In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe

      ‘Yes, most of them,’ Kathryn said. ‘I hope she is not ill, for if they were the cause she would be much worse than I am.’

      ‘Where is she this afternoon?’

      ‘She went to visit Isabella.’

      ‘That is strange. I am sure that Adriana told me Isabella and her father were invited to their house for the day.’

      Kathryn was feeling too ill to argue. Perhaps she had made a mistake? Her head was spinning and she could hardly put one foot in front of the other as Elizabeta helped her to her room. Once there, she vomited into a basin, and then collapsed on the bed, feeling too weak and ill to know what was happening around her. She lay with her eyes closed, unaware of the anxious faces of the servants or that Elizabeta sat with her, bathing her forehead until the physician arrived.

      She told him what she feared and he examined Kathryn carefully, checking for signs of poison, and then, after careful consideration, giving his verdict.

      ‘She may have eaten something that made her ill,’ he said. ‘But I do not think it was poison. Had it been, she would probably have been dead by now—and some poisons leave a smell on the breath and a blueness about the mouth. I believe she has taken a small dose of something that might in larger doses be dangerous, but I think she will be well enough when whatever upset her has passed through. It may be that something she ate was not quite fresh.’

      ‘Kathryn told me that she ate only cheese, bread and fruit.’

      ‘It must have been the cheese,’ he said. ‘It was most unpleasant for her, but I have given her something to settle her stomach and I think you will find that she will sleep now.’

      Elizabeta thanked him, but she was not satisfied with his explanation. The vomiting had been violent and she suspected that something had been put into the cakes to cause Kathryn to be ill. Perhaps she had not eaten enough to make her ill enough to die, but the results were harmful. Maria was spiteful enough to play such a trick; she had proved that when she knocked Elizabeta’s drink into her lap—but had she meant to kill Kathryn?

      The poison must have been something she had taken from the garden, for it was unlikely she could have access to the poisons sometimes used by physicians and apothecaries in their work. And that, of course, would make it more difficult to judge the amount needed to kill, if it had been her intention. She might only have wished to make Kathryn ill out of a spiteful impulse.

      Kathryn was resting for the moment. Elizabeta got up from the chair beside the bed and went out into the hall. She knew that Maria’s room was at the far end, and she hesitated only a moment before making her way there. Perhaps it was wrong of her, but she needed proof before she could accuse the Spanish girl of trying to kill her hostess, and she might find what she sought amongst Maria’s things. It was wrong of her to go through the Spanish girl’s private things, but Elizabeta quashed her scruples and began to search the various chests and cupboards.

      Her search took only a few minutes, and at the end she found nothing incriminating. What puzzled her was the flimsy harem costume hidden at the bottom of one of the chests, and a beautiful necklet that looked like a huge ruby surrounded by pearls. She turned it in her hand, wondering if it opened somehow for the gold backing was thick and might hold a secret. Then, as she heard a sound behind her, she turned to find that Maria had come in.

      ‘What are you doing with that?’ Maria came towards her, snatching the necklet from her hands. ‘That is mine! You have no right to touch it. You have no right to be in my room.’

      ‘Kathryn has been ill,’ Elizabeta said. ‘The physician says that something she ate must have made her so—but perhaps something in the food should not have been there.’

      ‘You are accusing me of poisoning her!’ Maria cried, her dark eyes flashing with temper. ‘You have always hated me! You tried to turn Kathryn against me!’

      ‘I do not hate you,’ Elizabeta said calmly. ‘But neither do I trust you. You made eyes at Lorenzo from the start—and if you could get rid of Kathryn, you think he might turn to you.’

      ‘That is all you know!’ Maria cried. ‘I have a lover who wants me—he gave me this.’ She was smiling now, her eyes bright with triumph. ‘If Kathryn has been ill, perhaps it was you who poisoned her. I was not here—besides, if I wanted her dead, she would be dead.’

      ‘But you made her ill,’ Elizabeta said. ‘I know that you did it, Maria. If anything happens to her—if she dies of a mysterious illness—I shall see that you are hung for murder’

      ‘Get out of my room,’ Maria cried. ‘You are a liar. I did nothing to harm Kathryn. She is my friend. You can prove nothing. Besides, I shall be leaving very soon now.’

      ‘The sooner the better,’ Elizabeta said. She did not believe in Maria’s protests of innocence. ‘I intend to stay with Kathryn while she is ill. If I find you in her room I shall have you confined to yours—and if anything happens to her, I shall make sure that you are punished for it. Kathryn may be deceived in you, but I know you for the evil wretch you are.’

      ‘One day you will be sorry for your unkindness to me,’ Maria said, her eyes flashing with anger. ‘The man I love is very powerful. You will suffer for this, believe me.’

      ‘I do not fear you or your threats, whore,’ Elizabeta said. ‘I do not know where you got that ruby or the harem costume you hide in your chest—but I know you for what you are. And when Lorenzo returns, I shall tell him to be rid of you at once.’

      Kathryn’s head was aching terribly when she woke to find Elizabeta sitting by her side the next morning. She stared at her in bewilderment for a moment as she tried to remember, and then, as the memory of her illness returned, she said, ‘Have you been here all night?’

      ‘I was worried about you,’ Elizabeta said and squeezed her hand. ‘You were so very ill that I was anxious—and I would not leave you while Lorenzo is away. I do not trust that Spanish girl.’

      Kathryn pushed herself up against the pillows. Her stomach ached, as did her head, but she was feeling much better now the sickness had gone.

      ‘You should not have sat up with me all night,’ she said. ‘I am sure Maria was not the cause of my sickness. How could she be?’

      ‘Perhaps she put something into the almond cakes—or your drink,’ Elizabeta said. ‘I do not know, Kathryn, but I am sure that she had something to do with what happened to you. I am not sure if it was just a spiteful trick to make you ill—or something more sinister.’

      ‘Perhaps.’ Kathryn sighed. She did not feel well enough to think about Maria. ‘Lorenzo had told her that morning that she was soon to go home. She begged me to persuade him to let her stay—but to tell you the truth, I do not really want her here.’

      ‘And why should you? There is something sly about her—and she tells lies.’

      ‘Yes, I think she does.’ Kathryn hesitated. She could not tell Elizabeta that the Spanish girl had been imprisoned in a harem for some months, for that would be unfair. ‘You may be right about her being spiteful enough to make me ill, but surely she would not try to poison me?’

      ‘It was not a deadly poison or you would have died,’ Elizabeta said. ‘Yet I think she intended to make you very ill. Be careful of her, Kathryn. She might be capable of anything.’

      ‘Yes, I shall,’ she promised. ‘And now you must go home, for your husband will worry about you.’

      ‘But then you will be alone…’

      Kathryn shook her head. ‘I am glad that you were here when I became ill, and that you called the physician—but I do not think Maria intends to kill me. As you said, if she had wanted me dead I would be already. Besides, I shall not eat anything she brings me in future.’

      ‘If you are sure?’ Elizabeta looked at her doubtfully.

      ‘I have a house