Catherine slipped inside, leaving the door ajar in her uncertainty. Blushing for her, with some idea of her intentions, Thomasin pulled it to, and stood blocking the view inside. The guards stared at the floor.
Snatches of their words reached those outside.
“At this hour?” Henry was saying.
“Were you sleeping?”
A muffled sound suggested the king had got up from his bed.
Catherine’s voice was higher. “Let me come to you this once, for all the times we have been happy together as man and wife.”
“You know my scruples about this.”
“How can it hurt, after all these years?”
“But what is the point? You can no longer conceive a child; you no longer bleed.”
“It is not unheard of. Think of St Elizabeth, who bore John the Baptist long after her childbearing years were thought to be over.”
There was more muffled movement. Thomasin felt acutely for Catherine.
“You must leave. You know why.”
“You are mistaken in that. There is no fault, no impediment between us. Please, husband.”
Thomasin heard the name Arthur spoken, and her mistress let out a little cry. “It is not so. Shame on you.” Swiftly, she appeared in the doorway, pulling the robe about her short frame, and hurried back to her chambers. The king’s door closed softly.
Thomasin turned to the guards. “Say nothing of this, or I will see that you are dismissed.” Then she sped after the retreating queen.
THIRTEEN
Catherine rose early with the light. In the still of the chamber, Thomasin and Ellen fumbled with her clothing, tying her laces, lifting her rippling skirts down over her head. The material came down in blue waves before settling about her feet. In silence, with rumbling stomachs, they followed her, shivering, to the chapel. Wolsey was waiting at the door to lead them in. It was a small, tight space. Dark and chilly for a spring morning. The cardinal had already spoken to Henry of his plans to improve it: to extend the far end; to put in bigger windows and an entrance chamber.
Thomasin and Ellen squeezed into a pew with Gertrude and Maria, while Catherine knelt before the altar. Before her, Wolsey in his rich red robes spread his hands wide and began to murmur the opening prayers. Catherine bent low, heavy with worldly burdens, as the words washed over her. Before long, Thomasin felt her cousin’s head droop upon her shoulder and her breathing grow deep and regular. The words continued to flow from the cardinal’s mouth, in a stream of holy images and blessings, and the candles flickered, until Thomasin also closed her eyes.
She came to as the chapel rose to its feet. Wolsey held out a hand, to help Catherine to stand. On either side, Ellen, Maria and Gertrude stretched slowly up from the pew. Thomasin rubbed her bleary eyes and waited for Catherine to pass, before following her out into the daylight. Catherine was serene but subdued. She gave no indication of what had transpired the night before, and Thomasin knew how to keep a secret.
“I have drawn up designs for a new ceiling, and a gallery,” Wolsey was saying, “with a large altar window to be devoted to a saint of the king’s choice.”
Catherine’s face was impassive. “In the same location?”
“Not necessarily. I favour a grander scale, with a wider entrance and space for an antechamber, perhaps even a gallery.”
Catherine looked at him suspiciously. “And why exactly does God need a gallery?”
The cardinal judged her tone and melted away.
Catherine passed through the arch and into the colonnade. Behind her, Thomasin and Ellen blinked in the sudden light. It looked as if it was to be a fine morning: there was a fair blue sky marred only by a few pale clouds. The roses alongside the stone walk were beginning to show their buds and birds sang in chorus. The smell of warm bread drew them towards the hall, where Thomasin was looking forward to breaking her fast.
“My Lady, a beautiful day,” said William Carey, joining them on the path.
He shot a smile at Thomasin, his tanned face suddenly uplifting. She realised she had never noticed his warm eyes before.
“Good morning, Master Carey,” replied Catherine, continuing her progress.
Carey fell into step with Thomasin. “I was wondering whether the queen has plans for today?”
“None that I know of yet.”
