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bent. And when he wakes up tomorrow andfinds I haven’t undressed him, I’ll be the one to get the blame, you know. It’ll all be my fault and I shouldn’t wonder if he doesn’t kick me out then and there and…”
    Poor Pip was wringing his hands. I’m more pleased than ever that I turned down Sir Gerald’s pretty knife—you can tell a lot from the way someone treats their servants and it’s
not
a good sign that Pip is so scared of Sir Gerald.
    “He’s in one of my Lord Worthy’s chambers, isn’t he?” asked Ellie. “Why don’t I knock on the door, go in, and do the floor, and if that doesn’t wake him, you’ll know it’s safe enough to go in yourself and put everything away before you go to bed?”
    Pip looked pathetically grateful. “Would you do that? Be careful, he can be violent when he’s drunk and angry,” he warned.
    “Oh, fie!” sniffed Ellie. “If I can’t dodge a kick when the kicker’s blind drunk, I deserve a bruise on my bum. Don’t you worry, Pip, I’ll see to it.” She gave me a wink and hurried past to the Grace-and-Favour Chambers, lugging the bucket of lye and a floorcloth.
    I turned and went back to the Banqueting House, where the light from the banks of candles was shining out through the painted canvas, throwing silhouettesof Venus and Adonis onto the grass. So I stood and looked for a while, although I was getting chilly.
    Somebody came near and turned to bow to me, then took my hand. “Who is it?” I asked.
    “Robert,” came the reply.
    I smiled and relaxed and let him hold my hand. In the darkness I could only see the shape of him.
    “When may I k-kiss your lips, my Lady Grace?”
    Another long speech! Perhaps it was easier for him to talk when no one could see.
    “When we’re properly handfasted next month,” I said primly.
    He kissed my hand instead and I let him. It was very romantic and proper. “A long t-time away. W-will you d-dance again, Lady Grace?”
    “With you, my lord?” I said. “Of course.”
    I let him lead me back to the dancing and we joined the line for another Farandol, which I thought was quite brave of Lord Robert, considering how often I had trod on his toes during the Volta.
    We danced several more dances together. Sir Charles came up, still looking miserable, and offered to shake Lord Robert’s hand, which I thought was quite good of him. He stared at me all the time, though, which worried me. Then I saw Pip, Sir Gerald’s man, come back into the hall and speak toLord Worthy—who was holding the Queen’s fan for her while she watched Sir Christopher Hatton, one of the Queen’s favourites, demonstrate a new measure in the Volta. Lord Worthy spoke sharply to him, glancing over at Lord Robert and me once or twice. From the hand gestures, it looked as if Pip was explaining how Sir Gerald had been sick and gone to bed, and Lord Worthy looked a little less worried then.
    At last the Queen decided that she had danced enough—and so, naturally, had all her Maids of Honour and Ladies-in-Waiting. We formed up in a line, a little less neat-looking than it had been on our arrival, and processed out, while the musicians played and the men started gathering together and talking about taking a boat down to Paris Garden.
    When I went to help the Queen undress she waved me away. “No, my dear, take Fran to your chamber and get yourself to bed. You must be exhausted.”
    I suddenly noticed how sore my feet were and how my legs ached and how my stomach felt strange from being squashed together by my tight new stays, so I kneeled and kissed her hand.
    “Was this St. Valentine’s Feast to your liking, my dear?” She smiled at me.
    “Oh yes, Your Majesty. I’ve had a wonderful time,” I told her. And it was true—once I’d got the business of the gifts out of the way.
    As I took my leave, the Queen added, “Grace, you will find something waiting on your pillow, my dear.”
    I curtsied again, wondering what it was, and made my way with Fran