Excerpt from Dark Aemilia by Sally O'Reilly, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

He bows again. He looks pale. 'I would say there is low life in it, and high-flown characters too, such as the person of Bianca.'

The Queen's smile disappears. 'A lesson, if anyone is listening, that might teach a lady to beware of being fenced in for a wife. First they trap you, then they seek to change you. And those of us with a handsome dowry must be wariest of all.'

Her ladies giggle at this, shimmering in their silver robes.

'It is a fable, Your Majesty, not taken from the life.'

This is in the nature of a contradiction. The room gasps, silently. All eyes are on the Queen's face. Her expression is blank, her vermilion mouth a flat line. 'We do not need a lesson from you in the antecedents of your little drama. There is nothing new under the sun, least of all your plot.'

Then, with a sudden smile, her mood seems to change.

'We are grateful to you for showing us what we already know. Sometimes, in our experience, this is desirable in a drama. Sometimes we want fairyland, and wild diversion spread before us, and sometimes we wish to be confirmed in our most sensible opinion. Our opinion being, in this case, that marriage favours men.'

The playwright, looking ill at ease, bows again.

'Was it not your intention? To show women the dangers of the married state? To have us run from such enslavement, in which our husband will be our lord and master in the eyes of God?'

The playwright clears his throat. 'I intended, Your Majesty, to tell a good tale of an unruly woman, who found her true vocation in the – '

The Queen interrupts him. 'Do you have such a wife?'

He blinks. 'Such a…?'

'Such a one as this. One "peevish, sullen, sour" who does not know her place.'

'Her place, Your Majesty, is in Stratford, and mine is in London.'

There is a silence for a moment, then the Queen begins to laugh, and all around her laugh too. The grinning players look sideways at the poet. The Queen flips her hands, dismissing him, and the audience breaks apart in a clamour of excited talk. It is a gay scene. The new play is a success.

Hunsdon sweeps off to consult with Her Majesty on some urgent matter, and I find myself alone in the great hall, sitting stiffly on a stool. All I can think of is this Katherine and her plight, and the cruel way that she was brought to heel.

I feel a presence, shadow-like, and turn my head. It is the playwright. He bows, even more deeply than he had done before the Queen. I stand up, my bright skirts whirl, and the stool falls over.

'I know you,' he says, which is hardly courtly.

I nod.

'Aemilia Bassano.'

I nod again.

'I've seen you … talking…'

I curtsey, mockingly. Wonders will never cease – a comely woman who can speak.

He takes a step nearer. 'So … brightly. So … full of erudition. I've heard you quoting Ovid. Like a scholar!'

I will tell him nothing. I will not say they brought me up at Court. I will not say I am a musician's orphan. I look at him, his dark-rimmed eyes. What is he after? Most men leave me alone, fearing the wrath of Hunsdon. But this one has a reckless look to him.

'Why are you so silent?' he asks.

'I'm silent when I need to be. If it were otherwise, I'd be a fool.'

'Silent with Lord Hunsdon?'

'That's no business of yours.'

'But you speak with him?'

'Of course I do! I'm not the Sphinx.'

He looks me up and down. 'The words you choose must be poetical indeed. To earn such splendour.'

'I am the Lord Chamberlain's mistress.'

'And for that great rank you sold your virtue?'

Excerpted from Dark Aemilia by Sally O'Reilly. Copyright © 2014 by Sally O'Reilly. Excerpted by permission of Picador. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.