Queen of Martyrs: The Story of Mary I (Plantagenet Embers Book 3) by Samantha Wilcoxson

Author:Samantha Wilcoxson [Wilcoxson, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2017-04-12T04:00:00+00:00

November 1553

The incident with Pollard may have been counted by Mary as a victory, but it had triggered her headaches and sent her to bed for several days to recuperate. The tutting and sidelong glances that she received from Gertrude Courtenay as she ministered to her mistress told Mary all she needed to know about where she stood. If only Mary would stop being stubborn and marry her son, much of her stress would be relieved. The woman was perceptive enough, however, not to give voice to her thoughts.

Mary did what business she could through Rochester and was eager to meet with her council regarding her betrothal as soon as she was well enough. She cursed her feeble body as her head laid heavily upon the pillow, wondering what schemes sparked like wildfire while she was unable to attend to her duties.

After several days of following her physician’s recommendations to the letter, Mary felt well enough to force herself to face her responsibilities. Instead of whispering rumors and speculation, her council would hear from her directly and the matter of her betrothal could be put to rest. Fran attended Mary, and the queen was thankful for this quiet, loyal attendant on this day when Susan’s bright chatter or Gertrude’s digging for information would have instigated the piercing pain that Mary hoped to avoid for a few hours.

Seeming to understand Mary’s needs, Fran hummed quietly as she tied laces, affixed jewels, and arranged hair. Mary’s thanks was clear in her eyes, and Fran simply nodded her receipt of it before leaving the chamber.

Before Mary left her private sanctuary, she closed her eyes for a moment as her rosary beads slipped through her fingers. She prayed for strength and wisdom to face her hostile council. Pollard’s angry face came uninvited into her mind, and she wondered how many of her council would share his beliefs.

Prince Philip was an ideal match, and it infuriated her that so many dared to speak out in opposition to their queen. Had she been a king, marriage to a princess of Philip’s standing would have been lauded as an ideal arrangement. Did she not deserve the same respect?

The increase in volume of noise from the next room alerted Mary that her escort was ready. Pulling in a slow deep breath and then releasing it, she cleared her mind of everything except the words she had prepared for her council and the confidence that her God stood firmly beside her.

Her pomander swung as she moved down the corridors at a quick stride. The scent of rosemary and lavender filled her nostrils and calmed her nerves as well as held her headache at bay. Fran again, she was sure. How wonderful it was to have one who served her out of pure love and devotion rather than ambition. She found that she was able to hold her head higher due to this small measure of encouragement.

She entered the hall where her council had gathered feeling reassured, only to shrink into herself upon seeing their faces.

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