The Fatal Fashione by Karen Harper

poking sticks—ve are the only starch shop in all England can do it—ve set up to six hundred tiny pleats or S-curves of vide or small sizes and add a tiny dab of vax—one of my secrets, but I share it vit you—to fix the curves together so it not collapse like a ruined French egg soufflé, ja. ”
    It annoyed Elizabeth not only that Dingen kept subtly denigrating Hannah but that this Dutchwoman must enjoy French food. Even foreigners were now preferring things foreign.
    “Oh, Your Majesty,” Dingen plunged on, her hands clasped before her ample breasts and her face nearly enraptured, “just vait til the next new ruffle fashions sweep your court!”
    “If they sweep my court, I shall set the fashions while you set the ruffs, Mrs. van der Passe.”
    “Oh, ja, of course, but it shall be dis starch house, not da small von Hoven’s place works vit you. I vill introduce—vith your approval, of course—colored starches, not just the ivory ones ve see now but yellows, pale reds, and lilacs, and encourage ruffs vit lace, tiny jewels, embroidery. I intended to beg for your permission, but since you are here—Your Majesty, I vould ask one boon.”
    Elizabeth was becoming even more disturbed. What if these people—or even just Dirck—were actually guilty of harming Hannah? If the queen could prove that, what if, as Ned had mentioned and Cecil had suggested, this starch house collapsed in a flurry of suspicion and accusations over Hannah’s death? The queen knew she must indeed tread carefully here.
    “Would both of you please step out into my coach with me?” she said, and, used to her merest hint being a command, started for the door.
    She looked back to see the couple exchanging dire glances. Dingen wrung her hands while Dirck whispered to her, and they both nodded. Looking as if they were going to their doom, they followed her out and up the steps of the coach. Rosie climbed up, too, and, as a last thought, since Dirck looked large enough to harm a woman of any size, the queen gestured for Clifford to climb in as well. At her nod, Boonen closed the door on the five of them.
    “Ask your boon, then,” Elizabeth told the nervous couple.
    “That you keep,” Dirck spoke this time, “that Puritan cleric from our shop. He’s come more than vonce unbidden—to preach and threaten us vit fire and brimstone from heaven and a place in the very bowels of hell.”
    “Hosea Cantwell?” Elizabeth gasped. “He has intruded and threatened you?”
    “Twice,” Dingen put in, “and said he vould return.”
    Then, the queen reasoned, he could have been to Hannah’s, too. Had he found her alone, threatened her, they’d argued and things got out of hand? No doubt many homicides began as arguments, which led to accidents, and then the murderer panicked and tried to cover things up.
    “I assure you I will speak to Hosea Cantwell,” she said.
    “Ve only bothered you vit this,” Dirck said, leaning forward on the leather seat, “since he’s a member of your own Parliament.”
    “Hardly my own Parliament, but I will see to it. However, I have come for another reason besides seeing your thriving establishment or hearing your hopes for future fashions. I regret to tell you that Hannah von Hoven was murdered yesterday by a person or persons unknown.”
    Both of them looked speechless—and scared stiff. Dingen tried to say something but only sputtered. Dirck turned beet red. Elizabeth was surprised but suspicious when neither of them asked for details of the murder. Were they just too shocked, or did they truly not care—or did they already know?
    “And,” the queen plunged on, pressing her advantage, “I have it on good authority that you, man, were seen near Hannah’s house the day she died.”
    “But,” Dingen cracked out, “my husband could have nothing to do vit that! He oft goes about to buy goods or to deliver dem, dat’s all.”
    “I asked your husband why he was there, not you, Mrs. van der