Once the rain stopped, the afternoon was spent with the gentlemen of the house enjoying friendly sport at the archery butts while the women dallied with their needlework, usually an excuse to gossip.

Richard shone at archery and proved it by besting all but one in the group in the first two rounds. However, at that moment he was only aware of the proximity in the house of the lovely young woman from Chelsworth. Glancing up at the solar window, where he imagined the ladies were plying their needles, he was sure he could see those amber eyes watching him. He quickly looked away as Jack called for his next shot, which flew wide and surprised even him.

“Come, come my lord,” Jack teased, “one would suspect your mind is on cupid’s bow, not on your own.”

Richard’s attempt at astonishment made Jack laugh. “’Twould be a fool who did not see the lady pleases you,” he said, conspiratorily. “Who could blame you. If only I were younger…”

“Sir John,” Richard protested, pulling another arrow from his quiver. “Let me demonstrate that my mind is indeed on our sport.” He took aim and his arrow found the bullseye with a thud. “Observe, Sir John, I shall prevail yet. Wait and see.”

No doubt you will, young man, Jack thought with amusement. No doubt you will.

Richard sat entranced.

Jack and Margaret had persuaded Kate to take up her harp and sing as they all gathered in the Howards’ private solar. “You must remember her, my lord, from Westminster? At the coronation feast? You were there in the room when she sang.”

“Certes! I knew I had seen you before, Kate,” Richard had said happily and was rewarded with a smile. “Why did you not remind me? Aye, please sing for us again.”

It was a cozy family scene, with Jack lounging on damask cushions at his wife’s feet as she rocked their baby daughter in the cradle while two of Margaret’s gentlewomen sat apart diligently embroidering in the light of a small candelabra.

Kate’s pure voice and eerie tale transported them all to an imaginary king’s hall where the ghostly voice of his drowned younger daughter miraculously rose from the strings of a harp standing by itself in front of the king. Betrayed and murdered by her sister for the love of sweet William, the harp revealed the tragic story, finally accusing the false Helen in the last melancholic minor notes.

The company sat transfixed for a few moments until Jack said quietly, “’Twas well done, Kate. You have moved us all.”