The Poyson Garden (Elizabeth I Mysteries, Book 1) - Hardcover

Harper, Karen

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0385332831 ISBN 13: 9780385332835

Publisher: Delacorte Press, 1999

Synopsis

Fans of bestselling authors Anne Perry and Ellis Peters are sure to love Karen Harper's new historical mystery series, rich with period detail and featuring Elizabeth Tudor, the future queen of England, as its heroine.

Living in exile in the English countryside, the twenty-five-year-old Princess Elizabeth awaits her fate during the waning years of her ill and childless half sister's reign.  Despite an occasional truce, there has always been bad blood between Queen Mary and the princess since Elizabeth's mother, Anne Boleyn, replaced Mary's mother, Catherine of Aragon, in the heart of King Henry VIII.  Mary has already sent Elizabeth to the Tower of London when a group of Protestants raise a rebellion in her name, forcing Mary to release her, and the half sisters into an uneasy détente.

Little does Elizabeth know that in the autumn of 1558, she will be called upon to explore not only England's rural heartland, but also her own heart.  At great risk to her person and her nation's future, she plunges herself into an investigation of a multiple murder where she might very well become a master poisoner's next victim.

About this title

About the Author

Karen Harper is the author of several suspense, romance, and historical novels.  A former English teacher, she divides her time between Columbus, Ohio, and Sarasota, Florida.

From the Back Cover

Advance praise for The Poyson Garden:

"A walk side by side with one of history's most dynamic characters."
--Anne Perry, author of Breach of Promise

"Romantic suspenser Harper kicks off a series that could find fertile ground in the homicides that littered Elizabeth's 45-year reign."
--Kirkus Reviews

"Like the very best historical mysteries, it is driven by the events and attitudes of its time period....A deafening round of applause is due."
--Miriam Grace Monfredo, author of the Seneca Falls Historical Mysteries

From the Inside Flap

selling authors Anne Perry and Ellis Peters are sure to love Karen Harper's new historical mystery series, rich with period detail and featuring Elizabeth Tudor, the future queen of England, as its heroine.

Living in exile in the English countryside, the twenty-five-year-old Princess Elizabeth awaits her fate during the waning years of her ill and childless half sister's reign. Despite an occasional truce, there has always been bad blood between Queen Mary and the princess since Elizabeth's mother, Anne Boleyn, replaced Mary's mother, Catherine of Aragon, in the heart of King Henry VIII. Mary has already sent Elizabeth to the Tower of London when a group of Protestants raise a rebellion in her name, forcing Mary to release her, and the half sisters into an uneasy détente.

Little does Elizabeth know that in the autumn of 1558, she will be called upon to explore not only England's rural heartland, but also her own heart. At great risk to he

Reviews

Elizabeth Tudor, daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, bides her time as her half-sister, Queen Mary I, burns heretics and sickens in the year 1558. Elizabeth's time may be short, however: a murderer, possibly backed by Mary, is poisoning anyone related to the Boleyn family. Elizabeth's cousin, Henry Cary, survives a poisoned arrow attack, but his mother, Mary Boleyn, dies of poison shortly after meeting Elizabeth in secret at a secluded country estate. Closely guarded at Hatfield by Thomas Pope and his wife, Beatrice, Elizabeth nonetheless determines to uncover the mysterious veiled woman behind the poisonings, a task that requires her to dress as a lad and leads to her mother's childhood home at Hever Castle as well as to a moated castle in Leeds. Mary Tudor's England is realistically re-created in this series launch, and Elizabeth's servants prove a lively band. In Elizabeth, Harper has created an inspired if historically unlikely heroine, a young woman with natural curiosity about the mother she barely knew and with the grit to solve the mystery rather than fall victim to it. Suspending disbelief, readers will shiver as Elizabeth walks the corridor toward her mother's girlhood chamber at Hever, sensing a lost connection. The novel's finale, as Elizabeth meets her nemesis, is spoiled only by its lack of credibility?a small stain on an otherwise well-sewn tale.
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Under virtual house arrest at Hatfield during the reign of half-sister Mary, Elizabeth Tudor occasionally escapes her guardians through use of deceit and disguise. After learning of a plot to poison the remaining Boleyns?herself included, of course?she quickly enlists the help of her very own "privy and covert" council: her childhood governess, her groom, a female herbalist, and a talented actor. Together they sleuth, pooling resources, gathering clues, and finally identifying the poisoners. This is the first historicial mystery for Harper, an author of romance, suspense, and historical novels. It is also the first of a new series featuring a very personable young Elizabeth. Lively action and well-tempered prose make it a winner. [Mystery Guild main selection.]
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

The Prologue

"The queen wishes to see you alone in her privy chamber, my lady."

So kindly, simply spoken, the twenty-year-old Princess Elizabeth thought, but not so kind or simple in fact. They always called her lady, not princess or even Your Grace, these swarming courtiers of the new queen, her half sister Mary Tudor.

Yet Elizabeth kept a set smile on her face as she sat across a small inlaid table for an afternoon repast with Her Majesty. The sweetmeats and tarts looked delicious, but under her stiff stomacher, Elizabeth's belly cramped with foreboding. She had always danced on sword points at court, but only in her sister's newborn reign did she fear she could stumble and impale herself.

"A beautiful day," the pale thirty-seven-year-old monarch said with a sigh and a sideways glance out the window. Set slightly ajar, the casement caught crisp October air blowing up from the Thames across the gardens and greens to Whitehall Palace. "And here I've done naught but read and sign bills, grants, and warrants today--when I was not hearing holy Mass, of course."

"Your Grace works far too hard," Elizabeth assured her, gripping her hands together in the pale blue silk folds of her gown. "Would you not have time for a walk in the knot garden or a ride in St. James's Park?"

"Dios sabe, duty calls," Mary intoned in her masculine voice that always surprised people when they first met her. She reached for her goblet of claret and cradled it in her beringed hands a moment before putting it back down with a thump. "I'll not have them say behind my back that a woman cannot rule."

"Remember our father king said once, Your Majesty, that like lunatics, we women are so governed by the phases of the moon we could never command his realm?"

"We?" Mary challenged with an audible gulp. "You, sister, will never bear these royal burdens, for I shall have a son and heir--as our father also said!"

"God grant it, Your Grace, and I am ever grateful for your continued kindnesses to me."

Despite the queen's slow nod, Elizabeth's heart began to thud like horses' hooves. She fought down panic at her latest faux pas. Even an imagined affront could set the queen off. At least she was used to Mary's nearsighted squint always making one think she was frowning. Now those pewter eyes skewered her to her chair as the queen waited for her younger sister's next move.

But Elizabeth's one true--if necessarily covert--adviser at court, the young secretary Master William Cecil, had always said, When in doubt, do or say nothing. So with a pleasant countenance she sat stock still. In the aching silence Mary leaned forward to select a berry tart. With her other small, blunt hand, so different from Elizabeth's tapered, elegant ones, the queen clutched the heavy gold crucifix that swayed from an ornate neck chain. To stall further, Elizabeth took a tart that appeared to match Mary's. It oozed rich, red juice.

"So," Mary murmured with a heavy sigh, "these weeks since I was crowned you publicly declare you support me but will not even hear the Mass with me in private."

Elizabeth stayed the tart halfway to her lips. There they loomed again, those upturned sword points to tread upon as if she were some spike-walker from distant Araby.

"Your Majesty, you yourself said one must hearken to one's own conscience, so I only follow your lead to--"

"But my conscience is obedient to the true faith." She dropped her uneaten tart back on the table and seized her goblet again. "Eat, eat, sister," she ordered with a dismissive gesture. "Do not look as if I would devour you. We shall be more than family; we shall be allies forever in the holy church and in our daily--"

The tart tasted bitter in Elizabeth's mouth. And she bit on a cherry pit. She tried to chew and swallow but gagged and spit out the mouthful into her lavender-scented handkerchief. The smell of that made her explode in a messy sneeze.

"Bitter," she muttered, sniffling. "And within, a hard stone I cannot--"

She jumped as Mary's arm swept across the table to clatter goblets and dishes together. Tarts rolled and broke; the ewer tipped, spewing crimson wine, splattering Elizabeth's gown.

"Diversion and disobedience masked with pretty smiles, that has always been your game," the queen thundered, "for it is in your blood!"

"I--forgive me, Your Majesty, but the tart just tasted--"

"Poison? Is that what you would dare to say?" she shrilled, rising. Elizabeth leapt to her feet too. "Despite my good graces to you," the queen went on, "is that what you will accuse me of next?" She paced to the window so the afternoon light slanted in to gild her stocky form but obscure her features.

"No, of course, not, and--"

"In her own privy chamber the Catholic queen tries to poison her Protestant half sister, Elizabeth of England, beloved of the people. Is that what you and your tricky supporters will say next?"

"I have no supporters of my own, but all yours in loyalty."

"I'll hear no more lies. It would be justice indeed if someone did poison you, but not I--never I." As she paced, her skirts swished and her crucifix scraped her jewel-encrusted bodice. "I want only the best for you and your eternal soul, sister."

"But I spoke not of poison," Elizabeth whispered, yet her mind raced. She had swallowed nothing, but she still felt she choked down the sour taste of the tart. Surely it was more than that some pastry cook had simply left out the sweetening. With the back of her hand, she wiped her lips. "I never intended--"

"You do know that woman poisoned my sainted mother," the queen said. She came closer. With both hands Elizabeth held hard to the tall back of a carved oak chair. "At Kimbolton Castle, where she died. It's true: poison."

Elizabeth knew that woman always referred to her own mother, Anne Boleyn, who had supplanted Mary's in the king's affections years ago. "No," Elizabeth protested quietly, "that cannot be true, since your mother was ill then, so she simply--"

"I tell you it is God's truth, and you'll not gainsay me on it. Queen Catherine wrote of it to me, and years later I had it straight from her loyal Lady de Salinas, who was with her to the end. That woman bewitched our father to send his Catherine into exile, and your mother--the whore Boleyn--had her poisoned there. The queen wrote me she was sore afraid. Her few ladies were reduced to cooking their meat over the fire in her bedchamber to guard against poison, but still that witch--"

"That is a lie!" Elizabeth screamed, then, wide-eyed, clapped her hands over her mouth. Despite knowing she should hold her tongue or just withdraw, her fists shot to her waist. She shook her red head so hard her headdress rattled its pearls. "No, Your Grace, it cannot be," she said in more measured tones. "I cannot warrant that--"

"Get out--out! I cannot bear to have you here. I thought we could be sisters, allies, friends. But there is too much bad blood between us, and not of my making." She had come so close, Elizabeth could now see her own reflection in the haunted eyes.

Elizabeth's survival instincts rose to the fore. She bridled her temper, dipped a curtsy, and bent her head. "Whatever passed between our long-departed mothers, my queen, I love and honor Your Gracious Majesty. I am your loyal subject, and this talk of poison is painful to me, for God knows, I am innocent of any--"

"No one, especially you, is innocent," Mary said, hissing the last word. "Like your dam, you are poisoned by bitterness and bound by iniquity. Go back to your country house and keep clear of plottings against your God-given queen!"

When Elizabeth left the chamber, she was so distraught she ignored the veiled woman who stepped swiftly back into the shadows.

Five Years Later

"I am bored to death with all this waiting," the tall, red-haired woman muttered to herself as she dismounted. "To death."

The sudden cloudburst wet Elizabeth Tudor clear through to her skin, but she turned her face up, reveling in the strength and sweep of it. No dangerous lightning or thunder with this, but it still suited her mood. And it pleased her that she managed to be out here nearly alone when the Popes had gone back with her Barbary falcon, the servants, and the remnants of the food.

She dismounted and leaned against the strength of the great oak for what cover it could give. Gazing into the distance toward her small rural realm, she sighed. The old palace of Hatfield House where she lived in exile--watched closely by the queen's man Sir Thomas Pope and his wife Beatrice--would have to do since she could not be at court. She could yet be rotting in the Tower of London if her royal brother-in-law, Spanish King Philip, hadn't taken a fancy to her and asked Queen Mary to be kind while he was away.

"But that is as kind as it gets, Griffin," she told her favorite horse and stroked the black stallion's muzzle to quiet him. "Some of my people at least have been returned to me, and you, of course, my dear boy."

The horse whinnied as if he understood and cherished every word. "'S blood," she whispered and patted him again. "Sweet talk to horses, that's what has become of the most marriageable virgin in the kingdom."

"You say this place has you talking to horses now, Your Grace?" her faithful lady Blanche Parry teased as she pulled up under the tree and dismounted. Unlike her princess, Blanche huddled in her hooded...

Edition details

• Publisher: Delacorte Press
• Publication date: 1999
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0385332831
• ISBN 13: 9780385332835
• Binding: Hardcover
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 310