Status Updates From The Fourth Queen

Love the author’s other works but not loving this. Feels a bit too romance-y for me, particularly how quickly things escalated at beginning. Will continue on though.

Marris reflected, not for the first time, that Anna’s lack of fluency in English made her refreshingly direct sometimes. However, the language issue had been a blessing over the last couple of months, when they had been negotiating the Queen’s separation from King Henry.

Marris watched him go before she stood up and shook out her skirts. She felt stiff and old all of a sudden and unexpectedly, amongst her anger, she felt a fierce pang of fear for Bridget. She was riding high now as a lady in waiting to the latest of Henry’s queens, but where there had been four there were now five, and who knew how many more there might be?

A slight breeze off the water ruffled her gown and set the leaves rustling on the trees that edged the river. Sun and shadow shifted and merged; it was beautiful and peaceful, especially in the heat of summer, but Marris felt cold inside. All peace was illusory in this world of shifting fortunes.

Marris looked up as the breeze whispered across the river and stirred the branches of the willow. The news of the King’s remarriage, a bare few weeks after the annulment of his union with Anna, was not unexpected but it was another insult that the former Queen would be expected to bear stoically. No one had troubled to come to tell her in person. Now Marris knew it would fall to her to do it.

It had been a surprise to see her standing in the window alcove in the gallery, and he’d been caught out by the way his heart had missed a beat. She had looked almost insubstantial, illuminated from behind, her golden red hair like a halo. She’d opened her eyes and smiled at him as though he was the only person in the world.

She felt strange, nostalgic, trying to grasp and hold on to the fleeting memories of the past…

She’d almost forgotten about the missing pearl necklace and it gave her a sudden jolt to remember that it was the reason she had gone to Winterhill in the first place. Immediately her spirits dropped. Secrets and lies. They surrounded her and she hated it.

One thing was certain. She needed to go back to Winterhill Hall to make sure that her suspicions were correct. Only then could she confront Molly about what she had done. Jenna gave a groan and dropped her face into her hands. The issues around the archaeological dig were bad enough but now her sister was up to her old tricks as well. She was in even more trouble than she had imagined.

The shop instantly calmed her. It worked every time. The smell of crisp paper, fresh ink and new bindings; it was distinctively different from the nostalgic scent of old books but equally seductive. At least it was to Jenna. But then, she had been known to stroke books in appreciation of their glorious covers and sensory feel.