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    White Heart
    White Heart
    White Heart
    Ebook80 pages1 hour

    White Heart

    By Sherry Jones

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    A historical eBook about Blanche, the White Queen of France, the manipulative mother-in-law of Marguerite in Sherry Jones’s Four Sisters, All Queens.

    A woman's power lies in her beauty. For years, Blanche de Castille, the White Queen of France, has lived by this maxim—passed on by her grandmother, Eléonore d'Aquitaine, as she took the girl to marry King Louis VIII. When her husband dies unexpectedly, however, Blanche finds that beauty is not enough to hold, and command, a kingdom against usurpers eager to wrest the Crown from her woman's grasp. Faced with an English invasion, barons' uprisings, and slanderous rumors, Blanche must look within herself for the strength she needs to guard the throne for her young son. Her bold response shocks the kingdom and shapes her into the formidable, seemingly heartless mother-in-law to Marguerite of Provence, wife of King Louis IX (Saint Louis) and the eldest of the "Four Sisters, All Queens" in Sherry Jones's forthcoming novel.

    Includes an excerpt to the upcoming Four Sisters, All Queens, to be published by Gallery Books, May 8, 2012.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPocket Star
    Release dateApr 3, 2012
    ISBN9781451683523
    White Heart
    Author

    Sherry Jones

    Author and journalist Sherry Jones is best known for her international bestseller The Jewel of Medina. She is also the author of The Sword of Medina, Four Sisters, All Queens, The Sharp Hook of Love, and the novella White Heart. She lives in Spokane, WA, where, like Josephine Baker, she enjoys dancing, singing, eating, advocating for equality, and drinking champagne. Visit her online at AuthorSherryJones.com and at Facebook.com/SherryJonesFanpage.

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    • 4/5
      In this novella prequel to Four Sisters, All Queens, author Sherry Jones tackles the story of Blanche de Castille, the White Queen of France, and mother-in-law of one of the four sister-queens. Blanche has built her life on the advice of her grandmother Eleanor of Aquitaine, though she finds that such advice tends to run thin under distress. When Blanche's husband, King Louis VIII turns up dead, she must navigate a treacherous court mired in politics and ambition to place her young son on the throne, protect France -and her own honor.From the very first word up to the last, I was completely entranced by this story. Every single sentence felt like it was carefully crafted with purpose and elegance. Author Sherry Jones offers readers a glimpse into the past that's unlike just about any other historical novel out there. Her attention to detail is impeccable, but not so laborious that it weighs down the plot or characters and lends just enough for readers to get a vivid view of the period.Jones does an incredible job of bringing Blanche to life on the page. Most importantly, Blanche was not portrayed as a one-dimensional character who is driven by blind ambition, but also managed to have true human emotions that make her an honest and real character. Other characters seemed a tiny bit underdeveloped, but this novella was so short that these characters didn't get as much "screen time" to entirely take on lives of their own.Despite that, I devoured White Heart. As a historical fiction nerd, it was fascinating to read about such a strong and compelling woman in the midst of a world filled with enemies. The only real issue I had is that it's too short (I know it's a novella, but still). I wanted to read more about Blanche and her story -and how she overcame it all.Can't wait to check out Four Sisters, All Queens in May.

      1 person found this helpful

    Book preview

    White Heart - Sherry Jones

    Pocket Star Books

    A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

    1230 Avenue of the Americas

    New York, NY 10020

    www.SimonandSchuster.com

    This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    Copyright © 2012 by Sherry Jones

    All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

    First Pocket Star Books ebook edition April 2012

    POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

    The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

    ISBN 978-1-4516-8352-3

    Contents

    White Heart

    Four Sisters, All Queens

    She sweeps into the hall clad in spotless white, the color of angels and mourning queens. Pierre Mauclerc’s eyes gleam at her, lurid with imagined sin, but he has seen nothing as yet. He sits on his bench with his lips to the ear of Hugh de Lusignan, whispering lies while forty other barons of the realm mill and chatter, their exclamations and barks of laughter bouncing about the stone walls as Blanche begins to remove her clothes.

    She stands in their midst, her head high, her white-gloved hand lifted to the white cord tying her ermine-lined mantle across her chest. Down it falls into the waiting hand of Mincia, her maid. Pierre’s mouth ceases to move. Heads turn her way; eyes pop at the sight of her face, made up in the shape of a startling and, she hopes, poignant, heart. Her lips are white, her eyebrows. They used to call her white in heart and they will again, by God.

    She slides her white velvet surcoat over her arms and drops it into Mincia’s care. The hall falls hush as if words were birds settling in the rafters, rustling their wings. Mincia draws a knife from the sheath on her hip and, with a flash of the blade, cuts the threads tying the sleeves of Blanche’s gown to her outstretched arms. For this occasion she has donned her tunic of white silk embroidered with white fleurde-lis, the emblem of France. Five pearl necklaces drape across her chest, hiding her flush but not her breasts, which must be fully revealed.

    Mincia dips to the floor to grasp the hem of her dress. Slowly she lifts it as the barons watch, jaws dropping (a frisson of pleasure runs through Blanche’s veins. Let them gossip about her now!), revealing her white calfskin boots and white silk leggings—a queen must not cry, blow her nose, or bare her feet and legs in public.

    My lady! Robert de Gâteblé, Pierre’s elder brother, leaps to his feet. Please stop. He looks as if he might weep, the poor man. He fears she might debase herself—but it is too late for that. Her enemies have already degraded her, and gleefully so. To what lengths will they go to wrest the Crown of France from her? No matter: To keep it, she will always go further.

    A woman’s power lies in her beauty. So said her grandmother, Eléonore d’Aquitaine, who ought to know. Today, beauty feels more like her undoing. But no. Were she as ugly as Medusa, these men would murmur against her, for she possesses what they most desire: power.

    Continue, she whispers to Mincia, who has halted with Blanche’s gown in her hands, waiting to see if she will change her mind. Hoping. Do not give them the satisfaction, my lady, she begged just moments ago as Blanche looked down over the hall, waiting for the room to fill. She is doing the opposite, can’t Mincia see that? They will not be satisfied until she is ruined—which will be very soon, unless she puts an end to these lies.

    Mincia lifts the heavy garment up, up, blocking Blanche’s white-hearted face from view, exposing the rest of her. Someone sucks in his breath. She hears a curse. Good! The room’s chill air grips her torso with icy hands. Gooseflesh ripples her skin. She bends her knees; Mincia pulls the tunic over her head without even knocking her crown askew. Exclamations fill the hall.

    Blanche never drops her glance. She knows how she appears, her nipples pushing darkly against the thin chemise of fine white linen, her belly not only flat but concave, her hipbones jutting, the sheer fabric clinging to the hair between her legs.

    "Monsieurs, we have heard rumors," she says. Her voice does not quaver, although her bare arms shiver. The barons’ eyes slide down her body; jerk back up to her face, their cheeks reddening; then slide downward again. She might as well be naked before them, which is her intention. Isn’t this how they have imagined her?

    Look upon us, yes! Fill your eyes. Pierre Mauclerc—Bad Clerk, his name means, and although no one knows how he acquired it, Blanche can easily guess—glares at her. He has lost this game, and he knows it. But did he really expect to triumph over Blanche de Castille?

    White in heart as in head, people used to say of her twenty-seven years ago, when she arrived in France to marry the prince Louis. Perhaps her grand-mère had this sentiment in mind when she chose Blanche over her older sister to become France’s next queen. Blanche will be an easier name for the French to pronounce was her excuse. Its connotation of whiteness may help her now, please God.

    We have heard it said that we are with child. She turns her body this way and that, giving all the room a full view of her stomach sunken, like the rest of her, by grief; her

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