THE DARK LADY – A ROMANTIC TALE OF ANNE BOLEYN, by Nadine Sutton
Anne bent over the figure in the narrow bed, in the small room off her own larger bedchamber.
“Isabel, Isabel. Wake up. But you must keep silent. ”
The younger woman opened her eyes to find her cousin standing by her bed,
dressed still in her bed-gown.
“What is it -Nan?” she asked sleepily.
“You must help me to put on my gown. Madge is asleep and I would not wake her.”
Isabel shook her head to wake herself. Madge Shelton was on duty as Anne’s lady, that night and would be sleeping on a pallet in her friend’s room. She climbed out of the bed and fumbled for her own gown. Her own tire-woman, who helped her dress, was probably asleep in an alcove just outside the door. From the light in the room, it was early in the morning.
“Nan, what is it? Why are you awake so early?”
“Help me to dress. Here.”
Anne Boleyn picked up a formal tawny coloured gown of rich satin, and a petticoat of white lawn, which lay atop a wooden press. Holding them in her arms, she looked keenly at her friend over the crushed materials.She spoke abruptly. She was always imperious in her bearing.
"Help me take off this bed-gown and put this on. Fetch me a smock.”
“Anne, why cannot Madge help you to dress? Or Bess?”
“Because I require discretion, you foolish wench. You have always been the most sensible of my cousins.”
Isabel tried to think of something to say.
“Enough prattling, Isabel. I must be ready to meet the king as soon as maybe. Help me to put on my kirtle and gown, and stockings and slippers. Then, you can call Bess to help you. “
Isabel hurried to the press where Anne’s undergarments were kept and took out a smock, and stockings.
She began to help her cousin to put on her clothes. Since her cousin had become the King’s constant companion, several years earlier, she lived in almost royal state, with her own apartments. She had ladies to keep her company and wait on her. Of course there were servants to do the more
menial tasks. Some of her ladies felt that she was overly haughty, in her
manner towards them, but she was the King’s companion and likely to be his
wife, so it was an honour to serve her. Many were cousins of hers; others had
once been in service to queen Katherine.
Isabel Bladon was one of the Duke of Norfolk’s many relatives. She had known Anne, since they were children. She was a few years younger than the Boleyn girl. When Anne was finally gowned, she adjusted her French hood headdress, with its edging of small pearls.
“So now, cousin, you may go to call Bess. I shall wait in my closet, until you are dressed. But none of them must know where we are going. Hurry, Isabel... we will be meeting the king.”
Isabel started, but she knew that it was wisest to do Anne’s bidding. She awakened the old tire-woman. Bess was far from young, but she was an experienced dresser. She didn’t care why Isabel was awake and requiring
her clothes. She helped her mistress to dress, swiftly and when she had returned to her trundle bed, they slipped out, and quietly moved along the passage to the staircase at Whitehall.
No comments:
Post a Comment