coldly calculating,” Cecil said, “though we must not discount a possible crime of passion, a planned meeting that escalated to emotions. But whether it was an intentional murder by someone she knew or a spontaneous one by a stranger, we have a difficult and dangerous task ahead.”
“Exactly, my lord,” Elizabeth agreed. “Since Hannah sent her workers away, I yet wonder if she did agree to a tryst, though that starch loft is hardly a romantic bower. Jenks and Meg,” she said, leaning forward to see them on the other side of Ned, “is there anything else odd you can recall except the fact that Hannah gave her women an unexpected holiday?”
“Not that I can think of,” Meg said, and Jenks shook his head to back her up. For some reason, their visages both reminded her of thunderclouds.
“Ned,” the queen went on, “then I charge you to learn from Ursala who Hannah’s women were so that you may question them, each alone. One of them might have heard a hint, at least, of why they were released early that day. Or they might have seen or overheard something earlier about a liaison Hannah had planned, or have discovered someone who seemed sweet on her. Jenks, whatever is it?” she asked when she saw his expression turn even more grim.
“I can fetch Ursala’stead of Ned,” he said gruffly. “Then I can escort her to talk to Ned or just get the names from her, too, seeing I know where she lives.”
The queen caught the exaggerated way Meg rolled her eyes. Something strange was afoot here.
“Meg and Jenks, why the theatrics I usually expect from Ned? What is going on behind my back?”
“Nothing, Your Grace,” Meg murmured, not daring to look her in the eye.
“I just thought,” Jenks said, “you’d rather have Ursala here to talk to,’stead of letting the other whitsters and her sister know all about these doings, like if Ned goes there.”
The queen smacked her hand flat on the table. Everyone jumped. The nib of Cecil’s feather pen splattered ink on his paper.
“Yes—‘know all about these doings,’” Elizabeth repeated. “Here I am, relying on all of you to keep me informed about these doings, and something is going on I either need to know or at least need not to have bandied about covertly in my presence. Jenks, tell me.”
The big man shifted in his seat as if he’d been caught at something dire. “It’s just Ursala’s real delicate right now, Your Grace, and Ned might upset her,” he mumbled.
“Might poach in your territory,” Meg muttered.
“Meg,” the queen cried, “I hope you have something to add to that, something spoken clearly that makes sense and contributes to my question.”
“I just think Jenks favors her—Ursala. So he might try to protect her when mayhap she shouldn’t be protected any more than any other person we suspect.”
Jenks turned toward Meg in his chair so fast it squeaked under his big body. “We don’t suspect her any more than the man in the moon!” he exploded. “The poor girl’s completely o’erturned by her friend’s death!”
Ordinarily, the queen would have demanded silence or tossed them out for arguing before her, but she—like Cecil, scowling across the table—chose to let them rail on.
“Ursala was out guarding the laundry in the fields,” Jenks insisted. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t have seen the Gresham girl there.”
“But maybe she wasn’t in the fields all day,” Meg countered. “With the others about, they could take turns slipping away. I do agree with Jenks, though, Your Grace, that it’s best not to let Ned squire her about. Ursala’s as fetching as poor Hannah was, and we don’t need his special attention to—to her, too.”
“Too? Ned?” Elizabeth said before Jenks and Meg could go at it again.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Don’t try to bluff or cozen me! I thought perhaps you’d best head off what Meg implies before I ask her to explain.”
Her principal player managed to look completely calm
“Exactly, my lord,” Elizabeth agreed. “Since Hannah sent her workers away, I yet wonder if she did agree to a tryst, though that starch loft is hardly a romantic bower. Jenks and Meg,” she said, leaning forward to see them on the other side of Ned, “is there anything else odd you can recall except the fact that Hannah gave her women an unexpected holiday?”
“Not that I can think of,” Meg said, and Jenks shook his head to back her up. For some reason, their visages both reminded her of thunderclouds.
“Ned,” the queen went on, “then I charge you to learn from Ursala who Hannah’s women were so that you may question them, each alone. One of them might have heard a hint, at least, of why they were released early that day. Or they might have seen or overheard something earlier about a liaison Hannah had planned, or have discovered someone who seemed sweet on her. Jenks, whatever is it?” she asked when she saw his expression turn even more grim.
“I can fetch Ursala’stead of Ned,” he said gruffly. “Then I can escort her to talk to Ned or just get the names from her, too, seeing I know where she lives.”
The queen caught the exaggerated way Meg rolled her eyes. Something strange was afoot here.
“Meg and Jenks, why the theatrics I usually expect from Ned? What is going on behind my back?”
“Nothing, Your Grace,” Meg murmured, not daring to look her in the eye.
“I just thought,” Jenks said, “you’d rather have Ursala here to talk to,’stead of letting the other whitsters and her sister know all about these doings, like if Ned goes there.”
The queen smacked her hand flat on the table. Everyone jumped. The nib of Cecil’s feather pen splattered ink on his paper.
“Yes—‘know all about these doings,’” Elizabeth repeated. “Here I am, relying on all of you to keep me informed about these doings, and something is going on I either need to know or at least need not to have bandied about covertly in my presence. Jenks, tell me.”
The big man shifted in his seat as if he’d been caught at something dire. “It’s just Ursala’s real delicate right now, Your Grace, and Ned might upset her,” he mumbled.
“Might poach in your territory,” Meg muttered.
“Meg,” the queen cried, “I hope you have something to add to that, something spoken clearly that makes sense and contributes to my question.”
“I just think Jenks favors her—Ursala. So he might try to protect her when mayhap she shouldn’t be protected any more than any other person we suspect.”
Jenks turned toward Meg in his chair so fast it squeaked under his big body. “We don’t suspect her any more than the man in the moon!” he exploded. “The poor girl’s completely o’erturned by her friend’s death!”
Ordinarily, the queen would have demanded silence or tossed them out for arguing before her, but she—like Cecil, scowling across the table—chose to let them rail on.
“Ursala was out guarding the laundry in the fields,” Jenks insisted. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t have seen the Gresham girl there.”
“But maybe she wasn’t in the fields all day,” Meg countered. “With the others about, they could take turns slipping away. I do agree with Jenks, though, Your Grace, that it’s best not to let Ned squire her about. Ursala’s as fetching as poor Hannah was, and we don’t need his special attention to—to her, too.”
“Too? Ned?” Elizabeth said before Jenks and Meg could go at it again.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Don’t try to bluff or cozen me! I thought perhaps you’d best head off what Meg implies before I ask her to explain.”
Her principal player managed to look completely calm
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