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Contents
The Pleasure Palace
Between Two Queens
By Royal Decree
At the King's Pleasure teaser intro
At the King's Pleasure teaser
SECRETS OF THE TUDOR COURT
The Pleasure Palace
Pocket Books
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2009 by Kathy Lynn Emerson
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department,
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POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Emerson, Kate.
Secrets of the Tudor court: the pleasure palace / Kate Emerson.—1st
Pocket Books trade pbk. ed.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-8358-5
ISBN-10: 1-4165-8358-0
1. Popincourt, Jane—Fiction. 2. Mistresses—Great Britain—Fiction. 3. Henry VIII, King of England, 1491–1547—Fiction. 4. Great Britain—Kings and rulers—Paramours—Fiction. 5. Great Britain—Court and courtiers—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3555.M414S43 2009
813'.54—dc22 2008030455
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FOR MEG AND CHRISTINA
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
AUTHOR’S NOTE
A WHO’S WHO OF THE EARLY TUDOR COURT
READERS CLUB GUIDE
1
I was a child of eight in April of the year of our Lord fourteen hundred and ninety-eight. I lived in a pretty, rural town on the south bank of the Loire River, where a fortified château faced with white stone graced the hill above. This castle had been much restored by France’s King Charles VIII, and his court spent a good part of every year in residence there. Both the town and the château were called Amboise.
My mother, Jeanne Popyncourt, for whom I was named, served as a lady-in-waiting to the queen of France. My father, until his death six months earlier, followed the court from place to place, taking lodgings in nearby towns so that Maman could visit us whenever she was not in attendance on Queen Anne. We had a modest house in Amboise and several servants to see to our needs. After Papa died, Maman added a governess to the household to look after me.
I was so often in Amboise that I had become friends with some of the neighborhood children. I spent a great deal of time with one in particular, a boy of my own years named Guy Dunois. Guy taught me how to play card games and climb trees, and he made me laugh by crossing his eyes. They were a bright blue-green and always full of mischief.
Then everything changed when King Charles died. When word of it spread throughout Amboise, people went out into the street just to stare up at the château. Some had tears in their eyes. Madame Andrée, my governess, told me to stay in my bedchamber, but from my window I could see that she and everyone else in the household was outside. Guy and his mother were out there, too. I was just about to disobey Madame’s orders and join them when a cloaked and hooded figure burst into the room. I let out a yelp. Then I recognized my mother.
“We must leave at once on a long journey,” Maman announced.
Surprised by my mother’s disguise, I was nonetheless elated by the prospect of a great adventure, I clapped my hands in delight. I treasured the hours I spent in my mother’s company, the more so since the loss of my father. For the most part, Maman and I could only be together when she did not have duties at court. As she was one of Queen Anne’s favorite ladies, she was rarely free.
“Where are we going? When do we leave? What shall I pack?”
“No questions, Jeanne, I beg you.”
“But I must say farewell to Guy and my other friends, else they will wonder what became of me.”
“There is no time.” She had already stuffed my newest, finest garments into the leather pannier she’d brought. “Don your cloak, and change those shoes for your sturdiest pair of boots.”
When I’d done as she asked, I held out a poppet I treasured, a cloth baby with yarn for hair and a bright red dress. Maman looked sad, but she shook her head. “There is no room.”
She left behind my comb and brush and my slate and my prayer book, too. With one last look around the chamber to assure that she’d packed everything she thought necessary, she grasped my hand and towed me after her to the stable.
A horse waited there, already saddled and carrying a second bulging pannier. I looked around for a groom, but no one was in sight, nor had Maman hired any guards to escort and protect us.