My Contrary Mary Page 7

  “Getting married. Yes. I am, too,” he said. Then he bowed to her politely, because she was still a queen and he a prince, and made his exit.

  The Four Marys bustled in, this time as three young ladies and one very excited spaniel, who leapt up into Mary’s lap the moment she was allowed.

  “All right, all right,” Mary laughed, scratching behind the dog’s ear. “I’ll tell you everything.” She gazed around at her ladies. “I’m getting married on Thursday!”

  There was then a great deal of screaming and jumping up and down. Then they all sat, and Mary relayed what details she knew.

  “Men really shouldn’t plan weddings,” Liv said with a snort when Mary was finished. “Who gets married on a Thursday?”

  “That’s exactly what I said.” Mary sighed. “I do hope there are doves. I always wanted doves.”

  “I’ll see what I can do with my contacts,” said Bea. “And I’m sorry your mother won’t be able to attend, but I’ll get a message to her right away. Write a letter, and I’ll be off with it tomorrow.”

  Mary smiled at her friend gratefully. “Thank you.”

  “And what shall we do with your hair?” added Hush quietly. “I know you’ve always imagined it down, but perhaps I can find a way to curl it so it falls just right.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Mary said.

  “Bark!” said Flem.

  (We should probably explain about the barking. The Four Marys had been chosen, dear reader, because they each possessed a rare gift that they could use to assist their mistress. Strong, brave, and nimble Liv was Mary’s guardian and protector; Bea was Mary’s informant and messenger to and from her mother; Hush was Mary’s hairdresser and principal seamstress; and Flem, well, Flem was Mary’s most enthusiastic companion, in both human and E∂ian form.)

  “So it’s finally happened,” Bea said when everyone was quiet again. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d ever see the day when you two would be wed.”

  “I know. We’ve waited so long. Strange that it would suddenly feel so rushed,” Mary mused.

  “But you’re pleased?” Liv asked.

  “Of course I am,” Mary answered. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “Good,” whispered Hush. “We only want to see you happy.”

  “I am happy,” Mary said, twisting her amethyst ring.

  “And once you’re married,” said Liv with a small frown, “I suppose it will be time for us.”

  “I suppose,” said Mary, and gave her a sympathetic smile.

  Flem gave a happy bark and wagged her tail. Flem loved the idea of being married. She already had a list of a half-dozen suitors she was interested in.

  “Will you marry us off right away?” asked Bea a bit tremulously. Bea didn’t have a paramour, as she was extremely independent. She liked to spend long hours alone, and had on more than one occasion announced that the idea of courtship and matrimony quite disgusted her.

  “No,” Mary said. “I plan to take my time with that, of course. There’s no rush.”

  Hush gave an audible sigh of relief, and Liv and Bea also relaxed.

  There was a loud knock at the door, which startled them.

  Bea went to answer it. She stuck her head out briefly and spoke to the party who wished to have an audience with the young Queen of Scots. They heard her say, “One moment, please!” before she pulled her head back in and shut the door.

  “It’s the queen!” she gasp-whispered. “Queen Catherine, I mean!”

  EIGHT

  Ari

  Ari stared at the door to Queen Mary’s bedchamber. The muffled sound of shuffling came from inside, but Ari didn’t mind waiting because at the present moment she couldn’t breathe.

  The corsets of servants were made of cloth, and rarely did a servant have another servant tighten the laces for her. They learned to be very bendy with their arms.

  The corsets of ladies, however, had things like whalebone in them, and were pulled as tight as if a team of horses had been attached at the ends of the strings and then whipped into action while the lady held on to a bedpost for dear life.

  Ari was now standing in said corset, outside the door to Queen Mary’s chambers, trying to breathe.

  “Do you need a bit of liquid courage?” Queen Catherine asked, holding out a flask she’d produced from somewhere within the drapery of her royal clothes. (Ari had heard rumors that the queen ordered her seamstress to add all sorts of secret pockets to her dresses.) “It’s the strong stuff made especially for me.”

  “No, thank you, Your Majesty,” Ari said. “I’m ready.” Just because she couldn’t breathe didn’t mean she was nervous. She would be fine.

  As long as Queen Mary didn’t ask her to see the future, that is.

  Besides, Ari had actually spent the night before concocting a potion she called Your Best Self, which had little to do with liquor and more to do with licorice root, mixed with Ganoderma mushroom, amber, and a splash of incantation from her great grandfather’s grimoire. (Since magic could be considered heresy, the grimoire was hidden in the lab under the cover of A History of Beets: Volume Five, which nobody in their right mind would want to read.) Not many females of non-noble birth could read, but Ari’s father had taught her from the moment her gifts began to manifest.

  “Now remember, my dear girl, I must be told of everything that happens to Mary,” Queen Catherine reminded her. “Down to the least significant-seeming detail.”

  Ari nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Finally, a voice called: “Please, come in.”

  The guard opened the door, and Queen Catherine stepped inside, followed by Ari.

  It was one of the most majestic rooms Ari had ever seen, besides Queen Catherine’s. Ornate tapestries hung from ceiling to floor and the moldings and decorative woodwork were covered in gold leaf. In front of the largest of the windows sat Queen Mary on a chaise lounge, surrounded by her ladies. One sat on the chair beside the queen, two sat on stools at her feet, and then there was Liv, who sat on the windowsill, with her legs crossed and one foot hanging daintily off the edge.

  Suddenly, Ari’s corset felt a little tighter, her flushed cheeks felt a little, well, flushier. Liv returned her gaze with a lopsided grin, and Ari wondered if maybe she should have taken some of Queen Catherine’s liquid courage.

  Queen Catherine cleared her throat. “My dear Mary,” she said. “May I introduce Aristotle de Nostradame.”

  “I know of Aristotle,” Mary said with a significant smile at Ari. Of course the queen wouldn’t mention that she’d been merrymaking in a tavern with Ari only last night. “Isn’t she meant to be the next great prognosticator?”

  Inwardly Ari cringed. “Actually, my greatest strength is in potion—”

  “Yes,” Queen Catherine interrupted. “But for now she will be your new lady-in-waiting.” The queen gestured to Ari, which was her cue to curtsy.

  Ari had only learned the basics of a true lady’s curtsy that morning, and it was from the seamstress, who, due to being a little top-heavy, fell over every time she demonstrated. Slowly, and very aware of the heels on her shoes, Ari set her right toe behind her left foot, bent her knees, and bowed her head.

  The Your Best Self elixir must have been working, because she didn’t fall over. But when she lifted her head, she saw every one of the Marys stifling a smile, except Liv, who didn’t stifle her smile at all. Ari blushed, her hands trembling. She shoved them behind her dress.

  “I thank you, Queen Catherine,” said Queen Mary, “but I am not in need of any more ladies-in-waiting.”

  Liv lightly touched her foot to Mary’s shoulder. (For us non-royals this would be akin to kicking a friend under the table, but no one would ever kick a queen.)

  Mary and Liv shared a look. It was one of those looks only best friends could understand.

  “I mean,” Mary said slowly, “we would be lucky to have her.”

  “Wonderful,” Queen Catherine said, clasping her hands together. “You may
think of Ari as your own little fortune-teller.”

  Mon Dieu. They were back to the topic of seeing the future. “I also make potions,” Ari blurted out.

  “Do you?” Mary said.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Ari worked hard to regain her composure. Remember, she told herself, you are the daughter of the great Nostradamus.

  “I will leave you all to get acquainted,” Queen Catherine said. “Try not to eat each other.” She swept out of the room, and they were all left to themselves to try not to eat each other.

  “Well, Aristotle, these are my ladies,” said Queen Mary. “They are all named Mary. But you may call this one Bea”—she pointed to the lady next to her on the chair—“this one Flem”—she pointed to one of the stool Marys—“this one Hush”—the other stool Mary—“and I believe you know Liv.”

  Of course Ari already knew all the Marys’ names. Especially Liv’s. But she said, “I am very pleased to meet you all, formally. Please call me Ari.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “So, you are Nostradamus’s daughter,” said Mary.

  “Yes.”

  “And where do you live?”

  “In chambers near the lab.”

  “The main lab or the secret lab?” Queen Mary asked.

  Ari hesitated. “Um, the main lab.”

  “How come I don’t see you around the palace very often?”

  “I tend to blend into the background,” Ari said.

  “I don’t agree,” Liv murmured.

  Ari glanced at Liv, and the glance turned into a longer glance, and then it was a downright gaze. There was just something so comforting about Liv’s face. It was like a warm blanket.

  Queen Mary stood and took Ari’s hand and led her to a chair. “So, you get to be my very own Nostradamus. Show us your talents.”

  “Yes, yes,” Flem said, clapping her hands. “Predict something.”

  Oh crap. Had her corset not been so tight, Ari’s heart would have beat out of her chest. “Well, I’m really better at potions than prognostication. In fact, I brought you something, Your Majesty.” Ari reached into the waistband of her dress and produced a small bottle.

  Queen Mary took it and held it up to the light. “What does it do?”

  “It’s nothing much,” Ari said humbly. “But if you sprinkle it lightly over your dress, any wrinkles will disappear. It took me five months to perfect.”

  Ari didn’t mention that at the time, she had been trying to make wrinkles on a face disappear, at the request of Diane de Poitiers, who was Queen Catherine’s senior by twenty years and well aware of it. Ari still hadn’t quite mastered that one yet. She wasn’t too worried, though, because her loyalties rested with the queen and not the king’s mistress.

  “That’s nice.” Queen Mary tossed the bottle to Flem, who caught it midair with one hand. “Now give us a vision.”

  “Yes, a vision,” Flem said, sniffing the bottle, which Ari found a bit odd.

  “Well, visions are not an exact science.” Ari tugged uncomfortably at the lace around her neck. “They can be very vague, and you never know when they will come true. It may not even happen in your lifetime.”

  “Even so, please try,” Queen Mary said.

  Ari thought fast. During her training, her father would tell her that the quickest access to the far reaches of the mind was through the nose. Aromas. Odors. Pleasant or disagreeable. The first time Ari had a vision—another one that hadn’t made any sense—her mother had sent her out to gather some mint for tea.

  “I need a sprig of mint.” Ari hoped she was remembering it right.

  “I have just the thing.” Bea strode across the room in such an elegant way that it almost seemed like she was floating and not walking. She returned with a bound cluster of herbs, green leaves with purple blooms at the top. “I saw them as I was—um—traveling, and I thought they were pretty. It’s mint sage.”

  Traveling? Ari didn’t think the ladies went anywhere without Mary.

  Bea handed Ari the bundle.

  Ari sniffed at it. Nothing happened. Perhaps she could make the smell stronger by burning it. Ari spotted a lit candle on Queen Mary’s writing desk. She gulped and walked over. She considered lighting the top, but that might turn it into a torch. So she held the green bottoms of the stems over the flame until they glowed but did not ignite.

  “You might want to stay back,” Ari said, even though she was only burning a bunch of herbs. It probably wouldn’t work. Maybe she could make up a vision. (But readers, we ask you, have you ever tried to come up with a prophetic vision on the fly? It’s difficult.)

  Ari took a pillow from another chaise and placed it on the floor. She sat down, cross-legged (most unladylike), held the glowing end near her face, and waved the fumes toward her nose.

  Nothing happened again.

  “Is she supposed to be doing something?” Flem whispered. “I feel like she’s supposed to be doing something.”

  Ari held the bundle closer and inhaled deeply. The aroma of mint went straight to her head. Suddenly her eyes rolled back and she felt that strange floating sensation. This was it!

  She remembered her breathing, as her father had taught her. Then she belched, which her father had not taught her. The giggles of the Marys became muffled and then gave way to the sound of waves. Ari found herself hovering over a vast expanse of water. It was dark. There were screams and a far-off horn. She sank closer to the water, looking down upon two people.

  Ari spoke softly. “I see a boy and a girl. They are floating in the ocean.”

  She heard some oohs in the distance, and then a shushing sound.

  “It’s very cold. The breath coming out of their mouths freezes instantly.” Ari shivered. “They are not in a boat. They are on . . .” Ari squinted and saw the metal hinges of a latch. “They are on a door? The boy is slipping into the water. The girl is holding his hand. She is promising to never let go. She will hold on forever and they will be together—Oh wait, she just let go.”

  Ari jolted back into the present.

  The Marys were staring at her, their mouths open.

  “Was the girl Queen Mary?” Liv asked.

  The queen glanced at Liv and then Ari.

  “No,” Ari said. “At least I don’t think so. She had red hair.”

  “Mary has brown hair,” Flem said.

  “Technically, it’s auburn,” Hush argued softly. “Auburn is a shade of red.”

  “The hair color doesn’t matter,” Queen Mary said. “What happened to the boy?”

  “He drowned,” Ari answered. “Or froze to death. I’m not sure which came first.”

  The Marys collectively deflated at the news.

  “I’m sorry,” Ari said. “It wasn’t a very pleasant vision, I know. But at least the girl survived.”

  “That doesn’t make it better,” Flem sniffed. “Somehow that makes it sadder.”

  Ari’s shoulders slumped. “Well, remember, we don’t know when this will happen. It could be tomorrow, it could be, say, four hundred thirty-seven years from now. Like I said, visions can’t really be counted on.” At least not any of her visions.

  “Couldn’t they both fit on one door?” Bea asked. “Seriously, look.” She gestured to the giant oak door to Queen Mary’s chamber. “That could fit all five of us. I mean”—she glanced at Ari—“all six of us. So, I’ve solved the vision. It must be a murder on the girl’s part.”

  “It wasn’t necessarily a puzzle to solve,” Ari said. On one hand, she was relieved that she’d even been able to conjure a vision on demand like that. But on the other hand, Queen Mary and her ladies all seemed disappointed that it hadn’t been a better one.

  “I think it was,” Bea said. “I think I won the vision!”

  The ladies laughed.

  Ari turned to Queen Mary. “Were you hoping for a specific type of vision?”

  “No, no, of course not,” said Mary lightly.

  “We just thought, with the queen so soon get
ting married—” Flem blurted out.

  This was a revelation to Ari. “Oh. Is Queen Mary getting married soon?” Ari glanced at all of the ladies, and then at Mary, who smiled demurely.

  Liv jumped to her feet. “Queen Mary and Francis are to be wed on the twenty-fourth.”

  “Of this month?” Ari asked, flabbergasted.

  Queen Mary sighed. “Yes.”

  “Of this—”

  “On Thursday. At Notre Dame. But not many people know yet.”

  “So naturally we were hoping you might have a vision concerning her rapidly approaching state of matrimony,” said Bea.

  “Yes, we want a vision about the wedding!” Flem said.

  “Um, I didn’t know about the wedding,” Ari stammered. “I’ve had no visions . . .”

  “It’s fine,” said Queen Mary. “Anyway, I already know the wedding is going to be . . . perfect.”

  “Yes, and we’re all going to dress up and attend her at the ceremony,” said Flem excitedly.

  “Including you now, I suppose,” said Bea.

  Ari’s stomach did a flip. It was one thing to dress up in fine clothes and wait upon the queen in private. It was quite another thing to parade one’s unrefined self in front of thousands of people at Notre Dame.

  Suddenly she was feeling a bit sick. But when she thought about it, she realized this was why she’d signed up for this job. The wedding could be a good opportunity to present herself as the next Nostradamus and secure her relationship with the dauphin and Queen Mary.

  “I’ll need a new dress,” she said.

  “We’ll add your order to ours,” said Bea, who then began to circle around Ari, taking her measurements.

  Hush immediately began to fuss with Ari’s curls.

  Liv touched Ari’s shoulder. “If you want, I can help you with the curtsy, and other things a lady is supposed to know.”

  “I’d love that,” Ari said too eagerly, which caused Liv to laugh.

  Now imagine, dear reader, a makeover montage, in which Mary’s ladies hovered around Ari, holding up samples of fabric, tucking in tufts of hair, and spritzing her with fine aromas.

  It was the first time Ari had ever been the center of anything.