The Heir and the Spared

Chapter Seven

When she walked from the servants' quarters to the queen's apartments, she saw very few people on the way, not even fellow servants. There was a steward, of course; and the cook, and she had some underlings; there was also, of course, the cleaning staff. All of them had been kind and courteous enough, to be sure - but none of them were Bess, and none of them were Philip.

Though she'd heard that Queen Mary had been attended by many ladies-in-waiting just after her arrival in England, given that the queen had had no friends in England herself, all of the ladies had been chosen by James. Sarah supposed it was no wonder that none of the women had accompanied the queen to Whitehall.

In truth, there was little to do at Whitehall at all. She dressed Her Majesty in the morning and helped her prepare for bed in the evening. Without the king present or very many guests, there was little reason for the queen to change multiple times in a day. Sarah's time, no longer occupied with so much laundry, was spent most often thinking of Bess and Philip, and praying for them.

She hardly even saw Her Majesty, for the queen was often praying herself in the little chapel at Whitehall. Like many rooms in the Whitehall palace, it had been built specially for her.

When Sarah visited the chapel and marveled at its exquisite architecture, she could not help but wonder. As little as she knew of architecture, it was plain to see that the building had been made with the utmost care and refinement of taste. It had been the king's love-present to the queen. And now, she had fled there to escape him, unable to bear the sight of him with another woman at court.

It made Sarah all the more grateful for her marriage, even in its present condition of secrecy and unwanted separation - for she knew it could be far worse.

--

After nearly a week of residence at Whitehall, the queen permitted Sarah a day of rest on the Sabbath. After Sarah had completed her early-morning duties of dressing the queen, Her Majesty dismissed her until her responsibilities that evening.

The freedom made Sarah giddy. If she hurried, she could make it to a Protestant Sunday service as a free woman. Afterward, she was at liberty to see Bess and Philip.

"Just see that this gets to my dress-maker," the queen had said, handing her a slip of parchment. "It will give you an excuse to see your friends at St. James'."

In the morning, Sarah had gone to an Anglican service at Westminster. It was not the first time she had been in the abbey, but the beauty of it almost moved her to tears. Over the last few days, she had missed Philip and Bess even more intensely than she had expected to, and God had been a great comfort to her. Though she had not been especially fervent in her religion before, she now clung to her faith in her isolation. Throughout the day, she prayed as she worked. She asked God to protect Philip and Bess, and to encourage her in her work, and to give her strength for what might come. She had prayed, also, for the chance to be reunited with Philip and Bess, and she had prayed for the queen to be reunited with the king.

At least one of those prayers had been answered, for after the service, she hurried straightaway to St. James' Palace. She nearly forgot her errand, but thankfully did not, and successfully delivered the parchment to the queen's dressmaker just before lunch.

Although she attired for church, no one took much notice of her as she slipped into the servants' dining hall; it was already crowded with people busily eating. Sunday would afford them some time of leisure - when the lords and ladies remembered the Sabbath, it would allow servants at least a few hours off. As she passed, Sarah heard maids chattering about the sunny skies and the flowers in bloom in the gardens.

Though others might not easily notice Bess, with her lank brown hair and modest demeanor, Sarah spotted her almost immediately on the crowded bench. Philip, too, was easily visible, tall and bright-eyed as he was. Though she met his gaze, and was flattered by the pleasure she saw there, she hurried to greet Bess first. She did not dare to be so openly affectionate with Philip.

"Sarah!" Bess exclaimed in surprise, accepting Sarah's embrace. She wrapped her arms around Sarah in response and gave her an affectionate squeeze. Sarah laughed.

"I've missed you," Sarah said, squeezing onto the bench unceremoniously, and uncaring of the glares she received. "How are you?"

"All is well," Bess replied, "though I've certainly missed you."

Bess looked at her for a long moment, and Sarah searched her gaze.

"And you're alright?" Bess asked.

"Oh, yes. I only miss seeing you. Whitehall is so very strange and quiet." As she said it, Sarah looked around, unable to help but smile, as the others around the table conversed between bites of food. The air was filled with laughter - just as the valets and lady's maids had time off before a ball, they relished the few hours to themselves on the Sabbath. "It is certainly different from here!"

"Is the building very fine?"

"It's very grand," Sarah allowed. It took a good deal of thought not to get lost within the maze of buildings; she had primarily stayed within the queen's apartments. "But believe me, I would much rather be here with you."

She reached for Bess' hand and pressed it.

"I hope I'll come back soon," she admitted. "Only don't feel sorry for me, mind." It wouldn't be proper, of course, to suggest who Bess should feel sorry for - it would be wrong to speak of the king's indiscretions and to bring shame upon the queen that way. And of course, it was hardly a servant's place to feel sympathy for her queen. Bess, of course, would know what she meant; she almost always seemed to understand.

"Your place is very fortunate, yes, but I think we would all be happier if you were here." Bess gave Sarah a small smile, then glanced pointedly over to where Philip was sitting. It was quite evident to whom Bess had been referring by all. "Well, go on then - he's waiting."

Though Sarah hesitated for a moment - after all, it was rare in these days that she got to see her dear friend - she finally relented.

"Do not think for an instant," she whispered, "that he has supplanted your place in my heart. You are to me a sister." She pressed a quick kiss to Bess' cheek before rising.

She glided past Philip with nary a glance at him. A few minutes later, though, as she walked down the quiet corridors, she heard soft whistling from behind her. In vain, she tried to bite back her smile. As soon as they were in an empty part of the palace, she felt strong arms encircle her from behind, then spin her.

Thankfully, before she could give an uncharacteristically girlish squeal of surprise or delight, Philip's lips were pressed to hers. Thus their secret, and her dignity, were preserved. He was kissing her fervently, and she was distantly aware that he was fumbling with a door handle behind them. He pulled her into a laundry room - clever boy! They would not be disturbed here on a Sabbath - before she could even draw back to draw breath.

"Philip," she laughed breathlessly, hardly having the heart to scold him seriously. "It's scarcely been a week since I've seen you."

"Believe me, love, I'm quite aware of the time it's been since we parted," Philip murmured, seeking her lips again.

"Talk to me," she giggled, pushing him away in protest. "Tell me - what news this week?"

"What does it matter?" Philip insisted, as if he had not noticed the events of the last few days. "I care only for you."

Though Sarah sighed as if in disappointment at his feigned obliviousness, she was flattered by his attentions, and permitted him a few more kisses. There would be no talking with him just yet.

"I've missed you," she said finally.

He met her gaze, and his eyes softened; he was still. Tenderly, he touched her face.

"Someday, there will be no more partings between us," he promised.

In answer, Sarah reached up to kiss him again. They would have a very long way to go until then. But someday, someday, they would see that all of this had not been in vain.