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The Queen’s gaze flickered over her face, and she smiled. “You two are the very good friends, are you not?”

Fen cleared her throat before answering a muted, “Yes, very.”

“If you truly are a friend to my Mathilde,” broke in Lady Doverdale harshly. “Then you would tell me exactly what you know about her current whereabouts.”

Fen did not look at Lady Doverdale this time. “I’m afraid I can tell you nothing,” said Fen firmly.

“Cannot or will not?” asked Lady Doverdale, seizing only on the part that interested her.

“In this instance, they are one and the same, I assure you.” said Fen quietly.

“Why do you not return to your rooms, Berengaria?” suggested the Queen. “It may be that your staff have some new information for you? Or have uncovered some clue as to her direction?”

Lady Doverdale made a muffled exclamation and threw up her hands. “Pray to the gods, you are right!” she said in a voice of long-suffering and strode from the room without any other word of farewell.

A silence fell upon them for a moment, before the Queen made a thoughtful noise and tapped her chin. “I do not think you have told to us everything that you know, Fenella,” she said. “Which is unkind of you, as I very much wish to share everything that I know with you!”

Fen blinked at her. “You mean-?”

The Queen nodded. “I have every fascinating detail of how it was discovered that the little Mouse had up and left us.”

Fen gave a start. So the Queen already knew that she had left of her own accord? She took a deep breath. “I can tell you nothing else, your majesty. Except that she has not been coerced and that wherever she is, it is of her own free will.”

The Queen smiled at this. “Ahah!” she said triumphantly. “She did send word to you. But of course she did!”

“Only that she had left, your highness,” said Fen coloring up. “Nothing of her plans or her intent.”

The Queen nodded gravely. “This she probably did to protect you from such an interview as her mother just subjected you to. The Queen looked thoughtful. “On the whole, I am inclined to believe you are in the right of it,” she said drifting over to the window and looking out over the wintry landscape. “And that Lady Martindale has not fallen prey to some wicked plot. That, extraordinary as it may seem, the scheme was of her own devising.” A smile curved her lips. “Have you heard yet how she concealed her escape?”

The Queen flicked a hand at Lady Jane who hastily uncovered a platter of sweetmeats and delicate treats. It dimly occurred to Fen, that she had progressed to the figure of guest now, rather than potential witness or co-conspirator.

“No, I have heard no detail,” she croaked, licking her dry lips. Jane hurried around with a goblet of wine for her and Fen took a long draught. It was sweet and rich and deceptively light. It was not until she felt her head swim slightly, that she remembered she had not broken her fast. To her surprise, Jane did not automatically refill her cup but instead silently offered her water instead. Fen nodded quickly. It would not do to grow loose-lipped around the sharp-eyed Queen, though truth be told, she knew precious little. Jane topped up her goblet and fetched a tray of delicacies. Unfortunately, Fen could not face any of them.

Queen Armenal re-settled herself comfortably in her cushioned, tasseled seat. “Very well. Despite the fact you have been so stingy with your knowledge, I am more generous and will share with you! The little Martindale announced she felt unwell on Monday evening and would retire early to bed with a putrid sore throat,” said the Queen, continuing with her story. Jane hurried forward and helped arrange her voluminous skirts as Fen recalled Mathilde’s feeble claims that she had a cough. “Her nurse put her to bed with a honeyed posset.” The Queen paused as Jane topped up her drink and then backed away to stand unobtrusively in the background. “Do not neglect your own cup,” Queen Armenal told her new favorite graciously. She turned to Fen. “You do not object that Jane remains with us?” She did not wait for her reply, but instead carried on. “I find her entirely useful to me.”

“Of course not,” Fen murmured.

Jane blushed in gratification and poured herself a drink of half-water, half-wine before settling on a seat in the corner.

“The next morning,” continued the Queen, selecting a snack from the tray. “The nurse found her charge huddled under the bed-clothes in a sorry state and streaming with cold. Her mouth she covered at all times, with the handkerchief. She sneezed, she coughed, she had a shawl wrapped around her aching head, you comprehend?” The Queen nodded, “I think that is a clever touch, no? She asked only to be left in peace. The poor nurse, she did not wish to catch the affliction. She left the water, had the servants build up the fire and left the lady to sleep it off.”

Fen nodded, taking a sip of her water.

“At intervals, most regular, the nurse she peeks past the door, but Lady Martindale she is still bundled up and shivering. Her voice is scratchy. She asks most pathetically to be left quite alone. And so it continues,” Queen Armenal held up two fingers. “For two whole days.”

Fen placed down her goblet. “Poor Mathilde, it must have been a very heavy cold, I think.”

“Your sympathy it is not shared by her Mother. But no! Lady Doverdale, she has no sympathy for the invalid. On the third morning, when the Nurse reports to her that the Lady Mathilde she is no better, she marches to her daughter’s bedchamber, and demands she rise from her sick bed.” The Queen looked from Fen to Jane in expectation. “But what does she encounter?” The Queen held up a finger. “I will tell you. Refusal. Point blank refusal. The invalid, she hunkers down further in the bedclothes. She protests, oh so imploringly, that she has caught a deadly chill. That she will expire clean away if she emerges from her bed. Lady Doverdale, she is furious to meet such resistance from her heretofore meek child. It is unheard of! She stamps her foot and demands the obedience! The poor Nurse, she is clutching the curtains, crying,” said Armenal dramatically. “She is sure the little Martindale is in deadly peril for her health. When suddenly, the Mother, she scents the rat.” She paused and took a sip of wine, enjoying the moment.

Fen glanced across at Jane Cecil who looked as mystified as she.

Queen Armenal waved a hand before continuing excitedly. “Suddenly, she pounces! The Doverdale, she drags the huddled figure from the bed, when what does she find…?” She sat back triumphantly taking in Fen’s astonishment.

“I hardly know,” stammered Fen.

“An imposter,” The Queen enunciated precisely. Fen and Jane both gasped. “An imposter who wears her daughter’s shift and her daughter’s shawl and lies in her daughter’s bed, making the cough-cough and covering his face with the bedsheets!”

“An imposter?” breathed Jane.