My Lady Jane Quotes

“And now here he was, completely alone. He found this situation both euphoric (he could scratch himself and no one was looking; no one was judging him--no one!) and unsettling. (What if he choked?)”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Gifford Dudley was unfairly handsome: impressively tall and well shaped around the neck and shoulders, with glossy chestnut hair tied into a short ponytail, and expressive brown eyes. And his nose. His nose. It was perfectly shaped: not too long or short, not too plump or skinny, and even the pores were discreet. There was no trace of the Dudley Nose Curse.
Praise all the gods and saints, Lord Gifford Dudley may have had an unfortunate name, but he did not have the nose. She wanted to sing. She wanted to spin around to where Edward was taking a seat in the front and tell him all about Gifford's perfect nose.
It was a miracle. A marvel. A wonder. A relief. After all, she would be expected to kiss this man by the end of the ceremony, and the last thing she needed was to lose an eye.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“She lowered her work and began unknitting an entire row of stitches one at a time, erasing their tangled existence with much more finesse than she'd created them. (She had a lot of practice unknitting things. She could unknit entire wardrobes. You'd imagine that lots of practice unknitting would mean lost of practice - and improvement - knitting, but your imagination forgot to account for Jane.)”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“She'd have married Jane to a tree stump if it had been allowed.”
― Cynthia Hand , My Lady Jane

“woman’s mouth opened and she brandished the rolling pin over her head like a Highland warrior. “PERVERRRRRRRT!” she screamed, and then she ran at him, clubbing him wherever she could reach. Edward”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“The whole place seemed like the look-don’t-touch kind of home. Perfectly manicured. Never enjoyed.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Even the wind had died.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“One of my maids forgot the fruit with my breakfast. I became a skunk and sprayed her.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“If it’s all about desire, why do you not desire to be a man?”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Ah, hello." He gathered his courage. This was just like reading poetry, but subtract poems and add people casually placing hunting knives and daggers on their tables. One of the women was filing her fingernails into sharp points, like claws. Just like reading poetry.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“And there were no secrets between them anymore, save one. G wanted to confess it to his lady before they commenced with the very special hug.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Through books she could see the world. Not”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Armies aren’t very good about carrying libraries with them. I can’t imagine why. We’d fight so much less if everyone would just sit down and read.” Gifford’s”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“We have a different tale to tell.
Pay attention. We've tweaked minor details. We've completely rearranged major details. Some names have been changed to protect the innocent (or not-so-innocent, or simply because we thought a name was terrible and we liked another name better). And we've added a touch of magic to keep things interesting. So really anything could happen.
This is how we think Jane's story should have gone.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“He was sitting in his favorite spot: the window ledge in one of the south turrets of Greenwich Palace, his legs dangling over the edge as he watched the comings and goings of the people in the courtyard below and listened to the steady flow of the River Thames. He thought he finally understood the Meaning of Life now, the Great Secret, which he'd boiled down to this:
Life is short, and then you die.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Jane couldn't seem to catch her breath. (And it wasn't just that her corset was too tight, although it was. Extremely.)”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Gifford took her damp hand and pushed a ring onto her finger. "I give myself to you."
"I receive you." It sounded more like a croak. "And I, Jane Grey, hereby declare my devotion to you. I swear to love you, parley with you, be faithful to you, and make you the happiest man in the world."
The original version of the vow her mother had suggested had said "obey you" but that simply would not do. It was enough that Jane had agreed to keep the word love where she had tried to insert the phrase "feel some sort of emotion", but with obey she could not bend. She would consult him regarding decisions. She didn't have to listen to him after that. And she would be faithful. She might try to make him happy, unless he insisted on being unreasonable.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“After that, the only other possible time to tell her would've been the few seconds between the act of stripping off his boots and then falling downward, and he happily would've told her then, only his lips were smashed against the wooden slats of the floor before he could get the words out.
But he promised the king he would tell Jane, and a promise was a promise. So just before the world went dark, he said, against the floor, "Mah Lavy? I ammmm a horrrrfffff."
"Pardon me?" Jane's voice came from somewhere in the black clouds behind his lids.
He could not repeat himself. Besides, it wasn't his fault his wife couldn't understand plain English.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Is there a reason, Gifford, that you didn't tell me about your condition?"
"Please call me G." He adjusted his grip on the trousers, letting the legs hang in front of him as though he were wearing them. Almost. "Everyone calls me G."
"I've never heard anyone call you G. Besides Billingsly, but he is a servant. He would call you Josephina if you ordered.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Have you seen your own eyes?" he said impulsively. "Green like ... forest moss."
"Moss?"
"Like pools of ..." He cursed himself that he was not more of a poet.
"Yes?" Her lips twitched as she clearly tried not to laugh at him.
"Beautiful eyes," he stumbled on.
"Pools of beautiful eyes?”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“You're probably thinking the same thing we were: where did Jane get the rope to tie the prisoners? We researched this very conundrum thoroughly, and after two weeks we can say, without a doubt : nobody knows. It's a question that has baffled historians and archaeologists alike. Professor Herbert Halprin explains: "Ropes have been a mystery to scholars throughout the ages. The first ropes were thought to appear as far back as 17,000 BC and made of vines. Unfortunately, being made of vines, none of those early examples survived. Later, da Vinci drew sketches for a rope-making machine, but it was never built. In medieval times, there were secret societies, called Rope Guilds, whose rope-twisting practices were protected via a complicated series of handshakes and passwords -" Okay. Your narrators are interrupting the dear professor, for reasons of boredom. Plus, his English accent sounded sketchy and forced. We asked him where Jane could've gotten the rope, but maybe he thought we asked him where anyone could've gotten any rope at any given point in history. Trust us, we are as frustrated as you must be about the lack of a definitive answer.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“On everyone's lap rested a book. Any book. In case the wedding got boring. As the priest droned on in the same manner as last time, Jane was both pleased and annoyed that no one was taking advantage of her thoughtfulness.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“G took her hand in his and traced his finger over the delicate skin of her arm. What she didn't realize was that he was scrawling the words of a poem he had recently written. It was inspired by his lady and he had spent many long hours trying to find the words that adequately conveyed the feelings of his heart.
There were many false starts, because at first he tried to capture the moment a horse fell in love with a ferret.
Shall I compare thee to a barrel to apples?
Thou art more hairy, but sweeter inside.
Rough winds couldn't keep me from taking you to chapel,
When finally a horse would take a bride...

And then he tried to wax poetic about the ferret alone ...

Shall I compare thee to a really large rat?
Thou art more longer, with less disease.
One would never mistake you for a listless cat ...
Nor a filthy dog, because my dog has fleas.

He could never confess his passion for poetry with those poetry examples.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Was she going to faint? Or would she consider that a very cliché thing to do?”
― Brodi Ashton, My Lady Jane

“Jane turned and craned her neck, first noting that the gentleman who stopped beside her was a well-dressed fellow. Then she finished looking up.
There it was.
The nose.
Truly, it was a great, arching eagle nose that would enter a room five whole seconds before the rest of him did.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“His mother had always approached his curse as if G wanted to spend his days as a quadruped. As if it were just another way for a privileged teenage boy to rebel. She often forgot that he didn't ask for this curse, and that if he could find a way to control it, he would give Billingsly's right arm for that information.
As if he could hear G's thoughts, Billingsly pulled his right arm in front of his body, and away from G's line of sight.
"In here, my lord," he said as he swung open the doors of the drawing room, using his left arm.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“When you were dying, Edward quickly discovered, people would let you do pretty much whatever you wanted. So he made some new unofficial decrees:
1. The king was allowed to sleep in as long as he wished.
2. The king no longer had to wear seven layers of elaborate, jewel-encrusted clothing. Or silly hats with feathers. Or pants that resembled pumpkins. Or tights. From now on, unless it was a special occasion, he was fine in just a simple shirt and trousers.
3. Dessert was to be served first. Blackberry pie, preferably. With whipped cream.
4. The king would no longer be taking part in any more dreary studies. His fine tutors had filled his head with enough history, politics and philosophy to last him two lifetimes, and as he was unlikely to get even half of one lifetime, there was no need for study. No more lessons, he decided. No more books. No more tutors' dirty looks.
5. The king was now going to reside in the top of the southeast turret, where he could sit in the window ledge and gaze out at the river for as long as he liked.
6. No one at court would be allowed to say the following words or phrases: affliction, illness,
malady, sickness, disease, disorder, ailment, infirmity, convalescence, indisposition, malaise,
plight, plague, poor health, failing health, what's going around, or your condition. Most of all, no one was allowed to say the word dying.
And finally (and perhaps most importantly, for the sake of our story)
7. Dogs would now be allowed inside the palace. More specifically, his dog.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“As a side note, he decided her frown would not inspire poetry. Because the poem would read: Her frown made him desire they be better strangers.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Jane leaned over the side of the bed and lowered his trousers in front of his face.
"Thank you, Billingsly." His voice was groggy.
"You're welcome."
Gifford's eyes went wide as he snatched the trousers and shoved the wad of fabric over his nether region. Jane sat back on the bed while her husband scrambled to his feet.
"My lady, please! I am indecent."
"You are," Jane agreed. "Not to mention the fact that you are also unclothed.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane

“Do you know how I think we should spend the first night of our honeymoon?" She asked in a soft, low voice.
For the first time since the announcement of their betrothal, G knew exactly how he wanted to spend the night. A pit of anxiety and anticipation formed in his stomach. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.
Her eyes got brighter, if that was possible. "I think we should raid our food cupboards and take some smoked meat down to the peasants who were attacked earlier!"
G worked hard to keep his face from falling. "My lady, you read my mind," he said, grateful that his lady could not read minds.”
― Cynthia Hand, My Lady Jane