Chapter Nine #2
“It is not just that,” Elizabeth goes on to say. “What happened was, the fasting made my insides hurt so wretchedly that even now, whenever I see food, I hide a bit of it in my garters. Especially cheese. Most of the court thinks I emit a retching smell, but I don’t. It is just the hidden cheese.”
I’m silent for a moment. “Do you think you could maybe pick something else to store in your garters? Maybe fruit or a slice of bread?”
She stares unsmilingly back at me. “I much prefer cheese.”
“As do we all.”
The women are all looking at me, and I give my head a shake. “You know what? Upon further investigation, I think it’s best that we switch over to individual sessions.”
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this exercise, it’s that this traumatized Tudor court is in desperate need of a psychologist. And guess what? They just got one.
“What do you mean by ‘sessions’?” Elizabeth Norworth asks.
“What I mean is . . . embroidery sessions. I would like to embroider with each of you, one at a time.”
“May I ask why, Your Majesty?”
I shrug and tuck my hands behind my back. “No reason in particular.”
Client name: Agnes Fitzhugh
Occupation: Maid of honor
Presenting concerns: Agnes reported difficulty maintaining trusting social relationships after King Henry executed five of her family members on five separate occasions.
When Agnes relayed her anxious thoughts to her father, he assured her that he is a close personal confidant of the king and that Henry would never abandon his friends.
Interventions used: Guided visualization was employed. Will follow up with Agnes’s father about his avoidant coping behaviors and the dangers of continued denial.
Client name: Sarah Empson
Occupation: Lady-in-waiting
Presenting concerns: Sarah expressed anger and resentment toward fellow lady-in-waiting Anne Calthorpe.
Sarah stated that Anne relayed details of their private conversation to a member of the king’s privy council, in the hopes of getting Sarah banished from court.
Violent inclinations were noted, with Sarah stating she would like to part Anne’s hair with a broadsword.
Interventions used: Cognitive Behavioral Techniques were introduced. Emotional labeling was practiced: “I felt disappointed and betrayed”; “I don’t really want to cut Anne’s head open with a broadsword.”
Client name: William Finch
Occupation: Musician
Presenting concerns: William communicated feelings of near-crippling anxiety after reoccurring dreams where he plays out of tune at the king’s wedding ceremony.
William conveyed that while being taught how to play the organ as a young child, he was struck with a thin tree branch by his music instructor each time he made a mistake, which was quite often.
Interventions used: Employed 4-7-8 breathing technique to manage anxiety. Introduced the concept of journaling to help decrease rumination.
*Sidenote: Speaking to William outside of a professional capacity once our session was complete, I gave a grisly description of my plans to hammerfist-punch his music instructor in the back of the head at the earliest possible opportunity.
My sessions last for hours, and I’ve embroidered a solid quarter of a bedsheet by midday. I’m stretching my fingers out when I look up to see an elegant woman standing in front of the vacant chair across from me.
“May I embroider with you next, Your Majesty?” She seems to be in her early thirties, with pale blue eyes and a composed countenance.
“Of course,” I tell her, gesturing her to sit.
She makes herself comfortable and begins to stitch the handkerchief she’s working on. “I’m Lady Barrow,” she says. “I’m one of your ladies-in-waiting and a close acquaintance of your cousin Lady Rochford.”
That’s why she seems familiar. When Lady Rochford is talking to someone, it’s usually her. “I’m sorry. I’m still in the process of learning names.”
“Think nothing of it,” she says. “I’m sure you have plenty of more important things to worry about as you adjust to life as queen.
” She pulls a graceful stitch, her mouth curving as she looks up at me.
“I’m also a relation of one of your maids of honor, Bessie.
It’s wonderful to see my young cousin so at ease at court. ”
I glance over now to see Bessie sound asleep on the floor with Theo on her chest. “I’d be lost without her,” I tell Lady Barrow, and we share a quiet chuckle.
“Bessie and I share a common interest in herbs,” she says. “We often confer with each other over healing properties and such.”
Something in her tone makes me freeze for a beat, but then I continue to embroider. “That’s nice,” I reply.
“I wonder if you would be able to assist me in a tea I’m hoping to create.”
I slowly pick my embroidery back up, but I don’t begin a new stitch. “How could I assist?” I ask.
“At present, I’m unable to acquire wild carrot seed. But as queen, I’m sure that you would be able to.”
I hold my needle in my hand, though I still haven’t used it since she sat with me. “And what do you need the carrot seed for?”
“Would you prefer an appropriate answer or the truth?”
“The truth,” I tell her.
She nods and leans in the smallest degree closer.
“I was married very young, you see. And my husband was quite eager to beget an heir. Praise be to God, we were granted my son. A healthy, strong baby boy. But while he thrived, I did not. The birthing was incredibly difficult for me, and the doctors believed that having any more children would be impossible.”
“I’m so sorry.” No sooner do I get the words out than she immediately brushes me off.
“What are you sorry for? It’s all just a part of life.” I see her sweeping her trauma aside and under the rug like unsavory dust, because that seems to be the only thing done in this century.
“Miraculously, we went on to have four more children, and each birthing has been more painful than the last. My husband hopes for more children still, but . . .” She pauses. “But I feel quite certain that if I’m to go through another, I will not survive it.”
I take in a quiet breath at her words, still not positive where this is going.
“Wild carrot seed would protect me, as it would protect other ladies in your court who bear a plight similar to mine. Will you help us?”
I see the fear behind her serene eyes. She wants something preventative. Something to protect her from becoming with child.
“Of course I will,” I tell her. “You have my word.”
Lady Barrow takes a shaky breath and straightens the handkerchief in her lap.
“I am most thankful,” she replies. She goes to stand, but I catch her wrist, stopping her before she can leave.
“Can I ask you something?” She pauses and sits back down. “Why are you trusting me with this? How do you know I won’t tell other people what you asked me to do?”
She looks at me before quietly responding.
“Lady Rochford believes you trustworthy, and my cousin Bessie is a bit unusual but a good judge of character.” I watch as her defenses momentarily crumble, a small smile once again pulling at her cheeks.
“But more than that, if something is going to befall me, I want it to be done by my choice, rather than my inaction.”
I don’t ask her anything else. She takes her embroidery and calmly walks away. I’ll have to ask Lady Rochford about the carrot seed and how I can go about getting it. If it does the job that Lady Barrow thinks it does, maybe I’ll try some of her tea, too. Just in case.
I’m replaying our surprisingly frank conversation in my mind when there’s a knock at the door. One of the guards on the outside opens it, and Simon walks inside.
I hate how I innately respond to seeing him. My heart rate jumps. My chest grows tight. I’ve been attracted to people before, but this feeling, this strange high that he sparks . . . I don’t know what to do with it.
He looks around at the room filled with women, straightening his back as his eyes focus on me.
“Forgive my intrusion,” he murmurs, “but I have a message from His Majesty. He wishes to see the queen immediately.”
Lady Rochford springs into action and gets up from her chair before I can even move. “I will come with you,” she says.
She’s already set her embroidery down when I put up an arm to stop her. “It’s fine. I’ll be right back.”
She looks at me in a curious way before sitting back down. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
I give her a reassuring smile before walking to the door. Simon turns when I approach, and we leave the room side by side.
Our commute to the king’s room is a quiet one. At least, it is for us. We pass plenty of people, and everyone bows or curtsies as I walk past. It’s unsettling. It isn’t until we’re well out of the queen’s rooms that Simon eventually speaks.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
My gaze snaps in his direction. His eyes are studying me, like he’s making sure that I’m whole. My pace eases. His expression is protective and impossibly gentle. It makes my throat tighten. I have to swallow before I can say, “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
Simon tempers his pace to match mine. He doesn’t speak again for a few seconds until he says, “The king was in high spirits today. Married life must suit him.”
“Maybe it suits him too well,” I mutter. “And that’s why he keeps getting married.”
Simon gives his head a small, disbelieving shake. “You speak of him with no fear. Do you have that much faith in him?”
His voice isn’t at all scared, yet he seems to think mine should be. I face ahead as I answer. “I don’t think Henry wants to hurt me. Not right now, in any case.”
Simon stops walking then. He keeps looking at me, and I wish he wouldn’t. His looking at me leads to my looking at him, and when I do that for too long, my mind wanders where it shouldn’t.
I’m grateful when he starts walking again, and I move beside him when he lowers his voice.
“This is a dangerous road we’re traveling down, Your Majesty.” His tone is thick. It feels hard to talk when I clear my throat and throw him a playful look.