Prisoner of the Queen (Tales From the Tudor Court) (19 page)

“You are a vision as always, my lady,”
Mrs. Helen said, tucking an errant strand back into my hood. “This gown always makes the blue of your eyes stand out even more starkly against your fair skin.”

She stroked a finger lovingly over my cheek and smiled like a proud mother hen.

“Oh, Mrs. Helen, enough already! I do not want to be pretty today. I want to be somber.” I pouted, even though I realized what I said was ridiculous. “Would that I could stay in bed with a megrim.” I put my hand to my forehead and willed the pains to come, but there was nothing. No reprieve for me today.

I
supposed I was being selfish, but I just did not think I could go another day reading aloud inside a darkened room, with a little candlelight, and the scents of lavender, sage and roses suffocating me. Did companions not get a respite? Mrs. Helen had a free day on Sundays to do as she pleased—even though, more often than not, she refused it. But if I were to be honest with myself, it was not the duties I came here to provide to my dear friend that made me so sour, but missing her brother.

Mrs. Helen
narrowed her eyes. “That is not a way to be thinking about your dear friend. For shame, if she heard your words, you’d bring her to tears. Now go and read to her. Maybe she’ll be well enough to come down to the great hall for the nooning, and it will give you a chance to breathe fresh air.”

I nodded. “Yes, I must ask the Lord
’s forgiveness for such selfish thoughts. It is truly un-Christian of me.” And I did feel shame at wishing myself to be in bed sick. I had best make it up to Jane.

I left my chamber and walked down the long
, dark corridor. The torches bracketed to the walls were lit only every dozen feet or so. Shadows danced and bounced off of the stone walls, and the eyes in various portraits appeared to follow my path. It was so dark that if I had not known it was morning, I might have thought I had woken in the middle of the night to visit Jane.

Commotion sounded from inside Jane
’s chamber, and I paused outside of the door, not wanting to interrupt.

What
had happened? Was she well? Had she taken a turn for the worse? I crossed myself and sent up a prayer to God that Jane was well. I knocked lightly, and when the call came to enter, I was greeted by the standing figure of Jane, who had risen from bed and walked about her chamber.

I set down
the copy of
Phaedo
I brought with me on a nearby table and walked toward the window Jane gazed out of.

There was a knock at the door
, and then the duchess entered. She glanced from Jane to me, her face void of emotion. As always, she was dressed to impress with rich dark velvet, intricate gold thread embroidery and black diamonds sewn on the neckline, waistline, hem, sleeves and within each design of embroidery. Her entire ensemble could have fed a village for a year if it were sold for coin.

“Jane, your lady
’s maid informed me you were up and about. Don your new gown and slippers. I should think you have had enough time in this room, and it needs to be aired out and cleaned. Come now, Lady Katherine, do you not agree?” The duchess was like a whirlwind, moving about the room, opening windows, and scraping her finger along furniture.

“Wholeheartedly, Your Grace.
” But I dared not say more, for I was truly shocked the duchess would suggest her daughter leave the room, given that she had been the one who ordered her to go there in the first place.

Lady Anne called for servants to enter and listed
detailed instructions for cleaning while Jane’s lady’s maid took her behind a screen to dress.

I watched silent
ly, not really sure what to do, and I had not yet been dismissed.

Lady Anne turned toward me. “You are aware I served many of King Henry
’s wives, are you not?” She continued without waiting for my answer. “The one most dear to me was my sister-by-marriage, Queen Jane, who I named my own daughter after.”

I nodded, my hands folded neatly at my waist.

“The king had a set of rules about cleaning and what should be done to a sickroom. I think they have helped many—although in the end, the regimen could not prevent dear Queen Jane Seymour from succumbing to childbed fever. I was reluctant to do so for my daughter…but now that she appears on the mend…” The willowy woman turned from me, and I wondered at her explanation.

“I am positive Your Grace did all you could for Queen Jane.”

The duchess didn’t say anything, only continued to inspect the servants as they brought in buckets of water and lye soap. I was relieved the conversation was apparently over, as I never knew quite what to say to the duchess.

Jane emerged from behind the screen dressed in
an icy blue silk gown with a pearl-crusted bodice and slashed sleeves of silver and white. Her skin was sallow against the pale colors, and the purple circles beneath her eyes flashed like sliced beets above her bony cheeks. The gown sagged on her, showing just how much of her body had evaporated from this illness. But I said none of these things to her, of course.

“Jane, you look beautiful.
’Tis good to see you dressed in finery again. ’Tis as though a black cloud has lifted. I feared…”

“Do not fear for me, Kat.”

I rushed forward, taking her hands in mine. I was desperate for her to know what she meant to me. “You have been my hope, my one shining light in this world after so much has been ripped away. For certes, I’ve other friends at court, but Jane Dormer and Margaret Clifford are mere court ladies. We are of like souls, like minds. I can confess anything to you without fear of my words being twisted and repeated. You’ve guided me through tumultuous situations, emotions, and Lord knows there have been many. I cannot perceive of life without you. But now there appears to be a light at the end of the tunnel that was your illness.”

Perhaps this was what Her Grace could not voice to me. That she
’d seen so many perish before her eyes. That her first Jane had been ripped from life, and now her namesake might suffer the same fate. I could well imagine the pain that carved its way through Her Grace’s heart, for it was the same pain I myself had had to vanquish time and again.

Hoping Jane might recover from her illness
with fresh air, we slowly descended the curving stone staircase. The servants in the great hall bobbed curtsies and bowed as we made our way toward the rear doors that led to the garden pathways—Arabel, Rex and Beau nipping at our heels.

The sun shone above, and walking several feet behind us through the gardens were servants waving fans and carrying cool
flagons of honeyed wine should we need it. Bees clustered on tulips and lilies, sucking the sugary sweetness from their centers.

The rich timb
re of Ned’s voice broke into my thoughts. “What a trio of beautiful ladies I have fallen upon. Would you accept my offering of an escort?”

I mustered all the decorum I
’d had pounded into my head from birth, and instead of whirling and running toward him, I turned slowly, as did Lady Anne and Jane.

Ned approached
, looking dashing in his black and silver hose and matching surcoat. He bent over our hands and kissed us each on the knuckles, pausing a moment longer over my hand than that of his mother and sister. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jane smile, and the opposite reaction from their mother. Lady Anne frowned fiercely and tapped her foot impatiently on the gravel, making a crunching noise.

“Beau, cease your hold on my guest
’s hands. I shan’t desire the young lady to become offended by your courtly flirtations,” Her Grace said with irritation.

“My dear mother, Lady Katherine does not find me in the least offensive, do you
, my lady?” He winked at me, taking my breath away.

Heat blazed in my face and chest
. I flicked my gaze away, too nervous to meet anyone’s scrutiny, preferring to keep my eyes cast toward the ground.

When I did happen to snatch a glance from the corner of my
eye, Her Grace pursed her lips but did not comment further. Instead, she changed the subject entirely, for which I was grateful, so that I did not have to answer Ned’s question, which would have been a resounding, “No!”

“I suppose if you insist, we would be pleased to have you accompany us. Do fan your sister Jane. We shall sit in the shade by the orchard
,” Lady Anne said.

I chanced a peek in their direction and saw that despite her sharp tongue Lady Anne had a twinkle in her eyes and was most likely pleased to have her son join
us. My stomach, however, flipped when I looked at Jane. Her lips were white and her skin paler than it had been when we’d left her bedroom. A glance ahead showed we were not too close to the orchard—Jane would not make it that far.

“Perhaps we could stop by the pond?” I suggested, seeing as how the pond was only a dozen feet away, with weeping willow trees draping their branches over benches basked in cool shadow. “The ducks are so very friendly.”

Jane’s eyes lit up with hope, but her mother quickly dashed the idea with a subtle shake of her head. “Nonsense, those fowl will only beg for bread we haven’t brought. Besides, Jane enjoys the scents of the orchard.”

’
Twas true, Jane did enjoy the scents of the orchard, but I had great cause to fear she would drop in a faint before we made it there. I tried to recall if she’d had a morsel to eat or drink this morning, but I truly could not remember.

“A drink then?”

Lady Anne stopped and turned toward me. “Lady Katherine, I daresay you are out of shape. Can you not walk for another minute or two?”

I swallowed hard, for although she
’d posed it as a question, her words were more of a demand.

When I did not respond, Lady Anne said,
“Let us continue then.”

She lifted her skirts and continued
to march forward. Jane looked dejected, her gaze resting on the shaded benches. Her frame was so slight I could see her shoulders lift and lower in a sigh of resignation. Why could she not speak up for herself? Why had Lady Anne insisted her daughter come out of doors to indulge in the fresh air if she would not then be concerned for her welfare?

There was only one thing I could do
: create a distraction.

I took a deep breath
, closed my eyes and let out a loud shriek.

“Lady Katherine!”
the duchess said, whirling toward me.

I fluttered my arms around, kicked my feet up
, swatted at my dress and turned in a circle, all while shouting, “Bee! Bee!”

I admit to making a spectacle of myself, but for Jane I would
have done anything, and it was obvious her mother hadn’t thought the walk to the orchard would be too much.

“Have you been stung?” Ned asked, alarm in his voice.

I nodded emphatically and whirled again, batting at my skirts.

And like that
, the duchess placed Jane on a bench, the latter letting out a loud sigh of relief. Servants rushed forth with the honeyed wine while Jane placed a hand on her brow and swayed on the bench.

The
duchess pursed her lips. “Beau, do take Lady Katherine into the great hall and see that her bee sting is taken care of.”

With that, she turned her attention back
to Jane.

Inside
, I smiled. Perhaps if I had not been born a princess of the blood, I could have been born a lowly actress.

Ned
’s arm on mine as he gently guided me back to the house was comforting, and yet at the same time completely unnerving. His fingers burned through the silk of my lavender-colored gown, sending a spiraling path of nerves from my arm to my belly.

“Thank you, my lord, for escorting me back to the house. And might I also offer an apology for
my behavior?”

Ned chuckled, his arm tugging me in a little closer, so that our hips bumped together as we walked. My eyes widened in reaction
, and I tried to put at least an inch of distance between us, but he only tugged me close once more. I glanced around, hoping no one watched such scandalous behavior. When I saw no one, I let myself sink into that warm place that centered around my world when Ned was near. My hip burned, and deep within me I yearned for something… It gnawed at me, like a hunger.

“My dear lady, your performance was quite entertaining, but I must say I have my doubts as to whether you we
re truly stung.”

My lip quirked up at the side at having been caught in my
falsehood. “You would call a lady deceitful?”

He shook his head, and made a
tsk tsk
noise with his tongue. “Only what I might perceive to have been good acting.”

I shrugged, still
overly sensitive to our touching bodies. I tried to make my voice as normal as possible, even though I felt like squealing. “Jane needed to rest.”

“She could have rested at the orchard.”

I huffed. “Did you not see her pallor? Her waning countenance? The desperate glances she made toward the benches situated by the pond?”