the well and watched Pocket splash through puddles and stick his nose into corners as he roamed.
“For a little fellow, he covers a great deal of territory.”
“He thinks of himself as a mighty hunter.”
Bridget made a sound of derision. “Dogs are not very clever.They chase their own tails. And that one is more foolish than most.”
“Only in his affection for you,” I muttered.
Unaccountably, Pocket was fond of my sister. As if to prove it, he dashed across the yard, heading straight for her. Skidding to a stop, he rose up on his hind legs. His front paws landed squarely on the forepart of her kirtle. They were very dirty and left muddy prints on the light-colored, figured fabric.
Bridget squealed and backed away. “Bad dog!” she cried, kicking at him and at the same time trying to brush away the mud. Her efforts only succeeded in spreading the stain over a larger area.
“Good dog,” I said under my breath. Bridget’s foot had missed him. Tongue lolling, he trotted over to me and I patted him on the head.
When my sister flounced off, seeking a brush to remove the mud, Jack spoke quickly. “The Earl of Surrey has been set free.”
“That is wonderful news!”
“Not entirely. The king has levied a fine against him of ten thousand marks.”
That was an enormous sum, almost seven thousand pounds. A poor man like Jack would never have been able to raise it. Even a rich merchant like Father would have had difficulty. Worse, though, was that the Duchess of Richmond remained in Norfolk.
“All your new friends have abandoned you,” Bridget taunted me a few days later, “and the only reason your tutors still come to Watling Street is because they are paid to do so.”
I ignored her as best I could, telling myself her words were untrue, but a seed of doubt had
Raindrops pattered against the window at my back, for a moment the only sound in the hall. Without sunshine, the chamber was steeped in shadow. I could not make out Jack’s expression.
He cleared his throat. “Musical composition and theory are not fit subjects for amateur study. It is not necessary for you to read music.”
“The Duchess of Richmond can.”
“She is a noblewoman.”
“ You can.”
“I am a professional musician.”
“Are you well paid to sing?” Bridget was always interested in how much a man earned. She leaned forward with an eager expression on her face, forgetting all about the cittern. It fell to the floor, making a discordant sound as it landed on her feet.
Jack chuckled but there was a wry expression on his face as he answered her. “Not enough to buy land in the country or a house in the city, and to earn my stipend, I must teach you well.”
“Teach us something new,” I suggested, still thinking of musical notation.
“Improvising is a skill highly prized at court. Since you already know the tune to ‘And I Was a Maiden,’ you should be able to sing it in parts. It is all a matter of judging the length of the intervals.”
In spite of Bridget’s many deficiencies as a singer, we managed well enough and went on to sing “By the Bank as I Lay” as a round. Then Jack joined in to make a three-man song of “As I Walked the World So Wild.”
By then the rain had stopped and the sky had cleared.
“Next time we will work on figuration,” Jack promised, bringing the lesson to an end. “That is the ornamentation of a melody.”
“I will walk out with you,” I said. “Pocket needs to visit the yard.”
We went down together to the small, walled-in space between the kitchen and Father’s warehouse. Sensing that I wanted a few minutes alone with Jack to ask if he’d had any word from our mutual friends in Norfolk, Bridget insisted upon coming along. Shooting her a wary look, Jack sat gingerly on the edge of the well and watched Pocket splash through puddles and stick his nose into corners as he roamed.
“For a little fellow, he covers a great deal of territory.”
“He thinks of himself as a mighty hunter.”
Bridget made a sound of derision. “Dogs are not very clever.They chase their own tails. And that one is more foolish than most.”
“Only in his affection for you,” I muttered.
Unaccountably, Pocket was fond of my sister. As if to prove it, he dashed across the yard, heading straight for her. Skidding to a stop, he rose up on his hind legs. His front paws landed squarely on the forepart of her kirtle. They were very dirty and left muddy prints on the light-colored, figured fabric.
Bridget squealed and backed away. “Bad dog!” she cried, kicking at him and at the same time trying to brush away the mud. Her efforts only succeeded in spreading the stain over a larger area.
“Good dog,” I said under my breath. Bridget’s foot had missed him. Tongue lolling, he trotted over to me and I patted him on the head.
When my sister flounced off, seeking a brush to remove the mud, Jack spoke quickly. “The Earl of Surrey has been set free.”
“That is wonderful news!”
“Not entirely. The king has levied a fine against him of ten thousand marks.”
That was an enormous sum, almost seven thousand pounds. A poor man like Jack would never have been able to raise it. Even a rich merchant like Father would have had difficulty. Worse, though, was that the Duchess of Richmond remained in Norfolk.
“All your new friends have abandoned you,” Bridget taunted me a few days later, “and the only reason your tutors still come to Watling Street is because they are paid to do so.”
I ignored her as best I could, telling myself her words were untrue, but a seed of doubt had
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