LITMIR.BIZ

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despicably straight! Mirabella must be behind all of this; Cecily has been spending an inordinate amount of time with her of late. And now she didn’t even sleep in the nursery any more! Nurse Matilda told him she was a lady now and ladies must keep their own chambers. What did she know? He had heard Cecily fart before—she was a champion, for love of God! Who could hear that and call her a lady?

      “I just don’t understand it, Father,” he told Father Alec when the two were riding alone one February day. Cecily was indoors doing some stupid thing that no doubt “ladies” occupied themselves with, so Brey took this opportunity to pour out his troubles to the caring tutor. “And it is not just that she won’t play most of our old games; she’s moody, too. She snaps at me and gets quite huffy like Mirabella. She never used to be like that!”

      Father Alec laughed. “Cecily is at a crossroads, Brey; you must be patient with her.” He turned toward Brey as they slowed their mounts. They were riding in the snow-covered fields today, which glistened against the noonday sun, bright and blinding. The air was crisp but pleasant enough to enjoy.

      “What kind of crossroads?” he persisted, annoyed. If he were at a similar sort of crossroads he’d be scolded no doubt.

      Father Alec shifted in the saddle a moment, then cleared his throat. He shifted again. “Well … er … I’m surprised your father hasn’t made you aware of this, Brey, but there comes a time in a girl’s life when—”

      “Oh, no!” Brey smacked his forehead with a chapped hand. “You don’t mean she’s—that she’s … oh, repulsive!”

      “So you have heard about it.” Father Alec chuckled. “If it is repulsive to you imagine how it must be for them.”

      “I don’t want to,” Brey said with a grimace. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. I suppose I could not really imagine something like that happening to Cecily.” He turned to Father Alec, his face perfectly straight. “When do you suppose she’s going to have the baby?”

      Father Alec sat stunned.

      This was going to be a long ride.

      “He did it!” cried Lord Hal as he rushed in from a day of visiting friends, no doubt his pockets much lighter than before. “The king has wed Anne Boleyn in secret!”

      Father Alec and the children had been dining in the solar when he burst in, flushed from wine and excitement.

      “What’s more, she’s with child!” Lord Hal cried. “They think it happened when she went to France with him to meet King Francois.”

      “Then it is over?” asked Cecily. “All the trials to undo his marriage to Queen Catherine, everything? Lady Anne is queen now?”

      “She will never be queen.” Mirabella glowered.

      “She will be and you best respect it,” warned Lord Hal.

      Cecily smiled. “My parents knew the Boleyns. They would be pleased at her ascension,” she said, her tone reminiscent as an image of her parents swirled before her mind’s eye. She could not quite latch on to it. Their forms evaded her, their faces no more than smudged paintings on miniatures. She smiled away the thought as she anticipated the reign of the young, witty Anne Boleyn.

      “Support who the king supports is what I always say,” said Lord Hal.

      Mirabella shook her head as she quit the room.

      Cecily surveyed the faces in the room, one a bright-eyed, golden-haired boy, the other a handsome courtier, the other a humble tutor, all of them so dear to her. As she looked at them she thought of another, the forgotten one, lying alone in her chambers.

      And went to her.

      “Lady Grace, I thought you would like to know the news,” she told her, ignoring the stench of the room as she sat at Lady Grace’s bedside. As discreetly as possible she averted her eyes so she did not have to look at the withered, yellow figure that lay under the covers.

      “News?” asked the raspy voice.

      “The king has married the Lady Pembroke—Anne Boleyn—in secret!” she cried, forcing cheer into her voice. “Isn’t it exciting?”

      “I should be scandalised,” said Lady Grace with a weak smile.

      “Mirabella is scandalised enough for everyone,” Cecily told her with a slight giggle. “But Lord Hal doesn’t seem to mind. Neither does Father Alec.”

      “Father Alec has taken all of this quite in stride, hasn’t he?” Lady Grace inquired. “The break with Rome. Now this. It is interesting.”

      “Interesting, how, my lady?” asked Cecily, who could not see anything unusual in it. Father Alec’s nature always seemed so affable and accepting of whatever fate doled out that it did not seem peculiar to her.

      “A man of the Church accepting the will of a mortal king … and such a peculiar will it is.” Lady Grace smiled. “He is a reformer.”

      Cecily’s heart pounded. She knew the Church of England only differed from the Church of Rome in one way. It deferred to the king rather than the Pope. The Pope was referred to as the Bishop of Rome. Otherwise England was a Catholic kingdom; masses commenced as they had before the split. Anything else was considered heresy. Henry VIII, once called Defender of the Faith by the Pope, was a son of the Catholic Church. That matters of doctrine should cause this separation was said to have devastated him. Cecily began to shudder. England was not a safe place for reformers. The Church, under the king’s direction, was reformed enough. Those who opposed it fled or were executed.

      “But, Lady Grace, it could be dangerous—”

      Lady Grace nodded. “Which is why I won’t say a word. Who do I talk to besides? And why would I betray him whom I hold so dear?” She reached for her decanter, taking a gulp. Her chin was slick with liquid. Cecily retrieved her handkerchief and wiped it away, ashamed to be doing so, not for her own sake but for Lady Grace, that she had been reduced to this, that Lord Hal let her, and that there was nothing anyone could or would do about it.

      “Maybe all these changes in the kingdom are a sign for all of us,” Cecily ventured with a nervous laugh. “Maybe … maybe we all need to change a bit. I know I have. Getting used to all these new undergarments—this corset!” She placed a slender hand to her belly and tried to laugh. “I swooned three times the first day I wore it!”

      Lady Grace’s eyes closed.

      At once Cecily was seized by an overpowering bravado she did not express save in the presence of Brey. She could not fight the words that came forth next. “Lady Grace, you must come out of your apartments now.” Her girlish voice was taut with urgency. She did not understand what emboldened her. Perhaps she was inspired by Anne Boleyn, a woman who got just what she wanted no matter if the world had to be set on its back for her to get it. Maybe it was being in the presence of the steely Mirabella. She did not know. All she knew was that if she did not intervene somehow, Lady Grace would die. She could not let her die.

      Lady Grace’s eyes fluttered open. A lazy smile. “What on earth are you going on about, girl?”

      Cecily took her hand. “You’ve punished yourself enough for your sins. You must come out now. You still do not have to leave your home, but at least come out of here. See Mirabella, what a beauty she has become. I know she does not visit you often—perhaps she is afraid.” Cecily drew in a breath, saddened that she must say it aloud. “It is frightening seeing you. Brey cries afterwards. Every single time.”

      Lady Grace averted her eyes.

      “Lord Hal is lost without you,” Cecily went on, hoping she was reaching her somewhere. “He probably does not know what to say or how to say it, but it shows in everything he does, in everything he does not say. It is not for me to know how it is between you and if you cannot come out for him alone I understand. Thus you must come out for us. I need you, too, Lady Grace. I am so overwhelmed with all of these changes. Soon I imagine we will want to begin

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