I pulled the clothes from their sacks like a necromancer summoning corpses from the grave. Still perfumed with the dead Queen’s scent, some were encrusted with jewels and gold thread and stood up, as if their late owner still occupied them. I was not alone in feeling her ghost among us, for the Queen offered thanks to God for her predecessor’s long life. The Protestants looked uncomfortable, as if we did some sort of magic, but Frankie and I were at home with such prayers; in gathering darkness, flanked by glittering husks of power that the current consort sought to inhabit herself, I found credit with the Queen and her ladies as if I were, indeed, a magician.

“They stand about like guards,” said the Queen, eyeing the stiff garments.

“I am a great believer in armor, Your Majesty,” I said, forgetting myself in my relief. She looked at me with a wry expression and suddenly laughed, very loud and long, so that we all stared in wonder for a moment before joining in.

There was dignity and courage in the Queen that I admired deeply, beyond the fact of her crown; that she wanted me to display these qualities on her body I took as the greatest compliment. She called for her seamstresses, her French musicians, and for wine and biscuits to be served.

Once I had chosen the best pieces, she told her ladies to try on whatever they wished from the remainder. Queen Anna, her maids and I retired behind a tiring screen. As I stripped her of all girlishness, she spoke of her mother, still living, whom she described as a wise and affectionate parent and the most learned woman in Europe. The latter she mentioned without embarrassment; I have noticed before that foreigners prize learning, even in women, whereas in this country we hide it, as if the pursuit of knowledge is not godly. The Queen’s message was clear: her mother had withstood forces in Denmark that sought to fetter her. Queen Anna would do the same. She would not allow her authority to be diminished by her husband’s love for Robert Carr. I wondered if he was still waiting outside and if he had any idea of how much the Queen hated him.

Lady Bedford came to the Queen and asked permission to leave, which the Queen gave. Beyond the screen, I could hear the other ladies calling their maids to pin a ruff, fold a partlet, raise a skirt, tie a shoe. The more that was drunk, the louder they became. It amazes me how much the rich drink. At one point, Frances meandered by, hunting for something to wear on her head.

“Is your husband’s health improved?” the Queen called out.

“Yes, thank you, ma’am,” Frankie said, coming near.