A Constant Heart Excerpt

Enjoy the Excerpt...maybe you'll want to read the rest!

"But how could he not like you?"

"He is an earl, Joan!"

"And you, Marget, are to be his countess."

...In several short months I was to exchange my life as a knight's daughter for life as a countess. That thought still had the power to drain the blood from my face as if January's salt-laden winds were whipping in from the Wash, stealing my breath as they continued on their way.

"Think you. For how many years now have you trained for this?"

"Twelve." It had begun at the age of five. If I whispered the number it was only because, of a sudden, I did not wish for the training to end...

"But what if—"

"What if what? What if you cannot please him?" Joan's voice was rising, as if my worries were trifles too small to warrant her attentions. "Do you not know a dozen ways to dance? Can you not sing like a songbird? In how many languages can you read? And how many stitches can you work upon a canvas? How can you fail to please him, Marget?"

"What if he is ... aged?"

"Then you will spend less time in bed and more time in delighting yourself with ... all the means of a countess at your disposal."

I could not keep a blush from spreading through my cheeks. "But his first wife—"

"The marriage was annulled. Is that not what you told me?"

"Aye. 'Tis true."

"Then she was no wife to him at all."

"But what if—"

..."Truly. What if I cannot please him?"

"Are you meaning to ask me if you are to play the role of your mother?"

My fingers tightened around her arm.

"He will not be your father, Marget. You will please him. He will stay in your bed. Is that what vexes you?"

I could not bring myself to nod, but Joan knew me almost better than I knew myself.

"Hear me: there is nothing in you that could make him cast you off."

"But—"

"Hush you. Last time I noticed, earls were still men." She said it as if that settled everything. As if there were no reason for the worries that churned in my belly.

"But—"

"And last time I looked, Marget, you still had the face of an angel." Her gaze softened before she continued on. " 'Tis nothing like my own."


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It was enough to drive a man mad!

Any nobleman worth his title could write poetry. That was what my tutor had taught me long ago. That was what I had always believed. But then came Philip Sidney and Edmund Spenser, and now rumors of some person named Shakespeare. They had ruined it for us all. It was no longer acceptable to just dash out a sonnet. One must employ mythology and politics, and work for days to cultivate allusions aplenty.

But now, all I needed was a rhyme for carriage.

Her Majesty's comportment, her carriage, could be compared to ... Bah! It had been at the edge of my mind the entire forenoon. Carriage ... carnage.

Nay.

Carriage ... cleavage.

There was no hope for it. It would come. I could feel it, but I might as well do something else, something more productive, until it did. Why did poetry have to require so much work? I was replacing the quill in the inkwell when a knock sounded upon the door, and then it opened forthwith.

It was Nicholas. He was carrying something in his hand. "For you, my lord." He straightened from a bow and extended a document toward me. "From the east, my lord."

...I spread it on the desk before me but still could not focus on the words long enough to read them. Pushing away from the desk, I gestured Nicholas toward the paper. "Read it."


"Aye, aye. Does he accept the terms or not?"

...finally, he lifted his eyes to mine. "Aye. After all of that, in the very last phrase, he agrees. You shall have the hand of his daughter in marriage."

"Thank heaven!"

"Congratulations, my lord. It is my fondest hope that the young lady will bring you nothing but happiness."

I looked at him. Though his mien revealed nothing but innocence, I knew him too well. "You mean to say, as opposed to the first young lady?"

Nicholas merely stood there.

I frowned as I regained my desk and removed my quill from the inkpot. "The young lady is of no importance."

"I beg to argue, my lord...As a knight's daughter, her only wish will be to please you. You must not punish her for another's mistakes, my lord."

"Do you think me some cruel tyrant?"

"Nay, my lord. But it was you who said she was of no importance."

"Relatively speaking, Nicholas. 'Tis her dowry that I am after. Her knight-father's riches will allow me to regain Holleystone. If there is anything to rejoice over, 'tis that fact. You and I shall both be going home. 'Tis for that God is to be praised."

Nicholas cleared his throat, a sure sign that I had been ignoring him. "The young lady, my lord."

"What of her?"

"You will not neglect her, my lord?"

"Certainly not! Luck's chosen vessel must be looked after ..."

My thoughts turned toward all the ways in which I might, very soon, become lucky. I might be selected to receive a venerable Garter Knighthood. I might be asked to take a seat on Her Majesty's Privy Council. I might be given another estate or even a chance to purchase a monopoly.

A Constant Heart...in a World of 16th Century Hollywood

Yay! More historical romance!

A Constant Heart by Siri Mitchell brings out the intrigue of Queen Elizabeth's court at the height of the English Renaissance. A period of elegance, beauty, progress. Or, if you want the reality...A period of artificiality, indulgence, and want. White, stiff paints for the face, masking natural beauty with an imitation of the queen; court clique's concerned merely with appearance and wealth. Extravagant spending by courtiers for the mere whims and short attentions of the queen; personal indulgences inspite of multiple debts and lack of payment for working classes. A want of more power and more prestige; a want of food and warmth by the masses. This is the world of 16th century England where the court rules without regard to morals as long as the queen is pleased. A court where to be 36 years old means to be a hag, and to be young and beautiful is a curse.

Beyond Shakespeare, sonnets, and corsets, London lay in filth and waste--a perfect breeding ground for the Plague. And, if the Plague didn't kill, then surely childbirth or the lead based white paints for the face. Jealousy, betrayal, illicit propositions...anything goes when you are a courtier or are married to one.

Marget, daughter of noble merchant, finds herself married to a man who seems to despise her. She is now a countess and married to a lord, the Earl of Lytham. From the first day he sets eyes on her, he wants nothing to do with her and not because she is lacking in looks. In fact, she is beautiful, more beautiful than his first wife. But, therein is the problem. His biggest vice is beauty as beauty only masks all that women are capable of doing to bring misery to man. His first wife betrayed him in their own bed.

The Earl wants nothing to do with her, but marries her because of her dowry. It is not a love match and that's how he intends to keep it. He has devoted his life to be a courtier--a lifelong admirer of the queen. So, although he has a wife, his first service is to the queen. As for Marget, she only wishes to elevate his status at the court and she goes out of her way to do this from changing her appearance to bargaining with those closest to the queen. She sacrifices her health, her love, and her very character to please a man who wishes to please someone else.

Will the Earl come to love Marget? Will Marget survive this marriage? Will the Earl ever leave the queen's side? Will Marget ever be accepted by the court and the queen herself? Or, will she remain an outsider and take her husband out of the court's favor?

*Note--not a YA book because it deals with the adult world, but the novel is clean, as in nothing explicit. Marget is very young when she marries--probably a teenager, and the novel changes from her point of view to that of the Earl.

There is intimicay and plenty of romance, but I have no problem with someone young reading it. Actually, it is very interesting and provides a whole other view of the ultra-cultured society many people envision when they hear of the Renaissance. There is even "A Note to the Reader" wherein the author gives an overview of the health risks related to the use of the white face paints. I highly recommend it...after reading it, you'll get a better sense of how our world could be so materialistic and concerned with image. It's just history repeating itself.

Siri Mitchell falls under the "Christian" author category, but the book is in no way preachy. It is just a good, provocatice, yet clean crossover novel that appeals to young adults and adults. Actually, if I had not found this title under Christian fiction, I would not have even known. Of course, there are passages relating to religion, but how could it not when Europe was consumed by the Christian faith at that time period. Although the Renaissance had a highly humanistic focus, meaning a focus on the creations of man, Chrisianity was still a major part of society. Wars were fought between Catholics and Protestants; major pieces of art had Christian themes. Consider "The Last Supper" by Leonardo da Vinci or Michaelangelo's paintings in the Sistine Chapel--both notable Renaissance men.