Read Online Lady in Waiting: A Novel by Susan Meissner - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Meissner
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me to press her for more information. I wiped my chin. “So you are going back to Chelsea?”
“Well, of course. Although,” and she leaned in, though there was now no one else in the room, “I am sure the admiral will send for Jane straightaway.”
“But Jane told me she is to go home to Bradgate.”
“Yes, but that does not mean the admiral has not asked that she be allowed to continue on as his ward. Or maybe as something else.”
She cocked her head as if waiting for me to finish her sentence. I honestly did not know what she was suggesting.
“Something else?”
“His wife, of course!”
I gasped. “Surely you are mistaken. Lady Jane is but eleven years.”
Nan nodded. “Aye, but the Lord Admiral has already approached Princess Elizabeth, and she is but my age. Fifteen! She would not have him, by the way.”
My spoon hung suspended in air. “The admiral has approached Princess Elizabeth? Already?”
“She had to leave us because he fancied her. Did you know that? Even before the poor Queen died, he fancied the Princess. Now that the Queen is dead, the admiral has no one. And his brother, the Protector, whom he loathes, has the young King’s ear. If the admiral can’t have the Princess Elizabeth, of course he would look to his ward. That’s how he is. He must have power. Trust me. I have seen much in the three years I have sewn his clothes.”
She took a sip of wine and opened her mouth to continue, but a shadow crossed the doorway. Alice stood framed between the posts.
“Didn’t I tell you to finish, lass? The coach leaves in ten minutes!”
Nan stood, fingering a crumb at the corner of her mouth. Alice made no move to leave. Nan looked down at me.
“Farewell, Lucy. Perhaps I will see you at Chelsea. If you are to stay with the Lady Jane, that is.”
“Come on, then!” Alice barked.
“Farewell,” I said.
Nan left the room and Alice followed. I was now alone, and the fire in the grate had reduced to embers. I sipped the broth. It had grown cold.
I climbed the stairs to the wardrobe room and the sleeping quarters that adjoined it, eager to pen a letter home to my parents to let them know where I was. As I stepped onto the landing, a man about my father’s age rounded a corner for the main stairs, and I stepped back into a curtsy.
He was tall, handsome, and dressed in traveling clothes. I knew without being told this man was Thomas Seymour, the Lord Admiral. I waited for him to continue on his way. When he did not, I raised my head.
“You are the seamstress from Bradgate?” His voice was not unkind, but his tone was much opposed to casual interest.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You brought this letter?” He waved a piece of parchment in front of me. I had not seen the letter before. I did not know what to say.
“’Twas inside the Lady Jane’s trunk,” he said.
I fumbled for words. “I … I did not pack the lady’s trunk, my lord.”
He regarded me silently, and it was obvious, even in the darkness of the candlelit landing, that he was deciding if I was telling him the truth.
“You did not place this letter in the Lady Jane’s trunk?” He extended the open letter toward me. I could make out the last line and one name.
Edward.
“No, my lord.”
“Do you know who did?”
“No, my lord.”
He fell silent. I wished to continue on my way, but yet he stood there.
“What is your name?” he finally said.
“Lucy Day, my lord.”
“Have there been guests of late at Bradgate? My brother, the Lord Protector?” He sounded angry, as if the words cut his lips as they left his mouth.
“No, my lord.”
He waved the letter. “But his son?”
I nodded. “Aye … and his mother, the duchess.”
“How long were they there?”
I sensed my face growing warm and red. When I did not answer right away, he took a step toward me. He reached out his other arm, and I involuntarily stepped back.
When he spoke again, his voice was tender and smooth. He gently took hold of my
“Well, of course. Although,” and she leaned in, though there was now no one else in the room, “I am sure the admiral will send for Jane straightaway.”
“But Jane told me she is to go home to Bradgate.”
“Yes, but that does not mean the admiral has not asked that she be allowed to continue on as his ward. Or maybe as something else.”
She cocked her head as if waiting for me to finish her sentence. I honestly did not know what she was suggesting.
“Something else?”
“His wife, of course!”
I gasped. “Surely you are mistaken. Lady Jane is but eleven years.”
Nan nodded. “Aye, but the Lord Admiral has already approached Princess Elizabeth, and she is but my age. Fifteen! She would not have him, by the way.”
My spoon hung suspended in air. “The admiral has approached Princess Elizabeth? Already?”
“She had to leave us because he fancied her. Did you know that? Even before the poor Queen died, he fancied the Princess. Now that the Queen is dead, the admiral has no one. And his brother, the Protector, whom he loathes, has the young King’s ear. If the admiral can’t have the Princess Elizabeth, of course he would look to his ward. That’s how he is. He must have power. Trust me. I have seen much in the three years I have sewn his clothes.”
She took a sip of wine and opened her mouth to continue, but a shadow crossed the doorway. Alice stood framed between the posts.
“Didn’t I tell you to finish, lass? The coach leaves in ten minutes!”
Nan stood, fingering a crumb at the corner of her mouth. Alice made no move to leave. Nan looked down at me.
“Farewell, Lucy. Perhaps I will see you at Chelsea. If you are to stay with the Lady Jane, that is.”
“Come on, then!” Alice barked.
“Farewell,” I said.
Nan left the room and Alice followed. I was now alone, and the fire in the grate had reduced to embers. I sipped the broth. It had grown cold.
I climbed the stairs to the wardrobe room and the sleeping quarters that adjoined it, eager to pen a letter home to my parents to let them know where I was. As I stepped onto the landing, a man about my father’s age rounded a corner for the main stairs, and I stepped back into a curtsy.
He was tall, handsome, and dressed in traveling clothes. I knew without being told this man was Thomas Seymour, the Lord Admiral. I waited for him to continue on his way. When he did not, I raised my head.
“You are the seamstress from Bradgate?” His voice was not unkind, but his tone was much opposed to casual interest.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You brought this letter?” He waved a piece of parchment in front of me. I had not seen the letter before. I did not know what to say.
“’Twas inside the Lady Jane’s trunk,” he said.
I fumbled for words. “I … I did not pack the lady’s trunk, my lord.”
He regarded me silently, and it was obvious, even in the darkness of the candlelit landing, that he was deciding if I was telling him the truth.
“You did not place this letter in the Lady Jane’s trunk?” He extended the open letter toward me. I could make out the last line and one name.
Edward.
“No, my lord.”
“Do you know who did?”
“No, my lord.”
He fell silent. I wished to continue on my way, but yet he stood there.
“What is your name?” he finally said.
“Lucy Day, my lord.”
“Have there been guests of late at Bradgate? My brother, the Lord Protector?” He sounded angry, as if the words cut his lips as they left his mouth.
“No, my lord.”
He waved the letter. “But his son?”
I nodded. “Aye … and his mother, the duchess.”
“How long were they there?”
I sensed my face growing warm and red. When I did not answer right away, he took a step toward me. He reached out his other arm, and I involuntarily stepped back.
When he spoke again, his voice was tender and smooth. He gently took hold of my
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