Free Cate of the Lost Colony by Lisa Klein Page A

trying to sound cool, though my cheeks were hot.
    Anne gave me the promised gown. It was more beautiful than any of my clothes and after a few alterations fit me perfectly. She became like a sister to me, holding my hand and whispering in my ear such things as, “Your hair is so pretty.” “Her Majesty is ill-tempered today; wait until tomorrow.” “Shall I teach you a ditty?”
    One night as we lay in our beds, Emme asked, “Why do you let Lady Anne fawn over you?”
    “You advised me to make new friends,” I replied, and explained how I had agreed to help her and Graham.
    “You have a true friend in me. Why do you need a false one as well?” she asked, turning away.
    I had no reply to Emme’s question. Seldom did she misjudge anyone, and I began to worry something would go amiss with my suit. I carried the petition everywhere, not wanting to miss an opportunity to give it to the queen. One evening she called for a warm posset, and I carried it to her bedchamber, my hands shaking so, I was afraid of spilling it. She sat in a chair wearing a velvet-trimmed nightgown, her feet in pantofles. She nodded for me to sit on a stool nearby while she drank.
    “I am pleased to see Your Majesty is content,” I said, testing her mood. She had not lately reviled her cousin, Queen Mary, so I hoped that crisis had passed.
    “I am content,” she said. “Were I a cat, I would purr.” She smiled, showing the radiance that made us all love her. In the candlelight I could barely see the wrinkles bestriding her nose and forehead.
    I smiled in return. “I am also content, merely to be in your company.”
    “I don’t know why I should be happy.” Elizabeth looked into her cup and swirled the contents as if they would reveal something. “I am no longer young like you. My kingdom has no heir but many enemies.”
    “More numerous still are your loyal subjects who long to serve you,” I said, looking directly at her, my heart speeding up.
    The queen regarded me for a moment. “You are direct and well spoken, not coy or fearful like most women. I would have you in my government. How is it that a woman can be a queen but not a councilor or an ambassador?”
    I swelled with pride at the compliment. I imagined myself a diplomat in the New World, wearing a fur-lined cloak and discoursing with Manteo, perhaps even in his native language.
    “To be such a councilor is a dream that only Your Majesty could fulfill,” I said.
    After a moment she said, “You have not asked me for anything since you came here. In that regard you are also unusual. But do not forget I am both mother and father to you now, as well as your sovereign.” Her tone was tender and inviting.
    I wanted to sit at her feet and share my dreams of being as free as a man to travel to new worlds and seek my fortune and happiness in love. But the petition was in my pocket and I wanted to be rid of it.
    So I said, choosing my words with care, “I will ask something, not for myself, but on behalf of another. There is a worthy man who is in need of your grace.”
    I produced the letter and knelt, placing it on the queen’s lap. I kept my head down, thinking I had spoken well.
    She undid the seal and read the petition, then flung it aside.
    “Thomas Graham—a worthy man? I’ll let the rascal guard the villains in Fleet prison, but never my sovereign person.” She sprang to her feet and stood over me. “Why would you, Catherine, take up the cause of this strutting turkey-cock?”
    I fell back on my heels, too stunned to reply.
    “It shows a defect in your judgment,” said Elizabeth coldly.
    “I am not perfect. Nor is Thomas Graham,” I croaked, feeling the tears coming. “But he and Lady Anne are deeply in love!”
    As soon as those words left my mouth I realized my error, one that would cost my new friends—and me—dearly.
    The queen’s frown deepened into a thundercloud. “None of my ladies may love without my consent! I decide if you will marry, and whom