Queenbreaker: Perseverance (The Queenbreaker Trilogy Book 1) (28 page)

“You
worthless prick!” John snarled, going for his sword. I threw myself against his
chest, wrapping my arms around him.

“Leave
him, John. Please. Let’s just go.”

The
farmer took his chance and ran back up the track from where he’d come. I
clutched John, letting his sandalwood expel the tang of blood from my nose.

“Well,
this is not where I thought to be this morning.” He murmured against the top of
my head. I tilted my head back to look at him.

“Where
did you expect to be?”

“Not
in Mistress Shelton’s arms.” His smile coaxed out my own.

“I
did not want another murder on our hands,” I said.

John
snorted. “He’s not worth the fine.”

“Will
there be a fine for the cow?”

John
assessed the ruined carcass. “I paid him twice what it’s worth. Should be
enough to keep him from going to the Sheriff. If the King hears of it, Anne
will have to put Urian down. It’s his second cow.”

My
arms fell. “Second?”

John
stepped away, pointed the cudgel at Urian who’d started licking his forepaws.
“He killed another cow two years ago during another Progress. The King can’t
let that pass no matter how much the Queen loves the beast.”

“We
cannot tell him,” I said. “We cannot tell her. She can have no upsets right
now.”

John
raised an eyebrow. “Can she not?”

“
Absolutement
. Doctor Butts wants her
kept quiet.”

John
laughed. “Uncanny.”

I
frowned, confused. “How is that uncanny?”

John
shook his head. “Not the doctor’s order. You.
Your voice.
You mimic the Queen to perfection. That’s why Urian stopped. You sound exactly
like her when you speak French.”

My
skin buzzed.

I sound as French as Anne?

I
should blush and stammer something, denying the comparison. But I didn’t want
to.

“We
did have the same tutor as children.” I had to admit to that. I had not lived
in France as Anne had so any resemblance was strictly due to Semmonet.

John
took my hands again. “No, ‘tis more than that. Something in your voice is very
like hers—I’d not noticed it before. And, of course, your coloring is
similar. You are almost as tall. You might be sisters instead of cousins.” A
grin tugged the corner of his mouth. “You do know what this means?”

I
ducked my head, pretending confusion. I was dying to know what he meant.

John
took up both of my hands and kissed them in turn. “I am in love with the second
most beautiful woman in England.”

Greenwich
Palace, Greenwich

July
1533

“You’re
preening.”

I
slid Madge a look. She’d planted herself beside me on the way to Mass and
shooed away Joan Percy to sit beside me.

“What
does it matter to you, Madge?”

Madge
pretended to follow Doctor Skip’s words a moment. “Naught to me, Mary. But it
matters to the family.”

“Why
do the Parkers give a fig about me?”

Madge’s
sharp nails dug into my hip. “Don’t be saucy. I’m just the messenger.”

I
rubbed the spot with my elbow. “Then what is it?”

“Lord
John de Vere.”

I
ground my back teeth. I misliked hearing his name from her lips. She still
attached the tiniest sneer to it, aimed at my worthiness to be associated with
such as he.

“What
about him?”

“You
haven’t written your mother about him.”

“Of
course I have,” I hissed and Bess Holland, seated in front of me, turned her
head. I ducked my chin, lowered my voice. “Many times. She saw us dance
together at the Queen’s coronation.”

“That
was over a month ago. You’ve told her nothing of what’s happening now.”

“‘Tis
still just a game of Pass-the-Time.”

“Liar.”

I
stabbed the inside of my wrist with my little fingernail, interrupting the
rising tide of my temper.

“It
is the truth.”

Madge
turned a page of her missal. “You are not friends with the truth. You must
write your mother.”

“And
tell her what?
That we exchange poems, and dance to entertain
the Queen?
We do no more than any other—no more than you.”

Madge’s
lips turned down. “Write your mother today. And take my advice. Leave nothing
out.”

My stomach clenched. “What would I leave
out?”

Madge
covered a smirk with her hand. “John de Vere doesn’t know the value of a man’s
cow.”

_______________

Mother’s
reply arrived with next morning’s tide. Madge intercepted the messenger and
delivered it to me after Joan and Bess had left our chamber for Mass.

“She
tells me to ‘keep him at arm’s length’,” I read aloud. “No more kisses in the
middle of Greenwich Park.”

My
cheeks burned.

The
farmer must have lingered behind the trees and watched us. Then run off to
court to sell his tale. He’d probably got more for it than the dead cow. The
villain. I should have let John beat him.

Madge
shrugged. “Easy enough. What else does she say?”

The
first thing she had commanded me was to share her letter with Madge. Madge was
there to help me. I ached to remind Mother how much help Madge had been
securing my place on Progress, but it would have to go in my next letter. For
now I must suffer Madge’s tutelage.

I
scanned the next few lines. “She says I should ingratiate myself with Lady Mary
Howard.” The same thing she’d been demanding since I’d arrived at court. But
Mariah and her friends were utterly against me. Why did Mother insist so much
on their friendship? I had Joan, Bess—Lady Lee was kind. And, if I won
John I would not need anyone else. But would Mother see it so?

I
glared at Madge. “Well, how do you suggest I do that?”

Madge
ripped the letter from my hand and crushed it. “It is already done.”

Greenwich
Palace, Greenwich

July
1533

“Mistress
Shelton. You are wanted.”

Lady
Rochford herself had come to fetch me. She stood at the Privy Chamber door
resplendent in a jade dress with long black sleeves.

Every
eye in the Presence Chamber landed on my head. Weston playing counterpoint on a
lute to Mary Wyatt’s guitar, winked at me. Joan bounced once on her stool,
before Bess kicked her ankle and curtailed another. Madge, seated beside me,
pulled her cobalt blue skirt aside.

“The
Queen is waiting,” she said, pointing her chin at the door.

My
back bent under a hundred stone as I forced myself to rise. I took one step
away from the stool and one of the Howard things swooped on it.

Vulture!

Lady
Rochford’s sharp frown rebuked my dawdling. I quickened my step and followed
her inside the Privy Chamber. Lady Rochford grabbed my arm before I made my
reverence to the Queen.

“Stand
over there ‘til the Queen calls you.”

There
was the darkest corner of the Privy Chamber, the farthest from the bay windows.
I slid away from Lady Rochford and put my back to the wall.

Cousin
Mary Carey sent me a soft smile. She kept company with her mother in the sun
splashed window seat. Aunt Elizabeth looked at me, but gave no greeting. A
phlegmy cough overtook her and she turned her face toward the window to spit in
her handkerchief.

Bolts
of fabric, baskets of ribbon and thread surrounded Anne’s chair. Urian had been
chased from his usual spot and lay sprawled before the fire. The Queen’s
Silkwoman, Mrs. Wilkinson, pulled a bolt of lustrous dove gray silk from a
closed basket.

“It
arrived from Calais yesterday, Your Grace.”

Lady
Rochford threaded her way back to her post at Anne’s right hand.

Anne
rubbed her thumb against the weave.

“For
the cradle,” she said handing it back to Mrs. Wilkinson. Lady Rochford plucked
a swatch of emerald green sarcenet from another basket. Anne stroked it with
the back of her hand.

“For
my Churching, perhaps.”

Lady
Rochford nodded. “Exactly my thought, Your Grace.”

Anne
smirked. “Katherine and her brat should be there to see me wearing it.”

Aunt
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Sour Spanish faces might darken the day.”

Anne
tapped her belly. “If they truly loved the King they would rejoice as heartily
as any true born Englishman.”

Lady
Rochford nodded. “That is God’s own truth, Your Grace.”

The
silkwoman offered the Queen a piece of frothy lace.

“
Magnifique
,” Anne murmured.

A
staccato knocking sounded at the door.

“Enter,”
Lady Rochford called.

Mariah
entered hand in hand with her sister-in-law, Lady Frances. They both knelt to
the Queen.

“Madam
Wilkinson.” The silkwoman instantly bowed to Anne and backed from the chamber.
Lady Rochford secured the door behind her.

“We
are enacting changes to your household,” said Anne without once looking at
Mariah. “We have decided you shall have a new companion. Mary Shelton is our
choice.”

My
heart lost a beat.

Lady
Rochford’s crisp nod signaled me. I peeled myself from the wall and curtsied to
Anne then to Mariah’s expressionless face. Lady Frances glared at me out the
corner of her eye.

Mariah’s
implacable poise never wavered. “Your Grace is very good to me, but I must have
my father’s permission for such changes.”

Anne’s
smile bordered on grotesque. “My lord Norfolk’s business in France will keep
him away many months more, Mariah. In his absence, I am your parent as much as
I am your Queen. Mistress Shelton is chosen.” Anne’s eyes brushed me. “And she
is given the freedom of our Privy Chamber as well, so that she may bear you
company wherever you may go.”

Mariah
ducked her chin, a seeming acquiescence.

“Well,
then if it please your Grace, I would prefer Lady Surrey for my companion.”

Lady
Rochford’s sharp nose lifted. “My lady Surrey occupies her husband’s lodgings.
The Queen will not interfere with it.”

Mariah
ignored Rochford, addressed herself wholly to the Queen. “Then I will have
Margot.”

The
Queen laughed. “Margot prefers Mary Tudor’s bed.”

Lady
Frances flinched.

“Mrs.
Carey then—she is kin.”

“Enough!” Anne
slapped her armrest. Urian snarled. Lady Frances turned her head as if she
could avoid the lash of Anne’s tongue.

Anne
leaned toward Mariah, her eyes growing larger, darker. “You were not brought
here to dispute us, lady, but to hear our command. Mistress Shelton shares your
chambers. All of your servants have been dismissed and replaced from among our
household. It has been done by the King’s will. So do not run to him with your
tears or I will do more than change your bed!”

_______________

We
erupted from the Privy Chamber with the violence of cannon shot. Startled, the
ladies and gentlemen in the Presence Chamber spun out of our way. I registered
Madge’s glowering face as I hiked my skirt to keep up. Mariah’s father the Duke
had been a soldier for more than thirty years. He had never adopted the
polished manner of a courtier and he counted it a point of pride. Mariah had
some of the Duke’s habits. She force-marched us back to her chambers. I was
winded before we arrived.

The
new servants, still attired in Anne’s blue and violet livery, were already
arranged in order of precedence before the sitting room’s fireplace.

Mariah
folded her arms and addressed them. “You’ll add the Howard badge to your
livery, since my lord father is paying your wages now.”

She
sized up the new day porter, a tall, beefy fellow who looked fit to wrestle
bulls.

“You
never leave the door, understand?”

Bull-man
bowed. “Yes, my lady.”

Mariah
nodded. Then she looked at me. “You are the Queen’s choice, mistress, and I
will say nothing against it. But if you do anything to bring shame on me and
mine, I will see you and yours ruined to the fifth generation.”

My
knees dropped me to the carpet halfway through her threat.

“I
swear I will never dishonor my lady’s good name nor the Queen’s.”

The
train of Mariah’s gown disappeared through her bedchamber door.

I
stood up and glanced at the servants. Silent, they looked back at me, waiting
to see what I would do and judge me by it.

Well, I am her bedmate. If I’m to establish
my standing with the servants I must show them I’m not afraid of her.

I
went to the half-open door and put up my hand to knock. The door slammed shut
so hard the wall sconces jumped.

____________

I
lingered in the chamber long enough to convince the servants I was not in
retreat then took myself to my lodgings.

John
would not believe it. I scarce could.
Mariah’s bedmate and a
lady of the Privy Chamber.
In one moment Anne had raised me beyond
anything my parents had ever achieved at court. I could enter the Queen’s Privy
Chamber at will. Mrs. Horsman would add my name to the tiny list of those
allowed to enter the Queen’s Privy Chamber at will.

No
more fighting for a stool in the sewing circle. No more of Bess’s cold feet and
Joan’s weak bladder!

Mariah’s
sumptuous receiving chamber and even more opulent bedchamber were now my home.
The bed was wider than the one I shared with Bess and Joan. Mariah and I would
never cross paths in our sleep.

Mariah’s
displeasure was no surprise. That she’d tried to thwart the Queen was.

How did she dare speak so to Anne?

Anne’s household—Anne’s rules.

“But
why did Anne do it?”

Given
Mariah’s reaction, I could almost believe Anne’s intention had been to provoke
her.

For
what cause?

My
stomach swam.

Mayhap
she did it to insult the Duke?

“Anne
would not use me for that.”

Would she not?

I
caught my fingers fraying the edge of my velvet-lined sleeve.

Enough! Anne has given you a wondrous
opportunity—two in fact. Her motives are her business.

I
entered my old chamber and found Janet at the window darning the hole in
another one of my sleeves.

“My
chest Janet! I need to pack.”

Janet’s
mouth dropped. “A-are we dismissed, mistress?”

“No,”
I snapped. “Dear God, why would you think so?” I threw open the clothespress.
“The Queen has made me Lady Mary Howard’s new companion. I am to share her
lodgings.”

“Oh,
mistress,” Janet gasped. “Your mother will rejoice.”

“She’ll
do more than that,” I crowed. “She’ll leave Emma and Gabrielle to rot in
Norfolk.”

Madge
arrived moments after me. She sent Janet from the chamber with a look.

“Why
did she choose me?” I asked.

Madge
shook her head, disgusted. “You are dense as dagwood. Lord John de Vere.”

Still
stunned by my change in fortune her insult did not register; it bounced out the
window and into the Thames. Self-preservation though bade me downplay things
with John.

“It
is just
Pass-the-Time
.”

Madge
picked up one of Joan Percy’s jeweled combs from the dressing table. She ran
her fingers over the rubies testing their settings. “Perhaps. But Anne would
know if it is more.”

I
held my breath then plunged for the deepest water.

“Would
she make the match for me?”

Madge
tossed the comb away. “Anne will watch. She will encourage, but she cannot
compel. He is nobility. You are gentry. His father wants an heiress—of
noble blood, of course.”

I
nodded, restraining my surging hope by its neck.

“Would
she support a love match?”

For
the first time, Madge eyed me without her usual irritation. “If it makes her
cousin Countess of Oxford, she will.”

A countess! Lady Worcester’s equal. I
would outrank Madge.

“Leave
off the fantasies for now,” Madge drawled. “You have not caught him. And there
is the mighty complication of Lady Mary Howard.”

My
satisfaction dimmed at the name. “How is she a complication?”

“The
Queen still wants proof of her…indiscretion. You will get it for her.”

“But
I’ve already looked for the book. She’s obviously hidden it elsewhere.”

I
recoiled as Madge tapped my forehead. “Use your eyes and ears, ninny. You share
her chambers—you’ll eventually catch her out.”

“But
what if I do not?”

Madge’s
eyes rolled. “You have managed within the space of two months to insult or
alienate every woman at court who could aid your advancement. And yet, you will
be attending the Queen on Progress, reading for her pleasure, and flirting with
Lord John de Vere. I think you will find a way.”

Pride
and relief lifted my chin. It was true. If I could survive the Countess, Lady
Rochford, and Lord Oxford, I could catch out Mariah Howard.

Madge
scowled. “You are a blessed fool, Mary Shelton.”

“Mayhap,
I have the Boleyn luck,” I quipped.

Madge
gritted her teeth. “Get yourself Lord John de Vere and I’ll believe it.”