Read Online At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn by Anne Clinard Barnhill - Free Book Online

by gazing into those lovely brown-black orbs. Madge felt mesmerized under the queen’s stare.
    “I miss my mother, too. And you, little cousin, are the sweetest kinswoman I have. I would have you by my side all the time. And Shadow, too. I would like for you to become one of the ladies of my bedchamber. If you agree, you shall be given lots of clothes, for the ladies of the bedchamber are closest to me and must reflect my majesty at all times. And we shall read poetry—Sir Wyatt tells me you’ve been writing a little and that you have a great appreciation for fine works. And I shall teach you all about the new faith. In time, dear Lady Margaret, I shall find a man for you to marry—one who is worthy of your beauty and intelligence,” said the queen.
    “Your Grace, I am too young for such a high honor. I wish my mother could see the high esteem in which Your Grace holds me,” said Madge.
    “Your mother has her hands full now, child. She is with the Lady Mary, the king’s daughter. Fear not—your mother serves me well as she has always. As I know you shall,” said the queen.
    Madge did not know if the queen’s new appointment meant she would have to leave Cate. Madge couldn’t keep the thought of losing Cate from moving across her features.
    “Lady Margaret, Sir Wyatt tells me he calls you by another name—Madge, is it?”
    “Yes, Your Grace.”
    “I shall not call you by that name—it lacks refinement. You look a little sad about your new appointment. Shall you bring your nurse, Cate, to visit anytime? She can even sleep here for the first few nights of your new service. She is certainly welcome,” said the queen.
    Madge sighed.
    “I imagine Mistress Cate will enjoy having a room to herself—most in her position would relish such luxury,” said the queen.
    Madge couldn’t help the smile that brightened her face. Her green eyes lit up and her cheeks turned a light shade of pink.
    “Thank you, Your Grace! You are the kindest, dearest queen in the entire world!” said Madge, hugging Anne without thinking. “Oh, I am sorry, Your Grace! I forgot in my happiness that no one can approach Your Grace in such a fashion. Please forgive me!” Madge curtsied low.
    “Dear child, I am still a woman, still your cousin. You may embrace me but only when you cannot help it—as just this moment! I’ll have no hugs that aren’t genuine—but I think yours will always be so, good coz,” said the queen.
    “Now, let us discuss the coronation and where you will be placed and what you will wear, shall we?” said the queen. She took Madge by the hand and dropped Purkoy to the ground. He followed, steering clear of the many skirts that surrounded him.
    The queen led Madge outside into the gardens, shooing away the other ladies-in-waiting and telling the guard at the door not to allow anyone else to join them, unless, of course, it was the king. The sky was clear of clouds and the queen bent to smell the wild roses that climbed the arbor, beneath which a stone bench perched conveniently for intimacies and perhaps a kiss or two. Madge watched as the queen hummed a lively tune, lifted her skirts, and began to dance gently. She looked so young and beautiful that Madge almost forgot Her Majesty was six months with child. Her dark hair hung loose and swayed back and forth as she moved. She seemed to be, at that moment, every good thing a woman could be in this world. Madge sighed.
    “Good Margaret, why such soul-rendering sighs on this sunny May morn? I would have thought becoming a lady of the bedchamber would have brought a blush of pleasure to your cheeks,” said the queen.
    “Oh, such an honor has made me very happy, Your Grace. I sighed because you look so lovely, so like the roses here in the garden—beautiful and wild and free,” said Madge.
    The queen laughed that coarse, low-throated laugh of hers.
    “Free? Oh my child, I am anything but free! I have never known a moment of freedom in my life, except, perhaps,