My Heart Rests With You 1

It had been too long since I had seen someone from home. I could hardly remember the green of home, the gray stones and smooth floors. My brother and father I had not seen in years. This could be an entirely new adventure, something I could not even imagine.

The entry continued but I could no longer bear to read it. My fingers snapped the leather bound book shut. My old diary, from nearly five years ago. It was hard to believe the foolish young girl that I had once been. Court was fun, once you got used to the large crowd and booming dinner table, for almost a week. Then everything else started to set in, and wear you down.

The queen was not as nice as the one I had known, and the king was known to enter chambers late at night that did not belong to her. I was glad of the fact that I had yet to attract much attention. Of course, at the age of eighteen I was not the most sought after of the ladies, I would keep it that way.

The men of the court are a various breed of animals. Some simply drink in silence, some drink in laughter, some have hands too intrusive and yet others prefer to cause mischief. None of them seem proper husband material. This is also a good thing, my father will most likely arrange a marriage for me. Hopefully my future husband will be tolerable. Perhaps I would never have to marry. The thought in itself was intriguing. I let a sigh out of my lips, I would have to marry. Even if the man was a disgusting old toad.

My sister faced that simmering pan before I did, she returned to England today, to its court. Already I missed her. In a sudden motion I flicked my diary into the flames of the hearth, not quite regretting it. That part of me was dead, the years over and gone. I had no use for the carefully penned words on the thick cream pages. Footsteps approached the door and I stood to help my lady undress and get into bed. Only then could I myself sleep.

My eyes opened in the darkness and I lay still, trying to decipher what had awakened me. It was quiet, only murmurs of noise could be heard. There was no light seeping into my sight, nothing obvious to disturb my sleep. Had I dreamed? Perhaps that was it, whatever had awoken me had already slithered into the dark.

I closed my eyes and forced my muscles to relax, concentrating on the other girls' breathing to lull myself back to sleep. In the morning the memory was just that and wholly useless to me. I dressed without effort, and made my way down the halls to the room I knew so well. All was habbit, long ago learned and required no thought.
"Your highness," I murmured, curtsying and lowering my head as soon as I entered the door.
"Lady Anne, come forward and help me." The command was sharp, and I was quick to obey, there was no other choice. I began fastening all of the tiny hooks on the back, glad that the undergarments were all already in place. I did not enjoy seeing so much sagging flesh, not right after sleep, or any other point in the day.

The queen did not speak, only stood rigidly. I could picture the frown pinching her face into a thousand folds. Finally the last hook was done and I curtsied again, waiting for her to exit the room. "Well, go!" she yelled, pointing to the door, "before I have you whipped!"
"Of course, my lady." I did not rise to utter this, or to leave the room, remaining in my hunched position as I backed out. The queen forbade anyone turning their backs on her, save, of course, the king.

The queen was always second to the king, even if the throne was rightfully hers. It seemed silly to me, who would care more for the country, it's daughter, or some foreign husband? It was not my decision to make however.

Though my father had always had a head for politics I did not care to follow. It was not a woman's place. From the queen's quarters I went directly to the kitchen, to see what my tasks for the day were.
"Lady Anne, you're to the market today," Marie informed me. "We need new material for the queen's gown for the banquet in six months time. You need to make sure the order is completed. Take this money and come straight back. Do you understand me?" I nodded quickly, tired of everyone making sure that I knew what they were saying. I may be from England, but my French was nearly flawless.

I gathered the pouch of money, which was incredibly heavy and my spring cloak, moving for the door with my hat in hand. "The dressmaker knows how much money he is to recieve, do not even let the idea cross your mind!" I nearly groaned aloud, she had followed me to say that? To accuse me of being a thief! How terrific. I bit my lips, silencing my voice and ventured into the dirty streets of the city.