Name: Lucrezia Girault
Age: 20
Face claim: Bruna Marquezine
Personality Traits:
Strengths: Studious // Quiet // Pragmatic // Witty // Fast learner
Flaws: Soft-hearted // Sharp-tongued // Guarded // Sober // Anxious
Interests: Prince Otto, Lord Phillipe, Doña Blanca
Arriving at Court | Capture of the Virtues
Lady Girault, in Bavaria
“Did you hear? Lady Girault is to go to England.”
“England!” A few ladies tittered, voices echoing in the still, quiet hallway, sunlight filtering in through glass panes. It concealed the rustling of silk and brocade, as the women moved through the corridor. “If only I could go, everyone knows that King Henry…”
From her position above the corridor, Lucrezia looked down, Latin book in hand, frowning. She hadn’t been aware the details of her departure had made its way to even the outer circle of courtiers - but then again, this was court. Gossip was a heady, useful currency if used correctly.
The click-clack of a wooden cane echoed down the marble floor, interrupting her reverie, and Lucrezia knew the person by those footsteps alone.
“Ah, there you are Luca.”
She slipped off her perch, in time to see her father emerge from an archway. He had a slight smile on his face, the one he had whenever he was especially pleased, or if he had gained an advantage. Lucrezia didn’t know whether she ought to prefer the former or the latter, but she acknowledged him all the same.
“Father,” she greeted, sketching a curtsy. He waved her off, inclining his head, and Lucrezia knew to follow. He didn’t say a thing as they wandered through the palace’s corridors, but the man was humming a jovial tune, head tilted in the air. He didn’t even seem to rely on his walking cane at all. For a moment, Lucrezia thought he was whole again, before he had been injured in battle, before he had to leave to his diplomatic career here.
Eventually, they reached a secluded alcove, close to the palace gardens. Lucrezia liked it here, usually, when she had free time from her tutoring. The lighting was just enough that she could do her reading here, undisturbed by titters or social calls. Her father finally took a seat on one of the benches, and she followed.
“Are you nervous, Luca?”
“Nervous, father?”
“For your departure.”
“Only that there is more commotion than there really should be about it, father. And that my horse may not fare well on the ship.”
Her father laughed, the loud voice booming in the quiet. It made for a better story to tell, than to confide that she was waking up in the dead of night, hands shaking in the dark as she fumbled for her rosary.
“Your Etha will be fine, daughter. King Henry’s court adores its sport and riding - I would not part you from your steed. No, I am worried for you. I know you were highly recommended, and thus the request from certain quarters - but you were a babe when you left England.”
“I will not be alone. And it will be warmer, I hope.”
Her father had nothing to say to that, save to stroke at the faint, curling dark wisps at his chin that he called a beard. She had expressed to him and her mother that he really ought to shave it off as it did nothing for his face, but he seemed attached to it. He wouldn’t say why, but given the Bavarian men at court had more success in growing out their facial hair than her father, she could guess. Not that she would say a word - such observations were unappreciated, and she did not need to risk her father’s ire.
“But you and Leo - will you two be -”
“He is family, Luca. No matter our disagreements. We will be joining you in England shortly, so do not fret too much.”
How could she not? Her brother, Leopold - or Leo, for short - was in a skirmish on the borders, repelling some attacking force or another. She kept her brother’s letters tucked at the very bottom of her chest, along with her mother’s embroideries and her father’s gifted books, and knew that the skirmish would be ending soon - but all she wanted was for Leo to come home hale, hearty, and to stop dragging his feet and marry that lovely Bavarian girl he’d been courting for a few months now. Perhaps this time, the girl would agree, and spare her parents the headache of finding him a suitable spouse.
“I will try, father. Is there anything you need of me when I head to the court?”
Her father hummed, a thoughtful noise. He rocked on his seat, and she saw his eyes go faraway, distant, as though contemplating some strange mystery of the universe. The seconds ticked by, and Lucrezia waited, knowing that when her father was ready, he would say what was on his mind.
She could pinpoint the moment he snapped back to the present, having found what he was looking for. But the words out of her mouth were not those she was expecting.
“Nothing, daughter. None that you can tell me of yet, but do keep an ear open - I have heard the King is displeased with the lack of an heir.”
“I have heard he tries hard.” Lucrezia paused for a moment, then a softer voice. “Perhaps not necessarily with the Queen.”
Her father choked, strangling a laugh in his throat, but she could see his eyes crinkle with genuine mirth. She smiled too, a wry twist of her lips, and her father shook his head.
“That sort of talk will get you into trouble, Luca. Watch yourself, hm? Don’t lose yourself in the glamour there.”
“Or my head,” she replied, earning herself another smile. “You have no need to worry. You know what I am like.”
“And I know what you can be when you are familiar with someone.” He clapped her on her shoulder, as though she were a man and not his daughter. “I will leave you now, but do join your mother and I for supper tonight - we have precious few of these days left.”
She gathered her skirts, and let her father escort her back to her room, curtsying as he said goodbye. Her fellow companions were not yet back - perhaps undertaking some duty or another. She would miss this place, she supposed, its strange quirk.
The first day she knew she would be leaving this court, so far from England, someone had told her it was written in the stars, that she was destined to see turbulent times. They hadn’t mentioned if she’d live through it. She wondered if she would at least be half-fit for the English court, a home she hadn’t known.
But even if there were stars, it would have been an inclination, not an obligation. And she had yet to encounter anything that couldn’t be achieved with quiet study - and practice.
With wide and starry eyes
The first sign that indicated Lucrezia’s arrival at Hampton Court Palace was the commotion at the front of the barge, as two of her travelling companions rushed out, brocade skirts almost catching on the wooden floor. When she looked up, she could just about see the building peeking behind the trees, its red brick clear to anyone who saw it.
Her father had commented on it once over dinner, when the first news of Hampton Court Palace arrived. Something about using the latest, most stylish technology to build an equally stylish palace, and how much it would cost to build the whole thing from brick. Lucrezia had not know she’d be lucky enough to see it in her lifetime.
Outside, the rowers were shouting to someone - presumably on the pier, and the barge began to slow, water sloshing against its wooden hull. That was her cue then, Lucrezia decided, and she tucked her book away into her sleeve. If anyone noticed her tighten her grip, they said no word about it.
A liveried attendant was waiting on the docks, as Lucrezia emerged from the relative cool of the barge cabin. She fought a wince as the sunlight shone through, and for a moment, she missed the relative cool of Bavaria, its beautiful mountains. It would not do for her to look like a sourfaced puss on her first day, so instead she gave a faint smile, and approached the gangway.
“Welcome to Hampton Court Palace, my lady. Lady de Salinas has instructed me to bring you to her posthaste.”
This was news to Lucrezia. She had been instructed she would first settle in her shared room, and then meet the chief lady-in-waiting. The journey had been long, and even mild-tempered Etha had begun to nip and turn away from her when Lucrezia went to brush her. The barge had been a welcome change, but hours of sitting and feeling barely-cool breeze brush against her face had left Lucrezia overheated. In short, she had been desperately hoping for a change of clothes, the very least.
But this was a request from Lady de Salinas, and Lucrezia wasn’t so amateur as to fly in the face of that. So instead, she inclined her head, murmuring her thanks - and followed. She felt the eyes of so many people on her neck, on her clothes, on her skin, and wanted nothing more than to find a quiet room, a library, sit and re-acclimatise herself.
Were those whispers? And who were all these people? She’d never known a palace to be this full, this colourful, as a thousand flags streamed in the air, nobility, liveried servants and attendants alike thronging the crowds. And there -
Lucrezia blinked. She thought she caught sight of a familiar face, but that was soon lost to another group of ladies and lords, laughing as they alighted their own barge. Just ahead, Lucrezia could make out the attendant she was meant to be following, and picked up her footsteps.
It would do her no good to wool-gather here, not when she had no friends, no family, no allies that could help her. Grip tightening on her book’s leather cover, she kept her head up, and made her way to the blessedly cooler shade of the Palace itself.
Baby steps and first impressions
Lady Willoughby de Eresby was both all and not what Lucrezia was expecting when she entered the room. The gown on her was befitting her status, light cream embroidered through with yellow and gold thread, scalloped sleeves and French lace. Yet no matter how warm the smile was, there was no mistaking the exquisite iron spine the woman held herself with, poise and stature, carved from marble. No one got to such an esteemed position without discretion and political savvy, and Lucrezia wondered what it would take for the woman to show her teeth.
“Lady Lucrezia Girault, my lady.”
Lady Willoughby de Eresby looked up, and only then did Lucrezia notice the woman next to her. Lady Willougbhy de Eresby and the woman shared similar eyes - brown, slightly upturned, and a similar dark, chestnut hair. But while Lady Willoughby de Eresby had hers braided back, the woman’s was loose, long, tumbling, the type that Lucrezia wished her hair could be instead of the unruly mess it was unbound. And while the unnamed woman had a strong jaw, there was an impishness to her that softened it.
“Lady Lucrezia,” Lady Willoughby de Eresby greeted, and Lucrezia curtsied the best she could, ignoring the way her back ached from the long periods of sitting.
“My lady. I apologise for my intrusion, I understand I was to come speak to you immediately?”
Lady Willoughby de Eresby paused, and in that instant, Lucrezia felt she was being scrutinised from head to toe, in her white blouse and her silk blue skirts, from the hastily pulled together updo that was inappropriate at best, to her barely made-up face. She wondered if the smile on her face was pleasant enough, if it was at least comely, because if there was anything else at court -
“I did. I trust your journey to the Palace was well?”
Lucrezia answered in the affirmative, as was expected of her, and a small smile crossed the chief Lady-in-Waiting’s face. It softened the poise, the stature for a moment, and then she was back to business, the baroness running the household.
“Excellent. In that case, I must have you attend your duties as soon as you are settled into your bedchamber - Lady Blanca will show you around the Palace and tell you where you need to be. The preparations for the Summer’s End festival is underway, and we would appreciate an extra hand.”
The woman next to Lady Willoughby de Eresby smiled at Lucrezia, and Lucrezia nodded her acknowledgement. Lady Blanca’s smile was warm, warmer than the chief Lady-in-Waiting’s, and she was glad she wouldn’t be left to navigate this sprawling palace alone - but she had no gauge on Lady Blanca, save for her apparent warmth.
“Is there anything else, Lady Lucrezia?”
It took Lucrezia a moment to realise Lady Willougby de Eresby was addressing her, and she shook her head, her own smile still in place.
“None, my lady, save that I am grateful for your arrangements for my arrival.”
If the woman was at all flattered by Lucrezia’s words, she showed no sign of it, but she did not seem displeased either. With that, Lucrezia was dismissed, and Lady Blanca took Lucrezia’s arm, her smile wider now.
“So you are Lady Lucrezia! I heard your name mentioned in passing, when the recommendations arrived for Her Grace months ago, but it is a pleasure to meet you finally.”
“Likewise. Although I’m sorry I will be imposing on you for a while.”
Lady Blanca waved a hand dismissively.
“None of that! Come, let me show you to the bedchambers first - then I can take you to where you need to be, yes?”
********
Lady Blanca rejoined her after Lucrezia emerged her room, having checked that everything was in order and had arrived safely from Bavaria on her journey. It was all there - the furniture she had, her gowns and kirtles and linen smocks and shifts, her books, and her writing set. But secreted at the very bottom, she dug through, and smiled when she saw the familiar rabbit ear poking out from underneath her clothes.
But that was for later - she had her duties to attend to, and she could not imagine Lady Willoughby d’Eresby being too pleased if she dallied and as a result, made Lady Blanca late for anything she had to do afterwards. So dutifully, she stepped out, and nodded to the woman outside.
“All settled in?” Lady Blanca’s smile was warm, welcoming, and Lucrezia felt as though she were smiling at an old friend instead of a stranger. That she continued when she looped an arm through Lucrezia’s, familiar, comfortable. There was a moment of jessamine and orange blossom filling the air, and then she was off, following Lady Blanca as she took her down yet another set of corridors, leaving behind Lucrezia’s quarters.
“Was it far from Bavaria to England?” were the first words out of Lady Blanca’s mouth. That was comfortable, familiar territory to Lucrezia, and the answer came easily.
“The seas were a little choppy, but not very much. I was told there were duties to attend to…?”
“That can come later, Lady Lucrezia. There’s plenty to see and to show you here at Hampton. Not as much as Castilla - or Bavaria, I’m sure, but the English have their own delights. Now, there are people I need to introduce you to first.”
Through Lady Blanca, Lucrezia learnt that the preparations for the Summer’s End festival wasn’t merely a banquet or jousts - there was a play to be due at the end of the two months, another masqued pageant, and more importantly, they all needed to sew their own costumes.
“The King is very fond of those,” Lady Blanca was saying, as they headed for the gardens. “Pageants and jousts. And so many ambassadors and foreign guests as well! We’ve had a few already here, but the French are sending some of their own. Newer ones, so many courtiers are aflutter.”
“Are feasts usually this sumptuous with His Grace?”
“This one in particular! But can you blame him, really? He has half the world at his feet, and plenty more courtiers and women alike.” Lady Blanca paused. “You’ve not seen him yet, have you?”
“I’ve not had the pleasure yet. Although not now, please? I’m not sure if I can hold up my usual self yet.”
“You’ll be just fine, Lady Lucrezia. Now, if you come this way…”
In many ways, Lady Blanca was someone Lucrezia wished had been with her when she first arrived at the Bavarian Court from England, the first time her father had to take up his posting. She didn’t turn away any questions from Lucrezia, answering them with infinite patience, even if they were something as banal as where Lucrezia could find attendants or the laundresses in case of emergencies. She seemed to know everyone as they wandered around, stopping an attendant to talk to, an occasional courtier, or once, a long conversation in Spanish that Lucrezia just about kept up with.
Maybe if she had someone to show her around, or if someone had arranged for her to wander around, she might not be so quiet now around those she barely knew.
That thought was interrupted when her reflexes reacted before she was aware of it - catching hold of something Lady Blanca had given her. Lucrezia glanced down, and was momentarily surprised by a pretty piece of tartlet resting in her hand.
“This one has mint and custard in it,” Lady Blanca explained, catching sight of her bewildered expression. “It’s not the same as the flão in Spain, but these are good enough on their own. You looked like you needed one.”
“I… did?”
“You seemed so faraway for a moment when we walked by the gardens. Were you thinking of something?”
That was an awkward lapse of judgement - here Lady Blanca was taking her time to introduce her, to tour her around the Hampton Court Palace in her own time, and there Lucrezia was, remembering things gone by. But it would have been too forward to properly tell Lady Blanca what she had been thinking a few moments ago, so she opted for a half-truth instead.
“Only how these gardens remind me a little of a schloss I was at once, Lady Blanca. Strange how similar but different gardening can be across a sea.”
Lady Blanca laughed, bright, bells in the wind. Coupled with her beautiful and luxurious gown and ornaments, the woman was radiant in the English sun, hospitality and welcome embodied in a noble lady.
“You should see the Spanish gardens then, Lady Lucrezia, you would be even more amazed then! Are you much of a gardener?”
“Me? No. I think I ruin every plant I touch.” She smiled, remembering her last disastrous attempt at flower arranging for her mother. That had necessitated a complete change of gloves, and several poor ruined sprigs of honeysuckle. “I prefer horse-riding, if I must do an outdoor activity.”
“Horse riding?”
And Lady Blanca’s eyes shone then, and Lucrezia had only moments to process it before the woman was walking her in another direction, away from the path they had headed, and towards a stone building in the distance that Lucrezia could see had a good deal of people coming and going. Were they holding… reins? Lucrezia’s heart sped up, because that meant - if those were riding reins - her lovely Etha was…
“I think I brought my horse over from Bavaria - I don’t think I’ve seen her yet since I’ve arrived.”
“Oh, good. We can visit our horses together then - let me introduce you to mine, she’s the most biddable palfrey I’ve ridden so far in England…”
For a distraction
If Lucrezia had been with her old tutor, she would have been roundly told off by them for what she was about to do. She’d gotten into trouble before, when she was younger, a little wilder, when she and Leo were there to encourage each other’s worst and best ideas. Those best and worst ones were their impromptu little riding trips, through the forests behind whichever castle or residence they had been stationed at, egging each other on until they returned, leaves and pines in their hair, faces ruddy with laughter and red.
As Lucrezia grew older, she got better - learnt not to charge recklessly through undergrowth, nor to tangle her skirts, but still kept pace as fast as she could.
What possessed her to agree to this, however, was something she was trying to unpick even now, as she saddled up Etha, pressing the bridle into the mare’s mouth. There were attendants for this work, yes, but this was her Etha, her beloved dark bay palfrey, her little white star on her forehead and one white sock. She’d been with Etha ever since the horse was two - now at six years of age, she would not let anyone saddle her up. Not when the poor horse had been so skittish at first.
Etha, for her part, seemed to sense her mistress’s unease, and was pressing her head into the side of Lucrezia’s cheek.
“Easy Etha, easy. We’re just going for another race, like how we used to race Leo and Toric, right? You missed that, didn’t you? It’s been weeks since I let you out for a run…”
“Nervous, my lady?”
The Duke’s voice floated over from the next stall, and Lucrezia looked up from where she’d been pressing her forehead against Etha’s head. Next to her, Fernando, the third Duke of Alba was watching her, a grin on his face as he petted his horse’s mane. There was an adorable naïvieté to him, one that Lucrezia noted when she’d first been introduced to him - through Lady Blanca, no less. Wide-eyed and optimistic had been what Lucrezia took away, but he was just as, if not even more, warm compared to Lady Blanca.
Within the first hour or so, however, he’d discovered Lucrezia enjoyed horse riding, invited her for a light race - and Lucrezia had accepted it before she remembered herself. But she’d accepted, and if there was anything she hated, was going back on a promise she could easily fulfill. So here she was, second-guessing herself, about to go racing without a chaperone, with a courtier she had a good impression of but did not know well.
She wondered what the Duke thought of her then, and hoped he didn’t think her too loose or immoral.
“I thought this was a light riding trip, Your Grace,” she answered mock-archly, then shook her head. “There is not much to be nervous of.”
“Is that a challenge, Mistress Girault?” The Duke sounded amused, clearly, but she could hear the undercurrent of anticipation, as though he wanted to hop onto his steed and run out of the stables now.
“Races tend to have a prize at the end, Your Grace, and we have none to stake.”
“Honour then. Honour, and dignity. Or the slowest has to procure marchpane from the palace kitchens for the winner later.”
Lucrezia considered that for a moment, weighing it. Marchpane from the kitchens - she didn’t know the court cooks well enough, having spent less than a few weeks here at Hampton Court Palace, but they did seem amenable enough when she encountered them. A little kindness did not hurt either, not when Lucrezia seemed about as cautious of them as the cooks were of her.
“Marchpane for a race, then. Does Your Grace have a sweet tooth?”
“Only a little.” The Duke grinned at her, wholly at ease. By now, they’d both saddled up their horses, and she realised he was waiting for her to exit the stables. She took her cue for that, mounting Etha in one smooth, swift motion and privately glad she’d brought some good riding gowns with her. Trying to ride Etha with one of those farthingale hoops now in vogue did not bear thinking about.
The sun was warm on her skin, even with her hat shielding her, but it was not as hot nor sticky as Lucrezia had expected it to be. Etha huffed beneath her, tossing her mane, and she absently ran a hand through the horse’s hair, humming to her steed. Beside her, she heard the steady clip-clop of the Duke’s horse - a golden-coated horse, but Lucrezia could not tell if it was a mare, a stallion, or a gelding.
“I wouldn’t have taken you to be a horsewoman though.”
“I enjoy it - my brother and I would ride whenever we could, wherever we were allowed.”
“You have one? Is he at court?”
“No - he will join us shortly, I think. He is away in Bavaria still, with the army.”
Soon, they reached a wide, flat expanse of field, at the edge of the palace, but still close enough that they could return after they’d ridden their fill. Or raced their fill, as the plan was now. Lucrezia could feel her hands shaking a little in their gloves - not so much anxiety now, because it was too late to be worrying about being found racing. It was the same adrenaline hum she had whenever she and Leo had their races, when they took off - to feel the air rushing past.
The Duke must have had given the indication, or she had - she could not remember in that moment. All she did know was she spurred Etha, and they both went off, as fast as far as they could. Here, she wasn’t in England anymore - the lands were different, and so was the air, but the sensation - of simply forgetting for a moment, was enough.
Lucrezia ultimately lost to the Duke, but only by a sliver - he reached the forest edge just before she did, and she pulled Etha to a halt. She was laughing, to her surprise - for the first time she’d come to England, for the first time in weeks.
“I - I apologise, Your Grace,” she said finally, breathing to calm herself. “It’s been a while since I’ve raced anyone.”
“Not when you enjoyed yourself so much.” The Duke was smiling too, but he was always smiling, taken in by his surroundings as though he would never tire of the court. “But I believe I am owed that marchpane later.”
That Lucrezia had not forgotten, but it was a request she would not mind undertaking all the same - perhaps she could ask Lady Blanca to see if anyone would be willing to give her a piece? There would be plenty for the banquet later on, but she would happily trade that for moments of levity.
Her Majesty, the Queen
It was at the crack of dawn when Lucrezia felt someone tapping her shoulder. In the downy comforts of the feather bed, and with how drafty her chamber was, it was a struggle to remove herself even move, let alone open her eyes. But she smelled jessamine and orange blossom, and she would recognise that perfume anywhere.
“Lady Blanca?” she croaked, hating how hoarse her voice sounded. “Am I late?”
“No, but today’s an extraordinary day, Lady Lucrezia.”
“Extraordinarily… early? Did someone new arrive?”
Lady Blanca laughed, and in Lucrezia’s sleep-addled state, it sounded almost like a giggle.
“No silly. Her Majesty the Queen is hosting her own gathering today, remember? For the wives and sisters of the courtiers?”
That jolted Lucrezia awake, and she shot straight up, eyes wide. The sudden movement did not agree with her - in fact, none of her limbs nor organs thought highly of her rapid awakening. An ache made itself known from behind her eyes, at the top of her skull, and she winced, holding one hand to her head.
“Lady Lucrezia? Are you alright?”
“I will be, in a moment. Are you already dressed, Lady Blanca?”
“Soon! The dressing woman hasn’t come with my gown yet, but I think yours will be here shortly too.”
Lucrezia blinked blearily in the light, and registered Lady Blanca’s features, half-shadowed in the morning light. She was already in her smock and kirtle, that much Lucrezia could make out - compared to her own sleeping clothes, which she desperately needed to get out of. She would’ve asked what time it was as well, but she was already flustered and had forgotten about this gathering - so the question died on her tongue, unwilling to shame herself any further.
When the ache finally receded, she managed a small smile at Lady Blanca.
“Thank you for waking me - I think I would’ve slept through the day if you hadn’t come to find me.”
“It’s hardly a bother. Were you so exhausted from your race yesterday?”
Lucrezia peered at Lady Blanca, whose smile was warm, genuine. Lucrezia managed one of her own smaller ones, as she carefully crept out of bed, shuddering as her feet touched down on the cold hardwood floor.
“What - oh. Yes. No. No I wasn’t, I was actually quite revitalised by it, but perhaps it was the excitement of the days past.”
“You do know if you wanted to go racing, you could let me know next time?”
“I didn’t mean to go racing with the Duke, truly. We were meant to go on a quiet ride, but His Grace mentioned stakes and so…”
“Oh, Lady Lucrezia.” Lady Blanca’s hand was warm and reassuring on her shoulder, and in the dim light, Lucrezia saw no judgement, just good-natured teasing. “I wasn’t blaming you! His Grace is quite impulsive, and he likes a good race whenever he is offered one.”
It was reassuring, in its own way. Lucrezia would have liked Lady Blanca to stay longer, to chatter away a little more, but the door opened, and Lucrezia’s dressing woman arrived with an armful of gown and kirtle. Lady Blanca took her leave then, and Lucrezia got out of bed to clean and dress.
But no one had told her how nerve-wracking it was to be in close attendance with the Queen. She’d accompanied her on occasion, yes, but Lady Blanca had found her and merrily led her towards Her Majesty, saying something about introducing them properly because she hadn’t had the chance. Before Lucrezia could think better of it, however, here she was, brought before the most powerful woman in England.
“Your Majesty.”
Lucrezia’s curtsies had never failed her, and she had plenty of times to practice whenever she met courtiers - highborn, peers, dukes, duchesses, the like. Here, before the Queen, even as she straightened up, she was already running through her posture, her poise, her gaze. Even if she had done this a thousand times, this was a first impression - one she was deathly afraid to ruin.
“Mistress Girault.” The Queen’s smile was affectionate, kind, but if Lucrezia thought Lady Willoughby d’Eresby scrutinised her, it was nothing like being seen by the Queen. She’d heard stories of Catherine of Aragon - her strength, in the face of the King’s infidelities, her observant nature, how she knew anything and everything at court, thanks to her confidantes and ladies-in-waiting. But hearing was one - seeing was another.
A detached part of Lucrezia decided if she could grow old as gracefully as the Queen, she would be a very fortunate woman indeed. But now was not the time to think about this.
“Thank you for the honour you have given me, Your Grace.”
“It is nothing. You were highly recommended by my dear friend, so I was naturally happy to have you. You were from Bavaria, previously?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I stayed with the Duke’s household until my return to England. My father was - and still is - posted as a diplomat there, but I believe he is due to be recalled.”
“Your father alone?”
“My whole family goes with him, but my brother is currently engaged in military action, Your Grace.”
There was a brief moment where Lucrezia saw surprise flicker across the Queen’s face, but it was gone in an instant. Instead, there was concern now, and she was looking at Lucrezia quite intently.
“He will not be away long, I hope?”
“It’s a minor skirmish, Your Grace, but - I still pray for his safety. And his safe return.” It did nothing for the way her heart lurched when she thought about it. She hadn’t gotten a letter from Leo in weeks now - surely he was safe?
“I will always worry, even if he is my older brother. Sometimes I wonder who is the older of us two.”
The Queen hummed, smiling.
“A dutiful sister and daughter, I see. What about your spare time?”
“Horse-riding, Your Grace. And reading, when I can, though I daresay I have a passable skill at the harpsichord.”
That was how Lucrezia found herself recounting her present studies reading the legend of the Swan Knight, with his gallant nature and his boat pulled by a swan. The Queen was, of course, a good study in it, but she seemed to humour Lucrezia, even drawing her into a debate regarding its origins and the variations of its translations - from the Spanish version the Queen had read, to its original Latin translation.
When Lucrezia was dismissed, Lady Blanca was waiting for her, all smiles as she drew her back to her position. Lady Blanca, Lucrezia remembered, was the Queen’s cousin, but she seemed rather pleased with Lucrezia’s conversation a little earlier on. That thought buoyed her through the rest of the day, enough for her to put her worries out of her mind.
At the edge of study
Reprieve from the hustle, bustle, and madness of the court took the form of a small study-cum-library buried deep inside the Palace. It was one of the first places Lucrezia had asked for, and now that she was not being engaged to keep the Queen company, she was glad to be back in familiar lands: sitting on a stool, reading.
In truth, it was closer to a study than a library, but the variety of books here were still impressive, and she’d been encouraged to peruse the selection. On other days, she might have sought out another classical Greek author to read. Today, however, she was resting - and in her own terms, slacking off. Religious texts were all well and good, and it was expected of her, but by this point, Lucrezia had read enough of the Bible in Latin to recite perhaps the New Testament back to back with her eyes closed.
At least, it was what she felt. She’d spent so long in the chapel she swore the printed ink was seared on her eyes, flashing in white before her when she closed them.
The little novella she’d selected seemed promising - it was by am Italian writer-monk-soldier, and the preface seemed interesting enough. If there was a downside, it would be the entire book was in Italian, one of Lucrezia’s weaker languages. She knew it well enough - enough to survive at court, to converse, but if it was too academic… she hoped there was a dictionary nearby in the library. Surely there would be?
As it turned out, the novella was entertaining enough - easy to understand, the stories’ plots engaging. She was halfway through reading about a shipwrecked girl pretending to be a boy when she heard a door open.
The only reason why Lucrezia did not fluster or gape like a goldfish was force of habit. She had grown up in the Bavarian court, where her father had been posted. This meant being in the household of Bavarian royalty and knowing who was who, no matter how long away from court they’d been.
“Your Grace,” she greeted, setting her book aside and dropping a curtsy. The Crown Prince of Bavaria - or rather, Prince Otto, saw her and bowed, brief, courteous.
“My lady.” Another pause. “I hope I am not interrupting?”
“You could never, Your Grace. Do you need the study? I was just about to -”
He shook his head, his eyes still fixed on her, as though watching her for her posture, her movements. It was - guarded, almost, but it was no surprise to Lucrezia. He’d been like that too, last she remembered.
“Do not trouble yourself. I will only be here a moment.”
“Of course. I will not disturb you any further.”
That Lucrezia intended to do - she gathered her skirts and retook her place by the window, opening the book to where she’d left it. To somewhere on her left, she heard the creak of wood, the familiar noise of books being plucked from their resting place with little to no hesitation. So the Prince did have a book in mind, after all, and she’d expected him to leave as soon as he’d come. Strange how he didn’t have his attendants with him today, given his status, but then again, he could have asked them to wait for him outside.
But there was a strange prickling at the back of her neck, the same feeling she had when someone was looking at her, and it was ruining her concentration. So she looked up, and found the Prince looking at her, brow furrowed, as though thinking.
“Your Grace?”
His eyes snapped to hers, and she was startled by how blue it was, even from this distance. It was rude to stare at the Crown Prince’s face, that much she knew, but she wondered if it would be even more rude to look away. She couldn’t fix her eyes on his eyes, or his lips, or his nose. Or any part of his face. What would the rumours say? What would they think?
It was best not to consider it. So she found a much safer spot to stare at - a fixed point, just by his ear, because anywhere else would be… inappropriate.
“You are familiar, but your name eludes me,” he said finally, after what seemed like an age. Ah.
“Lucrezia Girault, Your Grace. I was at the Bavarian Court before my arrival here.”
“That would explain it. Forgive me - I have not had the pleasure.”
And with that, she thought she saw some of his coolness ease. It wasn’t anything obvious, like a big smile, but he shifted, and he seemed a little less taut - or was he? Perhaps she was overthinking it, but she could not have missed how the atmosphere around them felt less stiff.
Still, he didn’t seem inclined to say anything more - or was he waiting for her to say something? Lucrezia mulled the chances over in her mind. If the Prince wanted to leave, he could - she was a mere Lady-in-Waiting, and he was an honoured guest here at the Tudor Court. But here he was, still in the study, and the silence was creeping up on her.
“You have not been at the Tudor Court long, Your Grace?”
“No - no. Two seasons, perhaps less. I did not see you when I first arrived.”
“No, Your Grace. I - I arrived -” She paused, trying to do a tally in her head. “- A week or so ago? I was summoned rather recently, but Lady Willougby de Eresby has been very kind not to leave me flailing. I do not think I am accustomed to the English ways yet.”
Lucrezia felt childish, like she was a petulant child stating the obvious. She nearly hastened to add a correction, but the Prince huffed, as though amused.
“Do you miss Bavaria then, my Lady?”
“The festivities and the preparations are keeping me busy enough to forget most of the time.” Her smile went rueful, as she cast her mind back - to the tall dark pines and the mountains, the cooler, bracing air in the winter. “But sometimes - the English, they know how to feast, and on some days I think all I ever hear are strains of lute and mandolin. Not that I don’t enjoy it, but… the forest give me peace, at times.”
“I did not take you as someone who wandered the woods.”
Lucrezia flushed, heat coming onto her cheeks.
“With - with my mother and her maid, usually. My brother too, if he was at court. Though when I was younger, I have run off after the rabbits in the undergrowth.”
Clearly, her mouth and her mind were not communicating properly, because this was something she really should not be speaking of to the Crown Prince of sorts. But he hadn’t stopped yet, whether out of etiquette or out of genuine interest, so she could salvage the situation yet.
“You would have hunted through them though. It’s always a great commotion at court whenever the lords went out hunting.”
“I remember those too. Which ones do you recall?”
“Not many, save -” She cut herself off, but the memory of it was beginning to make her smile. The Prince must’ve seen it too, because it seemed to pique his interest, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.
“Yes, my lady?”
“It’s not proper to be repeated. While no one was hurt…”
The Prince huffed again, shaking his head, but now he was beginning to grin.
“If it is the one I think of -”
“There was another?”
“Perhaps. I might tell you, if you tell me which one you recall, Lady Lucrezia.”
“I -”
The heat was gathering on her cheeks now, because that story, while it made for excellent court gossip and she’d laughed till tears came to her eyes, leaning heavily against her brother. He hadn’t fared much better, she remembered - he’d been gasping for air, unable to make a sound. But she had to be brave now - she’d come too far, and regret would only come after she’d left this study.
That thought made her feel strange - as though she were reluctant to leave the study, while she was here cocooned in quiet, with the Prince.
“ - I think it was the one where a squire returned festooned in flags, after a hunt.”
“You heard of it as well?”
“It was the talk of court for several days, Your Grace. Although I must confess, to this day I cannot understand why the mention of cheese graters were barred for the next few days. Surely…?”
“Sweetmeats can excite some hunters a little too much, my lady. But no, this was not the one I thought you heard of.”
“Which one were you thinking of, Your Grace?”
He shrugged. “I think this was a moon or two from before I -”
Three loud raps cut him off, and Lucrezia wondered who had the nerve - the knocks indicated they knew the Prince was inside, but were not powerful nor titled enough to simply waltz in and demand his attention. Not that many at the English Court were, but to be brave enough to interrupt like that…
Or perhaps the servants outside knew he had elsewhere to be, but drew straws as to who would be the one to summon him.
“Your Grace? Your appointment with the Minister will be soon.”
With that, the Prince’s face shuttered again, going from the strange, comfortable warmth he had to the restrained presence he had been when he first entered the room. He straightened up, and Lucrezia followed suit, standing to her feet.
“My apologies, Lady Lucrezia. I must take my leave.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
They exchanged formalities, and Lucrezia was left alone again in the study, her novella forgotten. So forgotten, in fact, she’d even lost the page she’d stopped at. With a resigned sigh, she flipped it open, and sought the last line she remembered seeing. And now she had to bear in mind not to be late for the next task she needed to be at too…
The twisted and verdant way
“May I borrow a moment of your time, Mistress Girault?”
Lucrezia very nearly dropped the inkwell she was writing with at the voice, only desperately fast reflexes saving her from ruining her kirtle with iron gall ink. There was an undignified snort, and it took Lucrezia every inch of her restraint not to roll her eyes.
“Perhaps, if you state what you wish to borrow me for, Lord Imécourt.”
Lord Phillipe, Marquisate of Imécourt was currently leant against the alcove Lucrezia had hidden herself in, arms crossed and completely at ease. She’d met him one of the days she’d snuck out to find Etha, to sneak her some carrots from the kitchen, and came across the man tending to his own horse in the stables, about to head out to ride.
She’d seen him subsequently afterwards swarmed with admirers, each vying for his attention, and when she brought it up with Lady Blanca later on, about how unusual it was that women would try to vie for him so openly, Lady Blanca had only smiled.
“He’s a charming gentleman, that Lord Imécourt. A godchild to King Francis I as well - and very well-liked.”
Lucrezia had glanced at him, met his gaze, and he’d grinned at her, unrepentant, and despite herself, Lucrezia looked away, smiling. He must’ve seen it, because the next day, because he was there at the stables the next time she returned, striking up a conversation with her.
“Such suspicion, Mistress Girault! Could I not wish to merely see you?”
“Truth told, I am more surprised you tore yourself away from your admirers. But forgive my forwardness - you startled me, that is all.”
“I noticed. Is that a letter?”
Lucrezia glanced down at the parchment by her side, blotted the rest of the ink, and shook her head.
“Yes. I am writing my family, that is all.”
“Nothing too serious, I hope?”
Lucrezia smiled, shaking her head.
“I appreciate the concern, my lord, but it will be alright. Was there something you needed of me?”
“The Maze Gardens open today, and I was hoping you would do me the honour of walking them with me.”
That jogged a memory for Lucrezia. She’d seen the hedges being clipped and put together the first few weeks of her arrival, and she’d heard it would be a horticultural marvel. But she hadn’t recalled its opening day - and as it turned out, it would be today.
“I would be more than delighted to, my lord. I will need a moment to put away my writing things, but I will be with you shortly.”
Lord Imécourt nodded his assent, and a few minutes later, Lucrezia found herself escorted through throngs of excitable courtiers, towards where the Maze Garden was. It was difficult to miss, with the Garden decorated for the occasion - lamps and colourful streamers flying overhead, and she saw many a group of nobles head towards the entrance.
“I don’t think we’ll have any trouble finding the exit, will we, my lady?”
Lord Imécourt was eyeing her with something akin to amusement, and something else Lucrezia would not put a name to. Instead, she had another look at the people entering the maze, and shook her head.
“I would say it would be more difficult. With so many people, it would be harder to make notations of where we’ve been.”
“That would be cheating, Mistress Girault.”
“Yes, but walking the maze is to reach its centre - and not to lose our way when we come out. Like the myth of the Minotaur.”
“Are you suggesting there is a bull-headed monster within the maze?”
Lucrezia bit back a remark about how she knew some of the nobles in that maze by reputation would qualify for being bull-headed and monstrous. Instead, she bowed her head for a laugh, and let the man lead the way.
“Say, what was that letter to your family for?” Lord Imécourt asked, as they took a turn into the maze.
“News, I suppose. They are still a sea away, after all, and I have not heard from either of them in a while.”
“You seem devoted to them.”
“Are you not the same to your own family, my lord?”
“Not as often as I’ve heard you mention them. You said last time this was your first time returning to England in a while.”
“My lord remembers correctly. I barely remember England - I left when I was a babe, and have not been back since.”
“England is much changed then. I still remember when the King’s brother was alive - sweating sickness took him, I think, thus the state of affairs now.”
“Sweating sickness?”
“Pray it doesn’t come back - I’ve heard it’s a terrible thing. Although a lovely and healthy lady like you would be unlikely to catch it.”
Lucrezia smiled, despite herself. “You flatter me, my lord. I only -” She paused, and took in her surroundings. They were in an isolated patch of hedge, but there was something strange about it. Something familiar…
“I think, my lord, we may have looped back to where we started.”
“We -” Now it was Lord Imécourt’s turn to look a little confused, as he looked around them. “I don’t think so - if we took this route, we might be able to reach the centre…”
Lord Imécourt’s intuition, however, was terrible. Unfortunately, so was Lucrezia’s, although they ran into several others along the way. In the end, it was pure dumb luck they took the right turn and emerged into the centre of the maze - with its beautiful lattices, the flowers in perfect bloom. Lucrezia, however, resolved not to return there for a while - though perhaps, if she had a companion as amusing as Lord Imécourt, she would not necessarily mind.
At summer’s end
After all that preparation, it led up to this moment here - right now, with Lucrezia seated alongside Lady Blanca and Lady Isabella, shaded from the bright summer sun and their hair held back. Lady Anne seemed to be a further away, and Lucrezia had heard the titters when the woman first arrived - about her and her now infamous sister, Mary Boleyn.
Lucrezia reflected on that for a moment - she’d been called the English Mare in France for her multiple affairs in the French Court, and later was known to be mistress to the King before he married the Queen. All this she had to weasel out of her brother, because it was deemed idle gossip - but it stayed with her, and made her worry for her own safety and conduct.
But Lady Anne seemed, if anything, more savvy and intelligent than her sister was, and at the moment, was speaking pleasantly to another lady-in-waiting without much regard for the people around her.
“This should be exciting,” Lady Isabella was saying, leaning in close. “They say the knights are all unidentifiable, save for when they will be unmasked.”
“That’ll add to the suspense! Imagine them asking for your favours, and you not knowing who your admirer is…”
“Or perhaps a test of true love,” Lucrezia added, recalling her books on English courting. “True lovers are meant to be able to recognise each other with or without the mask.”
“That would be a pretty tale, wouldn’t it? I wonder who would believe it.”
Not many, Lucrezia thought. Not if the old Greek myths and early literature had anything to say about it - if anything, fated lovers tended to suffer the most tragic fates: Hero and Leander, Helen and Paris, Lancelot and Guinevere… although if she thought about it a little more, it was less fate and more for the sake of a good story, at times.
Not that it wasn’t fun giving away favours. She’d been asked for one before the tournament, by one of the masked knights, politely, graciously, and she’d given him one of her stitched handkerchiefs. It did send a little flutter through her to have been asked - before arriving in England, those chances were few, nearly non-existent. Leo had teased her about it once, and she did her best not to let her upset show.
She didn’t know who the knight was, but they’d worked up the nerve to ask her, before their own joust - how could she say no?
“The knights! They’re coming!”
Lucrezia looked up in time to see the men on horses sweep out onto the arena, each clad in finely-wrought armour - but not a single identifying colour nor coat of arms on them. They were trotting towards where the women sat, and she heard the excited giggles around them, as some of the noblewomen and younger girls stood up to try and get a better view.
The Queen, sat in the very front row, made no move, her serenity exceptional in the commotion. After the initial parade, the knights went away, but Lucrezia spotted her own kerchief tied around the tip of one of the lances, and ducked her head.
The joust itself was heart-stopping - for the clatter of hooves, the splintering wood and metal, how the men fell. This joust was the Rennzeug, with the lighter contact, but it didn’t stop her heart hammering in her chest. She liked the victory, the parades, but she’d seen for herself how it could be fatal and bloody, and could not bear the thought of one family losing their brother, their son, or -
Her heart was in her throat when she saw the knight bearing her favour fall from his horse, lance splintered against his opponents shield. It was instinct and everyone else rushing to help the man up that kept her in her seat - and when the knight tossed his helmet aside, she huffed a laugh, smothering her relief.
The Duke of Alba - Don Fernando, of all people - emerged from his helmet, unhurt, bruised, but he was still smiling as he shook his opponents hand, to the roar of the crowds around them. Beside her, Lady Blanca nudged her.
“He has your favour, does he not?”
“He does, but I’m more relieved he hasn’t injured himself!”
She did tell the Duke that later on, when she met with him near the sweetmeats and the pies, plying him with a piece of marchpane the same way she used to when she met with Leo. The loss hadn’t dampened his mood at all - and for goodness’s sake, everyone knew it would be the King who would in the end ride to victory.
In her head, Lucrezia couldn’t quite decide what to make of the Duke yet - caught between appreciating he was a fully grown man of court, a duke in his own right, and yet to be so young and full of vigour.
You’re only three years older than him, a voice murmured traitorously to her, and she shunt it away, not wishing to dwell on that subject for long. Instead, she let herself be swept away by the jousts the Duke was describing, the Spanish sun and the seaside, and wondered if her parents had ever been there.
********
Lucrezia counted it a minor miracle she did piece together a costume for the Masqued Pageant hosted for the final day - a light, airy thing of silk and gold thread, costing a small fortune to put together. But this was the King and Queen’s idea, and she knew her place.
There was a strange sensation wearing this dress - not having so many layers and laces was freeing, but it left her free, exposed. She’d already stitched lining into her bodice, covering her bust, but it did nothing the chill leaving goosebumps on her skin. And here - now - she could see her figure, the bones poking through, how she was not plump or voluptuous enough, how the white of the silk showed how much darker she was compared to the famed English beauties, and -
It was her dressing lady knocking on her door that shook her out of her thoughts. Gathering up her mask and her hairpieces, she swept outside, feeling how chilly the Palace was in her gown.
Bounty. She was due to play Bounty, one of the Virtues, but she didn’t feel she represented it well enough. And how was this meant to work? Who would her partner even be? It was another mystery, and while it had been a pleasant surprise when her masked knight was the Duke of Alba, a dance partner was… different. What if she trod on his toes? What if he trod on hers?
She was led to the back of the Great Hall, where the pageant was due to take place, joining the other Ladies-in-Waiting, and could only listen as people chatted around her. She couldn’t see Lady Blanca, and in this gown, she felt vulnerable. Naked, even, and she wanted to shrink away and hide herself.
Yet there was no time for it - outside, she heard the musicians begin to play, and someone was hissing their stage cue, like they had rehearsed. Taking one more deep breath to calm her nerves, she followed them up on stage, accompanied by the raucous applause and catcalls of the assembled courtiers below.
Shortly after, several women clad in black ascended the stage, hurling dark petals to the jeers below. Some of the more adventurous men threw the petals back, heckling as they did. The lady-in-waiting beside her did not seem perturbed, but it was all Lucrezia could do to stay put, and not run.
A silence fell when the Hall’s massive double doors flew open, and an army of black-clad, masqued men entered, following a noble dandy clad in a bright red cape and a gold mask of his own. Lucrezia recognised him as the role of Ardent Desire, watched him rattle his sword at the Vices, but could barely hear a word. In fact, it was a minor miracle she remembered to keep smiling through it all.
It was only when the musicians started playing a more frenetic tune did Lucrezia realise the Valor was (were?) charging towards the castle. The music was quickly drowned out by cheering below - and the sound of men clambering up the large wooden set constructed for that purpose.
Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw one man scale the makeshift battlements, footing steady, deliberate, and when he looked at her - she thought she almost recognised those eyes. But it was the intensity of that gaze that took her breath away, how they seemed to disregard everything else except her.
She was still reeling when the masked man finally climbed up to the stairwell where she stood, one leg swung over the wooden fence, looking at her intently. He took her wrist, its warmth flooding through her.
“I have claimed you as captive, Bounty,” the man murmured, voice low, barely heard over the cacophony, but it was clear all the same. Lucrezia’s answering smile was trembling, her heart about to beat out of her chest.
“Then I am yours,” she replied, keeping her gaze fixed on his eyes. A breath passed, neither saying anything save for the musicians and the cheering of the audience outside.
Then, the man swung himself into the battlements, holding a hand out to her. She took it, his eyes never leaving hers, as though he were trying to decipher who she was behind the mask.
Was that heat creeping up her spine? She knew she flushed at the worst of times, but she would have the usual gowns to cover the red. With luck, she would not look like the Cardinal of the Sea when she emerged into the light.
Her escort’s touch was still firmer now, steadying her down the staircase, to the assembled congregation below. They separated into their respective lines, an attendant helped them to take off their masks and -
Oh.
Across her stood the Crown Prince of Andechs, looking at her with wide eyes, a small smile beginning to form on his face, and she tried not to look as relieved as she felt. It hadn’t been a complete stranger after all - but someone familiar, closer to home -
Was that why she’d felt so hypnotised earlier? Was it the mask? Or did she just… know? The last explanation she rejected out of hand - it would be too fanciful, even for her. She would not pretend that she had definitely recognised the eyes, because it would be lying.
Just as she was re-ordering her thoughts into something cooler, more rational, the music struck up again - one for their dance, a moderate tempo, enough for them to step and swirl in time with the music. The Prince wasn’t looking away still, and Lucrezia was powerless to draw her eyes away. And to think a few weeks ago, she was debating whether it would be appropriate to gaze at the Prince directly…
She could feel the warmth of his body through the thin silk of her dress, goosebumps creeping down her spine. It was made all the more unbearable simply by how far it seemed, to be so close and brushing against each other. Here, amongst the silk and the pageantry, barely touching hands curling into gentle handholds as he led her for one final procession down the Great Hall.
Lucrezia hadn’t known the Prince to be a graceful dancer, but here he was, moving with all the easy discipline and elegance of a hunter, keeping time, all the while holding her gaze.
One more curtsey, a loud strum of the chords, and the spell broke. As the applause and cheers flooded in, was like she’d been doused with cold water, shaking her clear from the dream.
She inclined her head to the Prince before she slipped outside to the gardens, where the fireworks would take place. She needed to catch her breath - extraordinary, given the dance wasn’t like the Saltarello.
It didn’t come as a surprise that the Prince joined her at the balcony, in the hushed dark of the lush greenery. His movements were more restrained, controlled, and Lucrezia briefly mourned the loss of his easy, sinuous movements.
“You are an excellent dancer, Lady Lucrezia.”
She took the compliment with a bow of her head, a smile creeping onto her face.
“Are you describing yourself, Your Grace? It’s been a while since I have seen someone so light on their feet.”
The Prince huffed, shaking his head.
“I speak the truth, my lady. I do not normally enjoy these pageants, but it has been a delight to dance with you.”
“I don’t usually attend these so publicly, either.” She exhaled, looking out over the greenery. “I’m more accustomed to watching the dancers, not being one myself.”
“And what would you do then, if you were watching?”
“Enjoy the atmosphere, the people, the music. Even if it is a little raucous.” She paused, then amended, “Not to say I don’t enjoy these occasions, but - I visit the study often, Your Grace. That is some measure of me.”
“No, I am aware.” His lips were curved into a smile. “We do run into each other frequently in the study, after all. Some would find reading a tedious chore.”
“But there’s so much to learn and to see, through your betters and their records. We only have one lifetime to learn, Your Grace - and only so much we can travel to.”
“And thus your interest in books, Lady Lucrezia?”
“If I can find enough of them, in truth. Sometimes I wonder how much hasn’t been written yet - but there are books our sex cannot read yet, and so -”
She stopped herself, realising in all likelihood, the Prince was not here to listen to her thoughts on books, its availability, and the knowledge gleaned to it. Heat creeping up her cheeks, she bowed her head.
“My - my apologies, Your Grace. I did not mean to get carried away.”
“My lady, if it bored me, I would have told you so. But it is rare to find such enthusiasm for books - or the knowledge with it.”
“It’s hardly enthusiasm, I think. Just the delight in knowing… more. If you cannot travel, this is the second best you can manage.”
If the Prince was to reply, Lucrezia did not know. For right at that moment, the first firework went off, and all conversation died out between the two of them, in favour of watching the lights sparkle and dazzle overhead, smoke and gunpowder filling the air.
Ephemeral, beautiful - and Lucrezia desperately wished she could have some painter to record the scene she was seeing, to record this moment here, standing here in the peaceable dark for the days to come.
Complete! And I didn't bust the word limit!
Last edited by Jadis (13/01/2020 at 04:36)
