“Very nice,” Rose said curtly. She didn’t want to encourage this unpredictable lady. But was she truly mad? Or was that only an identity created by court gossip? Maybe, thought Rose, she just expressed herself differently, like her mom’s friend’s daughter Judith, who mostly spoke in cartoon voices. Her mom had described Judith as being “on the spectrum.” Then she explained that Judith was smart and very kind, and she also had autism. “She sort of doesn’t know how to connect socially with people except through those Disney characters. You love Disney characters too, Rose,” her mom had said. And Rose had replied, “But not that much. I talk in my own voice.”

“Maybe Judith has never found hers. Nevertheless, she has found other things. She is actually quite brilliant—mathematically brilliant,” she recalled her mother saying. “And has a kind of photographic memory.”

Rose was quite young at the time and tried to imagine Judith chasing about, knocking on doors looking for the voice that belonged to her and each time being disappointed, saying, “Nope, not that one. Not that one either.” She would try and be nice to Jane as much as she could. And Jane certainly had good taste in shoes. Rose vowed to make a sketch of those shoes as soon as she got back—whenever that was.

“Not a hair on my head, but feathers on my feet,” Jane said.

“I must be going,” Rose said.

“Off you go! Off you go!”

Rose zipped past the woman. But she could not help recalling her mother’s words about Judith being brilliant. And a photographic memory! Too bad she didn’t have the locket. She would have shown Jane the picture of the man in the ruff. The thought arrested her. People were dismissive of fools. Fools were just there for entertainment. They wore stupid outfits like Jane. Or the men, the court jesters, wore pointy hats with bells attached and ugly-colored tights, and of course let’s not forget those puffy short skirts! Who would believe a man in tights and a tutu or a bald woman with feathers cackling like a bird? But maybe their foolishness was just a disguise for something else. They often spoke in riddles and nonsensical rhymes. However, they might know more than anyone would dare to believe. Perhaps she should take Jane more seriously.

But then an awesomely embarrassing thought struck her. OMG, what if her father was a fool, prancing around in “motley,” as they called those ridiculous costumes. A dad in a tutu! She might have cardiac arrest. Mortal embarrassment. She took a deep breath and continued walking. No, no! The man in the ruff would never be a fool.

She found Andrew at the stables.

“Hullo there, Rose.” He walked toward her. “Are you all right? You look a tad pink in the cheeks.”

“I just crossed paths with that bald woman.”