Author's Note: Mary and Sarah might have blurred the lines a bit more lately in their power dynamics - but lest you forget that she's still the queen, here's Chapter Nineteen! Thanks, as always, for continuing to read!
The February air was brutally cold, the sort of cold that seemed to seep into one's bones. Sarah found it quite useful to keep her cloak around her now, and no one looked at her strangely anymore for it, since she saw almost no one but the queen and the servant who brought her meals. It was a lonely time, however, and cold at night, alone in her bed in an empty guest-room of the queen's apartments.
She missed being with Bess, and not only for the body-heat that sharing a bed had provided. Most nights, they had been too tired to stay up any later to talk. Yet on some nights, they had indulged in giggling about something that day - at least until Catherine had scolded them to be quiet.
It was painful to be so isolated. Not for the first time, she wondered if the decision to help Queen Mary had been a mistake. There could be no going back from it now, however. And truly, it might not have been possible to refuse; Her Majesty was the queen, after all.
Her growing belly, while an additional reminder of the sad future that might lay ahead, was also a welcome source of warmth. It was also a promise of hope. To her relief, just as the queen had promised, she had started to recognize the flutters of the unborn child within her. She must have been nearly six months along by that point, according to her count.
She was half-asleep when she heard a light knock on the door. Her initial irritation - for it was not easy these days to find a comfortable position in which to sleep - abated by the time she made her way to the door. Opening it, she beheld Philip.
"Shh," he whispered, swiftly closing the door behind him. Once he had done so, he bent to kiss her softly.
Instead of speaking, she wrapped her arms around him - as tightly as she could, with her protruding middle in the way - and buried her face against his chest.
They could not speak much, since the queen was asleep just next door, and they could not be overheard. It would be dangerous to disturb her. These nocturnal visits were no longer sanctioned by the queen, as Philip had already done his job in helping Sarah conceive what might become the queen's male heir. Instead, his coming here was a risk, for there was no way to explain his presence here, or Sarah's. It was one of Sarah's few solaces, however, so she just had to trust that he was doing his best to take precautions.
"I've missed you," she dared to whisper, stretching up for another kiss.
Philip pressed his lips to hers lightly. "And I you," he replied.
He led her to the bed then, and they both slipped under the covers. Sarah's eyes closed in bliss as his arm wrapped around her. It was easiest these days for her to lie on her left side, then for him to press against her from behind, an arm draped over her side. He usually did not stay the whole night, on account of the risk of being found here in the morning. Besides, it would not be easy for him to sleep, as Sarah often had to shift in an effort to get comfortable. Yet an hour or two with Philip, dozing lightly, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric of their night-clothes... it could keep Sarah's spirits up for a week or two until he could slip away to see her once more.
Hesitantly, his fingertips brushed over her belly. She laced her fingers through his, and guided his hand to the high point of her belly. A smile touched her lips. With the rolling, fluid sort of motions to which she had lately become accustomed, their baby was moving.
"Can you feel?" she asked in a whisper. "Our baby is glad you're here."
For a time Philip said nothing, but his palm went flat against her, seeking the feeling. An exhale escaped him, perhaps of wonder or admiration. His lips found the sensitive skin of her neck and his fingers stroked her belly.
"Miraculous," he breathed.
It was bittersweet, this moment, the first time Philip felt their child move. It was a delight, and indeed, as Philip said, a miracle. Yet she knew already that he feared falling in love with a baby that they might not get to keep. Sarah felt this acutely, for she felt the child move within her many moments in the day now.
Philip's hand went still, and his breathing slowed against her skin.
"Sarah," he said softly.
Too filled with emotion to reply, she gripped his hand again and squeezed it lightly.
"Someday, we'll do this in our own bed, in our own house," she whispered after a time.
With our own child, who will certainly remain our own, she added to herself; who nothing but God Himself could take through death.
That was what she was holding onto, in all of her indecision and regret: this would not have been the wrong decision, so long as it could someday provide their freedom. There was no other possible way she and Philip could ever have been together.
They lie together quietly for some time. Sarah would have fallen asleep, but for the incessant movement in her belly.
"Feel those kicks!" Philip whispered in amazement, his hand stretching over her belly once more.
Sarah almost laughed. "Believe me, I do," she replied wryly.
After a minute of feeling the baby kick, Philip's hand slid back to her hip. He rubbed her side gently.
"He - or she - will be strong, just like Mum," Philip said quietly, and he shifted to press a kiss to her cheek.
"I hope so," Sarah admitted. She hoped that their child would be strong - strong enough to rule, perhaps - but she also hoped that what Philip said was true: that she could be strong, too. She would have to be.
--
Something was amiss.
No one would tell her what it was. Mary was certain they were keeping something from her because they did not want to distress her. Given that she had lost previous babies, no doubt they were concerned that she would lose this one, should she be seized by some paroxysm of despair or fear.
But she had not lived through a voyage from Italy to England, or nearly fifteen years of marriage to an adulterous husband, or nearly ten years as queen of an ungrateful people, by being weak.
"Tell me."
Sarah's eyes met hers in alarm; the girl had just come in from the adjoining room to dress Mary for the day.
"I know of anyone, I could trust you to tell me the truth."
"I-I don't know what you mean, Your Majesty," Sarah stammered. "I have been sequestered in this room... I have heard nothing..."
Mary sighed. Useless. The girl had a fair point.
"There is something afoot at court," Mary surmised, taking a few steps toward the window. "No one will tell me what, but I can feel it."
Neither Lady Frances nor Lady Penelope had sent any of their usual communiques. She had not had a letter from them in nearly a week.
"In two months, I am to begin my lying-in," Mary reminded her, "and then for two months after that, I will have to remain there, heedless of the world outside. You know what that's like, Sarah."
After all, the girl had been isolated in the adjoining room for nearly a month now. Sarah had asked for it, to keep her pregnancy secret, so she would not be right to complain about it. But all the same, she would understand Mary's restlessness.
"Am I to go to child-bed knowing nothing of news?" she murmured.
"Do you... do you wish for me to find something out, Your Majesty?"
Quickly, Mary shook her head. "No - no. That would not do. I shall have to find some other way of gathering information. You have other important matters to attend to."
She looked back at Sarah, eyes sweeping up and down the girl's swollen figure. Yes, she was developing nicely; the child appeared to be healthy and growing. In another three months, perhaps, Mary would hold a son in her arms, if not from her womb, then from Sarah's.
In the mean-time, however, she did not want to prepare for motherhood while in the state of anxiety that now preyed upon her. She had prayed almost ceaselessly throughout the day, but God had revealed nothing to her yet. It was only a feeling, nothing more - but the feeling was pervasive.
"What of the father?" Mary said then, an idea coming to her. "Your husband - Philip? Could he pursue some information for me? I am quite sure his duke has heard something... but is not bold enough to bring it to me himself."
Sarah hesitated.
"He would obey you, Your Majesty," the girl said finally, "if he could be summoned safely."
Though Mary suppressed a sigh, she murmured, "Of course." Surely, Sarah should be able to trust her by now; she had offered so much to the girl, even before the servant had produced a baby boy.
She sent Sarah away then, back into her private room, and called for another servant to fetch Philip the valet. She would not be kept in the dark.
--
For a time Sarah prayed and paced. It had become almost meditative for her to rub her belly while she walked.
While the queen was away, she had thought to get her pounds out of the queen's room. By now, she had almost six hundred pounds, with only a little bit gone from what she'd spent on New Year's gifts and the like. She was not about to lose that if Philip came back with news Queen Mary didn't like, and Her Majesty decided to blame the messenger.
She wished it hadn't been him. Nothing good could come of it. Now forever in her mind, Philip would be associated with whatever bad news he brought the queen.
Heavenly Father, protect him, she prayed as she paced around her tiny bedroom. It was not a formal prayer by any means, but she hoped God would hear it nonetheless. Keep him safe. Let him speak wisely, Lord. Let the news not be so bad - and even if it is, do not let Her Majesty fault Philip for bringing it.
If they had to leave the castle, the money they'd saved up should get them by for a little while, at least, until Philip found another job. That might be difficult without a recommendation, yet she was certain he would find something... He would have to. They had known that would be a reality they would have to face eventually, if Sarah bore the queen a son...
There was a knock, and she jumped. She exhaled slowly, shakily; the knock had been on the door of the outer chambers, not any of the bedrooms. For some time, the queen had been waiting in the sitting-room, expecting Philip.
"The servant you requested, Your Majesty," another servant announced. To Sarah's hearing, his voice was faint, but audible.
"You called for me, Your Majesty?"
It was Philip's voice. Sarah swallowed, and her hands tightened on her belly as if protectively. She realized what she was doing and forced herself to sit down, smoothing her hands over her stomach more gently. Though the queen, she was quite sure, would not notice it, she could hear the worry in Philip's voice. After all, there was no reason, other than their mutual connection to Sarah, that the queen might summon the valet of an undistinguished duke.
"May I ask, Your Majesty, if Sarah is alright?"
"She's fine," the queen answered curtly. "I have called you here on another matter."
Sarah longed to see Philip's face; to hold his hand and assure him with a look that everything would be alright. Impatient, she crept closer to the front door of her room, willing not a floorboard to squeak.
"Something is awry at court," Queen Mary continued. Sarah felt a flutter in her belly, and this time it was not from her child's erratic kicking; Her Majesty was using her most authoritative voice, and it had settled into Italian hard r's. "Tell me what you know."
Closing her eyes, Sarah pressed her brow to the closed door.
"I... I have heard there is a pamphlet circulating, Your Majesty," Philip said finally. "It focuses specifically on your condition, and your expectation of the arrival of a royal heir--"
"Yes - and?"
"It is not all complimentary, Your Majesty," Philip admitted. With haste, he added, "I cannot say more, my liege, truly; I did not read it myself. I only know what I have heard."
Sarah tried to stifle a sigh of relief. She had never thought that their paltry education would be a benefit to either of them. They could read some, but precious little; she believed that even if Philip had had the offending publication passed before him, he would not have held it long enough to attempt to decipher it.
"What others? What did they say?"
"I... I do not know..."
"Then think harder."
Sarah chewed her lip so hard it began to hurt a moment later. She knew Queen Mary was asking Philip to expose either his employers or his fellow servants.
"Truly, I cannot say. I was in milord the duke's rooms and heard someone discussing it only in passing. They were walking by in the corridor."
There was a moment of heavy silence. Sarah could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest.
"What did you hear?"
"Your Majesty, I beg you not to ask me to repeat something about you which you may find unflattering."
"My Majesty commands it."
There was another pause. When Philip replied, his voice was so low that Sarah almost could not hear him.
"It was, apparently, unfavorably disposed toward a... Catholic dynasty," Philip said, seeming to choose his words with great care. Sarah could imagine him, eyes closed, trying to remember what he had overheard. "There was, I think, some suggestion of unrest."
"You think?"
"That is all I can recollect. I swear it, I know nothing more."
There was another quiet moment, and Sarah wondered if they could hear her heart beating through the door.
"Then you have done your office," the queen said at last. "Here. Take this and go."
"No, I cannot--"
"I insist. Now leave us."
The door closed once, and Sarah could only guess that Philip had gone. She withdrew from the door, legs trembling, and stumbled to her chair. The door slammed once more, and she supposed that the queen, too, had left.