The Stolen One

by Suzanne Crowley

“This I know,” the queen snapped. “She was not made for court life, maid or not. I’m sure Lady Ludmore will have her converted before you know it and she will forget you.” She turned her head. The subject was closed.

  But I could not help myself. “She means much to me, Your Majesty, for we were raised together.”

  Her face softened. “Well, my Spirit,” she said. “Is that perhaps why you’ve been so forlorn of late? Until this very moment I thought perhaps you were mooning over your poor shepherd.”

  “No, no,” I said all in a rush. “Not him.” The last words squeaked out of my mouth like a stepped-upon flitter mouse.

  “I see.” She walked away, a sly smile on her face.

  “What did the queen say?” asked Nicholas, who had joined my side again after the ceremony was over. “Does she know of us? Tell me, does she approve?” I glanced around for Rafael, and saw him as he left the chamber with Lady Huckabee.

  “I must say, she did not approve,” I said. “You shall have to set your sights on someone else. Ipollyta is free, I think.”

  “Don’t tease me so. I think perhaps I’ll die of a broken heart,” he said, holding his hand over his chest. “You do know I care for you ardently, I do,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Yes, Nicholas, I do know.” The crowd started to disperse and I followed the queen’s ladies, who followed her out of the presence chamber and down a long hallway.

  But before I knew it, Nicholas had pulled me into a curtained alcove and his lips were on mine. God’s me, but I let him kiss me.

  He started to reach for my bodice and I pushed away and looked at his beautiful face. How could I not love this? “I think perhaps you could learn to love me,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I do love you; I have from the first minute I set eyes upon you.”

  And this made me wonder, why did he want me so much, when all the maids swooned at his sight and talked of him endlessly? Why did he want me?

  I touched his cheek briefly before running after the last of the queen’s ladies into the privy chamber.

  The queen once told me that a woman’s intuition always tells her the truth, but only if she will listen. After the ceremony something had tickled up my back until the hairs on my arms stood tall. Something was going to happen. If I’d gone back to my chamber, perhaps, perhaps, everything that transpired that day would not have unwound itself like a spool dropped down Cowslip Hill. But I didn’t listen to my intuition. Aye, I did not.

  As I entered the privy chamber I saw that several of the maids, including Dorothy, stood at the window giggling and pointing at something outside. It was pouring down rain, and for the life of me I couldn’t imagine what they could see in the rain that amused them so. But my attention was quickly drawn to the queen, who for some reason had decided to bring Sir Melville to her private rooms.

  The senior ladies of the privy chamber were removing the queen’s outer robe. Mrs. Ashley carried it carefully to the doorway, where a yeoman of the Wardrobe waited. This was my opportunity to accompany Nicholas back to the Queen’s Wardrobe. In fact, he probably waited just outside the door for me. But I was tired of his pressing his case, aye, I was, and something kept me rooted to the exact spot I had walked to upon entering. Like a fairy-turned-statue I stood, the hair on my arms standing at attention. Still, yet, the maids giggled on.

  Sir Melville, embarrassed to be in the chamber, it seemed, busied himself by walking about the room examining trinkets here and there. He came upon a carved cabinet where the queen kept her precious keepsakes. It was usually locked tight. It was Blanche Parry’s job to attend to it, but today the doors stood open, like shutters thrown wide on the first warm day of spring.

  “Spirit,” the queen called. “You are very flushed. Come sit down, I bade you.”

  I didn’t move. I watched Sir Melville take something wrapped in tissue from the cabinet. “‘Eyes,’” he read aloud dramatically. He unwrapped the tissue and turned over a small miniature in his hands. The queen was at his side in a second, plucking it from his grasp. Then she snatched the tissue and quickly wrapped the portrait back up.

  “Your Majesty,” Sir Melville said slyly. “Perhaps this is a perfect gift for Queen Mary. For not only will she rejoice in his new status, but she may look upon his beautiful eyes daily.”

  “No,” the queen proclaimed rather too quickly, and then she took a deep breath, the package clutched to her chest. “It’s my only copy, you see, and I can’t bear to part with it.”

  The maids giggled again, their attention still held by something outside in the pouring rain. “I think there is much you can’t bear to part with,” Sir Melville rejoined.

  “Don’t be insolent with me,” she barked, then softened. “I must undress now, Sir Melville, and unless you want to see the glory of England, it is time for you to leave.”

  He smiled slightly, blushing. “I bid you good morning.” He bowed to her and stalked out of the room.

  “Stop that infernal giggling now, I insist,” the queen demanded as her ladies began to pull her sleeves off.

  “Oh, but you must see, Your Majesty,” Anne Windsour said over her shoulder. “It’s quite a peculiar sight.”

  “If you insist.” She sighed, slapping away the hands unbuttoning her kirtle. The maids parted as the queen walked to the window. She stood there silent a good full minute as a flaming spark raced up my back. Then she looked back at me, a sly little smile upon her face.

  “Spirit,” she said, “I do believe your shepherd is a long way from home.”

  On this same day of August 30, my good queen was delivered of a healthy girl, whom she named Mary. I was not able to attend her, although she called for me, I hear, for I greatly feared for my own life. For you see, I have found, when one faces God, no matter how long one has longed for death, one does suddenly fear it. Agnes watched the queen’s birth and said it was one of much joy, despite the fact that the babe wasn’t the longed-for heir. The admiral is pleased, for Mary, named after the Princess Mary, is plump and pretty, unlike the scrawny little lump at my breast. I am barely able to feed her, so sick I am. The fever courses its way through me like a hot river, and pulls the blood from my body. Agnes begged me to tell her of a weed to staunch the blood, and when I told her there was only wolf’s juniper and it was too late to find it now, she sobbed. But then in the dark night, when I could see God holding his hands out for me and my babe, Jane the fool appeared at my bed, a potion in hand.

  CHAPTER 22

  Christian. I was at the window before I knew it. It was Christian. Standing in the rain, wearing the silver jerkin I’d made an eternity ago. He stood staring up at the window, his face not flinching when I appeared in his view.

  “God’s faith,” the queen said over my shoulder. “Go put him out of his misery.”

  “Look at his leggings.” Anne Windsour laughed. “And his shoes! He looks quite the rabbit sucker, he does.”

  Dorothy pinched her. “But look how handsome he is, even soaking wet!” she proclaimed, and all the maids giggled.

  “Yes, he is indeed. He could lead my horse, he could,” Mary Howard exclaimed.

  “As though he would,” Mary Ratcliff retorted. “When you stink!”

  “You should babble so, you silly strumpet!” Mary Howard replied.

  “You may bring him here to warm up. I’d like to speak with him,” the queen pronounced.

  I stood there frozen, not even blinking. Finally Dorothy nudged me to go.

  I turned and ran from the room, through the halls, bumping into people, running down stairs, till finally I reached the garden. I ran to him as fast as my feet would take me, not caring that many eyes watched me from above, and that finally, as I neared him, I slipped in the mud. I flung myself at him, throwing my arms wildly around him.

  He peeled my arms away and stepped back, his honey-colored eyes aflame. God’s me, how I had missed those eyes. Blinking back the rain, breathing hard, I simply stared at him. He had grown, aye he had, his muscl
es more shapely and broad, his face more of that of a man. “Christian,” I whispered.

  “I came for you,” he finally said, his voice barely above a sigh.

  “Aye.” I laughed. “And I’m glad of it.” He continued to stare at me, unblinking, raindrops perched on his lashes.

  “Christian,” I said.

  “I saw you with him,” he said flatly.

  “Who?” I asked him.

  “Who? Is there more than one? The fancy boy. Is that what you want? A puffed-up peacock?”

  “We are merely friends,” I said, “Nicholas and I.”

  He laughed bitterly. “‘Nicholas and I.’ My, you do sound lofty.”

  I peeked over my shoulder and up at the queen’s window. She stood there watching, her eyes dark and cold, six female faces surrounding her like rays of the sun. The low beat of the rain seemed to pound in my ears. What was Christian doing here? How long had he been here? And how did he find me? When did he see Nicholas? The questions ran through my mind, but I held my tongue.

  “Father has been laid low,” Christian said finally.

  “Oh Christian, I didn’t know.” I stepped forward, but he held up his hand. “Why didn’t you send word somehow?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t find you at first,” he said, and I looked away a moment, ashamed.

  “And how does Uncle Godfrey fare?” I asked him.

  “He’ll live, Old Hookey says. But he’ll never be the same,” he said. “It was very bad in the beginning when he thought he was to die. He was fevered and ranting for days. Said he had sinned by not wanting to know, by not doing something, and that God had brought him down. But when he was better and I asked him, he didn’t know what he spoke of.”

  “Was he speaking of Grace and Anna? Of me?”

  “I think something further back. His mind frequently returns to the days before we were born.”

  “But Christian, this could be the key. Can you not ask him more?”

  “No. It’s too painful for him and I shan’t ask him of it.” We stared at each other. The rain fell around us on the green grass and on the queen’s flowers. “I’ll have to work the farm now. That’s why I’ve come. I need you. I want you.”

  “Christian,” I said. “Come inside from the rain. We can talk. The queen…she wants to meet you.”

  He glanced up at the window. “So she can look me over like livestock at market and laugh at me as her ladies have done?”

  “They’re silly. Just silly maids,” I said.

  “And now you are one of them.”

  “No, I am not one of them.”

  “Look at you.” He laughed bitterly. “Even in the rain I can see you’ve changed.” His eyes slowly ran over my body and I shivered. “You’re not my Kat anymore.”

  “That’s not true. I’m the same. I am.” But I wondered.

  “Come with me,” he said with such force that his words echoed strangely off the castle wall almost like a howl. “I still love you.” The last words were but a long sigh.

  I looked up at the queen’s window. She was motioning for me to come, her mouth set and firm.

  “I shan’t ask again,” he said, following my gaze. “I won’t.”

  “Christian, I…”

  “You gave me your answer before, a long time ago. But I didn’t believe you. I am the fool. I am.”

  “I didn’t give you my answer,” I said softly. “I didn’t.”

  “You did; you left me without a word. My mother always said you were dangerous. That some things couldn’t be scrubbed out.” He laughed bitterly.

  “I need to know who I am, Christian,” I said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “That’s a lie,” he said. “You’re here because you want all of this. And I can never give it to you. Never.”

  I couldn’t respond. We stood there facing each other for what seemed an eternity.

  “Where’s Anna?” he said slowly.

  I bit my lip. “I shall not tell you.”

  “Where is she?” he yelled, grabbing my shoulders. Two liveried guards appeared in the garden.

  “She’s at the home of the Ludmores,” I whispered, and before I knew it he had released me with such force that I stumbled away from him. He walked away, his shoulders back, his head held high. The guards simply watched him go. I fell to my knees and called after him, but he did not turn back, not once, and I shall forever remember the smell of the roses curling in the rain.

  When we were children, I once dared Christian to climb down Puck’s Well to see what actually lay at the bottom. We thought it might be a faun, or perhaps a pile of gold. I told him we would use the money to buy Sudeley and live as the lady and lord of the castle. And to my surprise, he actually did try to climb to the bottom, but he got stuck ten feet down. And try as I might to pull him out with a rope, I could not. I finally had to fetch Uncle Godfrey, who fished him out with one mighty heave. “Some things are better left unknown,” Uncle Godfrey had said to us before walking off, and Aunt Agnes behind him had slapped me. That was only a precursor to the whipping I’d gotten later from Grace for my imprudent and half-wit ideas.

  After Christian left, the queen had me brought to her great bed, where I was stripped of my clothes and put in a soft shift, which had been warmed by the fire. And all the while, the queen sat next to me tenderly holding my hand, her ladies surrounding us with great wide-eyed curiosity. I couldn’t speak as tears rushed down my face, and when I looked up at the queen and saw the deep distress in her eyes, I truly did wonder at our connection. Then I was given a draught to drink, and as I sipped it Ipollyta appeared at the end of the bed smiling, smiling like a forest weasel.

  Later, much later, sometime in the dark of night, I was moved back to my room. Dorothy appeared by my side, a candle in one hand, a letter in the other: Christian has taken Anna home with him to Winchcombe—Lady Ludmore

  When I awoke, Dorothy was sitting on my bed. “There now, you’ve come back to us.”

  I blinked, my eyelids heavy as lead. Something pounded in my head like the great bell of Winchcombe Abbey. “Is it morning?” I asked her.

  She laughed. “The next morning. You’ve been asleep for a day and a half. The queen has been quite worried about you. Sat with you for several hours yesterday until she was pulled away by her councilors. She had to bid farewell to Sir Melville. He finally had enough and sailed back to Scotland. The queen is to be summoned as soon as you awaken.” She motioned over her head to a maid who stood in the doorway, and the maid scurried off.

  “Water,” I said, feeling as though I had not had a drop to drink in a year. “I need water.” She poured water from a ewer into the goblet that was next to the bed. She lifted my head and I drank.

  I looked around for the queen’s gown and then remembered I had hidden it under a loose board under my bed, with my other valuables, before I went to Robert Dudley’s ceremony.

  “She’s quite vexed with me, too, I must say,” Dorothy rattled on. “For reading the letter to you. Says I’m the reason you wouldn’t wake up, for it’s only in sleep one finds true peace, she thinks. I’m truly sorry, Katherine. Does it hurt very much? Both of them lost to you?”

  I sighed deeply and turned my head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Was he your true love?” she asked, taking my hand.

  I couldn’t answer her. But my heart felt as though it had been ripped in a thousand pieces. Christian gone with Anna. God’s me, I’d be sick, if there be any food to come up.

  “Nicholas Pigeon has been here too, pacing the halls until the queen yelled at him for always neglecting his duties. You’ve been quite the spectacle, you have. Even Mrs. Ashley, who never leaves the queen’s side, as you know, came in here to stare at you a good long time till I told her to shoo and be gone.”

  “And Rafael?” I asked.

  “No,” she answered. “The queen did not want word sent to him.” She grabbed my hand. “You can tell me, Katherine,” Dorothy said softly. “Anything. You kno
w my secrets. Most of them, anyway.” She smiled. “I may talk a lot, but I’m no tittle-tattler like Katherine Knevit.”

  I looked at the window and took a breath. “I am not Katherine Ludmore. I’ve come here to find my mother. My true mother. There are two letters there, hidden underneath the drawer.” I nodded to the bedside table. Dorothy’s eyes raised as she quickly pulled the drawer out and ran her fingers underneath. She plucked them out.

  “Perhaps this is what the queen was looking for. She was very determined, she was.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my skin prickling.

  “I saw her,” Dorothy whispered. “Going through everything. She was even on her hands and knees looking under your bed. It was quite a funny sight, I tell you, to see her so ill-composed.”

  I smiled, relieved. “She was looking for the dress I’m stitching her. Did she find it?”

  “No,” Dorothy said as she opened one of the letters and read it. It was the letter from Iris’s mother. “Well, it’s simple,” she said after a moment. “It says right here all you need to do is find this Grace.”

  “But she’s dead, Dorothy,” I told her. “She’s the one who raised me in Gloucestershire.”

  “Well then, she won’t be much help, will she now?” she muttered, looking over the letter again.

  “Read the other one,” I told her. She opened it up and read Grace’s letter to me. Her eyes opened wide. “Is this the same Grace mentioned in the first?”

  I nodded. “I think so. And she bades me to stay away from the queen. Is not that a clue?”

  Dorothy smiled. “Everyone is warned to stay away from court, everyone high and low. That is what she must have meant, especially with a face like yours.”

  “Grace told me as I was growing up that I wasn’t wanted.”

  Dorothy nodded. “Aye, girls are never wanted, that’s true. I was a great disappointment to my father.” She sighed, then picked up the first letter again. “There is nothing here to say you are this Mary, even if there was a maid named Grace mentioned. And as to the name Mary, why that could be anyone in all of England. There are lots of Marys about, named after Mary the queen’s sister before anyone knew how bloody brutal she was.”