I sit up in bed, cushions heaped up behind my head and stare resolutely at the tapestry hanging on the far wall of the chamber. My ladies are all present, but few come close to me for fear I may snap at them. Only Jane, loyal and faithful as well as a friend, keeps approaching from time to time to ensure I do not want for anything. The ladies are correct. I am irritable and often bad-tempered, but I am sorely tried. Although it is now well past the nine months’ period, I am not yet delivered of my baby. It seems I have offended God in some way, and he keeps me waiting. Philip has visited only once in all the long weeks I have been incarcerated here and on that occasion he would talk only about the baby and when I might expect him and also told me that he must return to Spain on urgent busi
