Queenbreaker: Perseverance (The Queenbreaker Trilogy Book 1) (9 page)

Greenwich
Palace, Greenwich

April
1533

The
hollow crack of metal on wood brought me out of a gray dream.

I’m late for Mass again! Doctor Shaxton
will write Mother.

I
heard a door open on the wrong side of my bed.

Where’s Emma?

The
bed curtains flew apart. I threw my arm across my eyes.

“How
passed your first night?”

That’s not Emma.

I
lowered my arm.

“I
am Bess Holland. Madge sent me to help you dress. Marshall is on her way to
inspect your person.”

I
gaped at her.

Madge sent a whore to dress me.

A beautiful whore.
Bess Holland resembled one of the
stonework angels Father had brought from a church in Kent to adorn our own St.
Mary’s. Flawless, cream white skin brushed with a hint of rose across each
cheek; shapely, coral dark lips; eyes blue as a jay bird’s tail feathers. And
crowning it all, a banner of white-gold hair that reached her hips.

Fear,
anger, resentment tripped each other for first place across my face, but Bess
saw none of the it as she’d gone to the clothespress.

“Marshall
is at her most particular with the country bred girls—she assumes you
have no sense, ludicrous style, and pliant morals.”

Janet
appeared, bearing a steaming bowl of water. Bess pulled my new dove gray dress
and black sleeves from the clothespress. It was my best, excepting the apple
green I’d worn yesterday. She did have some taste.

Bess
wore a black gown with a black kirtle and simple sleeves. The calculated lack
of ornamentation highlighted the thing that had snared the Duke of Norfolk. But
it had not snared the King. He’d chosen Anne above everyone else.

The
reality warmed me. Here was what the King might have chosen, but his heart had
fixed him on her material opposite—someone almost exactly like me: a
sallow skinned, narrow-hipped, dark eyed girl of no fortune, but with a mighty
wit and deep learning.

Someone at court will see in me what the
King sees in Anne. Someone will want me.

Bess
laid the dress across the bed I’d just vacated. She measured me with her eyes.

“How
old are you?”

“Fourteen,
Mistress Holland.”

She
waved off my formality. “Bess, lambkin. I am practically kin on your mother’s
side.”

My
eyes bulged. My mother would see her whipped naked through the streets before
she’d call her such.

Bess
tapped my breastbone. “You’re still growing, thank God. Some parts come in
later than others.”

A
sly smile lifted the deep corners of her lips.

“Until
they do, we have the remedy…”

By
the time Mrs. Marshall arrived, Janet had finished and Bess had gone with a
brief wave and indolent smile.

Marshall’s
waspish eyes flew at me.

“How
passed your first night?”

“Very
well, Mrs. Marshall.”

And
without Joan Percy’s weak bladder and her maidservant’s snoring, it might have
been true. But I could not begin my first real day at court on a complaint.

Marshall
nodded, eyes going to my bodice.

She
glanced at Janet. “Why is she laced so tightly?”

Janet
curtsied. “Mistress Holland bade me tie it so, madam.”

Marshall
frowned at her. Janet squirmed. Marshall transferred the look to me.

As
Bess had said, we had the remedy, and she well knew how to apply it. She had an
even better hand for lacing than Madge. I could only breathe in short shallow
sips of air, but my breasts bulged a remarkable quarter inch over the top of my
bodice. They looked like two slightly ochre-shaded round pillows. I had to keep
them.

“Hands,”
Marshall snapped at me.

I
held them out, palms down as Mother had instructed. Marshall turned them over
and back again.

“Very
nice. Keep them so. You may be asked to serve the Queen at table.”

I
knew it unlikely. All positions allowing intimate contact with the Queen’s
person were coveted. Serving the Queen’s victuals was an honor reserved for her
most senior ladies and favorites. I might not have such an opportunity my
entire life at court.

“Yes,
Mrs. Marshall.”

Marshall
made a full circle around me as though we danced a private
pavane
. Her gray eyes swept me up and down a final time. Thanks to
Madge, I endured the appraisal without a fidget.

Marshall
ended her survey with a stiff nod. “You will not have such attention from me
but on important occasions such as today. Keep your appearance just so and the
Queen will be pleased.”

“Yes,
Mrs. Marshall.”

I
followed her out into the hall and downstairs into a maelstrom of high-pitched
girlish laughter. A pause hushed their merriment as forty pairs of eyes took me
in. My fellow Maidens, all of good family and good enough connections to win a
precious place in the Queen’s household, weighed me as the Watching Chamber had
done the day before.

Someone
tittered. Then a surfeit of whispering filled the air.

“She’s
yellow as Venetian mourning.”

“Or
dog piss.”

My
heart plunged against my chest, pounding too loud to be contained by my flesh.

Sweet Jesu. They are vicious!

Mother
had warned me of this too, but not well enough.

“Expect
jealousy, resentment, unkindness from many of those girls, probably most,”
she’d said as she plaited my hair for my last night under her roof. “You all
pursue the same prize—a good marriage. As Anne’s blood kin you have an
advantage most do not. But, Anne is not popular, so neither are her kin; and,
as plentiful as we are, we are still not enough to outnumber her enemies.”

Mother
tucked a stray strand behind my ear. “Rely on Madge and Lady Rochford for
guidance and protection. Remember your dignity, Mary.” Mother’s black eyes
glowed in the mirror. “But do not forget your pride.”

I
raised my chin and looked at Mrs. Marshall; surely she would curb
them—that was her task was it not?

“Now
she’s red as June marigolds,” the first voice whispered again.

“That’s
a Boleyn—shifty as a weathercock—“, the second answered.

“
Attendez
!” Mrs. Marshall clapped her
hands. Silence fell. “Mistress Shelton, take your place behind Lady Mary
Howard, if you please.”

A
hushed rustling occurred as the girls re-ordered themselves, each shifting back
a step to allow me space behind Mariah.

“On!”
Marshall’s voice cracked above our heads and we moved. Or I attempted to, but
the back of my skirt stuck to the floor.

“Your
pardon, mistress,” someone hissed behind me as another girl darted into my
place.
Then another after her.
Sharp elbows and skirts
confounded my step.
Two dozen
Emmas and Gabrielles
swooped by me, giggling at their coup.

I cannot enter the Queen’s chambers last!

My
family was attending court today. Mother could not see me come last among
Anne’s Maidens. She could not see me as a failure my first day.

I
threw myself out of the press. The girls sniggered, but none called Mrs.
Marshall’s attention to my escape. They probably thought they’d chased me back
to my chamber to weep.

I
ran back upstairs, flying by startled maids and grooms, and found the servants’
stairs. I took them two at a time til I reached the bottom. They spilled onto a
quiet landing tiled in the King’s colors of green and white. I turned right and
ran through a narrow arched doorway that expelled me into the middle of the
joint halpace connecting the King’s lodgings with the Queen’s.

I
went left across the halpace and checked myself on the threshold of the Queen’s
Watching Chamber. The same scarlet clad Yeoman Warders stood beside the doors.
Neither acknowledged me.

Hundreds
of men and women filled the chamber. My skin prickled.
Anticipation
burned hot and bright.

I
pulled my shoulders back as far as my laces would allow. My chin came up just
enough to flirt with arrogance. But I made my lips curve in a sweet, artless
smile only my family would surely know for false.

Every eye to me!

My
feet matched themselves to the quicksilver pace of my heart. My hair swayed at
my shoulders. My field of vision narrowed as my hearing expanded.

“The
Bishop of Rochester may be arrested.”

“Not
another excise tax!”

“I
hear she will wear purple--”

“No,
no, Cloth of Gold.”

“The
Lady Mary is ill they say.”

“—
if
Lady Exeter does not attend…”

“Will
she wear the gable hood?”

I
shut my ears. I had not heard my name once. Not once. I ducked my chin, praying
no one had spied its ridiculous, prideful cant.

“Mary
Shelton.”

Excitement
died as I saw it was only Madge beckoning me into the little gallery separating
the Watching Chamber and Presence Chambers.

“Take
the sour look off your face, mistress.” Madge pulled me behind a door. “What is
amiss?”

I
shook my head, refusing to expose my failure. “Naught.”

I
jumped as Madge pinched the back of my arm. “Out with it or you’ll not be able
to keep a pleasant face the rest of the day.”

“I-I
merely thought that—yesterday I was such a success. The room buzzed like
a hive when I arrived. I thought today would be the same.”

Madge
looked at me as though she wished I’d sink into the earth.

“My
God, you know nothing.” Madge let that sting a moment. “Yesterday, you were
new. Today, Anne as Queen is new. Tomorrow it will be something else. You had
your only easy moment. If you want more you must work for them like the rest of
us.”

“What
should I do?”

“Nothing
today. Today is Anne’s. Do not waste your time. No one competes with Anne.”

Madge’s
attention wandered over my shoulder.

“Then
tomorrow. What do I do tomorrow?”

Madge
sighed. “Worry about it when it comes. You will be presented to the Queen after
Mass.”

My
stomach flipped.

“Will
she remember me do you think?”

“No.”

I
winced at her curtness.

“But
she will play as though she does and you must not say otherwise. Understand?”

I
understood. I had seen Father do the same when he could not remember one of the
servants in Norfolk. If he called Eleanor the laundress by Marjorie’s name,
Eleanor would be the last to correct him.

“Now
pay attention. I will not repeat all of this a second time.” Madge plumped her
sable lined sleeve as she led me through the gallery to the cusp of the
Presence Chamber.

“You
will know the Queen’s enemies by where they put themselves about the Presence
Chamber—not the Watching Chamber.” Madge wrinkled her nose in the
direction we’d just come from. “The Watching Chamber is full of nobodies trying
to raise themselves to somebodies, and the usual supplicants for the Queen’s
favor. If you are in the Watching Chamber you do not have the connections to
gain the Presence Chamber. They’re always looking to bribe someone with access
to the Queen.” Madge started in on her other sleeve.

“Don’t
let Marshall catch you taking bribes. She’ll demand a ridiculous sum to look
the other way.”

Watching Chamber. Bribes. Marshall.
Greedy.

“Do
all of the Maidens take bribes?”

Madge
shrugged. “I could not say.”

I
think you could, but you don’t want me knowing as much as you do.

“What
sort of bribes?”

Madge
snorted. “That crowd?
For you?
It’s always finery,
sometimes animals—lap dogs, songbirds—nothing grand.”

Madge
plucked at the other sleeve again.

“What do they offer you?”

Her lips curled
under so far I thought she might swallow them.

“Do
you always say the first thing that comes into your head?”

Not anymore.

“Your
pardon,” I said, ducking my head.

Madge
glowered. “They offer me coin, Mistress Nosy.”

“Really?”

Her
eyes rolled. “Really.”

“Do
you take it?”

She
sighed. “When I must. Let’s move on. The Presence Chamber…this is what matters.
The Queen’s friends and enemies are easily marked. You see the Marquess and
Marchioness of Exeter along the wall there?”