You were brought up in the countryside after the death of your mother at an early age, and the death of your father shortly after that. Your aunt and uncle took you in, but you had to do household chores like taking care of the chickens and helping with cooking, which left you very little time for learning or leisure.

After the fire that consumed your family home, you were sent off to be a maid in London. There, you found yourself in service of the Duchess of Marlborough and eventually became the Queen's Lady in Waiting.

Sarah was very mistrustful of you—of anyone who came this close to the queen.

But there was something else that bothered her.

Something about you that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Perhaps it was your innocent eyes or the way your soft voice floated through the air

Maybe it was the way your delicate hands would sew difficult patterns on a dress.

She was intrigued by you, even if she didn't want to admit it.

Sarah didn't know how she felt about you. She was angry and jealous when she saw you talking to other men. And she hated the way they looked at you.

Or when the queen started to spend too much time in your company—it was your job, after all, but that didn't stop the small pang of jealousy from the Duchess.

And you were the lady in waiting to the queen, this situation could not be absurd enough.

"You've been spending a lot of time with the queen," Sarah says, a hint of venom in her voice.