The young girl glanced at the dark figure on the threshold with new interest; she was not without enjoyment of the admiration that she was beginning to receive. One of the stable-boys came running with a lighted torch to help Sir William to adjust his saddle. Master Raby bent forward and took Betty’s bridle rein.
“Let me guide thy beast, Mistress Carew,” he said.
But she heard him not. The light of the torch flared full on the figure in the door. Even through the mist, which hung between like a thin veil, she saw the glittering dress, the dark face, and the scar across the left eyebrow.
A moment afterwards, Carew’s party rode out of the yard.
“Uncle, uncle,” cried Mistress Betty, in a strange voice, “who was yonder dark man that spoke with you?”
“’Twas Henge, Sir Barton Henge,” said Carew; “but what is that to thee, wench?”
CHAPTER X
MISTRESS BETTY GOES TO COURT
It was an hour before noon and the gates of Greenwich palace stood open. A crowd of attendants and gentlemen ushers were assembled in the anterooms, and the royal guards lined the halls. The king and queen were holding a levee, and, as usual, there was a great concourse of people, and the river was dotted with barges, wherries and all sorts of water-craft.
Sir William Carew had just landed at the water-stairs, opposite the main entrance, and was helping his niece to alight from the boat. They were accompanied by Simon Raby, and all three were dressed in the elaborate fashion of the court. Sir William’s suit was of richer hue and finer velvet than that which he had worn upon the road; his cloak was shorter and more gayly lined, while his ruffles were of the finest lace. The younger man was even more richly attired in maroon velvet, heavily embroidered, and slashed with gold-colored satin; and he had a face and figure that would scarcely pass unnoticed in any garb. But neither he nor Sir William had fully realized the beauty of their young companion until they saw her, no longer clad in mourning, but wearing a rich gown that her uncle had provided for the occasion. It was of gray velvet, with a yoke of rose-colored satin edged with fur, the inner sleeves being of the same tint, as well as the facings of the flowing ones, which came to the elbow. The gray velvet skirt was looped up on one side, showing a farthingale of pink satin trimmed with lace. The colors and the richness of the costume suited well her glowing complexion and dark hair, and she made a charming picture. As they passed through the crowded anterooms, she attracted universal attention, but moved on unconscious of it. The painful contrast between the splendor of these lofty rooms and the dreary ones at Kimbolton struck her generous mind with its full force. Here she saw gay courtiers, beautiful women, and all the magnificence of a court, and she had just come from the presence of death. Young though she was, she had too strong a character to be moved to forgetfulness by the brilliance of the change. Catherine had not won her affection, but she had inspired her with a feeling of profound sympathy. There was another shadow also on the mood of Mistress Betty; the wizard’s strange statement had haunted her secret thoughts ever since it was made, and the sight of the scarred stranger at the tavern disquieted her. Again and again she told herself it was but folly, yet she could not put it from her mind; and she was strangely depressed as she walked beside her uncle through the crowd of courtiers, who gave place only to gaze again at the lovely face and erect form of the young girl. Behind her came Master Raby, secretly admiring her and comparing her fresh beauty with the charms of the gay dames who smiled at him as he passed. At the entrance to the presence-chamber, they were halted by the usher; but only for a moment, a few words from Carew gaining them admittance. The room opened into the gallery with great folding-doors, and through these the little party passed and found themselves in a lofty apartment beyond. To Betty, the splendid gayety of the scene was almost bewildering, and she paused a moment on the threshold, looking about her with perfect unconsciousness of the attention that she immediately attracted. The appearance of so beautiful a young woman standing almost alone in the doorway created in a moment a little sensation.
The room was crowded with lords and gentlemen, peers and peeresses; the glitter of gold, the sheen of satin and brocade, the sparkle of jewels, made a scene of varied beauty. Here were handsome men and the loveliest of England’s women; on one side stood the stately figure of a prelate, on the other some foreign ambassador; here was a gay court gallant, yonder a reverend sage. Not far from the door stood the king surrounded by his favored nobles. He was, at this time, growing very stout, but still retained much of the fine appearance of his earlier manhood. His dress of velvet and brocade was rich with gold embroidery and his breast sparkled with jewels. His great size and the natural majesty of his bearing made him an imposing figure, but he possessed a frank and cordial address which won him many friends, even in those days of treason and discontent. Beyond him, almost in the center of the room, was Queen Anne Boleyn.