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me and fifty men to serve me, but never had I felt so vulnerable, so . . . alone. Was the whole world against me? God, the Queen, the entire court?
    Without Her Majesty’s favor, I had nothing. As a courtier, everything hung in the balance of her affections. And it seemed to rest on the fulcrum of the girl.
    But why?
    And was there any way to undo what seemed to have been done?
    Perhaps. If I could but figure out what it was.
    “Nicholas!” I called out to the house in general, knowing that if Nicholas were not in a position to hear me, then word would make its way to him that he was wanted.
    Once I gained my room, I unfastened my scabbard and handed it to a chamberer, threw my doublet in the direction of another, and gave my hat to still a third. Then I dismissed them all.
    Taking up an English horn, I began to play a melancholy tune as I let my thoughts work.
    The Queen was not pleased.
    Were she not pleased, she would never visit Brustleigh.
    Were she never to visit Brustleigh, I would have no sign of preference.
    Had I no sign of preference, I would never receive any signs of preferment. No Garter Knighthood, no seat on the Privy Council; no estates, no opportunity to purchase a monopoly.
    Should I never receive any signs of preferment, my resources might never be replenished and I would end up where I had started: facing the possibility of selling Holleystone. And if I could not retain Holleystone, then I would never be able to restore my family’s honor.
    That the fate of the Earls of Lytham should rest upon the shoulders of one young girl! But then, had not my own brother traded away our good name and our fortunes for one of that same sex? I would not, could not, do the same. I had a chance to restore all that had been lost. It would not do to let everything slip away just when the means to regain it had been placed at my disposal.
    I worked back and forth through the logic of the facts, trying to find some reason to change my conclusions, but the fact remained that Her Majesty was not pleased. And so there could be no other outcome.
    The horn was mellow, but it lacked a certain note of misery, which I very much wanted. I put it away and took up a treble viol instead.

    I walked up the grand stairs in search of my rooms. And Joan.
    After a while I happened upon my chambers, but from a direction opposite of the way I had been shown to them before. And when I finally reached the refuge of those walls, I did not find Joan within them.
    My return had not been anticipated, for the curtains had been drawn and the windows shuttered. There was a single candle set upon a table beside the bed. It threw the rest of the room into darkness. I thrust aside the bed’s heavy curtains and sat down on the brocade coverlet. I smoothed my skirts as I sat, habit not allowing me to let them wrinkle.
    If only I knew what I had done. I tried to place my thoughts in order to decipher the puzzle of what had happened at court.
    We were a good match. I was a good match. Everyone had thought so. Ours had been the union of Northern English money to the time-honored respectability of an English peer. There was nothing of which to disapprove.
    Had he truly said the Queen despised me?
    My eyes cast about the room, looking in vain for something upon which to fasten. I ended by staring into the candle’s flame, letting my thoughts find their own channels. As I watched, a gray moth came to rest upon the candleholder. It climbed the candlestick, undaunted by the flame, until it encountered the dripping wax. And then it was too late to retreat. Once its foot was caught, it could not be unfixed. The moth fluttered its wings faster and faster with urgent imperative. Then the draft in the room shifted and the flame swept horizontal, setting first one wing, then the other ablaze. A crackle when fire met substance, a slender spiral of rising smoke, and the moth was gone.
    I watched as the drippings made steady progress down the face of the candle. They