Tangled in Time Read online

  “Rose Ashley,” Franny replied almost smugly.

  “She be an Ashley?” The look in the woman’s eyes brightened.

  “’Tis true,” Franny said. “And right in the nick of time, eh, Mrs. Belson?”

  “I’ll say. We’ve never been shorter staffed. Especially in the princess’s apartments. Begging your pardon, Franny, but you know we can’t have scullery and girls who muck about with chickens serving up there.”

  “Course not, Mrs. Belson.”

  “Wouldn’t be fitting and proper-like.” Mrs. Belson nodded at Rose. Rose nodded back.

  “Now it might be temporary, dear. But we’re in a pinch and beggars can’t be choosers. You know the king banishes the princess and keeps most of her staff for his new queen. Doesn’t seem quite right to me. Now wait here. I’ll fetch Mrs. Dobkins. Franny, you run along, as you know how fussy Mrs. Dobkins is about egg and dairy girls at this entrance.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The door closed and they were left alone.

  “Franny, I’m . . . I’m not sure what has just happened,” Rose said.

  “What happened is you came in the nick of time and Mrs. Belson thinks you’re fit to serve for the upstairs. You got yourself a fine job in the princess’s apartments, even if it’s temporary.”

  “Okay. . . .” Franny looked at her blankly, as she had a couple of times earlier. Rose suddenly realized that her speech must sound very American. The word “okay” was completely foreign to Franny. “I mean, yes, I suppose I did arrive in the nick of time, Franny. Thanks so much. Wish me luck.”

  “Oh, you’ll do fine. You don’t need any luck. I know it. Now I need to hurry along before Mrs. Dobkins comes round. So you wait here.”

  “All right. Thank you again.”

  Rose didn’t turn around as Franny walked away, but she felt Franny’s eyes on her, looking back. She’s trying to figure me out. And so am I!

  “Who is she?” Franny whispered to herself. There was something about Rose Ashley that stirred a memory. She had a headful of copper curls. Her complexion was tawny, and her eyes were very dark brown but had glints of bright amber. She was odd. That was for sure. It was almost as if she had never heard of Princess Elizabeth, or King Henry for that matter. She looked rather blank at their mention. But she was plenty clever. Knew her letters and scriving, and best of all she said she could teach Franny! Those words that Rose had said still rang in her ears: I’ll be your friend. And Franny thought how she really did need a friend.

  Her younger sister, Ellen, had died two years before when the pox came through. Franny had somehow been spared. She heard her mum mutter to her father the night that Ellen died, “Surely, Alfred, we can’t be struck twice. I pray not Franny.”

  “Thrice that would be,” her father had added. “If you count Franny’s leg.”

  “But she didn’t die, Alfred.”

  Then it suddenly came to Franny why Rose’s face seemed to have an echo of familiarity. The locket! She had found it perhaps two or three years before. She hadn’t known it was a locket then—had thought it was just a pendant on a chain. She had glimpsed it on the verge of the main drive up to the palace. It was quite early in the morning, that time just before dawn, when the land seems to sleep. Every dewdrop on every blade of grass and flower suddenly becomes a prism, splitting the light into half a dozen colors. She spied a radiance turning the gray fuzz of a dandelion gone by into bright gold. When she walked over for a closer look, she saw that a small link chain was snagged in the bracken behind the dandelion head. On the chain she found a lovely pendant in the shape of a rose. It was a fine piece of jewelry, and certainly she could not be accused of stealing since she had found it by the roadside. Nevertheless, she felt she must tuck it away. A girl like her, from a family like hers—her mum worked in the laundry of Hatfield, her father was a simple yeoman farmer with a small plot of land, with one-tenth of his crop taken by the palace—there was not a spare farthing for such extravagances as pendants.

  So for two years she had kept it hidden away. However, it was only a few months ago that she discovered that the rose was not simply a pendant but a locket too. The petals at the center of the rose were a paler gold than those around the edge. Beneath one of those petals was a tiny pin that if pushed in just the right way could open the rose. In each half there was a picture—a picture like none she had ever seen. Not painted, nor etched in pen and ink, but so real it seemed like a kind of magic. The surface was glossy, and the face that stared out at her was of a girl of perhaps six years. She was wearing the oddest clothing, and so was her mother. She supposed it was her mother, as they looked so much alike. But the two of them were half-naked. More than half-naked!

  And that nearly half-naked girl looked very much like Rose! Not exactly. It was hard to tell, as the little girl’s face had that chubby roundness to it of a six-year-old and her hair seemed much lighter. But there were resemblances. A Rose in a rose! The other picture was that of a handsome man with a close-clipped beard and a flat velvet cap, the kind artisans often wore. There was something about their eyes and the way they all smiled. It was almost as if they each had a secret. But how could this be?

  Franny needed to run back home as fast as she could. She simply could not live another minute without checking the picture in the rose locket. If this was the case, if it really was Rose in that rose, then it must belong to her—and Franny would indeed be a thief if she kept it.

  Rose heard the door open again.

  “Ah, what luck! Another Ashley, Mrs. Belson told me. Ashleys are always good! Couldn’t have come at a better time!” the woman exclaimed. She was as thin as a scarecrow with her hair slicked back into a tiny bun the size of a Ping-Pong ball.

  “Follow me, dear.”

  She moved in a sprightly manner as they wound their way up the twisting stone staircase. “Now it must be understood that you are not a companion to the princess. Your sole responsibility is to keep her quarters tidy. Check her gowns for stains and small rips that can be easily mended by you, not the head seamstress. We don’t bother her with those tasks like buttons or darning. That’s for you or Sara, the wardrobe maid, to tend to. You are also to wash the princess’s undergarments—petticoats, drawers, and so on. But that is only required once every few months when she changes them.”

  “Eeeewww!” Rose exclaimed.

  “What is that noise you just made?” Mrs. Dobkins turned around quickly as they made their way up the stairs.

  “Oh, nothing . . . I thought I felt a sneeze coming on. That’s all.”

  Mrs. Dobkins nodded and continued to explain her duties as a chambermaid to Princess Elizabeth. “Well, we’re here now.” Mrs. Dobkins knocked on a massive oak door.

  “Enter!” a young voice called out.

  The door creaked. “Milady, this is the new chambermaid, Rose.”

  The princess was still wearing the blue dress. Her red hair was no longer in braids but flowed freely over her shoulders. Rose managed a curtsy. She had seen this done enough in movies. When she straightened up from the curtsy, her eyes and the princess’s met. There was more than a glimmer of recognition in the princess’s eyes. But she did not call her guards this time.

  The room they were in was opulent, with tapestries on the walls and rich fabrics covering the furniture. But the fabric of the princess’s dress was absolutely sumptuous. There was a triangular piece of material, narrow at the top and wide at the bottom, that extended from the waistline of the dress and made the skirt flare. The edges of the triangle were outlined with minuscule ruby-red beads. So cool! Rose thought, as she made a mental note. She would sketch it when she got back—if she got back! That thought was a bit startling, yet she could not help but marvel at the dress. And to think that a seamstress did all this with no sewing machine! She wished her own sewing machine would arrive. The boxes Caroline had sent from Philadelphia were taking forever to get to Indianapolis. When she got back to her own time, she was definitely going to google Eliz
abethan clothing.

  Through an arched doorway, Rose glimpsed another room. She couldn’t tell if it was smaller or larger.

  “So you’re the new maid, are you?” Princess Elizabeth said, then turned abruptly to Mrs. Dobkins. “You may leave, Mrs. Dobkins.”

  “Certainly, milady,” Mrs. Dobkins said as she curtsied and backed out of the door.

  The girl sighed and suddenly broke into sobs, burying her face in her hands.

  “Oh, miss, what can I do?”

  “Are you a ghost?” the princess asked, drawing her hands from her face.

  “A ghost? Of course not.”

  “There was a girl who once was a servant here. She fell into a well and drowned.” She paused. “I thought I saw a girl about your age a few days past on a pathway. I called my guards, as I thought it was the ghost of the drowned girl at first. But now I see you look nothing like Becky the servant girl.”

  “Not in the least. I haven’t come to haunt you but to serve you. I am no ghost.”

  But in that minute Rose realized that it was she who had fallen into a ghost world. She was real, but everyone else was a ghost of a time long past, centuries gone.

  “To serve me—yes! Of course.” The girl pulled herself up and squared her shoulders. Despite her pink nose and tearstained face, she suddenly looked quite severe. “Well, to begin, you can address me properly—Your Royal Highness. For though I am banished, I am still, so far as I know, a princess! And the first time upon meeting a princess, one says ‘Your Royal Highness.’ Subsequently you may use an abbreviated form.”

  “And what is that, if you please, Your Royal Highness?”

  “Milady.”

  “Yes, milady.” Rose dipped into a small curtsy that somehow she knew was required, even though she was curtsying to a girl at least a few years younger. Dare she say a little more? “I . . . I . . . am so sorry for your situation.” Elizabeth looked up at her now.

  “Is that what you call it? A situation?” The princess’s face seemed to soften.

  “I’m sorry, I meant no offense.”

  “No need to apologize. You are the only person in this whole palace who has actually expressed sorrow for my plight. My father has a temper. He banishes me and my half sister, Princess Mary, on occasion. Mary doesn’t mind it as much as I do. As you probably know, I do not have a mother. . . .”

  Oh no, is she going to tell me about the beheading? Please no! Please!

  “And what is your name?”

  “Rose Ashley, milady.”

  “Oh. Kat, my governess, might have mentioned you. She’s away now. Quite ill actually. She broke her leg and then contracted pneumonia. She is engaged to be married to John Ashley. Must be another branch of your family. Yours of course a lower branch, not the John Ashley branch.”

  “Yes, milady, another branch.” The twenty-first-century branch?

  “You seem agitated. You’re wringing your hands.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you, Rose. Who else would be wringing your hands?”

  “True, milady. I just feel so bad for your troubles.”

  “Well, it could always be worse,” she said ruefully, and plucked at a stray thread on her dress. Does she mean she could be beheaded by her own father? Rose wondered.

  The princess sniffled again. “There’s always hope.”

  “Yes, milady, there’s always hope.”

  “You’re just saying that to agree with me.”

  “No, milady, I would never do that. I . . . I take words seriously.” The princess cocked her head slightly and regarded Rose.

  “Do you now? How interesting.”

  Rose thought carefully before she spoke. “I know little of your plight, but I see before me an intelligent young princess and . . .” Before she could finish her sentence, Elizabeth’s face broke into a smile. She rushed toward Rose and clasped her hands.

  “You are right, so right, and guess what! I think the queen—Catherine Parr, my new stepmother—sees the same. I wrote her a month ago, and she wrote me back directly. So quickly, within one month, perhaps it was two.” Rose blinked—two months. She thought that was fast? Well, she thought, it had been almost six weeks so far to deliver her boxes from Philadelphia.

  Elizabeth chattered on. “She said I was too bright a princess to languish in the dim shadows of banishment. She urged me to be patient. That she will speak to the king and plead my cause, but my patience is wearing thin. Do you understand, Rose?”

  “Yes. I believe I do.”

  “You really think Catherine likes me?”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  “My father just has his moods. Does your father have moods?”

  “I . . . I have never known my father.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s very sad. And your mother—does she have moods?”

  “My mother is dead.”

  “Oh dear!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Then you are truly an orphan. I’m only a half orphan. I think you’re the first whole orphan I’ve ever met. Fascinating!”

  At that moment there was a knock on the door.

  “Come in.”

  Mrs. Dobkins entered again and curtsied to the princess.

  Shafts of sunlight were pouring through the windows and striped the floor. It had been close to dawn when Rose had arrived. There had been a quietness found only in those earliest hours. Now birdsong strung the air. She could hear it through the glass.

  Mrs. Dobkins nodded at the princess. “Milady, I have just received news that the Princess Mary shall be arriving by luncheon. So, with Your Highness’s permission, I might send Rose in to inspect that chamber and dust it up a bit.”

  Princess Elizabeth’s face tightened. Her delicate features turned sharp. Her dark eyes became darker and as hard as agates.

  “She can inspect her quarters, but she is in no way whatsoever to serve Princess Mary. Is that understood?” She glared at Mrs. Dobkins, then turned toward Rose. “Understood, Rose? As a matter of fact, I do not want you anywhere near me when Princess Mary is around. She has a tendency to take things that are mine.” The princess paused. “And you are mine!”

  The words stung in Rose’s ears as she curtsied and left the room. “You are mine”? What does that mean?

  How many times had Rose’s mom insisted that she clean her room before watching television or going out with a friend? “Your room, Rose. It’s a complete disaster. You must clean it up. It will be condemned! I found a half-eaten Snickers bar on your desk from who knows when. You want to attract mice?”

  Cleaning up her room was boring, but cleaning this one was not, and there were definitely no Snickers bars, although she found traces of mice. There were fabrics she had never seen. Gilded furniture and ornaments. There was a dressing table with a pearl-studded mirror. But not much clutter at all.

  So it took Rose no time at all to clean the chamber that Princess Mary would be using. She plumped pillows, swept the hearth. Then, standing on a footstool with a broom, she brushed down the heavy curtains. She’d once helped her mom do this in a house she was about to put on the market, for her real estate business. No one had thought of brushing these curtains at Hatfield. She had to re-sweep the floor after she had finished with them. Rose knew she was not the tidiest person on Earth, but the hygiene habits of these people—royal people—left something to be desired. Imagine only washing your underwear every few months!

  She began wiping the leaded windowpane. “Hello!” a familiar voice hissed.

  “Franny!”

  There was the sound of her crutch against the stone floor of the chamber. “I brought these.” She was holding a bunch of twigs.

  “A bouquet of twigs.”

  “Not a bouquet for decoration, silly.” Her bright blue eyes sparkled. It was as if two little pieces of blue sky had come into the shadowy chamber. “Just a bunch of bayberry and juniper twigs for Princess Mary’s teeth.”

  “Her teeth? Whatever is she going to do with twigs?”

  “C
lean her teeth, of course.”

  Another hygienic quirk. Rose imagined that the entire concept of toothpaste squeezed from a tube onto a real toothbrush would seem completely bizarre. And weren’t twigs as real as a plastic toothbrush with its nylon bristles? Twig toothbrushes at least made a lot more sense than only washing your underwear once every several months.

  “You know, Rose, we’re in great luck.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Princess Mary is coming. They hate each other.”

  “Then why is she coming?”

  “They like to spy on each other. Not to mention the fact that Princess Mary delights in Elizabeth’s banishment. But Elizabeth never wants any of her personal servants around when Mary is here. She even locks up all her jewelry.”

  “Yes, Princess Elizabeth mentioned that her half sister likes to take her things.”

  “Last time she took one of Elizabeth’s favorite footmen. But you see, this gives us plenty of time together. My work is done.”

  “What shall we do?”

  “Well, we could go for a swim?”

  “A swim?”

  “In the River Lea. We can fish there too. See, this is the first really hot day and I haven’t had a bath since . . . I don’t know, maybe Christmas.”

  Gross! Rose thought.

  “So, you know how to swim despite your leg.”

  “Despite my leg! Oh my goodness, I swim better than I can walk. Not many people do swim. But I am one. I feel free in the water.”

  “But what about a bathing suit?”

  “Bathing suit? Whatever are you talking about?”

  “What do you wear?”

  “I wear my nether things and sometimes my chemise. Why waste time to wash your clothes separately when you can swim in them and make them clean? And there’s a place where the eddies get quite boisterous. It’s wonderful for scrubbing out dirt.”

  Yes, Rose thought, like a spin cycle on a washing machine. And she realized that nether things must mean stockings and underpants.

  “Then we can just lie out on the grassy banks and be dry in no time. Oh, it will feel so good after all these months with nary a drop of water on my skin. Very cold winter. Ice on the well. Then only so much wood to heat up enough water for the teakettle and cooking. Couldn’t waste it on bathing.”