Read Online Lady in Waiting: A Novel by Susan Meissner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Meissner
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that you saw?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Jane let go of my arm and exhaled. “Thank you, Lucy.” She turned away from me and made her way back to her room.
And I, to mine.
It only occurred to me as I climbed into my bed, after writing a note to my parents, that the admiral had lied to me. He told me the letter from Edward had troubled Lady Jane, but she had not even seen it.
Nine
T he funeral for Katherine Parr, the Queen Dowager, took place on Friday, the eighth of September, at the chapel at Sudeley Castle. The Lady Jane, dressed in the gown I had fitted for her, walked behind the Queen’s casket, which was borne by six men in black hooded gowns. I carried my lady’s train.
It was the first funeral I had been to under the Church of England, which King Henry created in 1534 so that he could set aside his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, and marry Anne Boleyn. Dr. Miles Coverdale, of the Reformist religious teaching, was the almoner. There was no mention of Rome, nor was a word spoken in Latin. There was singing and psalms, but in truth, I could only look on my lady, whose sadness seemed bigger than her tiny frame in that great tent of a dress. When the Queen’s body was lowered into the ground, the choir sang
Te Deum
in English. I had never heard the words in English before. The song was beautiful, but my lady shuddered so when the casket disappeared from our sight. I do not know if she even heard the words.
It seemed the funeral had no more begun than it was over. The mourners got into their carriages and sped away before the sun was high in the late summer sky. I accompanied my lady back to her rooms and helped her take off the whispering mourner’s gown. She asked me to please put it in a place where she would not have to look at it.
Nan Hargrave had left with the Lord Admiral the night before, andthe Queen’s attendants had begun to pack their things as soon as the midday meal was over. So that left only myself and the scowling Miss Alice in the wardrobe room as the sun veered west. She sat on a stool and mended a farthingale for Lady Margery Seymour, the Lord Admiral’s mother, who was to stay as a chaperone for Lady Jane in a house that was suddenly bereft of female company.
“You are staying, then? With the Lady Jane?” Alice asked me as I hung the black dress as far back on the rung as I could.
“Yes, madam.”
“Even if she stays on with my lord?”
It was apparently no secret that the admiral fully intended to keep Jane in his household. But no one at Bradgate had given me instructions regarding this. The last word I had from the Lady Jane’s mother, the marchioness, was that I was to accompany Lady Jane back to Bradgate after the Queen’s funeral. Yet no one had announced the arrival of a carriage to take us there.
“I do not know, madam,” I answered.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” she mumbled, but certainly loud enough for me to hear. I was at Sudeley for the express purpose of tending to Jane’s wardrobe needs. An eleven-year-old child only had so many.
“Well, if you ask me—,” she began, but then she abruptly fell silent. I looked up from the dresses in front of me. Lady Jane stood in the doorway. I fell to a curtsy and Alice, frowning and struggling to her feet, bowed with the unwieldy farthingale hoop in her arms.
Jane had changed into a gown of tawny taffeta, the bodice of which was embroidered with gold-thread butterflies. A gold girdle circled her waist, studded with Indian pearls at the intersections. Along the underside of her french hood was a cloudlike ruching of white lawn. She looked lovely and strangely serene in light of the activities earlier in the day.
“Can I do anything for you, my lady?” I asked.
She hesitated a moment, as if she suddenly had misgivings about coming to me. “Would you like to see the baby?” An undercurrent of uncertainty laced her voice.
Alice, who had huffed back down onto her footstool, jerked her head up.
“Yes, my lady.”
Jane let go of my arm and exhaled. “Thank you, Lucy.” She turned away from me and made her way back to her room.
And I, to mine.
It only occurred to me as I climbed into my bed, after writing a note to my parents, that the admiral had lied to me. He told me the letter from Edward had troubled Lady Jane, but she had not even seen it.
Nine
T he funeral for Katherine Parr, the Queen Dowager, took place on Friday, the eighth of September, at the chapel at Sudeley Castle. The Lady Jane, dressed in the gown I had fitted for her, walked behind the Queen’s casket, which was borne by six men in black hooded gowns. I carried my lady’s train.
It was the first funeral I had been to under the Church of England, which King Henry created in 1534 so that he could set aside his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, and marry Anne Boleyn. Dr. Miles Coverdale, of the Reformist religious teaching, was the almoner. There was no mention of Rome, nor was a word spoken in Latin. There was singing and psalms, but in truth, I could only look on my lady, whose sadness seemed bigger than her tiny frame in that great tent of a dress. When the Queen’s body was lowered into the ground, the choir sang
Te Deum
in English. I had never heard the words in English before. The song was beautiful, but my lady shuddered so when the casket disappeared from our sight. I do not know if she even heard the words.
It seemed the funeral had no more begun than it was over. The mourners got into their carriages and sped away before the sun was high in the late summer sky. I accompanied my lady back to her rooms and helped her take off the whispering mourner’s gown. She asked me to please put it in a place where she would not have to look at it.
Nan Hargrave had left with the Lord Admiral the night before, andthe Queen’s attendants had begun to pack their things as soon as the midday meal was over. So that left only myself and the scowling Miss Alice in the wardrobe room as the sun veered west. She sat on a stool and mended a farthingale for Lady Margery Seymour, the Lord Admiral’s mother, who was to stay as a chaperone for Lady Jane in a house that was suddenly bereft of female company.
“You are staying, then? With the Lady Jane?” Alice asked me as I hung the black dress as far back on the rung as I could.
“Yes, madam.”
“Even if she stays on with my lord?”
It was apparently no secret that the admiral fully intended to keep Jane in his household. But no one at Bradgate had given me instructions regarding this. The last word I had from the Lady Jane’s mother, the marchioness, was that I was to accompany Lady Jane back to Bradgate after the Queen’s funeral. Yet no one had announced the arrival of a carriage to take us there.
“I do not know, madam,” I answered.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” she mumbled, but certainly loud enough for me to hear. I was at Sudeley for the express purpose of tending to Jane’s wardrobe needs. An eleven-year-old child only had so many.
“Well, if you ask me—,” she began, but then she abruptly fell silent. I looked up from the dresses in front of me. Lady Jane stood in the doorway. I fell to a curtsy and Alice, frowning and struggling to her feet, bowed with the unwieldy farthingale hoop in her arms.
Jane had changed into a gown of tawny taffeta, the bodice of which was embroidered with gold-thread butterflies. A gold girdle circled her waist, studded with Indian pearls at the intersections. Along the underside of her french hood was a cloudlike ruching of white lawn. She looked lovely and strangely serene in light of the activities earlier in the day.
“Can I do anything for you, my lady?” I asked.
She hesitated a moment, as if she suddenly had misgivings about coming to me. “Would you like to see the baby?” An undercurrent of uncertainty laced her voice.
Alice, who had huffed back down onto her footstool, jerked her head up.
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