Waiting for the Queen Read Online Free

mist. The year shall pass swiftly, dear daughter. Remember, too, that work done with love is joy .
    Mother’s voice fades, but I feel warmer now, less shaky. I hold my face to the soothing rain.
    Mr. Talon is calling to the girls and older women who have been hired to help. I hurry toward them.
    Rushing back to our cabin, I pass Rachel, Mary, and Emmeline. Instead of getting to their tasks for the French, they are playing at curtsying before one another. “Hannah! Your Majesty!” Emmeline cries. “What shall be your bidding? I shall do it forsooth!” Grasping her gown with both hands, she bobs down, then up again, her face merry.
    â€œNow you, Hannah!” they cry. “’Tis but a game.”
    I shake my head and keep going.
    â€œYour Majesty,” Mary calls. “What matter a bow if thou dost not believe in it?” They laugh. Not worried a whit.
    Oh, I wish Father had picked Grace instead of me. She is but a year younger, at twelve, and so wanted to come. But Mother decided upon me because I’m older and can do more work. Grace will help Mother with the chores and with six-year-old Suzanne and watch Richard, our baby.
    Thinking of Richard, his bonny cheeks and pointed nose and agreeable smile at whatever you say to him, makes tears come again. I have not seen him since July past and will not ’til July next. A year! And he shall be so different by then. He may not even remember me.
    How hard it is to do what is bid thee.
    I stir the venison stew and take several loaves from the warming oven. Then John and Father both enter.
    â€œDost thou wish thy tea?” I ask. “Or supper?”
    â€œHannah, daughter,” Father says. “John tells me that one of the ladies was rude.”
    I take my chair at the table, and Father and John, theirs. “I tried to welcome her in French. It seems I did wrongly.”
    â€œNay,” Father says. “’Twas not wrong. Let us not be troubled by their bad manners. In time, perhaps, they shall learn better.”
    Words push forth, needing to be spoken. They are so different from us. Could I not just take care of our house and animals and make our meals? Could not another be found to do for them?
    But I draw a long breath and remain silent so as not to offend Father.
    â€œHannah, remember how France came to our aid duringthe war with England? Had she not, we might still be under English rule. But apart from that, ’tis our Christian duty to help these nobles, now. They’ve lost near everything.”
    Tears pinch through. I feel as if I’ve lost near everything, too.
    â€œDaughter, daughter, come now.” He places one hand, still cold from outside, over mine. “With our earnings this year we shall finally be able to buy our farmland. Fine valley land. No more rent that continually rises. We might even earn enough for a team of oxen. ’Tis all to the good, child, aye?”
    â€œAye, Father.” Blinking, I keep the tears back.
    â€œAnd Hannah,” John says, “thou needn’t have one reason in the world to be afeared of anyone who walks thus .” He lurches on his toes from one end of our cabin to the other, Father saying, “Now, John,” but smiling.
    I smile, too, as I pour cups of elderberry tea for us. “Where are they to dwell, Father?”
    â€œâ€™Tis a problem. Talon fully sees his error—now.”
    â€œAre they still out there, in this drizzle?”
    â€œThey are, and need shelter but don’t want to double up. So for some, it will have to be pine boughs and animal hides for now. John and I must leave in a trice.”
    â€œDost thou wish they supper first?”
    â€œNay, not when others are doing without.”
    Father’s words remind me how the nobles were bowing and curtsying to one another in the cold mist. One gentleman’s clothing looked wet through and through and yet there he was, bowing to everyone. Most folks would