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morning. She does love to avail herself with making preserves, and from what I hear, Cook is making a delicious peach preserve for the folks to feast on after the wedding.”
    The thought of peaches, let alone syrupy sweet peaches , turned my stomach, and this time I did rush to the chamber pot. I wiped the back of my mouth with my sleeve and closed my eyes as Mrs. Helen pressed a cool, damp cloth to the back of my neck.
    “You ’re a nervous little bride, love. Do not worry overmuch. Your husband will be kind to you, and he’s just a boy. You shan’t have to grow up yet.”
    I turned and buried my face against my maid’s ample breasts. “But, Mrs. Helen, I started my courses not two months ago. For certes. they will expect me to begin my duties as a wife.” I wailed loud on this last part, for I did not want to fulfill my duties, not at all!
    “Oh, hush, love. I heard tell your father struck a bargain that you shan ’t consummate the marriage in truth until you reach your sixteenth year. No need for tears. Dry them up.”
    And , indeed, with her words, my tears dissipated. My mother may have turned into a shell of herself, a woman fearful of court intrigues and party to the plots of my easily persuaded father in constant search of power, but she had always promised us as children that she wished us not to marry until we were at least sixteen. When she’d told me of my upcoming nuptials, I’d wanted to shout at her about her promise but had known it would have done no good. Mother must have fought for me behind closed doors and won.
    Knowing she’d done so sent a current of sadness rushing through me. I wished at that moment that I’d been closer to her, for now I would leave her home for good. I wished I’d listened to her more, had tried to make her happy in at least some small way.
    But the past was the past, and there was nothing I could do to change it. Only give her what she wanted, and that was an obedient daughter. Now all I had to worry about was how my future husband’s family would treat me.
    The sound of horses clopping outside my window jarred me from staring at the wall.
    The arguing had stopped down the hall, and I could only imagine how mortified Jane would be with puffy eyes for her wedding ceremony. Since living with the dowager queen, Catherine Parr, before the great woman passed, Jane had become quite preoccupied with her appearance and how she looked to others, often lamenting that a lady’s job was to appear well put together and in the latest fashion to show others that she cared for herself and would not take lightly to being abused in any way.
    Even I ha d taken to plucking my brows with silver tweezers, as Jane did.
    From below, I heard my father’s booming voice ordering our staff about. It was time to leave. The River Thames beckoned us to depart, to float down the river and never return.
    Footsteps rushed just outside my door. I stood, smoothed my hands down my stomacher and over my skirts. The ivory silk of my gown and gold threads shimmered in what little sunlight passed through the window.
    I stood to contemplate my room one last time. Would I ever sleep here again? I ran my hand along the thick brocade of my bed curtains and over the carved oak of the footboard. All of my personal belongings had been packed, and nothing of this room remained of me, except my memories.
    Jane, Mary, I, my parents, and our attendants who were to accompany us to Durham House where the triple ceremony was to take place, walked along the wooden deck to the quay where my father’s barge awaited. The sun shone bright and mixed with the fishy smell of the Thames came the scents of lavender, peaches, roses, and rosemary from our gardens.
    A slight breeze blew, ruffling my skirts , and I instinctively reached up to steady my headdress, not wanting it to come unpinned and ruin my hair—Mother would never forgive me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jane doing the same.
    She turned to look at me, deep