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not the only one. She was hated for being a tattle-tale, and since she was pretty it was being said that she would soon be betrothed, so she was hated all the more.
    I thought Charyn cold, cold as marble. Beautiful, like marble, but lacking in feeling. She began putting on airs with me, and boasting that she would indeed (as everyone was saying) soon be betrothed.
    But the man she thought would soon ask for her hand, Sir Edward Ringley, was old. And bald. And he had devilish eyes and bushy eyebrows.
    “Why would you want to marry a man old enough to be your grandfather? And ugly too,” I taunted her. “Are there no handsome young men who desire you?”
    “What do his looks matter? Or his age?” she snapped back. “He has four estates! Four fine houses, four fine hunting parks. He is rich!”
    “Is that all you care about?”
    Charyn bristled. “Wealth is important. I cannot be left without a home, servants, without any place in the world. I cannot be left not knowing where I belong, an old maid living in the closets of others.”
    No, I thought. You must have high standing in the world, so that you can feel superior to others. Only you will never be superior. Not really.
    I wanted to say to her, what good is wealth if there is no love? Is not love the most important thing in marriage? But I knew that if I said this, she would only scoff at me and tell me I was being foolish. Or that I was forgetting all that Father Dawes told us about the importance of remaining pure and chaste. She would think I was speaking, not of the love of the heart, but the lust of the flesh. Of all that is forbidden between a man and a woman—the sort of love that rears its head unwanted, unbidden, and leads to sin and tears.
    Of the sort of love I felt (heaven help me!) for Master Manox.
    Charyn was shrewd—and well informed. It did not take her long to discover that I was taking lessons on the virginal from Master Manox, the two of us alone in the upper room, sometimes joined by Alice—who was not proving to be a very apt pupil—but more often alone.
    “I believe our grandmother will not be at all pleased to hear that you have been letting that man Manox get near you. Far too near, and far too often.”
    Though shocked by her words, I shrugged, dismissing their obvious meaning.
    “He is giving me lessons on the virginals,” I said. “He is a very good and patient teacher. Ask Alice. He gives her lessons also.”
    “It was Alice who told me about the two of you. She knows what is going on.”
    “Nothing is going on but music instruction. And Master Manox is a very fine player.”
    Charyn gave me a hard look.
    “You might like to know that Master Manox was sent away from the royal court because he dishonored his marriage. He sinned with one of Queen Jane’s maids of honor. A girl not much older than you or I. It was a scandal. The girl took music lessons from him—and then had his child. He denied that the child was his, and tried to convince others that the girl was wanton and had been the mistress of other men before he knew her. But everything he said was a lie. He was shamed and sent away.”
    “I did not know that,” I said quickly. Perhaps too quickly, for I saw Charyn lift one eyebrow skeptically.
    “You do know he is married?”
    “Yes. He told me. He often speaks of his wife, in fact. With affection.” This was a lie. Even as I said the words I wondered, why was I lying? Out of guilt? Or fear?
    Charyn hooted with laughter.
    “They can’t stand each other. She hates him because of his deceit. She says he hates her.”
    “Perhaps she is unworthy of him. He is very gifted.”
    But Charyn only shook her head slowly.
    “Do not let him deceive you, Catherine. Guard your honor. Guard your maidenhead. If you do not, no man will ever want to marry you. And you will burn in hell.”
    I said nothing.
    “Remember Anne,” Charyn added after a moment. “She came to grief because of the lust of the flesh. And it was a