Page 40 of A Most Forgettable Girl

Winifred beheld them with a silent and admiring oh.

“You should get some made up, Winifred,” Gunnilde suggested kindly. “They do not have to be floor length like mine, if you are not daring enough. You could get some down to your knees. Then they need not trip you up as you go up steps.”

“And—and what do they signify?” Winifred asked, looking intrigued.

“Signify? Why nothing at all! Except an interest in new manners of dress.”

“I see,” Winifred replied, still looking dazed. Politely, they took their leave of one another, and Gunnilde sailed on her way, amused to think that Harriet’s friend might have some gossip to impart for once. Perhaps she would whisper of Gunnilde’s appointment to the Queen at this afternoon’s lecture? It pleased her to think it might be so.

On reaching the Queen’s rooms, she walked once around the outer room, smiling and nodding to all who met her eyes, and then walked through the double doors, into the inner sanctum. She felt a thrill when the guards let her through unchallenged, and Piers Winstanley, glancing up, smiled at her. What a good-looking lad he was, she thought. It did one good to see him.

“Good morning, Lady Wycliffe,” he hailed her. “The Queen will be out shortly.”

She took her cue from this that she should await her appearance in this chamber. “How is Her Majesty this morn?” she enquired, halting before him.

He pulled a face. “She is perhaps a little out of temper but will be all the brighter for seeing you, my lady, if you can catch her attention. Some light conversation would doubtless distract her.” He lowered his voice. “If you will pardon my saying so, The Bartree does not possess such arts to distract her when Her Majesty has need of it. I will be glad to have another around who possesses the talent.”

“The art of ‘light conversation’ you mean?”

“I do. Ah,” he said, turning, “here they are now.”

The Queen walked into the room, resplendent in olive green and gold. She mounted the dais looking neither to the left nor right of her, a carefully blank expression on her face. Close on her heels followed the funereal gloom of Magnatrude Bartree.

“I see what you mean,” Gunnilde murmured. The Queen, it seemed, was not in a genial mood. Over the next hour she summoned no one to her and did not descend once to mingle with her courtiers. Gunnilde drifted around hoping to catch her eye but seemingly failing.

Whenever she tried to approach the other ladies-in-waiting, they appeared to relocate like a flock of restless birds, dispersing and fluttering away from her. It was hard to believe it was not deliberate.

Finally, Mistress Bartree descended the dais to fetch the Queen some refreshment, and Gunnilde glanced across at the Queen to find her watching her. Armenal inclined her head, and Gunnilde sank into a curtsey.

Queen Armenal beckoned, and feeling highly gratified, Gunnilde hurried at once to hasten up the steps. “Good morning, Your Majesty,” she greeted her queen, all smiles. Queen Armenal’s eyes were dull. Was she ill?

“How are you, Gunnilde?” she asked with a faint smile. “Enjoying your new status as wedded wife?”

“Oh,” Gunnilde considered. “Yes, I think so, Your Majesty,” she said tentatively. “I think we will deal very well together eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“Yes, for I have already realized how I can be of help to my husband and—”

“Wait!” The Queen held up one slender beringed hand. “First you must be seated, Gunnilde. Draw up one of those footstools and make yourself comfortable.” Gunnilde dragged one of the plump cushioned low stools in front of the Queen and sat herself down. “Magnatrude will return presently with some refreshment. Now, continue.”

“What was I saying?”

“How it is you can aid this new spouse of yours in his endeavors,” the Queen prompted.

“Oh yes. Well, I have decided I simply need to inspire him with a love of ballads and then everything will be much easier for him. You see, at the moment he sells cathedral music to bishops, but he needs more commissions in order to make a proper living from it.”

“And you think that the ballads, they will prove more popular?”

Gunnilde nodded. “Certainly, I do. Religious music is all very well but everyday folk want something more enjoyable and uplifting and not so...so—”

“High-minded?” the Queen suggested.

“Exactly, Your Majesty. I have never commissioned a piece of music personally but if I was to, then I would want it to be something that I can hum or sing at my own leisure, not something I will struggle to remember, or that will take upward of three instruments to perform.”

The Queen looked thoughtful. “Have you heard any of his music performed?”

“I have not, Your Majesty, at least not to my knowledge.”