The next day I felt thick and unresponsive, as if a poisonous evil sludge ran through my veins. The thought of being Blanche Nottingham for one more second sent waves of nausea sweeping through me. And food didn’t help. Midmorning I sat at a long, dark table with the other women and glared at them as they ate. The woman across from me pawed through her food with her hands, and then belched so forcefully I felt the gust. Apparently, forks and table manners had not yet reached England. Next to her, another woman was enthusiastically picking apart a goose leg, grease staining her sleeve all the way up to her elbow. Forks and table manners and napkins. I nibbled delicately at a piece of blackberry tart. Without a fork, I ended up with berry-stained fingers and bits of seeds on my generous bust. I longed for the days when food that missed my mouth could drop directly into my lap.
Feeling slightly woozy from two glasses of wine, I knew I couldn’t sit through hours in the presence chamber with courtiers, nor in the private chambers no matter what the Queen wanted. Pissing her off wasn’t a good idea, since Queen Elizabeth had a temper that flamed hotter than a solar flare. Last week when one of her ladies revealed she’d married without Elizabeth’s permission, the Queen confiscated the woman’s gowns and jewels, then had the guards deposit the poor woman in the middle of King Street. Another day, a servant’s clumsiness so enraged Elizabeth that she’d flung the entire soup tureen at him.
So instead of waiting on the Queen that morning, I slipped out during the after-meal confusion and wandered the palace, as if the answer to my problem might be lodged in one of the dozens of rooms, perhaps on a huge whiteboard that said, “Jamie, here’s your pathway home.” Or, “Jamie, it will be all right.” I would even accept a faint note written in the dust coating an unused table: “Jamie, don’t despair.” I found nothing, of course.
Vincent now trotted happily at my side. I didn’t know if he’d been so fierce because Blanche had struck Rosemary, or because he’d just been responding to Blanche and couldn’t instantaneously detect our switch.
From an empty room, I moved closer to the window to catch the refreshing breeze and watch two gardeners working down below. I’d been so close, so damned close. Four weeks of 1560, and less than thirty minutes of 2017.
I’d been here nearly four weeks. I did the math. Blanche’s body would be getting a period soon. How on earth did women in this time deal with that? Could I ask Harriet without alarming her? Blanche was in her mid-twenties, so she would be expected to know what to do. When I left that room and stopped in the main corridor to examine a painting, Elizabeth’s voice, raw with fury, blasted from another room. “Blanche Nottingham, show yourself. We demand you come to us at once.” The voice echoed down a nearby hall, which meant Elizabeth would soon round the corner.
I froze. Should I flee or stay? I forced myself to move and slipped into the nearest open door, then stopped. Harriet dusted the massive desk dominating the room. Her head jerked up in alarm.
“Nicole?”
“Hark, Blanche Nottingham, where are you? God’s blood, you will stand and face us.”
I waved a hand toward the approaching voice. “Harriet, she’s really steamed at me.”
Her pale skin whitened even more. “You are Lady Blanche?”
“I’m sorry I lied. But please help me hide. I need to give the Queen time to cool off.”
Giving me a look that said helping me was the last thing she’d planned to do today, she motioned me closer. “Here, under the desk.”
She helped me crawl under the desk, not an easy task when you’re wearing miles of skirt. I pulled Vincent up against my chest, and he sighed happily. Then when Elizabeth’s bellow was nearly upon us, Harriet bunched up her skirt and joined us.
We said nothing to each other. Harriet smelled of soap and lemons. My nostrils drank in the scents with a thirst that surprised me. Vincent, however, stank of meat and sweat so I resolved that my next trip to the pond would include a dog bath.
“Blanche! We are vexed to the limit with you. Are you in here?”
While skirts bustled against furniture, Elizabeth’s shoes clicked on the polished wooden floor and her entourage whispered assurances to the Queen that Blanche would indeed be found.
A number of skirts swept past the desk under which we hid. Vincent’s eyes were huge, but he remained silent. The absurdity hit me and began bubbling up my chest, threatening to explode like the cork from a shaken bottle of Brut champagne. I caught Harriet’s eye, and she covered her mouth so no laughter would escape.
One Sunday when I was ten, and once again forced to attend church with my family, the stomach of a woman in the pew ahead of us growled like an angry cat. My brothers and I began to giggle behind our hands but didn’t dare look at each other or all would be lost. To this day Mom still told the story of how the pew literally shook with the power of her three children’s repressed laughter.
That same uncontrolled hysteria now infected me as my shoulders began to shake. Tears leaked out, even though the consequences of being discovered while Elizabeth was in high anger could be devastating.
Luckily, Harriet reached over and sharply pinched the back of my hand. I winced and glared at her, but the pain derailed my mirth so effectively that I could relax.
A minute later, we were once again alone in the room.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Harriet just glared at me. “You’re a horrible person. Why did you lie to me?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not Nicole, you’re Lady Blanche Nottingham. And I swam and talked with you as if we were equals. Not only could I lose my job for such familiarity, but I feel like an idiot.”
I reached for Harriet’s hand and when she tried to tug herself free, held on. “I’m sorry for lying to you, but who cares if I’m Lady Blanche? We’re just two women who need to wash our hair more often than others. I really had a good time the other night, and I want to do it again. It won’t be as frightening walking through the park if we’re together.” I squeezed her hand. “I really need a friend.”
Harriet’s white skin stood out in the shadows under the desk. She pursed her lips, such a cute look I wanted to reach over and caress her cheek, but she was still too angry for that. Even though we were crammed together under the desk, she held herself apart. “Apology accepted, but you understand that you and I cannot be friends.”
I smiled as wickedly as I could. “Just try and stop me.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “I should leave now.”
I stayed her with a touch. “I’m not ready yet. In fact, hiding here with you like a couple of naughty children has been the most normal I’ve felt in too many weeks.”
Harriet nodded, eyes dark in the shadows beneath the desk. “But the others told me that you have been with the Queen since she took the throne, that you are her favorite.”
My throat tightened. How I wished I could confess everything to Harriet and not have her think me insane. “Yes, well, I am telling the truth when I say that my life is as foreign to me as if I’d found myself living on the moon.”
Harriet’s appreciative laughter fed my relief at finding a palace resident who didn’t hate Blanche or fear her or expect her to conspire against the Queen. “No more lies,” she said. Then she rolled onto her knees and crawled out from under the desk.
Grunting with the effort and hampered by my blasted stomacher, I did the same, wondering if not mentioning that I was from the future constituted a lie. By the time I stood, smoothed down my skirts, and adjusted my breasts so they weren’t in danger of popping out like two rosy Jack-in-the-boxes, Harriet was gone.
Vincent and I stayed out of Elizabeth’s way for a few more hours, then we decided it was time to face the music. I inhaled for courage, then strolled into her chamber, where the room was aglow with a fire and the women were gathered around sewing. Elizabeth was eating a slice of some sort of fruit.
Everyone looked up, faces alarmed at my arrival. Elizabeth raised her eyes from her book. “Ah, here is our Spark, come to entertain us. Sit beside us and play. We are tired of councilors and courtiers and battles over our matrimonial state. Why will these bloody fools not leave us alone?” She tossed Vincent a treat from the small table beside her. Whatever had gotten her royal knickers in a bunch earlier had obviously been forgotten.
I perched on the nearest stool and picked up the stringed instrument with a shaking hand. The only music I knew how to play was an old Beatles song on the piano. Blanche Nottingham needed to take over again because the more time I spent with people less easily fooled, like Elizabeth, the greater the risk that I would lose my position.
But when I placed one hand on the neck and the other against the strings, intending only to strum tunelessly, my fingers took over and played something soft and light. I couldn’t take my eyes off my hands. I was playing the lute! Clearly, Blanche’s body remembered.
I cleared my throat as I played. “Someone mentioned that you sought me earlier.”
“Yes, and when we could not find you, it put us in a terrible temper.”
“You weren’t angry with me over something else?”
“No. Do not repeat this, but we do recognize that sometimes our royal person can get too easily piqued when events do not go precisely as we wish them to. We could not find you so we grew angry.”
“I’m sorry to be the source of such emotions,” I said. “But if I’d heard you I certainly would have responded. It’s not as if I were hiding from you under a desk or something.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Ho, that is an image to make us smile, that someone dare hide from her sovereign under a desk.”
It felt good to make Elizabeth laugh. When she finally stopped chortling, she laid a hand on my shoulder. “Ah, our beloved Spark, we cannot recall the reason we sought you, but we are sure it was to lighten our heart.” She sat back in her chair. “Kat tells us you sent comfort to one of the Tower prisoners. That was unusually thoughtful of you.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I have another friend I would help as well. Harriet Blankenship works in the laundry, but her skills are wasted there. She can read and has an excellent speaking voice. With your majesty’s leave, I thought she might join us of a night and read to you when you grow weary.”
The queen narrowed her eyes, then nodded. “We would enjoy that. But, Blanche, all your caring for these people marks you a changed woman from the Blanche we knew but a month ago. Perhaps it is time for you to direct such love toward a husband. You are well past the age.”
I blinked, and Elizabeth laughed. “Fear not, dear Spark. We have no plans to marry you off just yet, but I think it is time to begin considering a husband for you.”
The ladies murmured in agreement. I cleared my throat. “Ma’am, while I appreciate your concern, I do not think I am yet ready to marry. I would prefer to continue serving you.”
“You can do that as a married woman.” The queen motioned me forward, then clasped my chin and pulled me so close our noses touched. Her breath smelled of venison and ale. “Dearest Blanche, when the time comes that we want you to marry, you shall do so as a devoted citizen of this realm. Do you understand us?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She released me and I retreated to my stool. Crap. I was getting pulled deeper and deeper into Blanche’s life.