Page 15 of Thrones We Steal

A storm this afternoon made the walkways wetter than usual. Helena and I had to cut our afternoon walkabout short. I came into her bedchamber later to find the hem of her gown soiled much more than could have been possible during our short jaunt. She must have gone back out later.

“Wait a second,” Henry says. “Helena, as in Queen Helena?”

“Way to keep up.”

“You could have told me. She’s my ancestor.”

“Breaking news from Captain Obvious.”

Helena had married William I in 1834, who ascended the throne after his father’s death later that year. They had two children, Catherine and William II, and that’s where mine and Henry’s family tree splits into separate branches.

“Forgot I’m talking to the expert. Go on.” He leans his head against the back of the chair. “I can’t wait to find out more about Helena’s soiled dresses.”

“You’re such a child,” I mutter under my breath before starting again.

The entries continue in much the same manner, accounts of Helena not acting like herself, flighty and nervous. One particular entry catches my eye.

16 October 1837

Helena is a different person these days. She cannot sit still for more than a few minutes at a time, and when she does sit, she gazes out of the window, and I see that her mind is a million miles away. Today I caught her tracing the path of a raindrop on the window pane. When I spoke, she simply looked at me and smiled, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. She is hiding something, I am sure of it.

More cryptic entries follow. What in the world does Maisie want me to find? Finally, the entry for 4 December hints at something more.

4 December 1837

Today was beautiful. The sun shone all of its glory down on the freshly fallen snow that came during the night. When I asked Helena if she would like to venture outside after the full fortnight of overcast weather we have recently had, she said she was not feeling well. I had a cup of soup brought up, but she emptied her stomach shortly afterwards. I do hope she is well soon.

25 December 1837

Helena is still not well. King William insisted she attend the Christmas party in the Grand Ballroom. She asked me to loosen her stays, and it is a good thing I did as she requested. She was weak and shaky the whole time, the poor dear, and could not manage more than a bite or two before needing to be escorted out. One of the footmen helped me get her upstairs. The whole thing was a wondrous embarrassment for her.

31 December 1837

Helena is on the mend, although she tells me she still feels weak, and just in time for the new year. She is more reserved than she has been for so very long. I fear the sickness has taken the life from her. King William does not seem to notice and requested her to join him in his bedchamber this evening. It has been nearly a year, and it is no secret he has no regard for her, preferring the company of his mistress.

The pieces are starting to fall into place and I do not like the final image.

28 February 1838

A small birthday celebration was held for little Catherine today, marking two years since her birth. Helena asked me to have her seamstress let out the seams on her dresses. She has never had her gowns altered except during her confinement, and I know there is something she is not telling me.

“Hold on.” Henry’s elbows are on his knees, his brow a quizzical frown. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“No. Definitely not.” My ears ring with the blood pounding past them.

He runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up at all angles, before falling back into place like a perfectly choreographed dance. “What else, C? First she’s sick and now she needs bigger clothes?”

I refuse to believe it. Helena could not have been pregnant. “It was probably a virus of some sort. Before people knew about the importance of hygiene—”

“The dates line up with William the Second’s birth.”

I take a deep breath. “But it says she hadn’t been with the king for a year. Think about what you’re implying.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Not if they hadn’t … you know.” I can feel my face flame.

“You do realize it’s possible to have sex with someone besides the person you’re married to, right?” He smirks at me, the bastard.

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