1565, LONDON

Dear Diary,

Can you believe that backstabbing double-crosser Anne Boleyn? She stole my fiancé from me on the eve of our wedding and then had the nerve to name me as the godmother of their daughter, Elizabeth. It’s all right, though; Anne got what she deserved in the end. People are still talking about that amazing party I threw on the night of her execution.

Regardless of her terrible parents, I ended up growing a soft spot for Elizabeth. She was such an intelligent, strong, and feisty child—she reminded me a lot of myself when I was her age. I knew the pressures of being a Tudor woman in a Tudor man’s world, so I looked out for her when she was growing up.