Read Online The Fallen Queen by Emily Purdy - Free Book Online Page A

Her sumptuous jewel-bright purple satin gown, gold brocade under-sleeves and petticoat, and the elaborate jewelled hood perched like a crown atop her faded grey-streaked hair could not disguise the lines etched across her brow and framing her taut, thin-lipped mouth, her deep-sunken eyes, or the fact that she was pale and pinch-faced. A bulge in her cheek and a strong scent of cloves hovering about her, vying with the flowers of her perfume, told me that she was nursing a toothache. I saw the smile falter then die upon her lips, and her eyes were both fire and ice when she looked at Jane.
    “I would lay my head on the block and gladly suffer death rather than sit through one of Edward’s prayer book services!” she declared as she and Jane faced each other like enemies on a battlefield.
    Thinking fast, I hurled myself at Cousin Mary, embracing her knees. She tottered and reeled backward, flailing her arms, and only our lady-mother’s quick intervention kept her from falling. Drowning out our lady-mother’s angry words with my tears, as soon as Cousin Mary had regained her footing and knelt to try and soothe me, I flung my arms around her neck and into her ear whispered a fervent plea that she not be angry with Jane. “She has been so sad since Queen Catherine died.”
    Cousin Mary gave a quick nod and said, “I understand.” Then she rose and went to embrace first Kate, then our lady-mother, and lastly Jane, lingering as she held my sister’s stiff-backed body in her arms and offering her condolences over the death of the Dowager Queen. I thought for certain Jane would challenge her when she said that Queen Catherine had been in her prayers, for Jane, as a Protestant, did not believe in saying masses for departed souls and prayers for the dead; the living had greater need of them. But Jane bit her tongue and smiled wanly when our royal cousin caressed her pale face and said she would pray for Jane too, for her “sadness to be lifted,” and that happiness would again find her in this household. “I shall endeavour to make it so.”
    “I have a special gift for you, little cousin Jane—and for Katherine and Mary too,” she added with a warm smile as she urged us to follow her upstairs. While our lady-mother, her patience sorely tried by Jane’s, as well as my own, antics, claimed a headache and let Lady Wharton lead her to the room that had been prepared for her, Kate and I each took Cousin Mary by the hand and, with Jane trailing sullenly behind, followed eagerly to the room she had prepared especially for us.
    In the great, grand pink and gold brocaded chamber we three sisters would share, sleeping in a giant canopied bed with gilded posters as round and thick as burly men, lovely gowns waited, spread out upon the bed for us to sigh over and admire. But first, three white-capped and aproned maids—one for each of us—stood by in readiness to undress and bathe us. There were three copper tubs lined up in a row before the massive carved stone fireplace, and the maids stood ready to pour in steaming pails of water and sprinkle dried rose petals on top. The baths would warm our flesh, and while we soaked, there would be cups of steaming, spicy hippocras to warm our insides as well. And then … the dresses!
    For Jane there was a gown of palest sea green silk, a marvellous colour that seemed to shift between blue and green as the shimmering folds, embroidered with silver, white-capped waves and exquisite little silver fishes, flowed like water over my sister’s limbs, rippling as she moved. It was trimmed in pearly white embroidery, like the finest, most delicate filigree, punctuated with pearls, giving the illusion of white froth floating upon the sea. And for Kate, to complement her gleaming copper curls, there was a pale orange silk, not too delicate nor too bold, over which gold-embroidered butterflies fluttered, with frills of golden lace edging the square-cut bodice and encircling her dainty wrists. And for