Free The Irish Princess by Karen Harper Page A

the arched entry.
    Yet as he looked us over, he seemed a hawk of a man, with sleek brown hair and slanted eyebrows over sharp, gray eyes. A blur of bows and greetings followed; for a moment I was lost in the hubbub of tall men. Finally, Uncle Leonard, lean and angular in physique, turned and looked down at me. He clicked his bootheels and nodded as his eyes took me in.
    “Ah,” he said, his voice a bit breathless, “a lovely young Geraldine.”
    I curtsied, staying down until he raised me. His fingers were thin but strong; he kept hold of my hand. “Your mother has missed you greatly, Elizabeth,” he said. After being called Gera for so long, I started at the unfamiliar use of my real Christian name. “You certainly favor her,” he went on, turning me about once as if to assess my merits, “but are even more . . . indeed, more radiant with that gold-red hair and your sea green eyes. A rare beauty indeed, though yet a maid, and I have promised your mother, among other things, that I will dispatch you to her forthwith.”
    How relieved I was—I warrant we all were—to hear he had promised Mother certain things. “Uncle,” I said, smiling up at him, “we are glad you are here to make peace for us and with us.”
    “Ah,” he said, loosing my hand. “My dear, would you be terribly distressed if I asked to speak with your uncles privily? I shall see you are feted in a chamber just off this one, and your Irish maid has been sent for. The very ship that brought me hence is returning on the morrow, and I will have you on it. Men’s business, king’s business, here now, you know.”
    I must have looked crestfallen, for Uncle James stepped forward and put his arm around me. “It’s for the best, Gera,” he told me. “Fitzgerald business too.”
    I did not want to leave them, but I knew I must obey. I curtsied to each of my Irish uncles and then to Lord Leonard Grey again. A tic jumped at the side of his narrowed left eye, where he had a puckered scar. Surely I could trust this man. He had taken my family in and given them safe haven and was sending me to them. He had the king’s power on his side and had come to help mend a dreadful, bloody mess by negotiating with my Irish uncles.
    Fighting back tears of disappointment at my dismissal, I followed a woman who had suddenly appeared from a side room and gestured to me. Why had not Uncle Leonard introduced us? He was speaking to the others already, and I had been as good as forgotten.
    Inside the small chamber she led me to, a sumptuous table was set for one, so she must not be eating with me. She introduced herself simply as Alice, and I discerned at once from her voice that she was English. She was dressed too well to be a servant. Suddenly two long-eared lapdogs sleeping on small pillows in the room cavorted about her feet, which made me miss Wynne terribly, and for a moment I did not trust my voice. I sat at the table as she uncovered several succulent dishes for me.
    I was amazed at the array of food for just myself but realized these were the same delicacies the men must be sitting down to, so their grandeur comforted me. Mackerel in gooseberry sauce, huge prawns, ale cake and carrot pudding and a Venetian glass decanter of ruby red wine.
    “This is one of my favorites, milady,” she said, indicating a small silver tureen. “Poached sea urchins, hedgehogs of the sea, we English call them.”
    Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “And we Irish call them granneog na farriage .”
    Alice’s brocade gown bespoke wealth. Was she of my uncle’s household? I had a spate of questions to ask, but she took the dogs, one under each arm, and left me.
    And I heard her lock the door.
    I jumped up to be certain I was locked in. Yes, curse it. The latch would not budge. I pressed my ear to the door but could hear nothing, not footsteps nor voices. Did Uncle Leonard think I would interrupt their king’s business? I wanted—I needed—to trust him, but this reminded me