Free Queenbreaker: Perseverance (The Queenbreaker Trilogy Book 1) by Catherine McCarran

dangerous
enemies.”
    “Like
Honor Lisle?” I muttered.
    Madge
glared, but Lady Rochford regarded me with interest. “The Lisles are not a
danger to you nor any of Anne’s kin. She wanted your place for one of her
daughters. So did a dozen other families. A high price was offered, but in the
end a Shelton was chosen.”
    I
looked from Madge to Lady Rochford. “Why?”
    “My
lord Wiltshire wished it.”
    Uncle
Wilshire! Had Mother’s gifts moved him at last? Whatever the reason, I silently
blessed him for it.
    Lady
Rochford glanced at Honor Lisle and pitched her voice to carry. “And are you
ready to swear yourself to the Queen’s service?”
    Ready? They’re monstrous. How will I
serve at court with them?
    The
answer was simple: Mother expected me to. And she had Madge to ensure it.
    I
smiled as Mother had taught me. “I am ready, Lady Rochford.”
    She
nodded and led me to a lectern standing beside an enormous oakwoood sideboard.
A fashionable Tyndale English Bible lay open at the first Psalm. I read a
snatch—Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked…
    “Place
your hand upon it,” Lady Rochford commanded.
    I’d
already wiped my palm against my skirt. The paper was cool, and so dry it sapped
the remaining moisture from my skin. Lady Rochford laid her hand atop mine. I
almost shivered at her clammy skin.
    “Say
your name,” she said.
    I
licked my tight lips. “Mary Shelton.”
    “Mary
Shelton, do you swear to render true and faithful service to Anne, your Queen.”
    I
heard myself swear to be honorable, truthful, discreet and a godly spectacle to
others—whatever that meant.
    “Well
done,” said Lady Rochford. Then she handed me a little book bound in leather,
tied round with a slender silver chain. “This is the Queen’s gift to you. It is
a miniature Book of Prayer. You will always wear it to Mass, and any other
occasion the Queen requires.”
    “Yes,
Lady Rochford.”
    Lady
Rochford gave me a curt nod. “Find a seat in the sewing circle. Sister, the
Queen has called for you.”
    Lady
Rochford knocked and the Privy Chamber door swung open. Neither gave me a
backward glance as they swept inside. The door closed just as the violin struck
an impossibly high, resonant note.
    “And
so, you are made Anne’s servant.”
    I
jumped in my shoes. Jane Seymour moved like a ghost.
    “Do
you feel differently?” she asked.
    I
felt she mocked me, but her colorlessness made it impossible to grasp for sure.
    “I
feel honored, Mistress Seymour.”
    The
hideous gabled hood bent toward me. “So you should, Mistress Shelton. Being of
the Queen’s blood will make your fortune.” Her hand hid her mouth again as she
pretended to yawn. “Or your ruin.”
    My
mouth fell open the same moment as the Privy Chamber door. Seymour’s taunt
vanished beneath a tide of music, laughter, and a singular vibrant voice.
    “It
is the Duke of Richmond for you, Mary Howard!”
    “Ah,
here is our before Mass entertainment,” Seymour whispered. “We should take a
seat for this.”
    I
let her draw me a few steps aside, to the sewing circle behind us. We took the
two closest empty stools. She snatched a shapeless piece of makework from the
pile at the heart of the circle and threw it in my lap.
    Five
ladies spilled out of the door, trailing the music and laughter of the Privy
Chamber behind them.
    Seymour
leaned close until our shoulders touched. “The tallest is the Lady Margaret
Douglas—the Queen calls her Margot. On her left, the lady with the pearl earrings, is the Lady Mary Howard.”
    Earrings!
On the Lady Mary Howard! They were a male Italian fashion. Mother called them
vulgar. I’d never seen a man wearing them let alone a woman. Let alone the
daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. I scrutinized the dainty teardrop pearls,
swaying as she walked. They looked very fine to me.
    “The
one at Lady Mary’s elbow,” Seymour went on, “is her sister-in-law, the Countess
of Surrey.”
    Lady
Frances de Vere.