Page 105 of A Most Forgettable Girl

Mistress Gregory sniffed. “He’ll be showing you up there now, I suppose. I keep it clean and cobweb free, but I can’t be held accountable for the piles of books and papers strewn about. And the instruments cluttering up the place! I never knew the like! Even Father was never that bad!”

“Well, I am sure I am grateful that they are stored in your attic rather than our rooms at the palace. Courtiers’ quarters are notoriously small and poky, and I doubt they would all fit comfortably.”

“Is that so?” Mistress Gregory looked intrigued by the mention of the palace. “Your husband doesn’t talk much of royal matters when I can get a bit of conversation out of him,” she admitted. “He’s a bit of a dark horse is Sir James.”

James shifted from one foot to another. ’Twas plain he was keen to escape to his music room.

“I will be glad to discuss such matters with you, Mistress Gregory, if you are so inclined as to listen,” Gunnilde assured her. “Perhaps next time we visit?” She glanced at James, who nodded his willingness.

“That would be very agreeable, Lady Wycliffe,” Justina Gregory said, looking pleased. “Very handsome of you, I’m sure.”

Without more ado James ushered her up a narrow staircase which took them past three whole floors, until they reached a large attic room up in the eaves. Gunnilde gazed about in some surprise. “Surely this attic is far bigger than the rooms below!” she exclaimed, turning in a circle to take in the spaciousness.

“Yes,” James replied, “for in this style of residence each floor overhangs the previous one and increases in floor size.”

“It’s huge! You could house a whole family in here!”

“I am sure that others on this street do,” he said. “Come and look out of this window.”

Gunnilde accompanied him to the mullioned window and gazed out at the cobbled street below. “It’s a fine view,” she commented. “Though somewhat different to the ones we are afforded at the palace.” Here there were no carefully laid out knot gardens, no picturesque walkways and avenues. Everywhere was teeming with life.

“Yes, indeed,” he agreed. “Will you be content to sit here?” He moved a stack of papers to reveal a straight back wooden settle. “There are some cushions somewhere.” He cast about until he found a pile of faded cushions which had been set on the mattress tucked away in the corner. He fetched them for her and arranged them on the seat.

“Yes, this will suit me very well,” she assured him, sitting herself down and folding her hands in her lap.

“I just need to jot a few last-minute thoughts and ideas down before we leave for Barnabus Hall in an hour’s time. I hope you will not find it too dull.”

“Oh, not at all,” she assured him.

“A few fellow musicians should start arriving soon. Sanders and Horsham said they will meet us there, but doubtless Chamberlain and Billingsley will come here first for they have not yet seen my notations.”

“I see.” Glancing down at another stack of ink-covered parchments, Gunnilde saw that his notations appeared to be a series of scribbled notes and strange symbols that she guessed must denote various musical instructions. It looked like another language to her. At this point, a short man in a shabby tunic shuffled sideways into the room. He had pale dreamy eyes and wore a close-fitting cap upon his bald head. On catching sight of Gunnilde, a look of confusion crossed his face before being replaced by one of delight. “My dear James,” he exclaimed in astonishment. “Is’t possible you have brought your lady wife to my humble abode?”

James straightened up at once from the paper he was poring over. “Master Gregory, please come and meet my wife, Gunnilde,” he said, crossing to take the old man’s arm and lead him to Gunnilde’s side. She surmised he was a little unsteady on his legs and was impressed he had found his way up the rickety stairs.

The old man took her hand in his and bowed over it. “I am honored, honored, my dear,” he mumbled. “Most gracious.”

“I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Master Gregory,” she responded warmly. “I know how important you are to James, and I hope we, too, will become good friends.”

His rheumy eyes filled with tears, and he pressed her hand. “You are kind, very kind.”

“Not at all, I hope I know what deference is due to James’s mentor and closest friend.”

Feeling James’s eyes upon her, she turned to check all was well and found a small smile playing about his mouth. “I might have known you would put him at his ease,” he observed. “Sit you down here with Gunnilde, while I put the finishing touches to my manuscript,” he told his friend. “She will keep you entertained until it is time for us to leave.”

Master Gregory seemed nothing loath and he and Gunnilde enjoyed a cozy chat while James scribbled furiously with quill and ink.

“Has he played it for you?” Master Gregory whispered, motioning toward James’s latest piece of work.

“No, he has not,” Gunnilde admitted, not liking to make it known that she had thus far heard none of James’s music. “I am very much looking forward to a run-through of it at Barnabus Hall later on today.”

“Ah yes,” Master Gregory said, holding up one finger. “I, too, look forward to hearing it played with musicians that can truly do it justice.” At Gunnilde’s mystified expression, he explained with a twinkle in his eye. “Thus far, only James and myself have plucked out the various strains on different instruments and never with all of them playing in harmony and perfect synchronization at once.”

Her confusion lifted. “Oh, I see.”

“Though, of course, it will take many attempts and practices before it is ready to be heard by a full audience.”

Gunnilde nodded. “You and James know many different musician friends?”