Read Online While Beauty Slept by Elizabeth Blackwell - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Blackwell
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woman knocked my ear with the back of her hand.
“I’ll tolerate no clever talk from you,” she snarled. “Tend to your duties.”
I sank to my knees and added another log, turning my back so she could not see the tears filling my eyes. I had spoken without thinking, ruining whatever chance I had to make a good impression on the queen. Would I be sent packing for a few thoughtless words?
“Leave the girl be, Selena,” said the same hushed voice I had heard earlier.
The woman before me must be Lady Selena Wintermale, who Petra had told me served as the queen’s first lady-in-waiting and closest companion. I did not doubt the woman’s ability to keep order in these chambers; a few minutes at her side and I was already afraid of her. I stuck a poker in the growing blaze, angling my body slightly to catch a glimpse of the room behind me. Lady Wintermale strode back and forth, dictating to a young man wearing the purple-and-green tunic of a page. He nodded continuously, but from the look on his face I wondered how many of her commands he would remember.
“Bring my lady’s doves from the tower, and make sure they have water in their bowls. The gold ones, not the silver.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the page.
“Next, tell Cook my lady’s stomach is troubled by her days of travel. A simple broth for dinner will do. . . .”
I looked past Lady Wintermale, toward the ring of chairs arranged in front of the fireplace. At the center stood one chair larger and wider than the others, its seat covered with a pillow of gold velvet. Four ladies in shimmering dresses stood around it, talking in quick, chirpy voices. Partially hidden behind their figures sat a woman dressed in a simple black gown. At first glance I might have taken her for a nun. Only the jewels braided into her hair marked her as royalty.
This, then, was Queen Lenore. She sat so quietly in that busy room, distancing herself from the commotion around her. Even her black hair and dusky skin set her apart from the light coloring of her ladies. She had the carriage and elegance of an aristocrat—I could not imagine those graceful hands washing linens or kneading dough—yet her dark eyes had the faraway look I had seen on many an overworked farm wife. I had never expected to see such sadness in a person so blessed.
I looked toward Lady Wintermale, wondering if she would indicate when the fire was acceptable. Catching my stare, she twisted her face in annoyance.
“You are dismissed,” she ordered. “Make sure the fire is going before daylight tomorrow. My lady rises with the sun.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I curtsied quickly and left, reassured that I was to retain my position after all.
Later that night I told Petra I had been surprised by the queen’s downhearted manner. “Is she always so?”
“Shush!” Sissy, the maid who slept on the other side of Petra, woke easily and often complained of the noise in the maids’ room after dark.
“Shush yourself!” Petra hissed. There was nothing Petra enjoyed more than court gossip, and it would take more than Sissy’s complaints to silence her. She turned back to me and whispered, “You should have seen the queen when she was first married. She’s much changed since then.”
“You were here?”
“I was just a girl, but my older sister was in service,” Petra said. “For years, from what she said, the castle was quite a dull place. The old king, Ranolf’s father, kept to himself after his wife died, and King Ranolf and his brother, Prince Bowen, were rarely at home. They preferred to seek out novelty elsewhere. No doubt the king had his share of conquests during those travels, but there came the time when he was expected to do his duty and marry. The story is that the old king presented his son with a list of eligible young women in the kingdom. He had only to point to a name and she would be his. Yet Ranolf told his father he had his heart set on a young princess from a country so far distant
“I’ll tolerate no clever talk from you,” she snarled. “Tend to your duties.”
I sank to my knees and added another log, turning my back so she could not see the tears filling my eyes. I had spoken without thinking, ruining whatever chance I had to make a good impression on the queen. Would I be sent packing for a few thoughtless words?
“Leave the girl be, Selena,” said the same hushed voice I had heard earlier.
The woman before me must be Lady Selena Wintermale, who Petra had told me served as the queen’s first lady-in-waiting and closest companion. I did not doubt the woman’s ability to keep order in these chambers; a few minutes at her side and I was already afraid of her. I stuck a poker in the growing blaze, angling my body slightly to catch a glimpse of the room behind me. Lady Wintermale strode back and forth, dictating to a young man wearing the purple-and-green tunic of a page. He nodded continuously, but from the look on his face I wondered how many of her commands he would remember.
“Bring my lady’s doves from the tower, and make sure they have water in their bowls. The gold ones, not the silver.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the page.
“Next, tell Cook my lady’s stomach is troubled by her days of travel. A simple broth for dinner will do. . . .”
I looked past Lady Wintermale, toward the ring of chairs arranged in front of the fireplace. At the center stood one chair larger and wider than the others, its seat covered with a pillow of gold velvet. Four ladies in shimmering dresses stood around it, talking in quick, chirpy voices. Partially hidden behind their figures sat a woman dressed in a simple black gown. At first glance I might have taken her for a nun. Only the jewels braided into her hair marked her as royalty.
This, then, was Queen Lenore. She sat so quietly in that busy room, distancing herself from the commotion around her. Even her black hair and dusky skin set her apart from the light coloring of her ladies. She had the carriage and elegance of an aristocrat—I could not imagine those graceful hands washing linens or kneading dough—yet her dark eyes had the faraway look I had seen on many an overworked farm wife. I had never expected to see such sadness in a person so blessed.
I looked toward Lady Wintermale, wondering if she would indicate when the fire was acceptable. Catching my stare, she twisted her face in annoyance.
“You are dismissed,” she ordered. “Make sure the fire is going before daylight tomorrow. My lady rises with the sun.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I curtsied quickly and left, reassured that I was to retain my position after all.
Later that night I told Petra I had been surprised by the queen’s downhearted manner. “Is she always so?”
“Shush!” Sissy, the maid who slept on the other side of Petra, woke easily and often complained of the noise in the maids’ room after dark.
“Shush yourself!” Petra hissed. There was nothing Petra enjoyed more than court gossip, and it would take more than Sissy’s complaints to silence her. She turned back to me and whispered, “You should have seen the queen when she was first married. She’s much changed since then.”
“You were here?”
“I was just a girl, but my older sister was in service,” Petra said. “For years, from what she said, the castle was quite a dull place. The old king, Ranolf’s father, kept to himself after his wife died, and King Ranolf and his brother, Prince Bowen, were rarely at home. They preferred to seek out novelty elsewhere. No doubt the king had his share of conquests during those travels, but there came the time when he was expected to do his duty and marry. The story is that the old king presented his son with a list of eligible young women in the kingdom. He had only to point to a name and she would be his. Yet Ranolf told his father he had his heart set on a young princess from a country so far distant
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