Lady of the Roses by Sandra Worth Read Free Book Online Page B

to offer any objection. We giggled through the evening, and the next morning, when Sœur Madeleine returned, I lost no time introducing Ursula. She gave us her approval and a promise to do what she could to expedite my audience with the queen so that Ursula could begin drawing payment. Here Sister proved greatly successful: The day of my audience arrived less than a week later, far earlier than I expected. Suddenly I was filled with dread.
    “But, Sœur Madeleine, what should I say to the queen? What should I do?” I asked with panic as she and Ursula assisted me into my most prized gown, the lavish lavender and silver tissue, trimmed with miniver, that I had worn when I met Sir John Neville.
    “Be yourself, ma chérie. Be yourself, and you will melt the hearts.”
    Her words failed to reassure me. I already knew Marguerite d’Anjou was not easily charmed. “Will you come with me?”
    “I regret not. I have many matters to attend, but Ursula can accompany you,” she said.
    I gave Ursula a nervous smile as she twined daisies into my hair, which hung loose down my back. Sœur Madeleine smiled with approval, for that was Queen Marguerite’s emblem. “Her hair is so thick, it can take more, Ursula,” she advised before she left.
    The great bell on the abbey’s clock tower struck the hour of three. My stomach tightened. The time had come to head for the White Chamber and my audience with the queen. Ursula stood back to assess her handiwork.
    “I don’t rightly believe I have ever seen anyone as fair as you. Your eyes are like gems weighted down with lashes…. Your skin, ’tis fine as alabaster, and your hair pours down around you like heavy silk, as richly dark and glossy as the feathers of the black swan. You are lovely, m’lady,” she said without a trace of envy as she helped me into my woolen cloak.
    Ursula’s kind nature touched me deeply, and I gave her a long embrace. With my hood up and my head down to protect the flowers in my hair against the wind, we crossed the inner ward and took the river path to the stately keep. It pleased me greatly that I turned heads along the way, for I needed reassurance. The day held the nip of approaching autumn, and a strong wind blew, ruffling the dark river with waves, but there was no rain. The cool weather was a relief against the recent unrelenting heat of summer, and as a result, the Thames was crowded with a profusion of gilded barges. There was much bustle of both nature and business, as swans glided past, gulls mewed and dove for fish, and boats pulled up to the barge landing, unloading men and goods.
    We reached the keep and took the worn tower steps up to the audience chamber, but the sentry standing guard at the anteroom stopped Ursula. “Only those with appointments may enter.”
    I was about to protest, but as Ursula removed my cloak, she leaned close and whispered, “Chin up, bosom up—and all will be well!” She drew back, a grin on her face, and I went in laughing.
    At once I saw why the sentry had refused Ursula entry. The small alcove was filled to overflowing with people who hoped to see the queen. I gave my name to the clerk who stood at a high desk near the door, and cast about for a place. The closest bench was occupied by a group of nuns whispering prayers on their rosaries, no doubt beseeching God for His help in getting the benefices they sought. Near them a weary-looking knight and his lady spoke together in hushed tones of a problem with the dues on their manor. By the leaded windows on the opposite wall, a group of black-gowned clerics conversed about the weather. A messenger from Anjou sat in a nearby corner, wearing the cross of Lorraine. The place beside him lay empty, and I claimed it.
    My seat was situated directly opposite the entrance to the audience chamber, and soon the door opened to let out a beautiful young lord and his retainers. Golden hair flowed from beneath the lord’s jewel-studded velvet cap, but though his face had the