Murder at Fontainebleau Read Online Free Page B

protect Protestant interests.
    Yet Queen Mary had long brushed aside the treaty, claiming she had no part in the negotiations at all.
    â€œThis is why I have called you back to court, Kate,” Elizabeth said, calm once again. The ladies went back to their whispering.
    Kate was puzzled. Queen Mary was an intriguing topic indeed, but she couldn’t see where her part could be in the Scots queen’s tale. “Am I to force Queen Mary to ratify the treaty at the point of my lute?”
    Elizabeth laughed. “I wager if anyone at my court could do such a thing, it would be you. Your quiet sweetness can lull people into confessing much.”
    Kate was secretly pleased at the queen’s words. She did not mean to convey quiet sweetness. She often wished she were more skilled at changing masks at will, as so many courtiers were, putting on the appropriate character for every situation, changing in a lightning flash. She was quiet because that was the way tolearn the most. When people forgot someone was there, they spoke more freely, let their masks slip.
    As for “sweet”—she knew her father would have laughed at such an idea, for she had often been a willful child. Yet she knew her heart was sometimes too soft for courtly life. Her mother had secretly been a Boleyn, but everyone who knew Eleanor Haywood said she had been calm and serene. Not very Boleyn-like at all.
    â€œNay, don’t look so uncertain, Kate,” Elizabeth said. “You have often served me well, and you know it. You can go where most ladies cannot, and you know the art of waiting and listening. You know people, as if they were characters in a play. And, for so many reasons, I know you are loyal to me. Loyal to England.”
    Kate nodded. She was indeed loyal to Elizabeth. Not only were they secretly family, but Kate knew that Elizabeth was the only hope for a peaceful, united kingdom. She had seen too many storms, too much danger growing up under King Edward and Queen Mary to think otherwise. “I will always serve Your Grace however I can.”
    â€œGood. Because I need you to go to France as soon as possible.”
    Kate had heard some rather strange requests from Elizabeth before, but she had not expected
that
. To go to France—she, who had never been farther from London than Nonsuch?
    It was frightening, the thought of venturing across the sea to a new land. Yet also most intriguing. Katehad read so much of France, but she had never thought to see it for herself.
    â€œYou will not go alone, of course,” Elizabeth said. “I am sending a small party to offer condolences to my cousin, and perhaps bring some small cheer to her in such a doleful time. I will leave the hard-hearted politics to Cecil. Or so it will appear. I need someone I can trust there, someone who knows how to watch and listen, who knows the workings of people’s hearts. A musician, mayhap.”
    Knew people’s hearts? Kate often wished she did know such things. But she would do anything for the queen. “Whom would I travel with, Your Grace?”
    â€œI have not assembled everyone yet, but Sir Henry Barnett has agreed to go, along with his wife, Jane, who was once a Percy. Perhaps you know them?”
    Kate nodded. She had met the Barnetts, though she did not know them well. Sir Henry had long worked in royal diplomatic circles and was known to be a hard but fair man, and much liked by his servants. Lady Barnett was pretty, and said to be proud of her maiden name, though she had come from an impoverished branch of that ancient family. Kate knew little else.
    â€œLady Barnett once served at the French court, at the same time as my mother, when they were only girls,” Elizabeth said. The words were spoken casually, carelessly, but her tone sharpened when she mentioned her mother. Kate nodded, remembering that Anne Boleyn had spent many years at the French court when she was young, acquiring the Parisian polish and