I wake up on Christmas morning feeling as I always do on Christmas. Empty.
That's when one of my son's councilmen, Robert Dudley, comes into my room in an unusually happy state.
"Is Lizzie here?" I ask teasing. He blushes. I know about his infatuation with my stepdaughter. I just love teasing him about it. I'm fine with it as long as he doesn't do either of two things. One; impregnate her without a ring. Two; hurt her.
"Not that I know of, Your Majesty." He says. His smile widens. "A girl is waiting for you on the terrace." I gasp in realization. He leaves me and I let this sink in for a moment.
I hurry out of bed and throw on a simple dress, running out as fast as I can to the terrace doors. I take a deep breath and open them. There she is. We stand there for a moment just staring at each other, but then we run to each other wrapping the other in the biggest hug.
I rub her cheek and she just lays her cheek in my hand. I kiss her head and she chuckles crying. She throws her arms around me.
"My beautiful little babe! My own heart! My little girl!" I whisper ever so softly, even I can barely hear it.
I finally notice the boy standing there and recognize him immediately as my friends nephew and pull him in and whisper in his ear, "Thank you."
I can't believe it. After all these years, my precious little babe is finally back in my arms where she belongs.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Tudor Rose
Historical FictionDivorced, Beheaded, Died. Divorced, Beheaded, Survived. Everyone knows the wives rhyme. King Henry VIII had three legitimate children from three different wives. Or did he? This explores history if Katheryn Howard, the fifth wife, and the second beh...
