so happy as she was when bringing a sprightly song to life in the air. Her mood only turned somber when she struck the last notes and the virginals quieted.
Soft applause came from the queen and her maids. Even the princess Elizabeth clapped but stopped quickly to grab onto the top of her horse, which was rocking back and forth.
“Delightful, Helena. I am pleasantly impressed.”
Helena rose and curtsied low.
“None of that here in my private rooms. Sit and play. Something happy.” The queen herself sat in a wide, brocade-covered chair. Two of her maids brought her sewing basket to her. Raelin carried over a length of cream linen that was half sewn into a man’s shirt. Helena was slightly stunned.
The queen smiled at her. “Yes, I make my husband’s shirts just like any other wife.”
Helena cast her eyes away, her cheeks coloring for having been caught gaping like an unpolished girl. To make a man’s shirts was considered a sign of affection.
Deep affection.
“How long have you been at court, Helena?”
The queen’s question startled her. Helena raised her attention back to her monarch. “A year, Your Majesty.”
“And yet you still blush. I find that promising.”
Helena turned and sat back on the bench. Her hands began moving on the keys before she really considered what she was going to play. Her memory offered up a soft melody.
Oh, she understood what the queen was hinting at….
But at the same time she was annoyed. There was so much dishonesty around her. Arriving at court had been the completion of years of practice and preparation. As far back as she might recall, all of her energy had been directed toward the moment when she would begin her days among the nobles and ambassadors of England’s court.
Disillusionment hurt. It was the cruelest sort of pain—one that dug into her like a dull knife. Each day she found it harder to scrape together enough hope to face the ritual of dressing. It took over an hour and that was considered quite modest. But sitting for her face paint and hair styling nearly drove her insane. What was wrong with the color of her skin? She didn’t understand why it needed so many powders and colors applied. Her own mother wouldn’t recognize her. Such makeup hadn’t been a part of her training.
Her fingers finished the song but she paused for a moment. Her gaze settled on Raelin McKorey and the fact that the girl wasn’t wearing the heavy face paint that the rest of the court clung to. The Scottish girl noticed her stare, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. The queen was working her needle but chatting with two of her older ladies-in-waiting.
“Forgive me for staring.”
Fingering the keys, Helena tried to force her mind back to the music. Raelin moved closer, her skirts rustling.
“Were ye staring at my scar? If so, simply ask.” There was a hint of unhappiness in the girl’s tone. “I deplore the way everyone stares at it and then pretends it isna there.”
“Oh…no. Not at all. I was noticing how little face powder you use.” Helena’s fingers went still on the keys. She looked at the scar now. “Honestly, it’s not that big of a scar. Which was why I was noticing how little paint you wear. This makeup would cover it up completely if you wished to conceal it.”
Raelin studied her for a long moment. The musicians began playing now that Helena had paused.
“Why do you wear it?” Raelin studied her face. “It sounds like you dinnae care for it.”
Helena sighed. It was a tiny sound that slipped past the years of training. Raelin’s face looked like freedom. She simply couldn’t help looking at it.
“My family expects me to conduct myself according to court dictates.”
Raelin winkled her nose. “It doesna suit ye to paint yer face like the old queen did.” She suddenly smiled. “I know, we shall redo it. Catriona is very good with face powders.”
Raelin reached for Helena’s hand and tugged her up. The maid scurried in and pulled the little bench out from beneath her skirts.
“What are you two about?” The queen looked over her sewing at them.
Raelin curtsied. “Helena wants to try wearing less face paint. I thought I might help her.”
The rest of the ladies and maids of honor waited to see what the queen would say. Her face was smooth for a long moment before she smiled approvingly.
“I think that’s an excellent idea. I don’t understand these English families painting up their daughters to look like an