Mothers

"Never did, nor never shall, lie at the proud foot of a conqueror."

August 11th

Miranda regretted her grandfather's death, but she was pregnant and it was the height of summer. It was too hot to wear black. She shouldn't have to wear black. And yet, by her mother's command, she was baking in the only black gown that still fit her. Nothing else she could squeeze into had an inch of black anywhere. If she ever fell pregnant again, Miranda would have a full compliment of mourning attire at the ready for the ill-timed death of another relative.

Is Your Man Secret?

"And one man in his time plays many parts."

January 21, 1520

"Shouldn't you be looking after that husband of yours?"

Younger Than She

"For what is wedlock forced but a hell?"

February 19th

As the sun set on her eldest's birthday, Goneril had retreated into her study. Children's birthdays were even worse than her own for reminding her of her age. Miranda was twenty-two, which meant Goneril was forty-four. She would be married twenty-five years come May. Twenty-five years was more than half of her life; in turn, that meant she had spent more of her life married to Albany than not. For all of that, she hadn't even the consolation of a married heiress; Miranda was as stubborn and childish at twenty-two as she had been at sixteen.

That, unlike age, was something Goneril could change.