There is much excitement at Court as the famous painter Levina Teerlinc arrives to paint the Queen's portrait. The Maids of Honor are recruited to help entertain the Queen during the sittings, and to pose for the painter while the Queen is busy. They love being in the studio but have to beware as deadly poisons are used in some of the paints! One of Lady Grace's fellow Maids of Honor, Carmina, begins to act rather strangely--she seems confused and always tired. Her family has recently been involved in a feud with another noble family after her father was killed in a jousting tournament--is it possible that Carmina is being poisoned? Could the painter or her assistants be involved? Can Grace solve the mystery and discover the truth behind the strange happenings at Court?
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|Title of History eBook: Feud|
|Release Date: 03-25-2009|
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|Publisher: Random House Children's Books|
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The First Day of March,
in the Year of Our Lord 1570
Near eleven of the clock
A new daybooke! With clean pages and no blots a all! The Queen gave it to me this morning and laughed and said I must be the greatest consumer of paper and goose feathers outside the men of the Exchequer and Sir William Cecil himself. She added that I had better leave off my scribbling when I was wed, for what would my husband say when he saw I had scribbled over the accounts?
I curtseyed and answered, "Then I had rather not be wed, so I need not leave the Court and can stay with you, Your Majesty. Especially if I must reckon up accounts as well." I distinctly saw Lady Jane sniff and toss her head as if she thought I was lying to flatter Her Majesty, because Lady Jane is on fire to marry, I know not why. But the Queen smiled and also gave me a whole bag of goose feathers, already cured and stripped and ready for me to cut into pens, and a new bottle of the best ink from the stationers at St. Paul's. That made Mrs. Champernowne, Mistress of the Maids, tut and roll her eyes, for fear I would get ink on my kirtle. But then I unwrapped the third part of the present, and found it was a black satin apron backed with canvas so as to be ink-proof, which I knew would please the old Welsh fusspot.
That was early this morning when we attended Her Majesty after breakfast. Now the sun is high and alas, I am bored. Here I am, sitting on a hard cushion in the Presence Chamber, while one of the Scottish Ambassadors proses away at the Queen in that strange language of theirs that almost sounds like proper English but isn't quite. Not even the Queen speaks Scots. The