felt like to tumble head over heels in love? Rogue Cavendish adored her, he had admitted it freely. When he returned from Dover, would he ask her to marry him? It all seemed too fantastic to be real, yet Bess believed with all her heart that fate had something glorious planned for her.
The king's red-haired daughter, Elizabeth Tudor, had spent days wandering about Hampton Court Palace, exploring every nook of every chamber, antechamber, gallery, and staircase. The most spectacular of these was the King's Staircase, whose walls and ceiling had been painted by Italian masters. Remembering that this staircase led to the State Apartments was more important to the Lady Elizabeth than its artwork.
Learning the layout of a royal residence was the first order of business for Elizabeth Tudor. It gave her a measure of confidence and security, as well as providing her with an escape route from unpleasant scenes and people she detested. She remembered Hampton so vividly, recalling the happy moments with her mother and the hours of shattering sadness.
She paused as she reached the Long Gallery. An unbearable lump of sorrow rose in her throat for her sweet stepmother, Catherine Howard. Elizabeth pictured her running down this gallery, screaming for the king when she learned she had been charged with adultery.
Lord God, was it only a year ago February that she was beheaded? It
feels as if I've been mourning for years.
Then she thought again of her mother, Anne Boleyn, and knew she would always be in mourning.
Elizabeth Tudor forced the tragic memories away and let happier thoughts fill her mind. Catherine, so young and gay, had been unfailingly kind to her, mothering her as no other woman had done. Catherine Howard had been cousin to her real mother, Anne Boleyn, and she had answered all Elizabeth's questions about her mother and the fateful marriage to her father, King Henry. Elizabeth had been wildly curious for years, but whenever she had dared whisper her mother's name, she had been hushed up with slaps.
Elizabeth remembered her other stepmother, Jane Seymour, who had liked to walk in the Clock Court here at Hampton before she gave birth to the little prince Edward. Elizabeth was only four at the time, but she remembered how cruel her stepmother had been to her, coldly banishing her to Hatfield so that she would be eighteen miles away from her father, King Henry.
Elizabeth Tudor smiled a secret smile of satisfaction.
Jane Seymour schemed to replace my mother, but the sly bitch also ended up in her grave.
Still, Jane's short reign as queen hadn't been a total loss. It had produced a brother for Elizabeth and provided her with an uncle, Thomas Seymour. Elizabeth smiled again, just thinking about him. Thomas was like a golden god and one of the very few people she loved and trusted in the entire world.
Elizabeth moved toward the latticed window, opened it, and leaned out. It was much too pleasant a day to stay indoors, and she decided to explore the gardens. She saw a barge arrive at the landing stage, and curiosity kept her at the window to see who arrived. When a gaggle of females disembarked, Elizabeth squinted her eyes to seeif she knew them. She recognized Frances Grey, Marchioness of Dorset, because of her girth. She liked Frances, who never put on airs, but thought her young daughter, Lady Jane Grey, was a pious little dog turd, utterly devoid of wit or mischief.
Elizabeth was well aware the child was being considered as a consort for Prince Edward and would likely soon join the royal nursery so they could be educated together. A few nobles' sons already were being educated at Court along with Prince Edward; the schoolroom would soon bulge at the seams. Elizabeth laughed out loud as she thought of the Earl of Warwick's sons. The Dudley brothers would make Lady Jane's life hell!
Elizabeth slipped into the library and selected a book of verse to take into the gardens. Any day now the cruel winds of autumn would denude the
The king's red-haired daughter, Elizabeth Tudor, had spent days wandering about Hampton Court Palace, exploring every nook of every chamber, antechamber, gallery, and staircase. The most spectacular of these was the King's Staircase, whose walls and ceiling had been painted by Italian masters. Remembering that this staircase led to the State Apartments was more important to the Lady Elizabeth than its artwork.
Learning the layout of a royal residence was the first order of business for Elizabeth Tudor. It gave her a measure of confidence and security, as well as providing her with an escape route from unpleasant scenes and people she detested. She remembered Hampton so vividly, recalling the happy moments with her mother and the hours of shattering sadness.
She paused as she reached the Long Gallery. An unbearable lump of sorrow rose in her throat for her sweet stepmother, Catherine Howard. Elizabeth pictured her running down this gallery, screaming for the king when she learned she had been charged with adultery.
Lord God, was it only a year ago February that she was beheaded? It
feels as if I've been mourning for years.
Then she thought again of her mother, Anne Boleyn, and knew she would always be in mourning.
Elizabeth Tudor forced the tragic memories away and let happier thoughts fill her mind. Catherine, so young and gay, had been unfailingly kind to her, mothering her as no other woman had done. Catherine Howard had been cousin to her real mother, Anne Boleyn, and she had answered all Elizabeth's questions about her mother and the fateful marriage to her father, King Henry. Elizabeth had been wildly curious for years, but whenever she had dared whisper her mother's name, she had been hushed up with slaps.
Elizabeth remembered her other stepmother, Jane Seymour, who had liked to walk in the Clock Court here at Hampton before she gave birth to the little prince Edward. Elizabeth was only four at the time, but she remembered how cruel her stepmother had been to her, coldly banishing her to Hatfield so that she would be eighteen miles away from her father, King Henry.
Elizabeth Tudor smiled a secret smile of satisfaction.
Jane Seymour schemed to replace my mother, but the sly bitch also ended up in her grave.
Still, Jane's short reign as queen hadn't been a total loss. It had produced a brother for Elizabeth and provided her with an uncle, Thomas Seymour. Elizabeth smiled again, just thinking about him. Thomas was like a golden god and one of the very few people she loved and trusted in the entire world.
Elizabeth moved toward the latticed window, opened it, and leaned out. It was much too pleasant a day to stay indoors, and she decided to explore the gardens. She saw a barge arrive at the landing stage, and curiosity kept her at the window to see who arrived. When a gaggle of females disembarked, Elizabeth squinted her eyes to seeif she knew them. She recognized Frances Grey, Marchioness of Dorset, because of her girth. She liked Frances, who never put on airs, but thought her young daughter, Lady Jane Grey, was a pious little dog turd, utterly devoid of wit or mischief.
Elizabeth was well aware the child was being considered as a consort for Prince Edward and would likely soon join the royal nursery so they could be educated together. A few nobles' sons already were being educated at Court along with Prince Edward; the schoolroom would soon bulge at the seams. Elizabeth laughed out loud as she thought of the Earl of Warwick's sons. The Dudley brothers would make Lady Jane's life hell!
Elizabeth slipped into the library and selected a book of verse to take into the gardens. Any day now the cruel winds of autumn would denude the
Similar Books
