Thomasin’s eyes had been surveying the fare on the table. “What?”
“That Hugh Truegood. He cannot keep his eyes from you.”
“Oh, hush, you speak nonsense.”
“Nonsense, is it? Just watch him, then you will see for yourself.”
“I will do no such thing. If I watch him, then he will be quite justified in saying that I am watching him and will whisper to his busybody friend that I cannot keep my eyes from him.”
Ellen said nothing, but raised her eyebrows and reached for the white bread.
Thomasin loaded up her plate, acutely conscious now of the men’s table. It seemed to occupy her mind’s eye like a heavy weight, but she shook it off as silliness on Ellen’s part.
“He is handsome, though — that hair.” Ellen had no coyness when it came to looking across the room.
“Stop it! Mind your business.”
“I am certain he is speaking of you to Suffolk. The way they smile and look over each time one of them adds a new remark.”
“They are most likely commenting upon the tapestries behind me. Eat your food.”
Ellen took a sip of wine. “You are not saying you would refuse him, surely? I certainly would not, if he came courting me. Think of all those fine silks and damasks he might have in his warehouses, brought from Antwerp, ready to adorn his future wife.”
“I have not said that,” Thomasin was forced to admit, “but you are too bold and your imagination runs wild. He would not think of me that way.”
“Would he not? Just look and see.”
Thomasin could not stop her eyes from being drawn briefly across the hall, where they met with the intense amber gaze of Hugh Truegood. He inclined his head slightly to acknowledge her. A small, intimate gesture of recognition, before she tore her eyes away.
But it all felt too much like Rafe Danvers all over again; the stolen glances, the distant admiration, the fixed eyes. Her heart was still fragile. She reached for another hearty slice of beef.
They scarcely noticed the servant enter. A man in Wolsey’s livery scurried down the side and knelt in front of the dais before Wolsey bade him speak.
“Please, My Lord, there are people from the village at the gates, bringing gifts for the king.”
Wolsey frowned. Henry put down his goblet. The hall fell silent, waiting to see how the king would respond to this potential danger.
It was the cardinal who stepped in first. “You have stayed them at the gates? Not let them approach?”
“Yes, My Lord, a gardener spoke with them at a distance. They bring eggs, cheese and fresh milk, fruit and other items. I did not want to send them away, considering our need.” The man looked nervously at the king. “Did I do right?”
Wolsey turned to the king. “What do you wish to do?”
Henry sat very still, deep in thought. “There was no contact of any kind?”
“None, My Lord.”
“And a great distance maintained between them?”
“The length of six horses, My Lord. My man had to shout to be heard.”
Henry nodded. “Very well. We could use these items at our table. They had the appearance of health, these villagers?”
“The best of health. A mother and child, pink of complexion, tall and sturdy in limbs. They are known to me, and have supplied the kitchens before.”
“And they are waiting there still? With the food?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
