I wouldn’t want it for myself.”
“Have you never been in love, Ursula?”
“Can’t say that I have. There was a boy once. I thought he was nice enough. But I never felt as you do now—‘consumed,’ I’d call it. Happy and unhappy at the same time.”
“Consumed, aye, as by fire…and when I saw John there in that room—oh, Ursula! It was as if my whole being took flight and soared into his. And when I can’t see him, ’tis misery indeed…. If I get to wed him, I vow it won’t matter if we’re rich or poor, live long or short—I shall never ask for more!”
“That is a rash vow,” Ursula replied, crossing herself against the Devil. “I pray that you do marry, that you live long, and that you live happy—” She shook herself, as if to shed a thought, and then she said, “But these are great riches indeed, and it falls to few in this world to wed the one they love. You would be blessed indeed to have your heart’s desire.”
“Do you think it will ever be any different? That the world will ever change?”
“I daresay it will, but what comfort in that? ’Tis the now that counts…. Here’s something that matters. What you wear tonight—” She rose and went to my four gowns hanging on pegs in the corner of the room. “When I went to fetch water, I heard from Agatha the cook that there’s to be dancing in the great hall. The queen is back from Kent, and the castle is celebrating her return. So you shall have to dress.” She flipped through my gowns. “Not the lavender, ’tis too elegant and royal…Not the green, ’tis not festive enough…Aha! The claret velvet—” She drew it out from among the others and held it up for my inspection. Dusted with tiny crystals, the high-waisted gown had tight fitted sleeves and a plunging neckline trimmed with fox that was filled in with fine silver embroidery across the bosom to match the design on the broad belt.
I fingered the fur. “But fox is not in fashion, Ursula,” I said.
“It will be, m’dear, once you wear it,” she replied jauntily. “Lavender was not the rage until you chose it for your audience with the queen, and how many parti-colored gowns of black and silver were there before the ladies saw you in one? They copy everything you wear—have you not noticed? They’ve even stopped curling their hair, hoping to have it drape behind them like a heavy satin train as yours does. But in that they must fail, for no one else has such thick, glossy hair as you.”
“Oh, Ursula,” I said, giving her a light kiss on the cheek. “You’re so good to me.”
“Aye, claret velvet tonight, and your hair loose, dusted with crystals and pearls.” She paused to study me for a moment. “There’s one thing I’ll never understand. How can you eat so much and remain as slender as you do?”
I looked down at myself. It was true that I enjoyed a good appetite.
“’Tis unjust, my dear…absolutely unjust,” she sighed.
Ursula must have done an exceptionally splendid job of dressing me, for I attracted more than my customary share of attention as I took my seat in the great hall, between two young knights. They vied for my attention throughout the evening so that supper became an occasion of marked gaiety for me. After we had finished eating, a lion from the Tower menagerie performed for us by leaping through rings of fire as he was led around the hall by a Gypsy man, to the oohs and aahs of the crowd. Minstrels arrived in the gallery, and the hall filled with music. Jewels dazzled as noble lords and ladies rose to dance. I danced with both knights, and another came to claim a rondel, and then several more followed. Finally weary, I would have refused any more requests, but no sooner had I found my seat again than Somerset appeared before me.
“My lady?” He bowed.
I rose stiffly and gave him my hand, touching his so lightly, it might have rested on air.
“You look particularly lovely this evening,” he said as he led me to the
“Have you never been in love, Ursula?”
“Can’t say that I have. There was a boy once. I thought he was nice enough. But I never felt as you do now—‘consumed,’ I’d call it. Happy and unhappy at the same time.”
“Consumed, aye, as by fire…and when I saw John there in that room—oh, Ursula! It was as if my whole being took flight and soared into his. And when I can’t see him, ’tis misery indeed…. If I get to wed him, I vow it won’t matter if we’re rich or poor, live long or short—I shall never ask for more!”
“That is a rash vow,” Ursula replied, crossing herself against the Devil. “I pray that you do marry, that you live long, and that you live happy—” She shook herself, as if to shed a thought, and then she said, “But these are great riches indeed, and it falls to few in this world to wed the one they love. You would be blessed indeed to have your heart’s desire.”
“Do you think it will ever be any different? That the world will ever change?”
“I daresay it will, but what comfort in that? ’Tis the now that counts…. Here’s something that matters. What you wear tonight—” She rose and went to my four gowns hanging on pegs in the corner of the room. “When I went to fetch water, I heard from Agatha the cook that there’s to be dancing in the great hall. The queen is back from Kent, and the castle is celebrating her return. So you shall have to dress.” She flipped through my gowns. “Not the lavender, ’tis too elegant and royal…Not the green, ’tis not festive enough…Aha! The claret velvet—” She drew it out from among the others and held it up for my inspection. Dusted with tiny crystals, the high-waisted gown had tight fitted sleeves and a plunging neckline trimmed with fox that was filled in with fine silver embroidery across the bosom to match the design on the broad belt.
I fingered the fur. “But fox is not in fashion, Ursula,” I said.
“It will be, m’dear, once you wear it,” she replied jauntily. “Lavender was not the rage until you chose it for your audience with the queen, and how many parti-colored gowns of black and silver were there before the ladies saw you in one? They copy everything you wear—have you not noticed? They’ve even stopped curling their hair, hoping to have it drape behind them like a heavy satin train as yours does. But in that they must fail, for no one else has such thick, glossy hair as you.”
“Oh, Ursula,” I said, giving her a light kiss on the cheek. “You’re so good to me.”
“Aye, claret velvet tonight, and your hair loose, dusted with crystals and pearls.” She paused to study me for a moment. “There’s one thing I’ll never understand. How can you eat so much and remain as slender as you do?”
I looked down at myself. It was true that I enjoyed a good appetite.
“’Tis unjust, my dear…absolutely unjust,” she sighed.
Ursula must have done an exceptionally splendid job of dressing me, for I attracted more than my customary share of attention as I took my seat in the great hall, between two young knights. They vied for my attention throughout the evening so that supper became an occasion of marked gaiety for me. After we had finished eating, a lion from the Tower menagerie performed for us by leaping through rings of fire as he was led around the hall by a Gypsy man, to the oohs and aahs of the crowd. Minstrels arrived in the gallery, and the hall filled with music. Jewels dazzled as noble lords and ladies rose to dance. I danced with both knights, and another came to claim a rondel, and then several more followed. Finally weary, I would have refused any more requests, but no sooner had I found my seat again than Somerset appeared before me.
“My lady?” He bowed.
I rose stiffly and gave him my hand, touching his so lightly, it might have rested on air.
“You look particularly lovely this evening,” he said as he led me to the
Similar Books
