Cate of the Lost Colony - Lisa Klein [3]
Lady Mary looked surprised. She was dressed now, her ample flesh restrained by a dark-colored bodice. Frances, sitting on her bed, raised her hands to her face. The other beds were empty. Emme stood regarding me with light brown eyes that were not unfriendly.
“I am Catherine Archer, daughter of the late Sir Thomas Archer of Winchester and as much a lady as either of you,” I said, hoping they would not laugh at me. Instead they looked startled. I got up and stood in my shift while Lady Mary measured me for new clothes.
“Frances, lend her a bodice and skirt, for she is nearer your size.”
Grumbling, Frances obeyed. The sleeves were too long and she pinned them up. She didn’t apologize when she pricked me.
Emme combed my hair and plaited it. “Her Majesty is sure to remark upon your hair,” she said. “It is the blackest that I have ever seen, and falls almost to your waist!”
“Catherine, you are to kneel in the queen’s presence and look down until bidden to rise,” Lady Mary instructed me. “You will address her as ‘Your Grace’ but only after you are spoken to. The queen does not like a too-soft voice, nor a too-loud one.”
I nodded. My leg began to bounce of its own accord, and I tried to still it.
“Is she very … beautiful?” I asked.
“She is the queen,” replied Lady Mary solemnly.
“And what must I do to serve her?”
“As the least of the maids, you will empty her closestool and wash her underlinens,” said Frances.
Lady Mary gave her a sharp look. “Catherine is not a chambermaid, but a maid of honor, like you.” To me she said, “With Emme and Frances and three others, you will perform small tasks for the queen and wait on her at table.”
At least I would not be alone. I would share the work with the other maids and eat and sleep with them. Perhaps in time they would become like sisters to me.
And then Lady Mary was leading me down a staircase to a long gallery with guards standing at either end, holding sharp halberds.
“This is the queen’s privy gallery. She may still be in her bedchamber,” said Lady Mary, opening the door.
I blushed to think of meeting the queen in her bed. Did she sleep in a shift like any woman, or in royal robes? I followed Lady Mary into the room, which was lit by a single small window and dominated by a huge bed with gold-embroidered curtains drawn back. The bed was empty. I trailed her into the adjoining room and gasped. It was a bathing chamber complete with a gleaming porcelain tub and pipes for water. Next was a room full of musical instruments. I tripped after Lady Mary through a library filled with more books than I had seen in all my life and into a privy chamber containing benches with richly embroidered cushions. In the next room the remains of a meal were still on the table. I heard voices coming through the door beyond.
“Aha,” said Lady Mary, crossing the dining room, “she is in her dressing chamber.”
I hesitated. “What if she is unclothed?” I whispered.
“Her Majesty’s ladies are always about her,” said Lady Mary in a matter-of-fact tone, and opened the door without even knocking.
I seemed to see more than a dozen ladies, until I realized several looking glasses were reflecting everyone in the room. In them I could also see my own astonished gaze. Finally I discerned the queen at the center of the circle of ladies. Her back was to me as she faced the mirror. One lady knelt to fasten her slippers. Another held out a selection of glimmering jewelry. A third tended to her skirts, while a fourth stood on a stool combing her curled hair.
“Your Majesty, I bring you Lady Catherine Archer as you requested,” announced Lady Mary.
The ladies fell back and the queen turned to face me. I could not help staring. I noticed how slender she was, how wide and white her forehead, how bright her hair. Then I saw a dull lock against her cheek and realized with a start the bright, curled hair was false. The lady with the comb had not yet finished her task.
Lady Mary nudged me and I fairly crashed to the floor, bruising my knee. I could have died with shame