Julia skipped across to one of the windows to look down at the Knot Garden, which had always fascinated her. It lay stretched out like a very large carpet, the pattern made up with blossoms and fragrant herbs and shrubs. There were rosemary, lavender and thyme, hyssop and gillyflowers, sweet-williams and germander, violets and primroses, and many more according to season, everything kept low or close clipped to add to the multi-hued petit-point effect, delighting the eye from a raised view and the nose at close quarters. Every fancifully shaped bed was clearly defined, some in the love-knots that had given this type of garden its name, some in swirling arabesques, stars and crescents and concentric circles, the intervening spaces filled with different-coloured earths. The sanded paths, along which she loved to walk, were part of the design and were bordered with large, round white pebbles, an edging that had been an innovation at the time this Knot Garden had been laid out. Beyond it, set at the end of a lawn, was the maze, which was made up with high box-hedges and stood dark and green in the misty rain.
When very young, Julia had hoped to discover the secret of how to get out of the maze by standing on a chair in front of this very window. By being higher she had imagined she would see it laid out as clearly as the Knot Garden below. To her chagrin she had discovered she could see no more than from the floor. In clambering down from the chair she had toppled it, cracking her head against the sill as she fell. There had been panic in the household when she had been discovered lying unconscious, but she had recovered with no ill effects.
‘Did you ever lose yourself in the maze when it was new, Grandmother?’ she asked. She had ventured into it alone one day and lost her way, but she had managed to keep tears at bay, Michael’s words always with her. It was dusk before her shouts were heard and by then servants with lanterns were combing the park and her mother was quite frantic. She had blinked in the lantern light, white-faced but determinedly dry-eyed when the head gardener had brought her out. Her mother had embraced her and wept with relief. Her grandmother had merely given her a long, steady look that was meant to be stern, but which had something more kindly in its depths.
Katherine came across to stand looking out at the maze with her. ‘No, I never did. Ned with his clever mind worked out the plan, although he never saw it planted. I studied the diagrams until I had memorized the layout and knew the secret of escape.’
Julia twisted round to look up at her. ‘When will you share the secret with me? Mama doesn’t know it and told me that she doesn’t want to know either, because she hates to be in closed-up places and she has never been in the maze. The head gardener wouldn’t tell me, saying it wasn’t his secret to tell.’
Katherine smiled, cupping the child’s chin in her hand. ‘That is right. He took over from his father before him and nobody else has ever trimmed the hedges within the maze.’
‘But why?’
‘Because a maze would be no fun if everyone could walk in and out of it at will.’
‘But you told the secret to Michael. Why not to me?’
‘He is older than you and is to be master of this house one day. You’ll learn it in good time.’ Katherine smiled again. ‘Now come with me and see what I have to show you.’
She drew the child with her into her bedchamber. Julia liked this room. Whenever there was a storm or she had a nightmare, she would run from her own bedchamber nearby and tuck in beside her grandmother in the cosy warmth of the four-poster caparisoned in embroidered silk. There was plenty of room in the bed, but it was narrow compared with the huge four-poster that her parents shared whenever her father was home. Her mother slept badly without him. That was why she and her grandmother had an understanding that her mother’s rest was never to be disturbed unnecessarily.
To Julia’s surprise Katherine went to an ancient black chest set against a wall. As far as she knew nothing was kept there except clean linen for her grandmother’s bed and the alternative hangings for its canopy, which were changed for the seasons of summer and winter. She had seen a similar chest in Chichester Cathedral and another in the local village church, dating back to what she thought of as ‘castle times’ when knights rode off to the Crusades. She knew the ecclesiastical robes had been kept in these chests in holy places before the Roundheads had made bonfires of the rich garments.
‘Open the chest for me, child,’ Katherine said, sitting down on a nearby chair.
Julia went across to it. She knew it was never locked, for the maids went to it constantly during bed-making, and she set the balls of her hands against the lid. It lifted easily on its much-used hinges. The sheets and pillowcases lay within as usual, tidied again since the looters’ hands had rummaged through.
Katherine spoke again. ‘Take all the contents out and put them neatly on the floor.’
Julia obeyed until there was nothing left; the chest was empty. ‘Have you made a mistake, Grandmother?’ she asked tentatively. ‘Perhaps you put the treasure somewhere else.’
Katherine smiled and rose to her feet. She came to rest a hand on the rim of the chest as she leaned forward and hooked a fingertip into an indentation in the ancient wood. The whole middle section of the chest’s apparent base swung upwards on concealed hinges to reveal something covered over with fine lawn.
‘If I had kept this chest locked,’ she said, lifting away one layer of lawn to reveal another underneath, ‘the Roundheads would have been suspicious immediately and without doubt would have smashed the chest to find out what was hidden in it. This is how it has escaped discovery every time.’
Julia was peering eagerly into the chest. What was going to be there? Perhaps she was about to see Spanish doubloons and other gold coins captured by Grandfather Ned on the high seas. Or would it be ornate silver plate? Then abruptly Katherine whisked away the last layer of lawn like a magician in the market place.
Julia gasped. It was as if suddenly the chest was filled with light. Creamy satin like pale sunshine glowed out of the darkness of the ancient chest with multi-hued areas of embroidery and the gleam of pearls. It was a gown out of a fairy tale.
‘Did it belong to a princess?’ she asked in awed tones.
‘Better than that! To a queen who let me choose from her wardrobe a gown for my wedding day.’
‘Queen Elizabeth?’
‘Yes, it was hers and then mine. One day it will be yours.’ Katherine reached into the chest and took hold of one end of the gown. ‘Help me lift it out and we’ll take it over to the bed. Your hands are still clean, aren’t they?’
‘Yes.’ Julia wiped them down her skirt to make sure and then leaned over the edge of the chest to gather the satin folds into her arms. Together they carried the precious burden over to the bed and laid it down carefully.
There Katherine straightened it, so that it lay directly across the bed, the bodice and sleeves spread out, the skirt cascading down over the side where she and her granddaughter stood. Still it glowed, none of its magic diminished in the child’s eyes, although it was in a fashion of long ago. The neckline was square and hung with beautiful drop-pearls that shimmered as if fashioned from moonlight. The bodice with its stomacher, which ended in a long point below the waistline, was covered with scrolling flower embroideries worked in silk in marvellous colours and glittering gold and silver thread. The sleeves which puffed high above the shoulders and narrowed to the wrists, were similarly embroidered, the cuffs of needlepoint lace. The gleaming skirt had isolated slip flowers like small nosegays cast in lovely profusion all over it with tiny round pearls shining like dew-drops on the petals. The hem was encrusted with gold braid to the depth of four inches, which must have given a graceful weight to it when worn.
‘What do you think?’ Katherine asked with satisfaction, able to see the child’s reaction by the rapt expression on the young face.
Julia’s deep blue eyes, shining like sapphires on the thrill of the moment, looked up at her. ‘It must be the most beautiful gown in the world!’
‘That is my opinion.’
‘Did my mama wear it on her wedding day?’
‘No. I offered it, but it was too out of style. In any case the gown of her choice was already in the making.’ Katherine gestured in the direction of the ancient chest. ‘You’ll find more adornment for this royal garment in there.’
Eagerly Julia returned to the chest and unearthed a box. It was large and unwieldy, but not particularly heavy. ‘May I open it?’ she asked excitedly.
‘Yes, child.’
Julia removed the lid. Within were layers of lawn and in the midst of them a stiffened ruff edged with the same exquisite needlepoint lace as the cuffs on the gown, light and delicate as if woven out of spiders’ webs. She set it carefully on the bed. Then she dived into the box again and brought out a thin, silk-covered bolster suspended by ribbons to a waistband. ‘What is it?’
‘A farthingale. It gives fullness to the top of the skirt. Give it to me and I’ll show you how it was worn.’
Katherine put on the waistband, tying its ribbons at the front and the farthingale itself encircled her hips. ‘Under the gown it would have given a circular shape to the skirt, which had been the mode at that time.’ Julia eyed it doubtfully.
‘Surely it made ladies look fat?’
‘Not if they had small waists like the Queen’s and mine. The stomacher was stiffly boned as were bodices, as you can see for yourself from the gown on the bed, and these circular skirts were extremely pretty. You should have seen the scene when we were dancing, all these wheel-shapes in every colour made the whole floor seem to rotate.’
‘Didn’t those farthingales make skirts sway about?’ Julia’s modesty had come to the fore. As with adult women, the stockings of little girls were gartered just below the knee and no female wore anything else under her petticoats. ‘I wouldn’t have wanted to wear a gown that swung up and down like a bell.’
‘Our petticoats were well weighted down.’
Katherine, removing the farthingale again, thought how close the child had come to the truth. Some of the dances popular at the Elizabethan Court had been very vigorous. The Queen herself had been very fond of a lively dance called the Volta, during which a man would take his partner by the waist and lift her up and around him before setting her on her feet again. Ned had always danced the Volta in the manner expected of any gentleman, and if Katherine had been the Queen herself he could not have been more careful to see that her hems swayed very little. Yet if a man should be careless or seeking to entertain lascivious male friends among the spectators, the lift would be designed to give them a flash of the woman’s bare thighs and buttocks. That sight would have given the present-day Puritan Parliament something on which to pin their aim to abolish all dancing from the land. As it was, the Volta and other dances like it had gone out of fashion long since, and it was beyond her to comprehend how anyone could see sin in people’s enjoyment of music and the putting of innocent dancing measures to it.
Julia had gone again to the chest and returned with a pair of gold satin slippers with gilded heels and white rosettes. ‘These were the last things in the chest.’
‘My wedding slippers,’ Katherine said nostalgically. She moved away from the side of the bed to sit down in the chair again and rest them on her lap.
Julia thought it sad that her grandmother’s feet had become too swollen to wear the dainty footwear. ‘Did the Queen give you those too?’
Katherine shook her head. ‘My sister gave them to me. They had not been worn, although she had had them made for herself. There would have been no time for me to get a new pair.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because Ned and I brought our wedding day forward. We were to have remained betrothed for a year, but we were desperate to become husband and wife before he sailed again and when a voyage became imminent the Queen gave her permission for us to wed.’ Katherine paused. ‘You see, she knew what it meant to love someone very much. Once she had to sign the death warrant of a man who meant much to her when he was found guilty of treason.’
Julia fingered the creamy satin thoughtfully. ‘What made you choose this particular gown for your wedding day. Was it just for its beauty?’
‘Not quite. Neither did I choose it for its value, which now lies in those perfect drop-pearls.’ Katherine smiled as Julia reached out a hand and touched each of them reverently. Little did the child know that one of them, taken temporarily from the gown at the time of her birth, had been placed in her clasp when she was less than an hour old. ‘They were not on the gown originally, but after I had made my selection the Queen gave me a set of them with the exception of four, which she kept for herself; she had two pairs of ear-bobs made from them. She loved pearls and always wore them in her demi-crowns and in ropes about her neck and on her gowns because pearls symbolize virginity. She knew what these particular drop-pearls would mean to me. You see, Ned had brought them home from one of his voyages and as Elizabeth had invested money in his expeditions a portion of all treasure was rightly due to her.’
‘What was your reason for choosing this gown then, Grandmother?’
‘The Queen had worn it on only one occasion. It had been a happy one for her and I thought that a good portent for my choice. Otherwise it would have been a difficult decision to make, because she owned many beautiful gowns.’
‘How many?’ Julia asked with a child’s pedantic interest in detail.
‘Well, I can’t say what number it was at that time, because I was not Mistress of the Robes, but when she died she left many hundreds of gowns in her closets and chests.’
Julia’s mouth dropped open. ‘All those!’
‘They were in every kind of glorious fabric. Brocades and velvets, silks and satins and taffetas. Some were so stiff with gold and silver thread and jewels they could have stood alone. One was draped with rust-red silk embroidered with eyes and ears, showing that she saw and heard everything that happened in her realm.’
‘Where are the rest of the gowns now?’
‘You may well ask!’ Katherine exclaimed, thumping her fist on the arm of her chair as her outrage over the fate of those garments came to the fore as fiercely as if there had been no span of years between. ‘When King James came to the throne from Scotland he was married to Anne of Denmark. She was a frivolous, empty-headed woman with no thoughts in her head except to lead a merry time with masques and theatricals and such-like festivities. And what did she do?’ Katherine threw up her hands in furious exasperation. ‘She engaged a fellow, whose talent I don’t deny, named Inigo Jones, who excelled in designing fine costumes for such pastimes, and she had all of Elizabeth’s gowns cut up to supply the rich fabrics and trimmings that he needed to costume that decadent Court!’
It distressed Julia to see her grandmother in such a state. She rushed forward and flung arms about her. ‘I’ll guard the gown always! Nobody shall ever cut this one up! And I’ll wear it on my wedding day!’
Katherine was moved by the child’s fervent promise. There were even tears in Julia’s eyes. Putting the slippers on the floor, she drew her granddaughter down on to a little stool beside her, putting an arm round her shoulder and clasping one small hand in hers. ‘May it be as you say, my little one. May it bring you the bridal joy it brought me, and may your happiness never be cut short, but last the whole of your life through.’
Julia’s head was pulled close to her grandmother’s side and she closed her eyes contentedly as a hand stroked her hair gently. She relaxed blissfully, feeling full of love for her grandmother; for her father and mother; for Michael and Christopher far away in Oxford; for her pony and the horses and the new kittens in the stable. And for Sotherleigh. As for the Queen’s gown, one couldn’t love a garment, but she had the strangest feeling that it had already become an integral part of her life.
Katherine stroked a wayward curl back from her granddaughter’s forehead. How different the child’s reaction had been to that of the mother. It was unfair to compare Anne Pallister with Anne of Denmark, for their characters were
entirely different, and yet their attitude had been much the same. She recalled how proudly she had shown Sotherleigh’s new bride the treasure from the chest, although whenever she had looked at it after Ned’s death it had brought back distressingly poignant memories. Robert’s marriage had signified a new beginning, for she was eager for grandchildren and saw in the lovely, sweet-faced young woman he had chosen a whole new era of happiness for Sotherleigh. In those days she had been active and vigorous still, and she had lifted up the gown triumphantly to hold it against herself for her daughter-in-law to see.
Anne had shown mild surprise and then polite interest. Being a needle-woman she had murmured admiration in a close scrutiny of the fine stitches, but the spell of the gown had not touched her. She had not sensed its historical importance as the one surviving gown of a great queen; its link with a past age of courage and triumph when England had staked a claim to share the mastery of the seas and oceans of the world. There had been nothing in her of Julia’s acclaim, no brilliant sparkle of the eyes, no commitment to its preservation.
Circle of Pearls Page 8
