Part 4 (1/2)

An hour later, wrapped in cloaks over their new embroidered lawn s.h.i.+fts, with their hair still up in curling rags hidden beneath their hoods, my yawning, sleepy-eyed sisters and an exhausted Mrs. Ellen, who had pa.s.sed the entire night sitting beside Jane's bed to keep her from removing the hated curl rags, boarded a barge amidst a flurry of maids, including Kate's Henny and my Hetty, several seamstresses, supervised by Mrs. Leslie, and trunks filled with their wedding finery.

At Durham House, while the maids and sewing women flocked around my sisters, layering on the petticoats, lacing them breathlessly tight into their stays, and strapping on the padded b.u.m rolls to lend an added fullness to their hips and a bell-like sway to their skirts, their hands fluttering with busy haste over their bodies from head to toe, making sure each lace was tied and each layer fell smooth, nipping and tucking, pinning and primping, snipping away stray threads, and making a quick new st.i.tch where necessary, I sat alone by the window, my head resting against the cool, smooth gla.s.s, gazing down at the river. With my short stature I knew I would only be in the way if I tried to help, trampled underfoot and the scapegoat for nervous and frayed tempers. Thus, I alone saw Lord Herbert arriving with his handsome father, the Earl of Pembroke. But I kept silent. I didn't tell Kate. I knew that if I did she would shake off the maids and come rus.h.i.+ng to the window, and I would always remember the look on her face as all her heavenly dreams came cras.h.i.+ng down to earth.

The slight, sickly, whey-faced boy down below who stumbled and almost fell into the Thames while disembarking from the barge was no romantic hero. Indeed, his das.h.i.+ng, dark-haired father, so tall and slender in his black and silver brocade and velvet, with striking sleek silver wings at his ebony temples, was more likely to make a maiden's heart flutter. Poor Lord Herbert, even his hair seemed colourless! His clothes hung loose upon him, and even his hat seemed too large for his head, and the ostrich feather pinned to the sapphire blue velvet just seemed silly, not the graceful curling pure white plume on Lancelot's sparkling silver helm. No, this was not a strong, virile hero who had stepped out of a story to overwhelm his bride with bold embraces and kisses that burned like fire. This was another ailing animal to be added to Kate's menagerie, to be petted and pitied and nursed back to health. I could more readily picture Kate holding a cup of warm milk to his lips, stroking his hair, tucking him into bed, and telling him a story, more like a mother than a wife. I vowed then and there that I would close my eyes when the fatal moment came, when Kate approached her bridegroom at the altar; I just could not bear to see the disappointment upon her face.

”Look at me!” At Jane's despairing wail, I turned to see her shoving her way out from amidst the crush of maids and sewing women. ”Look at me!” She flapped her hands futilely against the luxuriant richness of her gown as she stood, frowning, before the big silver looking gla.s.s even as Mrs. Leslie stepped forward to adjust the fall of green and yellow silk ribbons that floated down Jane's back from her crown of gilded rosemary and yellow gillyflowers. ”I look as brazen as a bawd!” Jane cried, miserable and on the threshold of tears, as her hands twitched against the rich stuff of her skirts, itching to rip them away. She reached up and began to tug at the ruby necklace encircling her throat, insisting it was too tight. But our lady-mother slapped her hands away, hissing at her to stop lest she break it. How Jane hated that necklace! It was the one she called ”Cousin Mary's b.l.o.o.d.y necklace” because the thin gold chain fit so snugly that the dark red rubies, shaped like tiny teardrops, created the illusion that her throat had been cut and blood was seeping from it, and the looser second and third chains, lined with the same rubies, made it appear as though drops of blood were dripping down to stain her breast. Since our Tudor cousins had, most strangely I thought, not been invited to the wedding, something which no one would explain to me, our lady-mother had sat Jane at her desk last night and made her pen a letter saying that though her dear cousin could not be with her on this most joyous day she would be wearing the necklace she had given her and thus would feel her dear presence hovering around her-”like a pair of loving arms,” our lady-mother dictated-and Jane wrote obediently.

Seeing Jane's distress, I tried to suggest that the gold and jewelled gillyflower necklace that had been specially made would be far better on its own, that the bloodred seemed so jarring, like blood splashed upon the s.h.i.+mmering golden pallor of Jane's gown, but I was overruled. Our lady-mother insisted that Jane must wear the rubies so as not to offend our royal cousin, though I personally thought she would be far more offended by not having been invited. And besides, our lady-mother continued, with Kate standing beside her, glowing with the green fire of emeralds, Jane must have gems of a contrasting colour but similar richness to adorn her.

”Stop it, Jane!” Kate, radiant as the sun itself in her cloth-of-gold and cream gown with her unbound hair blazing and bouncing down her back like ringlets of red gold fire, stuck out her lips in a pout and stamped her foot down hard in its dainty golden slipper, rattling her gra.s.s green emeralds, diamonds, and pearls. ”Why must you try to spoil it? You're not the only one who matters! This isn't just your day. In case you've forgotten, there are two other brides, and I happen to be one of them, and while I cannot speak for Catherine Dudley, I want today to be happy, a grand and glorious day that will live forever in my memory so that when I'm an old lady I can tell my grandchildren about it, and I would like to spare them a description of my sister's glum and sour countenance sulking and brooding throughout the ceremony and feast. You look beautiful, as every maid has a right to on her wedding day, and I am sure the learned Protestants of Europe will understand and forgive you for forsaking those glum, dowdy weeds you favour for just one day, since it is your wedding day, and I'm sure G.o.d will as well; He is said to be most forgiving.”

”Well said, Katherine.” Our lady-mother nodded as she moved to straighten the crown of gilded rosemary and jewelled flowers that Kate's impetuous tirade had knocked awry and gently turned her around to untangle and smooth the vibrant rainbow of silken ribbons trailing down her back. ”A tad peppery perhaps, but you show promising signs of practicality and reason. If Lord Herbert is ever given a diplomatic post, I trust you shall prove yourself a great credit to him, and not merely as an ornament he will be proud to display.”

I wormed my way between my two sisters, standing glaring at each other, and reached out to take their hands.

”Please, don't quarrel,” I pleaded, my voice trembling with the tears I was trying so hard not to shed. ”This is the last day we shall all be together for what may be a very long time. We are sisters, despite our differences, and even if we cannot agree about things like dresses, we can at least agree to love each other and not let our differences divide us. Please, Jane, forget the dress, it doesn't really matter. It's just material to cover your body, and, for your own sake, as well as ours-we who love you and like not to see you sad and sulking-please smile and try to make the best of it. Like Father always says, 'If Life gives you lemons, slice them and sprinkle them with sugar; if the hand of Fate hurls almonds down on you, mash them and make marzipan.' And I know you can, Jane; you're so clever! And you are so beautiful. I wish you could see that, and that it is truly not a bad or sinful thing. How could it be when it was G.o.d Himself that gave you your beauty? And you do not have to choose. You can be beautiful and brilliant too! Verily I should think most men would account it even more of a marvel to see a beautiful woman display such a sharp intellect when most care only for primping and pretty clothes. And I'm sure, if you are kind and make friends with him, once Guildford sees how much your studies mean to you, he will not make you forsake them. They say he studies singing; so you could be at your books while he is at his lessons, you could both set aside time for your private studies, I'm sure of it!”

With a great rustling of stiffened petticoats and embroidered and s.h.i.+mmering skirts and sleeves, my sisters knelt down and put their arms around me and leaned their cheeks against mine, and I tasted their tears as well as my own.

”I'm sorry, Kate,” Jane said softly, reaching around me to squeeze her hand. ”I shall endeavour not to spoil your day. You are right, as is Mary. I have been selfish, and I am sorry.”

”Thank you, Jane,” Kate said in a tremulous, tearful little voice. ”I'm sorry too. I should not have lost my temper. I know you are unhappy, and I am sorry for it, so very sorry; I wish there were some way, some magic words or a wand I could wave, that would make you as happy about your marriage as I am about mine.”

”The heart in those words is magic to me,” Jane answered, and I was nigh crushed between them as they embraced, but I was so happy they had made their peace that I didn't mind at all. ”And I shall try,” Jane promised, ”as Mary with Father's deliciously sage words advises, to make sugared lemons and marzipan out of what Life has given me.”

”With Guildford you already have the lemons and gilt for the marzipan, so all you really need is sugar and almonds.” Kate giggled, and I opened my eyes and saw both my sisters smiling through their tears and laughing. And it felt good; I felt warmed by love, suns.h.i.+ne, and hope.

”Everything will be all right now,” I whispered, but it was more a prayer rather than an a.s.sertion.

I took each of my sisters by the hand and led them to stand before the mirror. We smiled at each other. We knew what to do; the ritual was dear and familiar.

”The brilliant one!” Jane stepped forward and declared herself to the looking gla.s.s.

”The beautiful one!” Kate followed with a saucy smile and sashaying hips.

And then came I. ”The beastly little one!” I piped.

And then our lady-mother announced that it was time for the brides to go downstairs. As we clung together, I felt my sisters' bodies, and the hearts within them, jolt and start at those world-changing words. Silently, they each pressed their lips against my cheeks, then stood and let the maids straighten the ribbons and cascading hair flowing down their backs and smooth down their skirts and sleeves one last time. Then, their hands still holding mine, trembling beneath the great, gracefully flowing fur-cuffed bells of their over-sleeves, we three sisters walked out to the top of the stairs. I stood and watched them descend, and then I turned and made my way higher upstairs to the musicians' gallery where I would stand and watch, ”like a little angel from her cloud,” Kate said. ”Our angel,” Jane added. And then they left me and went downstairs to meet their destiny, to become wives and leave maidenhood behind, just as they had to leave me.

Standing on my tiptoes, despite the protesting pains it caused to cry out in my back, hips, and knees, I folded my arms atop the rail and gazed down upon the scene transpiring in the Great Hall below. The musicians, costumed in silver, to make yet another of Kate's dreams come true, were playing a short distance from where I stood, and they smiled and nodded kindly to me. Being players, who had spent their lives roving, entertaining others to fill their purses, playing at both fairs and the private parties of the n.o.bility, I was not the first dwarf they had seen, and they did not regard me with the same repulsion and superst.i.tious dread as most did, and between songs one of them laid down his lute and brought me a small stool to stand upon, to take the strain off my toes and ease my aching joints.

The wedding pa.s.sed in a gold and silver blur, through the s.h.i.+mmering wet veil of my tears and the blare of the music filling my ears, and then the feasting and dancing began and the musicians changed to a livelier tune. Though I could not see his face from my perch so high above, Father was, I could tell, as proud as a goose who had laid a golden egg as he presided over the long tables groaning beneath the weight of gilt platters heaped high with all kinds of dainties and delicacies he had chosen. There were towering pyramids of fruit and nuts, cheeses and sweetmeats, even little roast birds, and crayfish boiled to an angry red. There were so many, piled so high, that I feared they would collapse in an avalanche upon some unsuspecting guest who dared pluck a sugarplum from below. And in the centre of it all an immense and awesome wonderland of a salad with every kind of salad greens, vegetables, roots, and sugared flowers that human imagination could possibly think of tossed and mixed into a great gilded basin shaped like a scallop sh.e.l.l, presided over by a large marzipan sculpture rising out of its midst, depicting a trio of mermaids made in the brides' likenesses, with carrots and turnips and all the vegetables that could be carved like fishes, sharks, whales, dolphins, and turtles swimming upon the leafy sea of salad greens. I could just imagine Father boasting that one way or another he was determined to have a mermaid for his daughters, and that though he had lost one he had gained three more and these even better as they were made of marzipan.

And of course there was the cake. At one point Father even swung a squealing, happy Kate up onto the table to stand beside it in her golden gown to show that, true to his word, it towered above her. Kate was so happy! She picked up her skirts to show her pretty ankles and dainty, twinkling golden slippers and pranced joyously around the cake as though it were her dancing partner, until she stopped, laughingly crying out that she was dizzy, and several gentlemen pressed close to catch her as, with a joyous whoop, she leapt into their outstretched arms. And, as though she were a little girl, they threw her high into the air and caught her several times before setting her on her feet again and relinquis.h.i.+ng her to the timidly smiling boy who was now her husband. Kate plucked a sunny yellow dandelion from the salad and smilingly tucked it behind his ear and gave his cheek a hearty, smacking kiss before she grasped his hand and laughingly led him off to dance, while Father, groaning and salivating in an ecstasy of gluttonous delight, dug both his hands into the cake, tearing out two great handfuls, and brought them to his mouth. The expression upon his face as he chewed conveyed such bliss I was certain he was imagining that he had died and gone to heaven.

Seeing her with him, I gave a great sigh of relief, feeling the fear fall from my heart and sink away into nothing; what had been big as a boulder was now the tiniest, most minuscule piece of gravel. She didn't seem disappointed at all; she must have been looking at him through the eyes of love. I pressed my hand to my lips, and though she could not see me, blew a kiss to my lovely, loving Kate, wis.h.i.+ng her all the happiness in the world.

I glanced over at Jane and Guildford, sitting at the banquet table, and wished I could see love lighting up their faces. There seemed to be an invisible wall about them setting them apart from the other guests; though they were surrounded by smiling, happy revellers, these two alone took no pleasure in the day, looking as though they wished they were any place than at this grand party meant to celebrate their nuptials.

Fastidiously nibbling on a slice of sugared lemon and occasionally sipping from a gilded goblet, Guildford Dudley looked bored and beautiful. But Jane just looked sad and very pale, her eyes, indeed her entire expression, dull and dead. From time to time Guildford would reach out and touch her hand, as though to a.s.sure himself that she was still alive. Each time Jane would flash him an annoyed grimace and pull her hand away.

”Jane, you promised!” I wanted to shout down at her.

Watching them sitting there together, so strikingly and discordantly apart from all the gaiety, I sighed and shook my head as my fingers fiddled with the cameo pinned to my plum damask bodice. It was a wedding favour, given to all the most prominent and influential guests. Specially carved by an Italian craftsman, it depicted Guildford Dudley's handsome profile, and was wreathed by golden gillyflowers creating a cunning little frame that could be worn as either a pendant or a brooch. I was so surprised that I had been given one, I thought myself of so little consequence, but Guildford himself had presented it to me when I arrived at Durham House. Still in his gold brocade dressing gown and slippers with his golden hair bound up tight in curling rags, he had waved aside the servants who rushed to help him and knelt down before me and pinned it to my bodice with his own lily-white hands, explaining that I more than anyone deserved to have some beauty in my life. The words were pompous and condescending, but I could tell by his smile and the look in his pale green eyes, and the very fact that he made the gesture when there were so many much more important people he could have given it to, that this was a genuine act of kindness. Guildford was really not as bad as Jane made him seem. As I spent more time with him, I began to think that there was more to Guildford Dudley than most people realized, that his flamboyant ostentation was part of a role he was playing, and the joke was truly on those who never bothered to look beneath the surface.

I watched with great interest as Father approached this dour couple. Smiling broadly, with a flourish, he presented each of them with a golden bowl heaped high with salad. I saw Guildford smile, his hand reaching out to touch Father's as he set the bowl before him. Jane sullenly shoved her salad away, and Father smilingly drew the shunned bowl to himself as he sat down between them. He waggled his golden fork at Jane, his scolding marred by the great smile that graced his face, before he stuffed his mouth full of salad and gave his full attention to her bridegroom, chewing and nodding a.s.siduously at whatever Guildford was saying as a dandelion waggled up and down his chin, its stem caught in his beard. Jane folded her arms across her chest and glared hard at them, and harder still when Father, in a distinctly, and disturbingly, coquettish manner, leaned forward to feed Guildford some salad from his own fork, but neither of them appeared to feel the scorch of her censorious stare; they seemed lost in their own little world. Jane would later, most disparagingly, repeat some of their conversation to me.

His eyes on Guildford all the while, Father sipped from a golden goblet of ”the splendid Rhenish” he had chosen and, laying a hand over Guildford's, asked how he found the wine.

Guildford smiled brightly and said, ”Oh I just look to my right, and there it is every time! The servants keep filling my cup, so I keep drinking it. It must be very good wine; after all, why would anyone give me anything but the best?”

Beaming, Father leaned forward and looked past Guildford to address Jane. ”Smile and be merry, Jane, you're the luckiest girl in the world! See what a clever, witty husband I have chosen for you?”

Jane just glowered. ”I thought my lady-mother chose him for me.”

”Well ...” The smile on Father's face faltered, but only for a moment, and then he brightened. ”But as her husband all her property is mine, and that includes her ideas, so, when you think about it that way, I did choose him.”

To which Jane just rolled her eyes and snorted and wished she could disappear.

I was still watching them, marvelling at Father's perplexing behaviour, the way he kept feeding and reaching out to touch and caress Guildford so familiarly; such affection for a son-in-law seemed unwarranted and disturbing, indeed for even a naturally born son, or even a daughter, it would have been peculiar, there was a sensuality about it that made it appear so ... intimate. I was thus preoccupied when Kate came bounding up the stairs, her gold and cream skirts. .h.i.tched high so she wouldn't tear or trip over them. A footman followed her, carrying a big golden platter heaped high with a thoughtfully chosen selection of roasted meats, cheese, and sweets just for me. Kate, in the midst of the glorious whirl of her own wedding, had not forgotten me and had actually taken time to prepare a plate with all my favourites.

”Mary, I am so happy!” she cried, throwing her arms about me and hugging me tight. ”May you be just as happy on your own wedding day! I wouldn't worry too much about Lord Wilton,” she added, seeing my woeful, doubtful expression. ”You've years to wait before you come of age, and someone better, whom our parents deem just as advantageous a match, may come along. Now that I am a married lady and shall be going to court, you may rest a.s.sured, I shall look out for someone better for you. I want my little sister to be happy! I shall pray every day that love will find you, Mary, so you can know this marvellous and immeasurable joy! You deserve it! And G.o.d and Life cannot be so cruel as to deny you this bliss because of a caprice of Mother Nature!”

The musicians could not take their eyes off my Kate. She was as radiant as the sun, so jubilant and vivacious, she made everyone smile. Kate laughed and thanked them heartily for their good wishes and the wonderful music, and when she spied one of them, the youngest, a tabor player, hungrily ogling my plate, she inquired if they had yet eaten. Ashamed at his lapse in manners and too shy to answer, the boy reddened and hung his head, so the sackbut player spoke for him, explaining that it was customary for them to take their share of the leavings after the banquet was finished and the guests had left the hall.

”But all the best will be gone by then!” Kate protested. ”No, you simply must have something now, I insist!” Before any could stop her, she was flying down the stairs again, skirts. .h.i.tched high with her long train bouncing behind her, and the footman rus.h.i.+ng after, only to return a few minutes later with four more footmen, all of them bearing flagons of wine and high-piled, golden platters, to provide us with a little feast all our own.

”I wish I could stay and dance and enjoy it with you,” she said regretfully, tarrying at the top of the stairs with a sad little smile, like one torn between two worlds, ”but I must go back; they're waiting for me ...”

”I know,” I said, and squeezed her hand. ”It's all right, Kate. We understand. Go and be happy.”

”Mary ...” She hesitated again. ”I wish you would come downstairs. I don't like to think of you apart and lonely like this. Please come down ...”

”I am not lonely. I am with my sisters on their wedding day; every time you think of me, I will be right there with you. And when you dance, through you, I am dancing. And this really is better,” I a.s.sured her with a wave at the gallery. ”I can see everything from up here; down there I would be lost in a swirl of skirts and see nothing but legs and b.u.t.tocks. I would be bruised black and blue before the day is through from being jostled and b.u.mped and trod on. Go on now”-I shooed her away-”your guests, and your husband, are waiting for you!”

With another hug and a kiss she was gone. I watched the sparkling train of her golden skirt skipping down the stairs after her, like a puppy's happily wagging tail.

The musicians took it in turns to play while others of their number ate. To my delight, several danced with me, and so gallant and kind were they that I felt sure they truly enjoyed it. I kicked my heels high with gay abandon and whooped with joy when they swung me high. All of them praised Kate, and I saw that my sister had captured a dozen more hearts that day. The young tabor player in particular would never forget her, or her kindness, and many years later when I chanced to meet him at a court celebration, I would discover, though he was much too shy to ever publicly declare it, that he had written the popular song ”Mistress Suns.h.i.+ne” as a tribute to her, the beautiful young bride in her golden gown who had come like a dancing sunbeam up the stairs to the gallery bearing treats for the troupe of musicians who played for her on her wedding day.

Then, like a sudden rainstorm come to ruin a perfect day, everything seemed to go wrong. I rushed to the rail to look down as sudden screams and the noise of retching filled the air. Down below me in the Great Hall people were running and staggering every which way in a blind panic, falling to their knees, grasping their bellies, and being violently sick. There was the thunderous rumble of footsteps upon the stairs as they ran for whatever private rooms and privies they could find, or fled the Great Hall to relieve themselves in the pleasure gardens behind the house, and yet more rushed out into the streets or to the river and stumbled into their waiting barges, presumably to make their way home or to the nearest apothecary, though it seemed more than likely to me that the swaying current of the river would make them sicker before they reached their destination.

I saw Father, looking none too well himself, wading through the panicked crowd, carrying a green-tinged Guildford Dudley, who had apparently fainted, and lay back limp as a rag doll in Father's arms as he carried him tenderly upstairs. Guildford's mother, clucking like a frantic mother hen over her favorite golden chick, followed anxiously behind, then darted ahead to open the door to Guildford's bedchamber, herself green-faced and sweating profusely in her rust red satin gown, wringing her hands and crying for someone to fetch a doctor quickly.

High above in the musicians' gallery, we were safe and at no risk of being jostled, trampled, and crushed by the herd of frightened, confused, and puking humanity.

”The fish?” the flutist guessed, lowering his instrument.

”Something was off.” The sackbut player shrugged, and all as one turned and looked warily at the table where the remains of our own little feast lay.

”It was the salad!” I piped up. ”Everyone who is sick, I saw partake of the salad! Someone must have plucked some bad leaves, mistaking them for good and wholesome salad greens.”