Free A Rose for the Crown by Anne Easter Smith Page B

and in turn whispered in his ear. Richard was surprised and delighted by his daughter’s independence. He caught herround the waist with his big arms and lifted her easily onto his lap. Then he clapped his hands and called down the hall.
“Will, Will Makepeace, we will have music to please this lovely creature!”
Will set his stool in front of the head table and picked up his harp. Then, without warning, Richard leapt to his feet, dropping poor Anne unceremoniously into his empty chair. “Play, minstrel, while I go and fetch the surprise for my two girls.” And he strode from the hall.
Will began to stroke the strings, and Kate’s eyes shone, anticipating the song to come. Elinor, caring not a whit for music, carried on a conversation with Martin, who listened politely with his eyes but lent his ears to Will’s fine voice. A few minutes later, Richard returned carrying something covered by soft, brown velvet and an exquisitely carved wooden casket. He placed the box in front of Kate and the covered object in front of Anne, back in her own seat next to Kate.
Will tactfully stopped playing as Kate picked up the casket and touched the carving with her fingers, her expression radiant. Anne lifted the fabric from her gift and gazed on a rosewood harp with a figure cunningly wrought in the neck. Reverently she put out her hand to touch the dark wood and the lovely figurehead carved on the neck. Kate put down her gift to finger the harp also. Anne clapped her hands in delight and put her arms around her father’s waist, murmuring her thanks into his doublet. Kate, too, hovered behind Anne to thank him.
Will was approaching the table, admiration for the craftsmanship of the harp written on his face.
“I see I chose well, harper.” Richard’s bright blue eyes were merry.
“Master, mine seems but a toy by its side,” Will acknowledged and turned to look at Kate, who was once again stroking the instrument. “I beg you to allow my pupil to show you what she has learned.” He smiled at Anne.
Anne shook her head vehemently, blushed to the roots of her hair and sat down quietly. Richard frowned, disappointed. Seeing his displeasure, she pushed the harp towards Kate. “You play it, Kate,” she stammered. “Kate plays much better than I do, doesn’t she Will?”
Will inclined his head in assent. “’Tis true, Master Haute. MistressKate has been quick to learn.” He hoped he had been diplomatic where Anne was concerned.
Kate looked at Richard questioningly and without needing any more encouragement than a nod from him, picked up the instrument. Checking to make sure that it was tuned, she sat down on Will’s stool and ran her fingers over the strings. The sound floated through the hall, giving her courage to open her mouth and sing.
“Lollay, lollay, little child
Why weepest thou so sore . . .”
Her voice had purity, clarity and sweetness. It rose and fell, her interpretation of the song capturing the imagination of every listener in the hall. Even Elinor listened, grudgingly. Richard’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile, while Martin sat riveted to his chair. He knew at once he wanted this young woman in his life. Perhaps she would be a suitable match for young George. He resolved to find out Kate’s lineage. He presumed she was Richard’s ward and as so might come with a handsome dowry.
T HE C HRISTMAS SEASON was fast approaching. It was time to ask Richard’s permission to journey back to the farm to make good on her promise to be there for the birth of her mother’s new child. Kate wondered where the time had gone. Anne was sad at the thought of not sharing the festivities of the season together. She envied Kate’s happiness when she talked of her family—and especially of her mother. Anne loved her father deeply, and he was kind to her, but for Elinor she had very little affection and much fear. She wished she could go with Kate and experience family life as she imagined it at Bywood Farm. But she knew