Ambition's Queen: A Novel of Tudor England Read Online Free Page A

say? Nobody has seen Jane Seymour? Well, how interesting. She has performed a vanishing trick. She must be cleverer than I thought.”

    The ladies all lowered their heads and became very interested in their feet. Anne regarded them with frustration as well as a hint of suspicion. Her ebony gaze settled upon Lady Rochford. “You must know where the Seymour wench is, Jane,” the queen said sharply. “After all, she is a great friend of yours, is she not? I see the two of you whispering together like a couple of dairymaids when you think no one is looking. So, where is she?”

    Jane Rochford assumed an innocent air and quietly shook her head. “I know not, Your Majesty” she replied, folding her hands in her skirts. “I have not seen Mistress Seymour since last evening. Perhaps she is at prayer, or helping the poor in some way? Your Majesty knows what a kind nature she has.”

    The queen snorted in disbelief and waved her hand dismissively at Lady Rochford. “I see that I am going to have to solve this riddle myself.” Her eyes scanned the room with cat-like intensity. Bridget tried to fade into the background and do nothing to attract attention. She busied herself unpicking Joanna’s sewing, a result of the young maid’s constant daydreaming about Sir Francis Weston. She was so focused on this task that she did not notice that the Queen of England was standing right in front of her.

    “Bridget,” the queen said, almost causing Bridget to jump out of her skin. Bridget looked up at her mistress, the shirt she had been working on falling to the floor. A touch clumsily, she leapt to her feet and tried to pick up the shirt and curtsy at the same time. Everyone, even Lady Rochford, looked at her sympathetically.

    “Never mind that,” Anne said curtly, “you are coming with me.” She reached out, grabbed Bridget’s arm, and together they swept from the chamber. Leading the way, the queen strode through the twisting corridors of Greenwich Palace, Henry VIII’s birthplace and perhaps the most beautiful of his many residences. Anne was clearly a woman on a mission, and Bridget had difficulty keeping up until her mistress stopped abruptly and Bridget nearly barrelled into her.

    “I do not trust the Seymour girl,” Anne said, half to herself. “She was once in Catherine’s service and she remains loyal to that woman’s daughter, the Lady Mary. People like her, like her family,they have no love for me or mine. And now, somehow, by some miracle, she has caught the eye of the king! How she has done this, I have no idea. She has no beauty, no wit, and no personality. None of the things Henry loves, or I thought he loved, and yet I have seen . . .” she trailed off and seemed to struggle to collect her thoughts.

    Visibly gathering herself, Anne said, “I have decided to trust you, Bridget, even though you are new to my service and to this court. Abbess Joan, whom I greatly esteem, spoke highly of you, and I have been impressed with you in the short time you have been here. You are sober, hardworking, God-fearing, and you do not indulge in all the tittle-tattle that the other ladies do.” Bridget smiled wryly, and Anne laughed. “Well,” she amended, “perhaps not so much as the others do.” She turned serious again. “You seem honest, and I need such people about me, especially in these difficult times. Even better than that, you are my cousin. A Boleyn. And there is none so worthy as a Boleyn.” As if to confirm this, the queen fondly touched the golden “B” pendant she wore around her neck.

    Bridget was both surprised and honoured at the great compliments her mistress had bestowed on her. But the reference to her Boleyn connection made her uncomfortable. “I thank your Majesty for your great praise, and I will try to deserve it. God knows you have done so much for me by raising me to your household and putting your trust in me, but surely your Majesty realises that our family connection is so slight