The Uncrowned Queen Read Free

if the noisy boy they both so deeply loved was not bouncing around on the great bed, demanding that they both hurry, hurry, down to the kitchen and break-fast.
    â€œHouse dress, or fine?”
    â€œHouse dress, Deborah. We’ve much to do today.”
    Anne avoided her foster mother’s glance. Their current situation was her responsibility and it weighed on her. Hoping for greater freedom outside the narrow life of the city, she’d brought them all to this little farm beyond the walls of Brugge. Yet now that war, rumored and actual, was spreading through Europe, she could not avoid the uncertainty of their situation. There were hard questions to be asked. And there were no easy answers.
    Preoccupied, Anne washed herself quickly in the warming air. Light from candles and the fire touched her body like a loving hand. She was gracefully made, with curving hips; a straight, well-muscled back; high, delicate breasts with tawny rose nipples—larger for having had a child—and strong, slender arms and legs from all the work she did.
    Deborah sighed and turned away to find the girl a house dress. There were so many things they did not speak of anymore. Marriage, that was what Anne needed. A real flesh-and-blood marriage, not an insubstantial, passionate dream that receded, day byday, into enchanted mist. Marriage was an alliance, a contract designed for mutual aid and support between a man and a woman; such a contract would protect Anne and the boy and her household as the constant dangerous wrangling between Burgundy and France escalated. It was a shame, and a waste, that nearly two years since their last meeting, her foster daughter still yearned for the one man she could not have. Edward, the English king; Edward Plantagenet, her son’s father. A thousand miles away over the sea, but closer than thought to Anne—always closer than thought.
    But things changed when they needed to and there was an unexpected cause for new hope in their lives. Last night, very late, Leif Molnar had arrived from Sluys—too late to talk, except to say he’d come from Sir Mathew. Perhaps Leif brought Anne a solution? Perhaps they would all go back to London, to Sir Mathew’s house, until the wrangling between France and Burgundy resolved itself? Yet England, too, was in turmoil. There was even talk that Edward Plantagenet might lose his throne. Perhaps nowhere was safe anymore?
    Deborah took a house dress down from its peg and shook it vigorously. Concentrate on the moment, banish gloom with hard work. “The worsted? It’s clean still. Which sleeves would you like?”
    â€œYou choose, Deborah. I don’t mind.”
    The kirtle was designed for work and not for show, but it was still a pretty thing. Dark red, it had several pairs of sleeves that could be swapped depending on mood. Deborah, thinking the day would be sullen, chose a set in cheerful crocus yellow, piped with blue to match the blue lacings of the dress. She knew that Anne liked color, particularly as the days drew in. The older woman also found a linen chemise for her daughter. Anne appreciated the warmth and durability of her own good woolen cloth, but was sensitive to its itch against her skin. She always had been, even as a little girl.
    Footed hose, a practical luxury, were laid up in a fruitwood coffer. These would be tied beneath the knee with ribbon. Lastly, there was an apron of forest-green serge and a thick shawl, its warp bright blue wool with a startling weft of yellow silk.
    Helping the girl dress, Deborah worked, crabwise, toward her design for the future. “So, what do you think our neighbors will ask for the plow land?”
    As Deborah laced the kirtle, Anne stared out toward the first faint light in the east.
    â€œI’m not certain. Perhaps I’ll not offer much coin at all. An annuity might be better for them and for us.”
    Deborah tied the blue laces into a serviceable double bow where the bodice