The Duchess during that brief moment's respite tried to collect her scattered wits.
"But oh! what shall I say to His Grace?" she moaned distractedly. "Child! child! to your folly there is no end!"
A quickly smothered shriek from Ursula now brought the other girls to her side in the embrasure. She was pointing across the court to the gateway beneath the clock tower.
"He is coming!" she cried, with a slightly nervous tremor in her voice. "It is he, with my lord Everingham; they are laughing and talking together. . . . Oh, how handsome he looks!" she added enthusiastically. "My future husband, my lord, not the Queen's—mine own, mine own! Alicia, tell me, hast ever seen a more goodly sight than that of my future husband in that beautiful silken doublet and with that dear, dear dog of his walking so proudly behind him? Harry Plantagenet, thou'rt a lucky dog, and I'll kiss thee first, and—and——"
Then she ran back to the Duchess.
"Two minutes to mount the stairs, two more to cross the Great Hall, then the watching chamber, the presence chamber. . . . In six minutes he will be here—hush!—I hear a footstep! . . . Holy Virgin, how my heart beats!"
There had come a discreet knock at the door. All four women were too excited to respond, but the next moment the door was opened and a young page, dressed in the same gorgeous livery which Henry VIII had originally prescribed, entered and bowed to the ladies.
Then he turned to the Duchess of Lincoln.
"Her Majesty the Queen desires the immediate presence of Her Grace and of her maids-of-honour in the Oratory."
There was dead silence in the room whilst the page once more bowed in the elaborate manner ordained by Court etiquette; then he walked backwards to the door, and stood there, holding it open ready for the ladies to pass.