The Thirteenth day of February, the Year of our King 1569
As the ceremony approaches, I can almost taste the pure excitement in the air just filling one's lung with nervousness and enthusiasm. I was just in the Queen's chamber to assist her as she breakfasted, and so I asked, as courteously as I could, if she could back out on her plan to get me engaged.
"Ahh, little one, do not you think you can worm your way out of this one! Do not you worry, Jasmine love, you will be fine!" the Queen laughed. Queen Elizabeth is so smart! You can never trick her out of doing something that she had already set her mind on. With her flaming red hair and blazing eyes, she truly looks majestic in any situations despite her stoutness. Even her fair and very spotty skin looks beautiful, for she, beyond doubt, is a woman born to be the Queen of England.
Although I used all my mental weapons to get her to halt my marriage planning, I couldn't get her to.
3 O'clock. Time to see to my ball dress… (gulp)
Later this day
I can hardly write in this gown! It would help so much if I had another pair of sleeves on but Mrs Cobblenock has the other good pair, and the nosy old cow would surely tell me off if she saw me using ink in this gown. Actually, no – it is more likely she would faint of shock. But I have no matching pair sleeves for rose velvet in my wardrobe and Mrs Cobblenock is sure to notice if she saw me wearing my tattered grey ones, especially since they have no roses or vines on them. Did I hear her say something about this robe costing hundreds of pounds yesterday? Well, it certainly weighs hundreds of pounds – velvets are extremely heavy, not to mention layers of them. I have to waddle like a duck to move.
"You look beautiful, Jasmine. Your lovely long hair and your magnificent ring suits the gown amazingly." The Queen told me as I entered her chamber. The ring I was wearing was a simply divine web of gold bursting outwards from the centrepiece of sparkling white diamond, with other tiny gems of all the colours of rainbow circling it, giving it a magical, shimmery look.
"Thank you, Your Highness." I curtsied as best as I could without falling over and drowning in rose-pink velvet.
"Your Highness?" a high-pitched voice called from the entrance.
Surprise, surprise. It was Lady Francia standing near the door glaring balefully and obviously at me, or rather, my gown.
"Your Highness, why does she get to have a new dress?" she jabbed a finger in my direction as she spoke.'
"My dear Fran, this ball is especially arranged for Jasmine here. Do not you worry; you will get another gown when you grow out of the…old one." The Queen said, fighting a smile.
Shame on her. She gets a new dress and every other accessory from her male admirers every single week, for goodness sake!
Anyway, back to my ball gown. I am to change back to my other dress as soon as possible. Not that I think it is possible.
Even later this day
Finally! I am now very comfortable in a nice knee-length dress, though I am only allowed in this outfit out of the other's sight, for the Queen and the other ladies will have a fit if they knew that I was showing off my skinny ankles in one thin layer of butterscotch-yellow silk. It used to be worse though, we weren't allowed to wear any skirt above our ankles. Thank goodness that is no more! In fact, now people think it is quite fashionable. The dress I am wearing now comes up just above my knees and is constructed of buttery yellow silk (nearly see-through and very, very light) with a thick trim of rich white fur spotted with black dots around the back of the neck and draped across my collarbones like a shawl. No sashes, no wheatpaste, and no sleeves. I had save this dress for later, though if Mrs Cobblenock helps me to change (shudders) then may the Good Will guide me through such peril. As you can see fro-
Still later this day
My goodness! How could I have been so careless! But it turned out quite well, and that is good. Fran had burst through the doors in her best powder-blue tea-gown with pink silk trims and roses, her sapphire necklace and Dutch-silk scarf to warn me that the garden party with Lady Veronica of Eastern Domain was down the palace garden now. The Mistress is a very snobby lady, if I may say so, and very picky. Luckily though I was only a few minutes late although Francia gave me a hard time ranting on about her wonderful behavior in the Queen's chamber listening to instructions, tossing her pale pink and light green plumes on her hat as she spoke (it's a wonder why I don't toss her out of the West Tower window), I endured such pain in the neck for the sake of her thimbleful of kindness which at least got me out of trouble. Archduchess Victoria complimented me on my dress (the yellow one which I had no time to change out of – Fran, knowing this, glowered at me). I had pulled on a light violet velvet Lucernces trimmed cloak (knee-length) held on by a silver-lined-amethyst brooch and was also wearing my bronze leather-and-wood heeled sandals, quite old, but Sir Daniel seemed very impressed with my garments and appearance (I could see something dangerous prowling beneath the 2-inch-thick coat of wheatpaste on Fran's face). Wearing the thin silk was probably not the best idea when going outside. Despite my warm cloak, I was shivering. Inside my bedchamber, it was very warm and cosy due to the driftwood fire in the fireplace. How I missed the strange blue and green flames in my shabby mantelpiece! Anyway, after Sir Daniel expressed his, er, feelings about my attire (most girl are crazy about him, goodness knows why, but no-one dares to flirt with him for they value their life too much; Fran is very possessive, you know), and also after a slice of most delicious chocolate mousse cake, it was time to attend the Lady, the Archduchess and the Duke to the palace room where the Queen will discuss with them about, you know, whatever Queens discuss with Ladies, Archduchesses and Dukes. There are ten Maids of Honour, in ranking order I will jot them down her: me (Lady Jasmine, I keep my highest ranking position mostly because of my mother, who died to save the Queen), Fran (Lady Francia, second, not because of the pureness of her heart but the flesh above her heart – her bosoms, obviously), my best friend Lady Ashley Felyn, Lady Valerie (a timid but a very intelligent girl, the eldest of us Maids of Honour), Lady Charlotte and Lady Clair (they are my other friends), Lady Monet and Lady Adelaide (Fran's wannabes), Lady Helen Shelton (once a great rival of Francia because she used to have enormous chest and an exquisite face, but had a stroke of smallpox at fourteen and the scars on her face keeps her inside her room all the time), Lady Maria Shelton (Lady Helen Shelton's sister who is with her all the time) and Lady Laura. Ash and I once made a long list of the court, who we liked and who we did not like. It took forever! Ash is very pretty with a spray of cute freckles splashed across her face and sparkling sapphire eyes fringed thickly with dark lashes. Her light brown hair is very short for a girl but nice looking. She is four months older than me but quite short in heights, too. I'm pretty short for my age as well, but my proportions and figure are that of a goddess', Madam Praquet once said. We are the stars of the dancing classes and the balls (though I must say, after the last Easter Day performance, Francia had been training harder than ever). We did an incredible duet dance last year and we were awarded by the Queen herself. Even Francia looked awed, and that's really something. Ash took dancing classes with me, at first to keep me in company, and we were both really quite talented at dancing, it seems. Definitely not talented at handwriting! Look at the ink splodges on this journal! Candle or no candle, this is looking really messy. Oh well, for no-one but Ash and I will be able to read it then. Ash is writing a diary too, a twin one of mine. It has the same cover of soft chocolate-brown suede and one delicate silver star pinned on it.
I am really, really tired now. I should get some sleep before the big day tomorrow.
I wonder how Ethan is.