“You fall into good fortune, my girl. Your extraordinary claim is most readily allowed.”
Frances, finding nothing to say, kept silence and bowed her head to the King, whom she had regarded throughout with rapt attention.
“Where got you your gift of prophecy? Is prescience hereditary, and has your father’s mantle already fallen on your shoulders? He is my best friend, you said, and I my worst enemy. God’s truth, Madam, you did not lack for boldness, but the force of the flattery of your father is lessened by my knowledge of your relationship, hitherto concealed from me.”
“Your Majesty, it has hitherto been concealed from myself,” said the Earl wearily.
“Has the girl no tongue? It wagged freely enough in the forest. Come, masquerader, what have you to say for yourself?”
“Your Majesty, I humbly crave your pardon. The words I used yesterday were not mine, but those of a gipsy in the north, who told me I was the daughter of the Earl of Strafford at a time when such a tale seemed so absurd that I laughed at her for connecting my name of Wentworth with one so exalted as the Earl of Strafford. Later, when I received proof that such indeed was the case, her words returned to me. I had no right to use them in your august presence, but the entourage of the Lord Strafford prevented my meeting him; thus, baffled, I sought to intercept him in the forest, and was willing to use any strategy that might turn his attention toward me, in the hope of getting a private word with him.”
“I knew you had a tongue. Well, it matters little what you said; your mission seems to have been successful. Do not think I placed any weight upon your words, be they gipsy-spoken or the outcome of a spirit of mischief. My Lord Strafford, you will to London then?”
“Instantly, your Majesty.”
“I will consult with you there to-morrow. And have no fear; for on my oath as a man, on my honour as a king, I will protect you.”
The King rose and left the room as abruptly as he had entered it.