Free Royal Inheritance by Kate Emerson Page A

customarily sent away from home to finish their education. They learn how to manage a household, against the day when they will marry, under the supervision of some great lady skilled in such matters.”
    “But I am not a gentlewoman, either. I am a merchant’s daughter and proud of it.”
    “Master Malte,” Edith interrupted in a timid voice. “If I may make an observation, it seems to me that the duchess favors Mistress Audrey because of her talent. The ability to create poetry and music is what matters in that circle. They pay no mind to whether someone is of merchant, noble, gentry, or even peasant stock.”
    Father hemmed and hawed and scratched his nose, but in the end he sent us off with his blessing. If nothing else, he was loath to offend.
    Norfolk House was a huge, sprawling place. It was not as big as its Lambeth neighbor, the Archbishop of Canterbury’s palace, but there was more than enough space for several separate households. The Duchess of Richmond occupied one section of the house. Her father, when he had business in London or Westminster, lived in another. And a third was the domain of the old dowager duchess, Agnes, the Duke of Norfolk’s stepmother. A bevy of young relatives had been entrusted to her care—to finish their education, as Father had explained—and they were in residence, too.
    “They live in a dormitory, country gentlewomen and the duchess’s granddaughters all mixed together.” Edith sounded as if she was not sure she approved of such an arrangement. Mother Anne preached the same philosophy, that overfamiliarity between mistress and servant inevitably led to trouble down the road.
    “Did you live here for a time?” I asked as we approached the water stairs on that initial visit. “With your mother and the Earl and Countess of Surrey?”
    “A brief period only, but I still have a few acquaintances among the servants.”
    I gave Edith leave to seek them out while I spent time with the duchess and her companion and this soon became the established pattern of our trips to Norfolk House.
    The house was adjoined by substantial gardens, several paddocks, and a two-acre close. On a pleasantly warm day in June, we left the music room where we usually met and brought our instruments out of doors. Seated in a bower, surrounded by flowers and trees, a light breeze cooling our faces and stirring the lace on the duchess’s sleeves, I picked out a new tune on my lute.
    It was private there, just Lady Richmond and Mary, as Mistress Shelton insisted I call her now that we had become better acquainted. I had brought Pocket with me, for the duchess was fond of dogs. She kept several spaniels. Mary had a cat, a great striped beast with an uncertain temper, but it had gone off on business of its own.
    “An appealing melody,” the duchess said when I finished playing. “Have you set words to it?”
    “Not yet, my lady. Perhaps you might compose something.”
    She suggested a verse and Mary contributed another and we were soon laughing together as we tried different variations on a theme. I felt at ease with them both, almost as if they were my sisters, although they were much more considerate of me than Bridget ever was. When we were engaged in the composition of poetry or the setting of verses to music, it was just as Edith had told Father. There were no boundaries. They treated me as their equal.
    When we were satisfied with our song, Mary produced a small box full of sugared almonds. “A reward,” she said, and passed it around.
    Seated on a blanket on the grass, silent save for the sounds of our contented munching, we had no need to talk. I was so comfortable Iwas almost dozing. It came as a shock to hear a familiar laugh boom forth.
    I sat up straight, eyes wide. “The king,” I mouthed at Mary Shelton.
    She held her finger to her lips, warning me not to speak aloud. Heavy footsteps were coming closer, but they were on the other side of a hedge. We were hidden from view and, so long