Lady Rochford doesn’t look up. “I’ll call an attendant in a moment.”
“Not here,” I explain. “We should go out.”
She snaps the book closed. “What do you mean byout?”
“I want to see the revels.”
She exhales an amused laugh. “That’s impossible. The crowds are too rough, and I will not risk your safety in such a way.”
I turn to her with a pleading stare. “Jane, I need to get out of here. Just for an hour or two. Just for tonight.Please.”
She sighs at my request and pinches the bridge of her nose. “If we do sneak out tonight, Catherine, you have to promise that it will be just you and me. Under no circumstances are you to invite anyone else.”
“About that...” I say, dragging the words out. “I think we should invite a few more people.”
When she twists to face me, her brow is so furrowed that I think I might be aging her. “I truly miss Anne of Cleves.”
I nod in empathy. “I think we all miss Anne of Cleves.”
Chapter Eleven
We end up as a group of six. Me, Bessie, Cecily, William, Bartholomew, and Lady Rochford (who absolutely missed her true calling in life to work in espionage). She knows the palace like the back of her hand and has taken us through no fewer than ten shady hallways and down three flights of stairs until we step out into the brisk night air. She, Bessie and I are all dressed in plainer clothes than usual, with long hoods and capes keeping us mostly in shadow. When we slip out through a creaky garden gate, I breathe deeper than I have in a week.
We’re free. Just for tonight, we’re free.
“I can’t believe we’ve snuck out of the palace,” Cecily quietly screeches in elation. “Do you think we’re the first to do it?”
“We did it last night,” Bartholomew says.
“I went involuntarily,” William adds.
It’s a good long walk from the castle to the revels. Lady Rochford and Bartholomew argue for most of the way, but the trek is more than worth it. The open space is lit by torchlight, music is playing, and there are entertainers everywhere—some even juggling fire. The row of tents is nearly half a mile long, with countless vendors selling trinkets, food, drink, and some other carnal services that may or may not be legal here.
“Could we try some honeyed lamb shank?” Bessie eagerly asks as we pass a group that’s eating. “I’ve always wanted to try lamb right off the spit. Will you join me, William?”
William nods. “I do enjoy a lamb shank.” Bessie takes his arm, fully prepared to lead him off, when Lady Rochford pulls them both back.
“No! We are not separating. We are staying together and then we are going back to the palace as soon as we’ve had a drink.” She’s breathing harder than usual but freezes when she sees a small circle of revelers playing dice. She looks away, then turns back, twisting her neck slightly. “On second thought, let’s all meet back here in an hour. No one is to go off on their own. No one get hurt. Be here in one hour.”
She swiftly walks off in the direction of the gambling, and we stand in mystified silence for several seconds as a result.
“All right, see the rest of you in an hour.” Bessie and William walk off next, and Bartholomew offers his arms to me and Cecily.
“Shall we, ladies?”
We set out as a trio, heading deeper into the line of tents. A laughing couple rustles past us, and the woman hands me a cup. I smell it, and I’m eighty percent sure that it’s some kind of spiced wine. I take a small sip and brace myself, but the drink goes down smooth. I take a large gulp, and Cecily and Bartholomew share a look.
“Honestly, that was really good,” I tell them. “We should find more.”
I pull them along with me, determined to find the Tudor equivalent to a dive bar. If this is my one night of freedom, I’m going to revel the shit out of it.
Forty minutes later, Cecily and Bartholomew have had two drinks each, and I’m three cups in. We find ourselves at a large gathering area. The music is thumping, and there’s a massive bonfire. Dozens of people are dancing—and not toe-pointing choregraphed dancing, but moving their bodies and having fun dancing.
Bartholomew chugs his drink and tosses his cup to the ground. “All right. This is what we’re here for.”
He grabs ahold of me and Cecily and pulls us into the mix. The crowd comes together in a wave of excitement. The three of us can’t stop laughing as we sway and jump, moving to the sounds of lutes and drums like they were Diplo.
I lift my hands and close my eyes. For a second, I could be home, out dancing at some sketchy club that Zoe dragged me to after I refused to come out of my study cave for months. I smile as I think of her. The crowd surges and I’m jostled around. When I open my eyes, I can’t find Cecily or Bartholomew. I keep looking, even calling their names, but I can’t spot them anywhere in the throng of people.
