The Queen's Promise by Brenda Rickman Vantrease

Author:Brenda Rickman Vantrease [Brenda Rickman Vantrease]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2018-02-18T16:00:00+00:00

JOURNEYS

… [T]he joy I shall have in going, hoping to see you in a month … I fear to become mad with it for I do nothing in the world but think of this, the only pleasure which remains to me in this world, for without you I would desire to remain in it not one hour.

—Letter from Henrietta to King Charles I in February 1643

7 March 1643

By the time they reached the hunting lodge in Londesborough, Henrietta’s strength was failing. Her head ached from the jostling of the coach, and the small brazier at her feet did not chase away the numbing cold. An ageing groom, sheltering a torch, hastened out to take charge of the horses and carriage as Lord Denbigh helped her alight.

She recognized the lodge, a shadow of the one in memory. She and Charles and the children had hunted here once in mid-winter. It had been alive with light and laughter and music.

‘We are honored to receive you, your majesty, but we are embarrassed by our poor hospitality. We have not opened the lodge this season. When we received notice a few hours ago that your secret lodging had been compromised, we thought only of your safety. I fear you find us short-staffed and ill-provisioned.’

‘Do not think your hospitality less than sufficient. A roof over our heads and succor from our enemies—is all that is required. Be assured that your courage and your loyalty will be rewarded by the King.’

As they entered the hall the smell of disuse made her nostrils flare. Dust hovered everywhere, on the stairs and in the corners, coating the great mantle and painting the rich woods of the furnishings with a gray patina. Cobwebs decorated the mounted antlers of proud bucks, which in her memory had been adorned with greenery and bright candles. Faint with weariness, she sucked in her breath, dragging the musty air of neglect into her lungs. But as she gazed into the shadows of the great hall, she almost gasped in delight.

With wide staring eyes she watched as Charles, still in his hunter’s garb, descended the stairs with a ghost-like grace. He raised his glass to the success of the hunt, gesturing at a feast laden with succulent pheasant and confectionary delights, then held out his hand to her. So real was her vision she smelled the scent of his hair as he bowed before her. She reached out her hand. He faded into the stale air. A little cry escaped her lips. Not Charles. Just some figment of her weary brain, mere image conjured by a longing so intense she could not name it.

‘Majesty, are you unwell?’

With scarcely breath enough to answer, she said, ‘Je vais bien. Un moment, s’il vous plaît.’ She shook her head, shutting out the images, as she tried to regain her composure. When she opened her eyes, Lord Denbigh was holding out a glass taken from the meager board set only with a flagon of wine and a platter covered with a linen cloth.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.