Book Title: The Queen’s Tears
Series: A Julia Darke Novel
Author Name: Elizabeth St.John
Publication Date: October 15, 2026
Publisher: Falcon Historical Press
Pages: 400
Genre: Dual-Timeline Historical Fiction
Any Triggers: No
Tour Schedule Page: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2026/09/blog-tour-the-queens-tears-by-elizabeth-stjohn.html
The Queen’s Tears
Elizabeth St.John
A stolen crown jewel and an enigmatic portrait force two women to confront the devastating choices they made for love—and summon the courage to live with the truth.
1619: Barbara, Lady Villiers, at the bidding of her brother-in-law, the Duke of Buckingham, has stolen the dying Queen Anna’s jewels—and kept the greatest prize for herself. The Queen’s Tears, a brooch of extraordinary value, torments her: too dangerous to sell, too priceless to discard, and possibly her only means of securing her children’s future. When the family fortunes are shattered, Barbara faces an impossible choice: remain loyal to Buckingham—or betray him by confessing the theft to King Charles.
Present Day: Julia Darke opens her Cotswolds bookshop to start life over peacefully. Instead, a Van Dyck portrait of Barbara’s daughter, with tantalising signs of the missing Queen’s Tears hidden in plain sight, brings her face-to-face with Oliver Villiers, the Oxford art conservator she once loved and walked away from.
Reluctantly drawn together to uncover Barbara’s secret, Julia and Oliver follow the trail of the Queen’s Tears—and the closer Julia comes to Barbara’s truth, the harder it becomes to hide from her own.
Inspired by the true stories of Queen Anna of Denmark’s stolen jewels and a missing Van Dyck painting, The Queen’s Tears weaves history, fiction, and family research across the centuries. Readers of The Lydiard Chronicles will find old favourites—and a new heroine following in their footsteps.
Keep reading for a brilliant excerpt
BARBARA
Hampton Court Palace
1619
I prepare Queen Anna to stand before God as thunder crashes upon the roof tiles and lightning flashes across her bedchamber’s vigilant Diana tapestries, huntress and hunted illuminated in death.
It is my duty. And the Marquess of Buckingham’s order.
I have attended the Queen at many a masque. Tonight, in her greatest performance of all, she faces an audience of one, alone. She no longer needs her precious embroidered dresses and priceless jewels. But others have their eyes upon them. And that is why the marquess chose me to oversee the plundering.
“Rhen—Rhenish . . .” she croaks from her bed, scrabbling her restless hand on the coverlet. Rings gleam on her dropsy-swollen fingers. The stink of her flux coils thick through the shadows and catches accusingly in the back of my throat. Holding my breath, I tip the cup of wine to her mouth, mop the dribble as it flows from her cracked lips.
From beyond the door I have locked and bolted, her courtiers mutter; her ladies weep. She has even banned her countesses from her side, and their cries seep through the stout oak.
“The storm is raised by witches—”
“—like the tempest she sailed on from Denmark.”
“The King can’t rescue her this time.”
I should be protesting with them, not trapped with her in a den of thieves. But as with the Queen, fate and circumstances plot against me.
A thunder crack startles the child within me; he kicks in protest.
Hush, little one, you are safe. I take the rowan tree amulet hidden in my sleeve, brush it across my belly, and tuck it away again, preserving life amidst death.
“In God’s name, let us in!” One bold soul hammers entry. God’s name? More like Lucifer’s, given what is happening. “Let us in to serve Her Majesty.”
Anna’s faithful servants, Monsieur and Madame Hugon, are the only two she allows to remain within. They have forbidden visitors for a night and a day and now night again. No ladies, no chamberlain, no priests nor prayers nor last rites, no formal leave-taking for this dying Queen, despite her husband’s pleas. She has banished the King. He does not challenge; he has fled death since birth.
No will, no formal bequests, no written witnessed oath and testimony, ignoring her son’s appeals. In her last hours, she rejected Prince Charles. He does care, poor young man. I saw it in his face when he came to call and was rebuffed on her command. His mother is just forty-four years of age; he should have known her longer.
Pierre Hugon and his wife, Anika, are her executors and executioners, for denied her doctors, she has no chance. But it is the Queen’s choice. Her death has long been her choice. She does not fear the place between.
“Hurry,” I hiss to Pierre and Anika. “Hurry about your business, for I cannot keep this door secured much longer.”
Hurry, for I am fearful of being caught like a grave robber in the Queen’s death chamber.
Universal Buy Link: https://geni.us/TheQueensTears
This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited.
At the heart of her writing is the transformation of real ancestral histories into narratives of historical continuity. She follows threads of legacy through generations, guided as much by wills, letters, portraits, country churches, ruined castles, manor houses, and lost gardens as by imagination. Locations become constant companions through time, while characters whisper across centuries—their decisions resonating in the lives of their descendants to reveal how choices shape legacies. Grounded in historic sites like Lydiard Park and the Tower of London, her work creates a living archival flow that continues to flourish as the past yields its secrets.
Elizabeth divides her time between California, England, and the past, surrounded by books, gardens, and animals, with a slightly bewildered, ever-supportive husband beside her.
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