The Virgin's Daughters by Jeane Westin

Author:Jeane Westin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

It was near midnight when Sir William and Mary Rogers were announced by one of the queen’s gentlemen ushers.

“Sir William,” the queen said with a dismissive wave, “you must petition Robert Cecil, our Lord Secretary of State. We have no business with you.”

He bowed himself back into the antechamber and the door closed.

Remembering protocol, Mary knelt three times as she approached the queen sitting near a fireplace in a heavy satin robe of black and white, her crown removed, her chin in her hand.

An unsheathed sword hung from the arm of Elizabeth’s chair. With some unease Mary, watching the light glint from its blade, sank to her knees again.

Elizabeth turned a weary head to follow her gaze. “You need not fear, girl. My sword is not for you, but for those who would have done with my rule and come upon me to seek my life.”

The queen returned to her study of the fire, staring fixedly into the flames. A long moment later, she said, “We spared Lady Katherine when we did not spare the queen of Scots. A crown is a difficult burden to those who bear it, Mary Rogers.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Yet you think us cruel.”

Mary bent to kiss the hem of the royal gown. “It is not for me to judge your royal actions,” she said softly, sensing the queen’s fragile mood, and suddenly filled with sympathy. One day, Mary thought, she herself would look in her own mirror and see another face no longer youthful and flushed with health, one she scarce recognized and was reluctant to own.

The queen twisted her neck about. Some of her white complexion paste cracked off and fell on her black gown. “So you do not judge your sovereign. Another of your country truths, Mary Rogers?”

“Majesty, I beg forgiveness. I am new come to court and do not know its ways. Country truth is the only truth I know.” Her head bowed, Mary scarcely dared to look in that ravaged face for fear of showing her compassion, surely unwanted by this proud monarch.

Elizabeth gazed past Mary for a long moment before she spoke in a voice that had none of the commanding quality Mary had heard in the presence chamber. “So, mistress, how did Kate die?”

Mary was surprised, knowing that her grandfather had sent much correspondence about Katherine Grey to the queen’s council at the time of that lady’s death, these ten years past. “Of consumption, Majesty. My grandfather provided every physick and care. She died in the faith with her chaplain at her side, blessing you and begging forgiveness for her sins.” Lady Katherine had also died in a pool of her own blood with Lord Edward’s name the last word from her lips, crying out that having been denied him in this world, she would be with him and her babes in the next. But Mary withheld that knowledge, hoping an untold truth was not a lie. Would Elizabeth recognize such a lie no matter how well hidden?

The queen nodded, then

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