The Devil's Slave. Tracy Borman
mistress’s ear. Elizabeth nodded.
‘Forgive me, Lady Frances,’ she said in an imperious tone as she stood to leave. ‘Blanche has just reminded me that I have been invited to sup with Baron Windsor this evening.’
‘It is very late, Elizabeth,’ her mother said, with a frown.
Frances caught annoyance on the princess’s face. ‘I am no longer a girl, Mama,’ she replied scornfully. ‘Lady Frances’s attendance must have reminded you of the days when I was obliged to go to bed after the evening’s entertainments. If you had not spent so much time at Greenwich, you would have known that I retire much later now.’
Shocked that Elizabeth should address her mother so, Frances shot an anxious look in the queen’s direction. But Anne was smiling benignly at her daughter. ‘Of course, my jewel. I have neglected you for too long. You must forgive me.’ She held out her hand.
After a pause, Elizabeth bent to kiss her mother’s ring, though Frances noticed that her lips did not touch it. With a nod in Frances’s direction, the princess swept past her, the fair-haired young woman following in her wake, eyes downcast and a small smile on her lips.
There was an awkward silence. Frances looked at the queen, fearing to see the hurt and humiliation that Elizabeth’s words must have wrought in her. But Anne’s smile had not faded – if anything, it had grown brighter still. She turned to dismiss the ladies who attended her. They seemed relieved to go, Frances thought. As soon as they were out of sight, the queen beckoned her closer.
‘As you have seen, Lady Frances, I did not exaggerate when I told you that my daughter has grown haughtier since you last attended her. You must wonder why I did not upbraid her, as she deserved.’
Frances was unsure how to respond.
‘Do not think that I have become an indulgent mother,’ she continued. ‘I know Elizabeth’s faults well enough. But if I seek to correct them at every turn, she will grow ever more wilful and defy me even over trifles. I must appear unconcerned and let her think she has her way, as she chooses the path that I would have her take. It is you who must steer her towards it.’
Frances nodded, understanding and admiration dawning in equal measure. ‘Of course, Your Grace. I will take care to let the princess believe she rules me, so that she might prove readier to do our bidding.’
Anne smiled and rose slowly to her feet. Frances rushed to assist, but she brushed her hand lightly away. ‘You will begin your service in my daughter’s household next week. I have arranged for your son to join Charles in his lessons. Though my youngest boy is superior in years, he is hardly so in learning. George will soon catch him up.’
Frances swept a deep curtsy. ‘Thank you, Your Grace. That is a great honour – to me and my son. I have no doubt that he will delight in the prince’s company. He has spent precious little time with other children, and has stopped asking when he might have a brother or sister.’
The queen inclined her head. ‘Then it is settled. God go with you – and your endeavours, Lady Frances,’ she said, then moved slowly from the hall, which was now almost deserted.
Frances tried to concentrate on the intricate pattern that her stitches were slowly bringing to life, but her fingers did not seem to belong to her today and the thread kept snagging on the stiff linen. Her son had been fretful when she had left him that morning, clinging to her skirts as he used to on the rare occasions that she had been obliged to leave him for a few hours when they had lived at Tyringham Hall.
Although George had gone eagerly to the prince’s household on the first day, filled with excitement at the prospect of meeting the king’s son, he had been unusually sullen that evening. Frances had eventually coaxed the reason from him. Charles had not been a kind companion, it seemed, but had seized the opportunity to flaunt the superiority of his years and status over the latest boy to share his lessons. The other young men of his household had been quick to join in the teasing, glad that that their royal master had a new focus for his jests. Their tutor had shown little interest when Frances had questioned him: his sole concern was to ensure that he remained in the good graces of the prince and his father. She would speak to the queen when she next had the opportunity, she resolved, as she jabbed her finger for the third time in as many minutes.
‘Perhaps you would like me to help you, Lady Frances.’ The silken voice broke the silence of the princess’s antechamber. ‘Our mistress praised your skill with the needle, but it seems she was excessively kind, as she is in so many things.’
‘Thank you, Lady Blanche, I can manage.’ Frances did not look up from the fabric as she spoke. ‘My eyes are a little tired today.’ With a sigh, she set the embroidery on her lap and gazed down into the herb garden below. Even on a beautifully clear day such as this, it appeared as dull and neglected as when she had crept unseen to visit it a little over two weeks before. If anything, it looked worse, the bright sunlight illuminating the withered plants and weeds that were enclosed by the overgrown hedges.
‘You show a particular fascination for the Witch’s Garden,’ Blanche observed slyly. ‘I wonder that nobody has pulled up all those dying plants by now and laid out a new lawn in their place. Perhaps the gardeners are afraid they will unleash some dreadful curse if they touch it.’
Frances stared at her companion. ‘The Witch’s Garden?’
Blanche bent her head to her needlework again. ‘Why, yes. Has it not always been called so, Lady Frances?’ she asked guilelessly. ‘Certainly that is how the princess referred to it upon my first entering her service two years ago. I had thought it an old name, but perhaps it dates to more recent times.’
She raised her grey eyes to meet Frances’s, her face a mask of innocence. Frances fought back the urge to slap it. Though she had been in Blanche’s company for only three days, she already harboured an intense dislike for her simpering flattery of the princess, and her barbed asides to anyone she judged to be a rival – Frances in particular. She forced her attention back to her own embroidery.
‘I knew it only as a simple herb garden,’ she replied, as nonchalantly as she could. ‘But, then, many things have changed since I was last here. I must learn to keep pace with them. Life passes more slowly in Buckinghamshire.’
Blanche gave a snort of derision. ‘I wonder it passes at all! You must be so relieved that your husband finally chose to bring you to court.’
‘Sir Thomas is a kind and attentive husband. He would have brought me here long before now, if he had fancied I had any inclination to leave the tranquillity of our estate.’
‘I am surprised you did not. You were all but raised at court, I hear, and your mother was a great favourite of the old queen. Yet you gave it up so abruptly, the princess said, without a thought for those you left behind.’
Frances knew that Blanche was goading her, but refused to show her rising irritation. ‘I was needed at my father’s estate, so had little choice in the matter. But I did think of the princess often – and some other cherished acquaintances to whom I bade farewell,’ she added, almost to herself.
‘Then why did you not visit, or even write?’
The princess’s voice made both women turn in surprise. Frances wondered how long Elizabeth had been standing in the doorway that led into her bedchamber. She and Blanche bobbed a hurried curtsy.
‘Well?’ The princess raised an eyebrow.
Her mistress’s eyes were glinting with anger, her lips pressed tightly together. Frances saw she had underestimated the hurt that her sudden departure had caused. ‘Forgive me, Your Highness,’ she