Prisoner of the Queen (Tales From the Tudor Court) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mrs. Helen pursed her lips and pulled from the wardrobe a linen chemise, an ivory stomacher threaded with gold and gems, an ivory gown embroidered with gold thread in floral patterns and matching slashed sleeves from which gold tissue silk would be pulled through. She placed the costly and beautiful items gently on the settee at the foot of my bed.
    “ Mrs. Helen, I promise not to name you a gossip. Now, go on, do tell.” Left in the dark most times, I was eager to hear what the maid had to say. From what I’d learned, the servants knew everything . Had not Mother taught me that, in order to stay ahead of the game, one must know all the players secrets?
    Mrs. Helen busied herself with pulling out pins that would fasten my gown to me and connect the various pieces. It felt like an eternity went by before she finally said, “Her most gracious Duchess—your mother—has been up in arms all morning about the wedding. Got your sister into quite a tizzy. Word has it that young King Edward is ill again.” Mrs. Helen crossed herself and mumbled a prayer. “Your father and the Duke of Northumberland, your soon-to-be father-by-marriage, have been having secret meetings.”
    “What secret meetings?” I blurted out and then quickly covered my mouth. I didn ’t want Mrs. Helen to think I’d become too excited by what she shared and hence stop talking. I pretended to pick a speck off my coverlet.
    “Arranging Jane ’s marriage the way they have…”
    I knew Mrs. Helen referred to the plotting I’d heard while listening behind closed doors. Talk of kings and queens. ’Twas treasonous. Mrs. Helen wouldn’t come right out and say that my parents were plotting against the crown, but even still, her words were clear.
    “ Your mother is not too happy. Imagine that low-born Dudley boy as…a ruler? For shame.” Mrs. Helen clucked her tongue. “Your sister deserves someone better. Leaves tongues wagging, it does, to have your sister marrying a fourth son. The boy will inherit nothing, unless of course your father’s made sure the marriage contract stipulates something for the two of them. As it stands, you’ll be a countess, but I guess none of that really matters much when you consider Jane may be queen.”
    Mrs. Helen crossed herself again and for a moment stared off into space. Her words resonated deep within me. Jane to be queen? A plot to steal the throne? Princess Mary Tudor would surely seek retaliation. And Princess Elizabeth would gladly seek her vengeance—thrust aside once more and Jane taking her place.
    S uddenly, the sense of doom that seemed to cloud over this entire prospect of marriage and how hurried it was made me light-headed. ’Twas treason for Father to be party to such a plot.
    “You mustn’t—” I started to say, but my throat was so tight, so constricted I couldn’t get the words out. I wanted to warn her not to whisper of such things to anyone else, lest she brought the wrath of God and the king down on our heads.
    “Now, dear, don ’t worry. Things will work out in the end. ’Tis God’s will we must trust in.” Mrs. Helen poured a cup of watered ale and handed it to me. “And I shan’t be telling anyone what I heard either.”
    The ale tasted bitter, sour and warm on my tongue.
    “Come now, ” Mrs. Helen said, “at least start your morning ablutions, else your mother find you still abed and redden your hide.”
    Although Mother hadn ’t reddened my hide since I was a young child, I wasn’t going to risk it. If the sounds coming from down the hall were any indication, Mother was in rare form already with Jane’s antics.
    “Where is Mary?” I asked, my concern for my younger sister accidentally wandering into my mother’s path acute. The poor girl was never spared, and while she usually held a canny knack for avoiding our mother, I still wanted to be certain.
    “Oh, the little Lady Mary is with the Cook and the others in the kitchen. Saw her traipse in there earlier this