The Fourteenth day of February, the Year of our King 1569
So the big day has arrived at last.
This morning was quite cold and frosty for the end of the springs, but after having a nice, hot cup of tea in the sitting room, I felt better. By 7 O'clock, Fran and I were the only ones sitting though, for the others had fled to the warm lair of their chambers.
"Did you see Duke James Casander's son?" she squealed. She is always forgets that I am her archenemy when she is excited, and the only time she is excited is when there is a new and handsome male being in the court.
"Yes. He was really… nice." I said, my eyes drifting out of focus as I remembered his hands brushing against my cheek. My cheek reacted as if it was on fire. What was wrong with me? Surely I was not… you know, in love with him???? I quickly ducked under the table to avoid getting into trouble with Francia.
"He is dreamy. Did you see those eyes? I was watching him from across the hall and he winked at me." she squeaked.
It was as if she had launched a bucket of ice-cold water at me. Of course, even if he had called me by my first name, stroked my cheek and sat down beside me, it did not mean he was interested in me. Fran. It always has to be Francia.
It was not fair. My eyes stung but I blinked them back furiously, annoyed at myself. Of course, I knew it was stupid to decide that a man was in love with a woman just because he winked (and I doubt he did, for Fran cannot tell a scowl from a grin) at her, but I was so depressed that there was but a very slim chance of him liking me. Without another word I left the room and was just about to go back to my room when I heard the door opening behind me and a voice saying, "Hello?"
My blood ran cold. Soft as spring breeze. Smooth as honeyed velvet. I'd recognise that voice anywhere.
I turned around mechanically to face the corridor. There he was, breathtakingly stunning-looking as always. I stood just behind a suit of armour and watched as Francia greeted him in a way-too-friendly way, batting her amazing eyelashes and flaunting her figure. Miraculously, he seemed distracted. I was glad about that. I don't think I could've stood it if he started playing along too.
"Where is Jasmine?" he asked, deliberately toying with a teacup.
I felt my jaw drop. So did Francia's, only hers recovered quicker.
"Why do you want to know?" she said sharply.
"Well, I was wondering if she had any more feathers I could borrow. My sister wants to make a duck feather cushion, you see." and with that he turned his overwhelming, burning gaze directly on me. I would have laughed my head off at that duck feather joke. In any other situation but this.
I automatically stepped out of my hiding place, my cheeks on fire again. Other than Ethan's intense gaze, I felt Fran's glare on me, probably for ruining her chance with seducing the gorgeous angel standing before me.
"Duck feather? Duck feather??? Why in the name of heaven would he need duck feather??" I heard her yell to Adelaide and Monet later on.
"Hello again, Jay. I was looking for you." He called out, smiling.
Ethan and I made our way to the garden to sit on the midnight-black rock we sat on only the day before yesterday. There we just sort of talked about everyday things, not really paying attention to anything or anyone else but the person before me. Occasionally he would ask some quite unusual questions like, about my favourite colour, or my birthplace, or my favourite gemstone. I was too busy observing his heavenly face to really understand what he was saying, but the last question, thrown in such an offhand way that it was almost a careless remark, caught me off-guard.
"So the ball is today, right? Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me."
I froze, and as I stiffened he reached down and lifted my chin up so that he could see my shocked face. The touch sent another dose of electrical current down my body.
"You do not have to, you know. It's okay, really. But I think we might be good friends once we try to be." He said brightly, his slightly lopsided nose twitching a little.
Boy, was Fran going to be jealous. I was numb with shock, but I felt happy. I know now. I like him, maybe more than he likes me, which can cause some problems, but for now I wanted to be his friend. So, smiling widely, I answered,
"Sure! I shall meet you at the mermaid-fountain at five to seven." My heart accelerated as he smiled back.
Later this day
Oh, it was shocking, so shocking! But I must start from the beginning and calm myself down a little. I cannot believe what had just happened to me. Lord, spare us!
"Please, Josie?" I begged, my cherry-pink lips pushed out into a cute pout.
The bushy-haired lady before me hesitated. Her wrinkled hands hovered just inches away from my cheekbone, caked with revolting slimy mixture. I tried again,
"Josie, I'd be dancing. You know how that stuff runs when you become sweaty." I whined as best as I could.
"But my lady, surely wheatpaste would bring out the colour of your eyes with the gown?" Josephine asked uncertainly.
"Fie! Fie! Never have I heard of such a thing" I waved my hands unconcernedly, accidently on purpose knocking down a bottle of perfume. Josie, scowling, bent down to retrieve the vial. As quick as a wink, I snatched the bowl of wheatpaste from my dressing table and slid it under my bed. I was going to have a hard time scrubbing at the carpet later, for I had spilled some of the goo, but at least it was the carpet, not my face, and that was good.
"Why, if it were for Lady Francia…" she began.
I rolled my eyes.
"Alright, alright." She laughed. I heaved a sigh of relief as Josie left the room. I chucked the wheatpaste away, ignoring the blob on the floor, and set about finding Ash, for we always helped each other. After wasting good fifteen minutes dashing about the stairs, I spotted Ash standing in the middle of the kitchen floor, her back toward me.
"Ash! There you were!" I charged at her, heaving a sigh of relief, which got caught in my throat as soon as I saw her expression.
Ashley's eyes were wide and glassy, frozen with shock. Her face, always a little flushed around the cheeks, was now ashen grey.
Her hands were over her mouth, and she crumpled on the floor as she saw my horror.
"What's happened?" I asked her shakily as I knelt down on to the marble next to her.
"Jay, there…I saw…I saw… I saw a ghost." Ashley whimpered.
I frowned at her. Ash was definitely not superstitious, and boy, was she gutsy. What was wrong with her? Did she hit her head somewhere? Surely, surely there was no ghost dwelling in the ancient walls of the Windsor Castle…?
"Oh my Lord!" came a familiar, hysterical shriek from the hallways. "What have you done to her??" Mrs Cobblenock knelt down before Ash, her eyes the size of my saddle-plates.
"She saw a ghost, Mrs Cobblenock." I said, my voice much calmer compared to the chaotic hurricane of thoughts whirling their way around my brain.
"Don't give me such nonsense, child. As if-" she started to scold me again.
Then suddenly there was a blast of cold wind from the direction of the storage room, followed by an unearthly, blood-curdling shriek.
Everyone around me froze, and Ash's knees gave up again. As her knee hit the floor, making a loud thud, the sound stopped abruptly.
I was in no mood to say, "I told you so." to the lady before me so I half-carried Ash up the stairs.
The next thing I know was me and Ash (white-faced and gaunt looking) sitting in my tower-room, sipping on our cocoa, nattering about useless this and that mindlessly. I knew not to cross into the "danger zone", the subject about the ghost, but Ash brought it up herself, which rather surprised me.
"Anne Boleyn??" I gasped. "You think you saw Anne Boleyn's ghost??"
"She was just standing there - …she had a yellow sun-dress on, you know, the one she wore for the execution…her dark hair braided and her skin as transparent as Persian silk." Ash had that empty, eerie voice again. Then thankfully she snapped out of it. "Why now, Jasmine, why me?" she half-yelled, frustrated. There were tears in her sapphire eyes.
"Why nothing, Ashley." I answered firmly. "It was not a ghost you saw, most surely not Lady Anne Boleyn's. It just isn't…isn't…"
Then we were interrupted by a sudden shriek below us (a human shriek, thank the Heavens) and a crash of a vase and other glass things being smashing into pieces on the marble floor. We dashed out and into the courtyard, where was now coloured with the pale darkness of twilight.
"It was a woman…a woman with coal-black hair." a small girl with cornflower-blue eyes was sobbing as she was dragged off to the palace. Ash was rigid as she stood by me, watching as the Queen's Ladies-In-Waiting hauled the little lass by her patched apron.
Who was the mysterious "spirit" that had freaked out my best friend and a little girl? Was it really Anne's ghost, coming back to the Windsor Castle to visit her Protestant daughter, Queen Bess???
Reluctantly, I moved toward the scene of questioning (people were bomb-barding the poor girl and Ash with questions), hiding in the shadows to avoid attention of others. It was a peculiar feeling, really, but I think something drew me to that particular path of oak leaves, just an ordinary and regular clearing of trees I see every day.
Then I tread on something. Hard, cool and strangely beautifully made. A half-burnt dagger. I drew a sharp breath and stared wide-eyed at the magnificent weapon in my hand. The scalpel looked as though it belonged to the King. It had the sharpest blade I had ever seen, blackened but nevertheless extremely dangerous.
The handle was encrusted with an assortment of precious gems, rubies, sapphires, amethysts, and right in the middle was a huge severed emerald in the form of a pomegranate, oddly like a injured venomous snake; bleeding, but poised and ready to strike. Its branches weren't wide, but were curled like claws, and had the pure air of evil about it, dulling the other jewels like a plague, poisonous. The pomegranate shrub was crowned with a golden diadem that sparkled unnaturally.
There was no doubt about it.
This deadly dagger belonged to Catherine of Aragon, the enemy of Lady Anne Boleyn.
Now, I might be petite with loose, long darkish gold curls tumbling about my waist and big eyes, but I am pretty brave, and I can scratch pretty well, believe it or not. I am also gifted with nimbleness of feet and quick mind. I slid in and out of the thick tree trunks until I found our secret tree, Ash and I's. Clutching the dagger, my hands rapidly grabbed on to a promising branch as I had done a thousand times before, wanting to get rid of the treacherous weapon as soon as possible, and as I swung myself up, there were flustered echoes of, "Your Highness, what an amazing opportunity this is to see you again!" and "Sire, 'tis magnificent Your Majesty with more I to visit again!" The Queen herself has many spies not only outside the palace, but the inside as well. Hoping greatly that the Queen or her spies did not spot me as I climbed higher and higher, I finally halted to a stop at the top of the tree. There was the small owl-hole that we always kept our most top-secret stuff. Feeling the familiar bark, I wrapped the dagger in my cotton handkerchief and stuck in inside the downy lair, eager to get rid of it sooner than later.
I swung from the topmost branch and on to the other, landing agilely on to the springy grass with my elbows tucked in. My purple pinafore was ripped, but that just simply could not be helped.
"My lady?" a voice started timidly from behind a tree. I turned around, bracing myself for the Lady-Francia-routine-telling-off, relaxing as I saw Sir Joseph stepping out in to the light. "I am most sorry to frighten you, but I just dropped by the forest to look for you, for I believe that Duke Casander is waiting for you in the Diamonde Chambers." and with that he scurried away into the woods, his gilt-collar suit crumpled and muddy.
Duke Casander?
Ethan wanted to see me again!!
This news made me so happy, for some reason or other, that I bounced off in the direction of the castle like lightning in the rudest manner possible. I stopped myself just in time to see Sir Joseph slinking off into the shadows of the trees toward east again.
In five minutes I was in my tower-room, digging through my closet for something, anything suitable and beautiful. In the end I chose the thin buttery-golden dress that I wore for the tea party with Lady Veronica, and the bronze suede shoes, too. While trying desperately to tug a brush through the muddy tangles, I heard a soft knock on the door. My heart accelerated, as if it knew exactly who it was leaning against the door frame casually. And I did. Ethan was there, his beautiful face highlighted with a slightly awkward smile, light reflecting his dark hair.
"Just thought you might need a hand." He said, smirking a little.
I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. "What kind of hand are you offering?"
But he was already behind me and had my hair untangled in seconds. "You are so pathetic at this." He said, rolling his eyes.
I snorted.
"Your hair is lovely." He murmured as he fingered my honey locks. I flushed with pleasure at his compliment. My good mood faltered a little.
He led me off to the West Stairs after that, making but a little attempt to speak; I was always comfortable in silence, and I was glad that he was, too. Then he turned to the Diamonde Chambers.
"But…but I thought…you're here." I stammered stupidly as he knocked on the door. Why was he leading me to the chamber? He was right in front of me!!
He turned to me, arching one perfect eyebrow.
"Your father???" I gasped as he steered me into the huge chamber.
"Hello, Jasmine. It is nice to finally see you." Duke Casander spoke pleasantly from a brown leather couch.
"I am Rosie Anne, and you must be Jasmine." Said a girl with long gold locks.
"And I Alicia." Said a girl with light brown ringlets.
"Umm… Hello." I stammered as another woman came out from the room beyond. Goodness knows how many more people were in there.
"Hello, dear. Please do call me Charlotte, not Lady Casander, and this is James." A lady with the highest cheek bones I had ever laid my eyes upon said, waving a hand at Duke Casander.
"I shall write more after the ball, for the seven O' clock bell had just rung and Ethan and the other Cullens are waiting for me.
Even later this day
The ball was amazing at the start. I danced as little as possible with the suitors, and mostly Ethan. I would never get used to Ethan's magnificence, it seems, for Ethan, in a sleek suit was simply dazzling, and I could not help but struggle when the other gentlemen came for their turn. Alicia and especially Rosie Anne (with her golden hair piled into a soft crown on top of her head) were stunning. The men could not help but gape at them, followed by a gulp as Count Russel approached. Fran ground her teeth in frustration as she watched Sir Daniel looking dazed in the arms of Rosie Anne Casander. LadyFrancia, of course, was looking magnificent as usual, with her best weapon, her bosoms, carefully arranged in the most revealing, lowest cut gown I had ever seen. Her dress was made of tight crimson velvet (embroidered heavily with white diamonds and glittering gold) and shimmery light gold cloth to highlight the embroideries. She was looked so stunningly wonderful especially with her long, brilliant hair in an expert style and her eyelashes long and becoming, but next to Rosie and Alicia, she looked like a piece of copper next to gold encrusted with jewels.
The Casander's (especially Ethan) are simply genius at dancing. Ethan just twirled me and my hundred-pound-dress as if it did not even weigh a stone. Once Ethan threw me into the air (literally) and everyone gawked. The Queen looked amused. I gave her one more pleading glance but she was already in the arms of Count de Senialla. I told Ash everything, of course, as best friends must, and she was most supportive. I do love Ashley.
Ethan and I stole out into the gardens as the midnight bell rang twelve times, and my heart was pounding so. I reached out, deliberating a little, and stroked his hand, warm and tanned lightly.
Less than five minutes later he stiffened and whispered in a low voice,
"Time to go back."
We were just in time for my choosing time. I scowled at him but he wasn't looking at me.
"And of course, Lady Jas-" the Her Highness began, but she stopped quickly. "Where is she?"
Count William and Lady Amelia started whispering loudly, their eyes sweeping the ballroom as I tried to sneak out.
"You…Your Grace? Lady Jasmine had gone for a little break from…from all the dancing." Ash butted in wildly. Ashley is truly a wonderful girl. The Queen did not look convinced, but she did not press the matter, and that was good. I will most surely be punished for this later on, but the bathroom-break excuse didn't have too many flaws.
By the time managed to get out of the stuffy room and into the cool stone hallway (I had to use my pink silk butterfly-embroidered fan to hide my face as I stole out of the place), the Queen had already given up looking for me and was now in the arms of sweaty-faced Duke of Fulgerita.
I ran from the place, as fast as I could, when I saw something by the wall. I froze, and a shiver ran up my spine, my blood turned ice-cold and flooded my veins.
There is a joke story about the statue of Anne Boleyn by the wall in the Northern Corridor where the ballroom is located, constructed of milky white marble. The statue, it is said, has some magical powers of Anne herself, and is connected to her secret room underneath the palace, which most people think is a joke because the wine cellar takes up all the space. The story goes that if the seventh day of the month is the day of the seventh full moon of the year, Anne Boleyn will float around the palace at midnight on the lookout for Catherine, the mother of Her Highness the Queen Mary, who is the enemy of Anne herself around the palace, and anyone who looks at her in her carved stone eye will die right there and then. I have no patience for the former Queen of England; they say she was bad-tempered and extremely haughty. Although she was witty and sharp (Queen Bess takes after her mother alright) unlike some other wives of King Henry VIII. I like Jane Seymour, though she is just too obedient for a Queen, mild and rather meek. Queen Catherine Howard very foolish but the former King refused to hear a statement against his "rose without a thorn". She was young, pretty and curvaceous. Fie! Hath I be the King Henry then, I would have known better, even as a youthful girl I am. Lady Catherine Howard died as a young lass of twenty-one, she was found guilty of adultery and treason. I daresay I am merely a child, a child that no-one listens to. No-one died so far, which is not surprising. Until now.
The statue wasn't there.
I nearly fainted of shock. I tried to run back to the ballroom but my feet failed to move and so I turned back around to face the statue again. Then, to my relief and utter horror, I realised that the statue was there again.
She was staring back at me with her painted black eyes, as black as coals from the Hell itself, frozen and purely evil. What had just happened?? This illusion, so completely bizarre, had nevertheless happened less than a minute ago.
First it was there, and then it wasn't.
Heart beating fiercely, I reached out and grabbed Catherine's arm, turning it as I went. The marble felt so cold against my sweaty hand, but I kept on tugging at the statue, trying to make something happen.
Sir Nicholas once told me a very scary story when I was only ten years old, a story about a statue in the Windsor Castle. He is a very mischievous man, and he loves fooling around.
"There is a secret chamber in this very castle, m'lady." He started, pulling a very serious face. "T'is a chamber in this palace that is full of treachery, malice and evil that must never be touched.
"Thee who seek the chamber must find a way to 'persuade' the statue somehow to face north and look toward the sky. Only then the entrance to Anne Boleyn's secret cellar may open for thee."
Just then, I realised, I was going to have to live through the nightmarish tangle of lies, deceit and betrayals all over again. My own curiosity wasn't going to let me go without another crazy investigation.
Hopefully, the Good Lord will watch over me as I sleep and bless me with a long and peaceful night.