Legacy

Chapter Two

I gently shake Jacquetta awake, smoothing my hands over my silver dress one more time. I sneak a look at myself in her beautiful hammered looking glass, tucking a stray curl back under the taffeta of my headdress.

Jacquetta sits up sleepily, "Marianne?"

"Ma'am," I curtsy, "We have to prepare you for your wedding."

"I told you to call me Jacquetta," She instructs, swinging her legs out of bed. She slips her feet into a pair of silk slippers, which match her nightgown perfectly, "Have the servants prepare my bath, Marianne."

I nod, slipping back through the hidden door and running down the servants' stairs.

"Lady Jacquetta requests a bath," I announce, not knowing what to do.

Madam DuPont hurries over to me, "Tell her that the footmen will bring up the bath shortly. Her dress is in her antechamber."

"Yes, ma'am," I say, running back to the stairs.

"Marianne," Madam DuPont calls after me, "A lady never runs."

I nod, taking the steps slowly, picking the skirt of my dress up. I slip back into Jacquetta's bedchamber and she is stood staring into the mirror.

"Are you alright, my lady?" I ask shyly, seeing the goosebumps along her arms.

"I'm scared, Marianne," she whispers, turning to look at me. A single tear slips down her cheek.

I bite my lip, unsure of what to do. And then I do what Bess would have done. I hug her, rubbing gently at her bare shoulders, "It won't hurt, Jacquetta. You're going to be the richest woman in France and England, maybe all of Christendom!"

Jacquetta laughs hollowly, "But that didn't make Anne happy, did it? That didn't save her from death. And he's so old, older than my father."

Her troubled eyes lock with mine, but I break it almost instantly as a large wooden bathtub is lugged in, already lined with linen sheets. A string of maids follow behind it, each clutching a large jug of hot water. They place the bath in front of the fire, emptying the jugs into it, and leaving, until only one maid remains.

"My lady, your bath is ready," she says quietly, holding out a hand to Jacquetta. Jacquetta takes it and climbs into the bathtub, brushing away the tear almost imperceptibly. The maid washed Jacquetta silently as I slip out into the antechamber.

I look at Jacquetta's wedding dress quietly. A day ago, I was jolting along on a cart - with no money, just a basket of peaches. Now, I'm maid in waiting to the future Duchess of Bedford, preparing her for her wedding - surrounded by priceless fabric.

"How is she?" A male voice interrupts my thoughts. I turn slowly, staring blankly at the man. He laughs, "Forgive me. I forgot you only arrived yesterday. I am the Duke of Bedford."

I curtsy, "I am sorry, my lord."

"No, it's my mistake. How is my bride?"

I remember the tear sliding down Jacquetta's cheek, "She is as joyous as a woman can be, Your Grace, for she is marrying the most powerful man in Christendom."

"And that is where you are mistaken," My heart stops, worrying that he has realised my lie. The Duke continues, "My nephew is the most powerful man in Christendom. I am simply the elderly uncle, holding France for him," He laughs, "now I really must prepare for my wedding. Good day, my lady."

He kisses my hand and leaves. I turn slowly, absentmindedly wiping the back of my hand on my dress. I carry Jacquetta's dress through to her bedchamber and spread it across the bed covers.

"You took your time?" Jacquetta laughs, wrapping a sheet around herself.

"Sorry," I pause, considering whether I should tell her about the Duke, but reconsider, not wanting to panic her more, "It's a beautiful dress, my lady."

"Please, call me Jacquetta, Marianne," She says firmly as the maid slips out, "Now, how do we put this dress on?"

I laugh, helping her into the dress. After I manage to pull it over her shoulders, I pause, "My apologies, Jacquetta, I don't know how to do these laces."

"I thought you were meant to be my maid in waiting?" Jacquetta asks, turning to look at me, holding the dress on her shoulders. I bite my lip and her eyes spark with recognition, "You aren't nobly born. But... you hold yourself like a noble lady?"

"I never knew my parents," I say softly, "But, I was raised by the kindest woman possible on a farm in Normandy. She taught me how to make cheese and ride, as well as how to sew. She told me to hold myself like the noble ladies who lived near us, because the wheel of fortune turns, and farm girls can be catapulted to Queens. And that's how I feel now..."

Jacquetta stands in silence, before marching to her wardrobe and pulling out a dress, "Come here."

In the corner of the room, I notice a figure, designed for holding gowns on. She throws the dress over the head of it and looks at me expectantly. I walk over to join her.

Jacquetta picks up the laces and begins to slot them through the holes, twisting them deftly. Then she turns to me, "Your turn."

I copy her movements, and it reminds me of sewing, with the twists and elegance. Moments later, the back of Jacquetta's wedding dress is closed. She touches the back lightly, "at least it won't come undone during the ceremony."
She laughs.

I braid back her hair and place the ornate headdress on her hair.

"All done, Jacquetta," I say, and she spins slowly, letting the skirts swirl around her.

Then, she stops, "Marianne, will you walk down the aisle with me?" I start to protest but she interrupts me, "It's one of the greatest honours - and it will be easier for you to get a noble husband, if you're honoured above all others by the greatest Duchess in England, right?"

She laughs and I laugh along with her, "I will then, but I'm not doing it to find my own husband. I'm doing it for you - as a friend."

"Thank you!" Jacquetta hugs me briefly, and the scent of roses envelopes me, "Will you fetch my jewellery box?"

I curtsy, opening one of her drawers, pulling out the silver box and handing it to her. She opens it and pulls out a long string of sapphires, "Lift up your hair."

I scoop up my hair and she places the necklace around my neck, clasping it gently and arranging my hair around my shoulders.

"Jacquetta, I couldn't."

"You can," she pushes my hands away from my neck, "It matches your eyes and it suits you. Far more than me."

She walks me across to the mirror and I gently touch the sapphires on my neck. Jacquetta was right - they do match my eyes.

"Thank you."