Embark | h.s

Twenty Three

Thinking that she would be welcomed back at court with applause and glee would be foolish, but Celia had hoped for at least some warm smiles—anything other than the stone cold glares she received instead. It was as if the people had seen a ghost. They sent friendly smiles to Beatrice as she led the family down the corridors, but as soon as their eyes lay upon Celia, their faces hardened, their eyes narrowed, and their backs turned to face her. To hope that it would be any other way was ridiculous.

Celia shrunk into herself, wanting to take off running and never look back at Greenwich Palace or the courtiers ever again. It was a domino effect; one by one, as Celia's face registered with each courtier, they turned away and began to whisper. She thought, in that moment, that she would rather be in Roanoke than the palace. Facing the natives and the hardships of the settlement would have been an easier task than showing her face in court again. Yet, there she stood, not only tormented by the thoughts in her head, but the whispers echoing in the lofty corridor and spiraling around her head like a tornado, so powerful she thought they would consume her.

Harry's large hand snaked around her waist, pulling her small frame into his side. She glanced up into his eyes, and he gave her a reassuring smile as he pressed his fingertips into her side to let her know that he was there. His presence was comforting.

She could do this, she thought to herself. With him by her side, she could do anything.

Confidence exuded her being as she straightened her posture and walked proudly down the glossy corridor with Harry next to her, their two children trailing behind them with Ana. Her steps became powerful as she commanded her way down the parted group of pale, gaudily dressed courtiers.

"Nerissa!" Ana said sharply.

Celia came to a sudden halt, harshly snatched out of her thoughts, and turned around, finding Ana, with Walter in her arms, walking over to where Nerissa stood across the hall. She looked up at a woman, her small hands caressing the beading of her skirt. Celia's breath hitched in her throat as she absorbed the woman's features; her gleaming, snake-like eyes and her snide smile.

"Why, Mistress Celia, you've returned to court at last," Cassandra said, purposely disregarding Celia's new title. Her eyes slithered downward to look at the child beneath her. She bent over and lifted Nerissa up, carrying her on her hip. "And this must be your darling girl."

Celia wanted to roll her eyes, to explode with fury and rage, but she held back the urge and simply smiled. "Lovely to see you again, Lady Cassandra." She walked over to Cassandra and reached for her child, only to have Cassandra pivot to the side.

"Oh, how silly of you. Surely you've heard I'm the Duchess of Suffolk now. You may refer to me as your grace." Cassandra looked down at Nerissa, who was preoccupied by the sparkling jewels on Cassandra's neck. "And what is your name?" she asked in a high-pitched voice.

"Her name is Nerissa," Harry said, walking forward and plucking Nerissa from her grasp like a flower from a bush. He held her protectively in his strong arms.

Cassandra's face twisted. "Ah, Sir Harry," she said monotonously.

"Lady Cassandra," he bowed his head.

Anger seeped into her features. She tightened her jaw and clasped her hands together. "And what are you two doing back at court? Last I heard, you were banished."

"The Queen has summoned me and my family. And where is your family? I would love to meet them."

The twinge of evil that was usually evident in her features was erased and replaced with a sadness that Celia almost pitied her for. Cassandra swallowed hard and looked to the side. "I must be going. If her Majesty has summoned you, I should go ready her for your visit. Good day." Cassandra briskly walked in the opposite direction, disappearing around a corner.

Celia turned to Harry with furrowed brows, confused as to what had just happened, and then returned to Beatrice's side. "Did I say something wrong?" Celia asked Beatrice. "I came here with no ill will toward those from my past, yet even my words of common small talk have caused hurt feelings."

Beatrice resumed walking, leading the Styles family to their quarters. "Cassandra married the Duke of Suffolk only a month after you left Greenwich. He's a beast of a man, not a kind bone in his body. To make matters worse, she has been unable to successfully deliver a child. Their first was stillborn and the second miscarried. I've never seen the Duke lay a hand on her, but bruises appear out of nowhere and in the most unlikely of places for them to be accidents."

Celia was left dumbfounded. "My God."

"Seeing you, happy and with two healthy children, was probably not the easiest thing for her to endure. In truth, I worry for her. Still, she claims that she is the happiest she can be in her marriage. Celia, I know she was nothing but evil to you—"

"Her actions aside, I would never wish that torture upon her," Celia interrupted her friend, "Has anyone said anything to the Queen?"

"You and I both know that, as much as she would want to, her Majesty couldn't do a thing. A wife's job is to honor and obey, and he is allowed to reprimand her for that."

They came upon a door and Beatrice opened it, revealing the ornate insides of the room. A plush bed, far nicer than the one at Berkeley Manor, was made up neatly for them. The velvet curtains were drawn, allowing for rays of run to light up the room and glint off of the shiny trinkets placed throughout the room as decor.

"This is your room. Her Majesty has arranged for your nursemaid and children to sleep in the room across the hall. Will that suit you?" Beatrice asked.

"Yes, thank you, Bea," Celia said.

"Will you join me and Luke for supper tonight? I know he's dying to see you two again."

Celia looked to Harry, who nodded joyfully. "We'd love to," he said.

"Splendid. As for your audience with the Queen, I'll inform her of your arrival and ask when it would suit her best." Nerves hit Celia at the mentioning of seeing Elizabeth. "In the meantime, settle in and relax, and feel free to wander about the grounds."

Beatrice left the threshold, closing the door behind her, to show Ana and the children to their room. Celia sat down on the edge of the bed and fixed her eyes on the flame of the candle that sat on the bedside table in an attempt to wrestle with her thoughts. However, she was instead hypnotized by the flame, her eyes zoning in on the yellow droplet as it danced around, flickering in the sunlit room. The melted wax trickled down the half-burned-through stick in a ripple, hardening as its flow came to a slow stop.

"A candle lit midday?" Harry's voice sounded from across the room. "Must've been from one of the servants early this morning."

Celia had not realized that Harry had walked over to her side until she caught a glimpse of his body in her peripheral vision. She looked up at him as he leaned down, his face glowing from the close proximity of the small blaze, and blew a huff of air from his puckered lips, snuffing out the flame in an instant.

He made the choice to kill the flame with a simple gust of air.

Celia's lips parted as the gears in her brain began to turn. "She held our lives in her hands," she whispered. Harry scrunched his brows with confusion, but remained silent. "Of course."

She stood to her feet and headed for the door, only to have Harry's grasp on her elbow stop her from leaving the room. "What are you speaking of, dear?"

Celia turned to face him, placing her palms on his chest. "I must forgive her, Harry."