Daughter of Time

Chpt 5

Hatfield

One thing I quickly learn about my position at Hatfield is I am little more than trophy maid. I hold no position other than the insulting title Lady in Waiting. A testament to that woman's influence; she can boast that she has the true Princess of Wales in her bastard daughter service.
Not that I do much serving. In truth, there is little for me to do. I am of too a high a rank for any of the maids in the house to issue with me with orders, and with the exception of Lady Shelton, the small number of ladies here are noblewomen and know me to be superior in rank to them also.
Only Lady Shelton dismisses my status. It is only she who issues me with orders and commands. She would make me, the Princess of Wales, an equal to the empty-headed, inferior girls, which have been appointed Elizabeth's maids.
I am not permitted to hold her, nor even be in the same room as her without either Lady Bryan or Lady Shelton present. I do believe that insufferable woman thinks I am both sinful and capable enough of smothering her with a pillow. She need not have such a fear. Leaving aside that murder goes against the Lord's fifth commandment, I have formed a bond, distant though it may be,  I find myself reluctantly becoming very attached to Elizabeth.

I wish that I could fill my days with some meaningful purpose or practicality, riding or hawking, but they are forbidden to me. I am not even permitted to walk in the gardens without supervision. Instead, I am closeted away inside the Howard infested house, awaiting instruction from Lady Shelton, who is less than cordial to me.

I have resolved to remind everyone at Hatfield, that though I may be forced to appear as an inferior to her nieces' baseborn child, my clothes damaged by repeated wear and want of fine jewels, I am still the daughter of her king.

I make a point of telling Lady Shelton within my first week at Hatfield of my physician's recommendations of taking my main meal in the morning, with only a light supper at night, and will continue to dine so for the sake of my health. At first, I think she will forbid it, but then she brushes it away as though it is no inconvenience for the household to accommodate my wishes and a drain on the finances to provide for me thus.
Her acceptance of my meal requirements emboldens me at the beginning of January to commission one of the household messengers to take a message to Secretary Cromwell, requesting he ask the King to provide me with a little money for a new gown as the ones I bought from Richmond are in a sorrowful state. As Lady Shelton walks nearby, I am quick to instruct him, in a loud voice, that he is to accept nothing in writing unless I am referred to as "Princess."

"Lady Mary, I grow tired of these constant protestations." She berates me.

"As do I with these constant insults," I retort defiantly.

Her expression remains neutral. She is choosing to play the fool. "What insults?"

"My title is denied me!" I cry out exasperated. Not caring that the messenger is still standing beside me, witnessing my distress. "I am rudely and roughly handled by those about me."

"Lady Mary," She says smoothly, which only serves to increase my frustration. "You forget yourself. Remove to your chamber until you compose yourself sufficiently to continue your duties with dignity."


Dignity! That woman dares to lecture me about dignity. Have I not held my head high in this house, whilst all around me insult me by calling me a bastard? That they call that scandalous concubine Queen of England. My mothers' title. It is too much. How am I to bear this? Most ungraciously I storm off, away from Lady Shelton. Stomping my feet loudly, so that that the soles of my shoes make an audible thud on the wooden floor. It clearly irritates Lady Shelton, for I hear her angry footsteps following close behind me.

I fling open the door to the gallery and flounce into the room. Only to hear voices calling from outside. "God save the Princess Mary," two men in rough clothing shout, doffing their caps to me.
It is enough to halt me in my tracks and evaporate my bad mood. I nod my head, grateful to them for daring to call out my true title.
I turn to my side, a breathless Lady Shelton is glaring at the two men. The deep scowl on her face suggests that she has witnessed this encounter.
"Go to your chamber at once." She growls, her stern face not moving from those brave men.