Chapter Seven
A week after the incident with the king, Elizabeth laid in bed with a terrible migraine, or rather, pretended to have one. She had managed to convince both Mary and Jane for the entire week that the migraine was bothering her and that she couldn't get out of bed. The king had even sent his personal physician to make sure that Elizabeth was okay.
In truth, she couldn't – or didn't want to – face anyone from court, especially the king and queen. She knew that the news of her supper with the king had likely spread around court, and she didn't want to have to see the queen's disappointed expression whenever she looked at her. And then there was the king. Elizabeth didn't want to see the lust that filled his eyes whenever he looked at her. She didn't want to have to kiss him again.
She sighed and burrowed her head deeper under the covers on her bed, then brought her fingers up to her temples and rubbed them gently. She didn't have a migraine, but all the thoughts in her head were driving her crazy, but she could do nothing to stop them. What bothered her even more was the fact that she had taken a week away from court to try and get her thoughts together, and yet, she was more confused than she had been before.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts for a second. Her maid, Jane, was out attending to something that Mary needed help with, so Elizabeth was left to do things herself.
“Come in,” She called out with annoyance, knowing that it would likely be Jane Westfeld or another one of the queen's ladies who were constantly came to check on her.
The door creaked open and heavy footsteps entered the room, then stopped.
“Lady Elizabeth?” A deep voice called out. It was the Duke of Reddon.
Elizabeth immediately froze, trying to think of what to do next. She popped out of the covers, thankful that the bed curtains surrounding her bed kept her hidden.
“One moment!” She called out.
The duke looked at the bed where he had heard the voice come from, then immediately began to head towards the door.
“I can come back later!” He called out, suddenly feeling sorry for interrupting the lady while she was indecent.
“No, no. Give me just a second,” Elizabeth said back, feeling embarrassed.
Henry saw a hand reach out and pull a lacy robe off of one of the bedposts, and heard her moving about as she put the article of clothing on. He looked down at his boots and cleared his throat, now feeling even more uncomfortable.
Elizabeth tied her robe tightly over her nightgown, then immediately got out of the bed on the side that faced away from the door. She put on her bed slippers, then ran a hand over her hair, immediately wishing she had bathed. It was too late now.
She rounded the corner, where she found Henry still looking down at his boots. He noticed the cream color of her nightgown, and immediately looked up at her disheveled appearance and smiled.
She curtsied, grateful that the curtsy hid the blush that had formed on her face.
“You're sure you don't want me to come back?”
Elizabeth fought the urge to say 'yes', and instead shook her head. She motioned to the chairs by the fireplace, and Henry immediately walked to them and sat down.
“Ale?” She asked.
He shook his head, so she sat down across from him. She tucked her hands into the long sleeves of her robe, and fought the urge to play with the lone thread that had come loose on the lace that edged the sleeves.
“I came here to see how you're feeling,” Henry started. “The king is anxious to know.”
Elizabeth met Henry's gaze, finding that he was looking at her with quite a bit of judgment that she didn't want. She looked down at the sleeves of her robe again.
“I find that I still have a migraine, although it is better than it has been.” She raised her head a little, and looked up at the duke through her eyelashes. Thankfully, he was no longer looking at her as though she was nothing but a whore.
He studied her for a few seconds, noting that she looked perfectly healthy. Her cheeks and lips were both tinted a pink color, and her eyes shined like an ill person's would not. She squirmed under his gaze, which caused him to clear his throat once more and look away.
Why was she feigning sick?
“I am glad to hear it,” He said softly. “I'm sure the king will be very pleased as well. He longs to see you.”
To add to his confusion, he noted that she grimaced at his words. She slowly looked up and smiled at Henry, hoping that it looked convincing. Instead of feeling happy, she felt as though she would vomit.
“I'm looking forward to leaving my rooms and getting back into court life,” Elizabeth lied, the false and not-so-convincing smile still on her face.
Henry frowned at her, causing the smile to drop from her face.
“Forgive me if I'm being too bold, but might I ask what you intend to to do with the king? What are you hoping to gain with this little flirtation?”
“I...” Elizabeth trailed off. She was absolutely caught by surprise.
Henry sighed and looked at her apologetically, although he did feel the slightest bit of irritation towards the woman in front of him. He knew so much about nearly everyone at court, except for the lady sitting across from him. He couldn't figure out why she was getting closer to the king, and he would try and do everything in his power to figure out just who Elizabeth Ashbury was.
“Are you simply doing what you're being told to do? Are you being forced to get closer to the king for family gain?” He asked gently. Many girls had come along during the many years that Owen had been king, in the hopes of becoming the king's mistress, but only because their families hoped to gain lands, titles, and money. There were even a select few who strove to get rid of Queen Elinor, so that they wouldn't get the lowly title of mistress, but instead become queen. Nobody had ever succeeded. It was always the same.
Elizabeth took a deep breath, hoping that it would help bring her some courage. It did nothing. She narrowed her eyes at Henry.
“No,” She replied coldly.
He looked taken aback for a few seconds, until he composed himself.
“Are you afraid to displease the king?”
Elizabeth shook her head and stood from her place, which forced Henry to do the same out of etiquette.
“I think it's time you left, Your Grace. I'm sure the king is anxious to hear your response.” She eyed the duke angrily, hoping that she appeared to look as angry as she was supposed to feel. In truth, she felt more annoyed and suspicious about the duke's intentions.
The duke bowed, then walked towards the door. Before leaving, he turned towards Elizabeth, who had been glaring at his back with her arms folded across her chest.
“Whatever your intentions are, I'll be sure to figure them out,” He said truthfully. Noticing how menacing his words sounded, he softened his expression. “I only beg of you to be careful. Many women like yourself have been involved with the king, and all of them have been discarded and forgotten about. I don't wish to see it happen to you.” He gave her a half smile, then turned towards the door once more and walked out. He had meant every word.
Elizabeth let out the breath she had been holding and covered her face with her hands. This was all becoming too much. She hadn't prepared herself for the amount of guilt, disgust, and disappointment that she was feeling. In fact, she had gone into her mission believing that she wouldn't feel any emotions at all. Oh, how wrong you were.
She poured herself a cup of wine and downed it quickly, then repeated the step a second time.
She sank down into the chair she had been sitting in earlier and stared into the fireplace, a frown on her face. What was she to do?
Another knock sounded at the door, which caused the poor woman's heart to begin beating quickly in her chest. Would it be the king?
“Come in,” She called out, disappointed to find that her voice actually sounded fearful.
The door opened, and Mary swept into the room, wearing a fine dress of dark purple. She looked absolutely beautiful. The woman's dark eyes took in Elizabeth's appearance, and she immediately scowled.
“You look terrible,” She said truthfully.
Elizabeth glared at Mary, then turned back to the fireplace.
“What do you want?” She asked rudely. She toyed with the empty goblet in her hands, suddenly wishing it was full again.
“Well, if you want to skip the pleasantries, then...” Mary trailed off and looked around the room before looking towards Elizabeth again, her expression stern. “Have you forgotten our...no, your mission?”
Elizabeth looked down at the goblet and slowly shook her head. She didn't want to look up and see Mary's disappointed expression.
“Excuse me? It seems I'm having trouble hearing today. It must be because I'm getting older.”
“No,” Elizabeth murmured. She had intended to speak loudly with confidence, but not everything always went her way.
“Have you forgotten what they did to your father?”
“No,” Elizabeth said crossly.
“It sure seems that way. What's the matter with you? What has you so frightened that you've been hiding in your room for a week? I thought that I had trained you to do better than this.”
Elizabeth's head snapped up and met Mary's triumphant gaze. Her response was the exact reaction Mary was hoping for.
“If you came here to lecture me, then you may leave,” Elizabeth said coldly. Anger boiled inside of her, and she longed to lash out at something, but knew it wouldn't be wise. She cared for Mary, but she didn't want to endure the taunting and scolding she was getting from the older woman.
“I won't leave, daughter. I came here to get you back on your feet so that you can continue your mission. This is what you want, Elizabeth.”
“I know it is,” Elizabeth cried out. “I didn't think it would be this difficult.” She felt tears brimming in her eyes once more, which caused her to blink furiously in an attempt to get rid of them. She had had enough of crying. But no matter how hard she tried, the sneaky bastards always crept up on her.
Mary took a few steps closer to the younger woman, wishing to comfort her, but she stopped and kept her hands folded in front of her. Comforting wasn't what Elizabeth needed. It was a firm hand.
“You did know that it would be this difficult. Get control over your emotions and bury them as deep as you can. We've both come too far to turn back now.” Mary turned towards the door, feeling remorse tear through her. She wanted to rush back to the girl she considered her daughter, but forced herself not to. She stopped, her hand on the doorknob.
“I'll have Jane come up and prepare a bath for you. I'll expect you to have stopped your crying so that you'll be downstairs in time for supper, looking absolutely perfect for the king. He's been in a poor mood since you've been ill.”
Anger flared through Elizabeth's body, and she immediately stood from the chair and rushed towards Mary until she was a couple of feet away from the older woman, who was now looking surprised.
“I'd like to see you go through what I did as a child, then have to be intimate with the man who killed your father and made you watch. Then, and only then, may you try and tell me how I must act. You have absolutely no idea what I'm feeling right now,” Elizabeth said angrily. She fought to keep from shouting, seeing as the door and walls were thin, and anyone would be able to hear her.
To her surprise, a smile broke out on Mary's face. The woman closed the distance between the two and hugged Elizabeth tightly, although the younger woman didn't return the embrace. She was much to angry to do so.
“I knew that the real Elizabeth was in there somewhere,” Mary murmured. She pulled away from Elizabeth, then moved her hands up to her shoulders. “You're much stronger than you know and I have so much faith in you. I know that what you're doing is difficult, but you must focus on the outcome.” She searched Elizabeth's eyes, trying to find the sadness that had been there moments before. Instead, the girl's brown eyes were narrowed, and anger resided in them.
“Of course,” Mary started. “If you still wish to throw your entire mission aside, then I shall support you. I simply wish for you to be happy.” Mary smiled at Elizabeth, although the younger woman didn't return it. “I'll leave you to decide. Jane will be here shortly.”
With that, Mary left with the smile still on her face. She knew exactly what Elizabeth would choose.
About a half hour later, Elizabeth sat in the tub, the warm water and the steam coming off of it helping to make her thoughts clearer than they had been in days. She had finished washing her hair and her body, and sat in the water and thought about everything Mary had said, while Jane rushed around the room, working quickly to get Elizabeth's outfit ready for supper.
Elizabeth knew that she didn't want to give up the mission, but she also knew that she didn't want to pursue anything more with the king, even though he was a crucial part in getting her revenge. She knew it was necessary, but yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Images of a younger king from ten years earlier flashed through her mind as he sat in his throne on the edge of the scaffold that her father would be executed on. Elizabeth closed her eyes tightly, then splashed water on her face, trying to get the images out of her head, but the memory pushed itself forward, demanding to be heard.
Elizabeth stood in the corner of the scaffold, while Sir Richard Morton had a tight grip on her shoulder, forcing her to stay put. Her right eye was swollen and purple from where he had hit her the day before, and her right arm was in a sling again, so that her arm could begin healing once more. Morton had insisted that she remove the sling that her friend Henry had created as soon as he had seen it, which caused the bone to not heal properly. A physician had convinced Morton days later to allow him to re-break the bone and set it again so that it would heal.
The masked executioner stood beside the block, the ax that would be used to kill her father in his right hand. The blade glinted in the sunlight, and the ax was barely shorter than the man who held it. He forced himself not to look at the little girl who stood behind him, knowing that he would lose his concentration and state of mind that enabled him to calmly execute a man.
An empty throne sat in the other corner across from her, where the king would sit. He hardly ever attended executions, so it was quite an honor that he was attending her father's, or so Morton had told her. A priest and the constable of the Tower stood beside the king's throne, awaiting the arrival of the prisoner. They too refused to look at the little girl, knowing that what was happening to her was a monstrous act. No child deserved to be treated as poorly as Elizabeth Ledford was.
Elizabeth felt people's eyes on her, and she heard them whispering. She couldn't tell if they were feeling pity or disgust towards her, but truthfully, she didn't care. She focused on the large, wooden block in front of her. It had a groove carved out of it where her father would place his head so that his neck would be perfectly exposed, which made it easier for the executioner to cut his head off.
A commotion at the door to the Tower caused her to look away from the block, where she saw the king approaching, while surrounded by his guards. They called out to the commoners who surrounded the path to the steps of the scaffold, and commanded them to move out of the way. The commoners buzzed with excitement, eager to get a glimpse of their king. He kept his eyes forward, while people reached out to touch his fine clothes. The guards prevented them from doing so.
The king approached the steps to the scaffold, which gave Elizabeth a good view of him. He stood taller than most men, and his hair was like gold. He wore a shiny crown that matched the color of his hair, and sparkled with expensive stones. His coat and shirt glittered with gems as well. Elizabeth couldn't help but stare in amazement.
The king mounted the steps to the scaffold, the cape attached to his shoulders dragging across the stairs as he walked. He held his head high with a look of importance on his face. His light-colored eyes met Elizabeth's one good eye, and the king scowled at her.
The hand on her shoulder tightened as Sir Richard leaned down and hissed in her ear, “Bow to the king, you insolent bitch.”
Elizabeth stumbled through a curtsy, her legs trembling from both fear and hunger. Sir Richard hadn't fed her since the day before as a way of punishment.
“You should thank me for sparing your life,” The king spat, his handsome face scrunched up in a frown. He looked down upon Elizabeth as though she wasn't worthy of anything, and she shrank away from his gaze as best as she could, despite Sir Richard holding her into place.
Sir Richard squeezed the girl's shoulder again, this time hard enough to cause her to yelp in pain.
“You will thank the king,” Sir Richard said menacingly. It was clear that if she didn't do so, he'd punish her, but he didn't say how. She found that she didn't care. She stared up at the king, her mouth closed tight. She wouldn't thank the king for anything.
Sir Richard removed his hand from her shoulder and she knew that he was going to strike her, but before he could do so, a commotion at the Tower's door caused everyone to turn. Elizabeth turned her good eye towards the commotion, only to see a man walking out of the entrance. The crowd suddenly grew louder as many of them shouted insults at the man, many of them calling him a traitor. As he got closer, Elizabeth gasped. It was her father.
His beard was longer than she had ever seen it, and his eyes were surrounded by dark circles, which showed that he hadn't slept well in a long time. His face was dirty, his hair disheveled. He stumbled through the crowd of people blocking his way, all of them attempting to touch him. He wore a large white shirt, the collar untied at the front, which exposed his chest and neck. He also looked much thinner than he had the last time Elizabeth had seen him.
She struggled against Morton's hold, hoping to get free so she could go an hug her father one last time. He placed another hand on her other shoulder, continuing to hold her firmly in place.
“Let me go!” She called out.
At the sound of his daughter's voice, Elias Ledford suddenly looked up, his dark eyes looking frantically around the area. He was sure that he had heard his daughter's voice. As soon as he was a few feet in front of the scaffold, he looked up to see a badly beaten version of his daughter standing in the corner, being held in place by Sir Richard.
“Elizabeth!”
She kept struggling against Morton as her father mounted the steps to the scaffold. Once on the elevated platform, the guards immediately pushed Elias towards the block, instead of allowing him to speak to his daughter. His eyes darted to the king who now sat in his throne with a smirk on his face. It was clear that the king wouldn't allow him to speak with his daughter even if he asked. Elias glared at the king, then turned to glare at Sir Richard, who was also smirking at the man about to be executed.
“You brought my daughter to watch me die, you bastards. Burn in hell!” He shouted, which caused the crowd to gasp.
The crowd was a mix of courtiers and commoners, and the courtiers looked at Elias Ledford with disapproval, while the commoners began to cheer. They came to see a man die graciously, but weren't expecting to have a show to watch instead.
The king and Richard's expressions immediately turned cold. Feeling Sir Richard's grip on her shoulders loosen, Elizabeth took a deep breath and used all of her strength to break free from the man. She ran towards her father and was able to wrap her uninjured arm around his legs for a brief second.
“I love you so very much,” Elizabeth cried out. Tears were now streaming down her face and she felt as though she would collapse on the spot, but she urged herself to hold onto her father and to be as strong as he was.
She felt his hand on top of her head, and he smoothed her messy hair as best as he could before the guards pulled her off of him.
“Papa!” Elizabeth screamed through her tears as the guards tore her away from her father.
“Watch her,” The king shouted angrily to his guards. He shot a glare in Richard's direction, but he was conveniently looking away.
Two guards now flanked Elizabeth back in the corner of the scaffold, and they held onto her tighter than Sir Richard had. There was no escaping again.
Elias stared at his daughter, tears now streaming from his eyes. He felt as though he had failed as a father as he looked at his daughter, who was so badly beaten. He longed to kill both the king and Sir Richard, but knew that it would be impossible. What they had done to him was forgivable, but what they had done to his daughter was something that could never be forgiven. The men would pay for what they did some way or another, although he was certain that it would be in the fiery pits of Hell, instead of on earth. Nobody would dare to harm the king or Sir Richard. It seemed that they were untouchable. The two men would continue killing innocent people long after Elias's death, and there was nothing that he could do about it. It pained him to know that he couldn't avenge what they had done to his little girl.
The guards pushed Elias forward, towards the front of the scaffold. His time had come. He stood behind the block and stared out at the crowd who had come to watch him die. Proper execution etiquette said that he was to give a speech that made the king look good and gracious, which he had originally intended to do. His mind had changed once he had seen his daughter.
He raised his hand, which silenced the crowd. He cleared his throat, looked at as many faces as he could, then with a loud, clear voice said:
“The only judgment that matters is that which comes from God; and He knows that I am innocent and that the treatment of my daughter is unjust. I die today, knowing that what has happened to my Elizabeth will be avenged someday.” He glanced behind him at his daughter, who was sobbing loudly. He smiled at her sadly, but knew that she wouldn't smile back. How dare they make his daughter watch his death?
He turned towards the crowd again.
“My only regret is that I won't live to see those responsible for so many deaths punished. I pray that you never forget what has been done to my daughter and to many other innocent souls.” He took a deep breath and looked towards his daughter again. Sir Richard still stood beside her, looking as though he could happily murder Elias with his own hands.
“Elizabeth, my love, I pray that you never forget how much I love you. I will go to see your mother now, and the two of us will continue to watch over you. I pray that I won't see you again for a long time, and that you'll live a long, happy life. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive all of those who have wronged you.” He let out a sob, then reached up and covered his mouth with his hand. He took a shaky breath and faced the crowd once more. He stared out at the disapproving faces, knowing full well that he was dragging this out for far too long.
“Fuck the king, fuck Sir Richard, and fuck everyone who has wronged my family and wronged many others. May you all burn in Hell.”
Another gasp erupted from the crowd, and Elias smiled, knowing that he his execution speech would be remembered. Perhaps some would look into the case and declare him innocent. It was unlikely.
Elizabeth watched as guards pushed her father on his knees, then forced his head onto the block.
“Oh, yes,” Elias said quickly. “I beg you all to pray for my soul.”
To her surprise, he laughed. She watched her father take a deep breath, then he extended his arms, telling the executioner that he was ready to die.
Elizabeth held her breath as the executioner took a step towards the block, then tensed as he raised the ax up in the air. The crowd was now silent as they awaited the swing of the ax. With a whistle, the ax soared through the air and came into contact with her father's neck. A dull thud resonated throughout the air, and the smell of blood reached Elizabeth's nose. The executioner kicked her father's twitching body away from the block, straightened up his ax, which was now dripping with blood, then picked up her father's head by the hair.
Elizabeth screamed, the shrill sound of it echoing throughout the area. She watched as people closest to the scaffold reached forward and put her father's blood on their faces, smiling as they did so. Blood dripped from her father's head, and a puddle was beginning to slowly crawl its way towards her, from where Elias's headless body was laying.
“Enemies of the king, beware!” The executioner called out.
Elizabeth's eyesight suddenly went blurry, and despite the guards holding her up, her knees buckled and she fell forward, her body sagging towards the wooden platform. She took in the sight of her father's body once more and all of the blood, and her scream cut off as she immediately lost consciousness.
~*~*~*~*~
Elizabeth was late to supper.
She stood outside of the open doors to the dining room and peered inside, hoping that nobody would see her. The king and queen were already seated and eating, and she could see Mary sitting a few places down from them, a chair empty next to her. It was where Elizabeth was to sit.
After Jane had gotten her dressed, Elizabeth stayed in her room and promised Jane that she'd be down in a couple of minutes; she just wanted to sit and think. In truth, she was thinking about running, but after going through the memory of her father's death again, she knew what needed to be done.
Dressed in a black gown with rubies adorning the neckline, she felt confident, especially since she believed black to be the color that suited her best. She wore a matching ruby necklace around her neck, one that Mary had given to her for her eighteenth birthday. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face and off of her shoulders, which would bring anyone's eyes to her exposed neck and the magnificent necklace that adorned it.
“Would you like me to announce you, my lady?” The steward asked beside her.
Without looking at the man, she nodded. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, then forced any fears she had, deep inside of her. They weren't welcome any longer.
“Announcing the Lady Elizabeth of Cranton,” The steward bellowed beside her.
Eyes forward, her chin held high, Elizabeth marched into the room, hoping she looked as important as she was trying to seem. The chatter from the courtiers stopped for a few seconds, causing her heart to begin beating faster. She didn't let it show and continued walking until she reached the king and queen's table.
She curtsied as low as she possibly could and kept her eyes on the hem of her skirt. She didn't dare look up until she was told to. Even then, she didn't wish to.
“Lady Elizabeth,” The king said warmly. He had been forced to wait to see the girl, and now that he was looking at her, he found that he was much more excited than he'd thought he would be. She slowly raised her head and met his gaze. He smiled at her, and was happy to see that she returned it. He didn't dare look at his wife beside him, who had been quite cold to him after she heard that he had invited Lady Elizabeth to dine with him.
“Your Majesties,” Elizabeth began after she had stood straight again. “I pray you'll forgive me for being late to supper. I had to locate the physician to ensure that it would be safe to be in your presences once more,” She lied. The king smiled wider, while the queen stared at Elizabeth, her expression unreadable.
“You are forgiven. Please,” The king motioned to Mary. “Go and sit next to your mother and enjoy supper. We shall speak after.”
The queen abruptly turned her head to stare at her husband, a frown now on her face. He ignored his wife. Elizabeth swept the two a curtsy again, then made her way to Mary's side. The woman nodded at Elizabeth, then motioned for a server to begin serving her.
“You look as though you're dressed for a funeral,” Mary said with a smile on her face.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as she waved a hand in the air, telling the server what he could and couldn't put on her plate. Once satisfied, she began eating the swan that was on her plate. She wasn't very fond of it, but the king was, so, oftentimes, it was what was for supper.
After a few moments of silence, Mary turned to Elizabeth and leaned in closer to her ear.
“You'll be happy to know that Thomas Drake was executed while you were ill. He no longer is an issue.”
Elizabeth nodded and concealed her happiness. Although it was true that she still had many others to destroy, one person was enough to show that she was making progress, which pleased her.
“And you'll be happy to know that I'll continue with our plan,” Elizabeth said with a smile. Although many of the courtiers were having their own conversations, she could still see some who would glance at her every so often. She had to be careful in case someone was listening.
Mary nodded, then pulled away from Elizabeth and took a drink of her wine. Elizabeth did the same and looked around the room, then immediately froze when she saw Sir Richard glaring at her. He sat a few seats down from the king, next to the Duke of Reddon and a few other men from the king's household. The men around him were engaged in conversation, but Sir Richard only seemed to care about Elizabeth.
Forgetting her manners, she glared at him, which caused the glare on his face to quickly turn into a smile. He slightly bowed his head in her direction, then looked away from her.
Elizabeth noted that she had to be careful around Sir Richard. Since he had tried unsuccessfully to make his daughter the permanent mistress of the king, the man would be angry at any other woman who stood in his little girl's way. Elizabeth was sure that Morton had already heard about her little event with the king, and surely, he wouldn't be happy about it. If she wasn't careful, Morton would try and get rid of her, which she couldn't afford. She either needed to get on his good side, which was unlikely, or show him that she wasn't a force to be reckoned with. She liked the second idea much, much better.
After everyone had finished eating, the tables were pushed against the wall, and the king commanded a dance to start. As always, he led his wife out first, while Elizabeth watched on. She began to back into the crowd, hoping to conceal herself amongst them, so she wouldn't be asked to dance. To her surprise, someone grasped her arm tightly, causing her to shudder. She turned to see Sir Richard frowning down at her.
“I need to speak with you,” He attempted to say kindly, although Elizabeth could see right through his facade. He yanked on her arm, causing her to stumble into someone. She apologized once she had regained her footing, then stood firmly in place.
“Anything you need to say to me, you can say here, Sir. I would like to watch the dancers.”
Sir Richard had stopped walking, then turned and glared at Elizabeth, his icy eyes still frightening to her even ten years after his abuse.
“I don't think so,” He hissed. He pulled her harder, which forced Elizabeth to follow him. The two left the dining hall and stood in the entrance hall, in a corner where the candles had burnt out. Sir Richard looked at the sad excuse for candles and made a mental note to berate the servants after his conversation with Lady Elizabeth. He released her arm, and she immediately crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man. It had no effect on him.
“What is this rude behavior about, Sir Richard?” Elizabeth demanded.
He smiled, although it didn't reach his eyes. It was a typical Sir Richard Morton smile.
“I've heard some unsettling rumors around court, my lady. I only wanted to address them and see if there is any truth in them.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, which told him to continue.
“You had supper with the king?” He questioned, although he already knew the answer.
“Yes,” She replied coldly. She shivered and looked around the entrance hall, but nobody was there to come to her rescue. She was alone with the monster.
“And what are your intentions with the king?”
Elizabeth met Sir Richard's gaze, and unblinking, replied: “My intentions are to do whatever the king wishes,” She said boldly. She certainly said the words with more confidence than she felt.
Even though it didn't seem possible, Morton's eyes narrowed even more as he looked at the idiotic girl in front of him. For some reason, she looked familiar to him, although he couldn't figure out why.
“I suggest that you stop giving in to the king's advances. It is not your place to try and rise as highly as you're attempting.” He paused and studied the girl's face, and he was annoyed to find that she wasn't looking frightened like he had expected her to. “Lady Elizabeth,” He barked out. “You aren't a stupid girl. You do realize what happens to the women that the king beds then grows tired of?”
Elizabeth looked away and nodded, then bit her tongue in an attempt to keep the words in her mouth that threatened to spill out. But the satisfied look on Morton's face annoyed her, and she wanted it gone. She looked back at Sir Morton, an innocent look on her face.
“Of course I know what happens to the king's discarded whores, Sir Richard. I have your daughter, Isabel to look at as an example. And I assure you, I don't intend to be thrown aside as quickly as your daughter. As you said, I'm not a stupid girl.” She smirked at Morton, as his mouth slowly opened in shock.
But almost as soon as that expression had shown on his face, it was covered up by a look of pure rage. He raised his hand and slapped her hard across the face, one of his rings hitting her hard on the lip. The sound resonated throughout the hall, and the force caused Elizabeth to turn her head to the side involuntarily. She raised a hand to her cheek and mouth, then looked up to see a proud look on the face of the man in front of her.
“I trust our little talk will knock some sense into you,” Sir Richard said smugly. With a pat on her shoulder, the man left, leaving Elizabeth to herself.
She removed her hand from her face, knowing that it had to be red. To her surprise, blood covered her fingers. The bastard had cut open her lip. She reached her sleeve up to her lip and gently dabbed at the wound, when an idea came to her. She quickly reached her hands up to her hair and messed it up a bit, then staggered into the dining hall, hoping that someone would see her. Sure enough, the first person she made eye contact with was the king's best friend, Henry.
At the sight of her appearance, he did a double-take, then rushed towards the woman. She pretended to stumble as he grew closer to her, then conveniently fell into his arms. A gasp erupted from the crowd, and she could see Sir Richard talking with the king. Hearing the crowd's reaction to something, the two men looked up, only to see Elizabeth in Henry's arms. Mary rushed towards Elizabeth, saw her bleeding lip and red face, and immediately turned towards the crowd.
“Who did this?” She demanded. She could tell that Elizabeth was pretending to be more hurt than she actually was, so she decided to play along. She spun around, trying to find anyone that looked guilty.
“Lady Elizabeth, we must know,” Henry murmured as he held the trembling woman tight in his arms. “Who did this to you?”
Elizabeth shook her head as Henry pulled a handkerchief from one of his pockets and dabbed at the woman's lip. She hissed in pain, pretending that it hurt much more than it did. Henry quickly apologized and touched the swollen lip more carefully.
“Let me through!” The king called out. He approached his friend and the woman he cared for, a sincere look of concern on his face. He pushed courtiers aside, then stopped once he was at Elizabeth's side. He gasped and reached out a hand to touch her, then stopped and spun towards the crowd. “Damn it, who did this to a woman as kind as Lady Elizabeth? I swear that whoever is guilty will be punished severely!”
“Elizabeth, please tell us who did this to you. Don't be afraid,” Henry said quietly as he stared at her for a bit too long. She looked away from his gaze before she blushed, then allowed herself to be swept into the king's arms. She didn't like it quite as much as she did when she was in Henry's.
He held her gently in front of him and reached a hand up to her face and caressed her cheek lightly, clearly not caring about those around them.
“Sweet, sweet, Elizabeth,” He murmured as Sir Richard approached the pair, a fake look of concern on his face.
Elizabeth's eyes darted around the area, but the queen was nowhere in sight. She was glad for that, knowing that she couldn't stand to see the queen's expression.
“Please tell us who did this,” The king commanded. Elizabeth looked up at Sir Richard, then looked away quickly, pretending to be frightened by him.
Mary approached the pair and smiled at Elizabeth, then placed her hand on her shoulder.
“Please, darling, tell us who hurt you. There is no reason to be afraid.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, then grimaced, remembering that it was still bleeding, then she looked at Sir Richard again and kept her eyes on him. The king put an arm around Elizabeth's waist, then turned to meet Morton's gaze.
“Him?” The king asked incredulously.
Elizabeth pretended to be afraid to answer.
“Now, Your Majesty, surely this girl is lying,” Sir Richard said with annoyance.
The king looked at Elizabeth, then back to his trusted adviser, unsure of what to do. Sir Richard had done many things for him over the years, while Elizabeth had just entered his life. He knew what choice he was expected to make, but knew what choice he wanted to make.
He tightened his grip on Lady Elizabeth and glared at Sir Richard.
“You cad!” He shouted angrily. “Guards, arrest this man!”
Elizabeth looked up at the king, wide-eyed. The courtiers surrounding the scene all gasped. Surely, they hadn't believed that the king would make that decision.
The guards hesitated and glanced at each other, then at the king.
“Now,” The king roared. The guards hurried into action and arrested the protesting man, and dragged him out of the palace, where they'd take him to the Tower until the king decided what to do with him.
The king looked down at the woman in his arms, who was now looking extremely pale, her eyes as wide as saucers.
“Your Majesty,” Elizabeth murmured as she crumpled into the king's arms, pretending to have fainted.
Another cry of alarm shot up from the crowd, and the king's grasp tightened around her once more. To keep herself calm, she pretending that the arms around her were Henry's instead, even though she knew it was foolish.
Whatever she felt towards the duke – she wasn't quite sure exactly what she felt – was something she couldn't pursue. She was being pursued by the king, and thus, was untouchable to any other man. Besides, if she were to explore a possibility of a courtship with the duke, it would distract her from the mission she was on. She couldn't afford distraction or any other interruptions anymore.
Elizabeth was carried up to her room, where Jane had somehow managed to dress her into her nightgown once more. Elizabeth stayed as still as she possibly could, hoping to continue her game of being unconscious.
Once tucked into her covers, Mary entered and approached the girl, a proud smile on her face.
“Well done, Elizabeth. The king is furious with Sir Richard.”
Elizabeth's eyes fluttered and her lips twitched as she tried her hardest not to smile, but Mary knew that the girl was awake.
“You don't need to say anything,” She said as she patted the girl's hand. “Just sleep now, knowing that Sir Richard is locked away.”
Mary swept out of the room and left Elizabeth by herself. Her eyes shot open and she stared up at the canopy on her bed.
Sure, Sir Richard was locked up, but how long would it take for him to convince the king to let him out? She didn't want to get too happy and get her hopes up, seeing as Richard had a special connection with the king. Getting rid of him wouldn't be as easy as she had hoped it would be.