“What do we do if the king comes to be admitted?”
“There’s nothing we can do. We have to obey. But let’s not worry about that unless it happens.”
Presently, they took up embroidery, tracing intricate black patterns with their needles across white collars and cuffs. The hours passed slowly, in a mood of unease. As Thomasin pulled her thread in and out in rhythm, William Carey’s words mingled with those of the king, and his final accusation rang through her head again: treason, treason!
“Did the king speak merely in anger,” she wondered aloud, “or did the queen commit treason in keeping his letters?”
Ellen looked up from her work. “What letters?”
“The letters that…” Thomasin began, but then she realised what her cousin meant. “Of course. I do not know to which letters the king might refer.”
“We were so occupied with letters of our own that we scarcely had time to notice any that the queen might be handling, which were not our business.”
“Not our business indeed,” Thomasin agreed.
“And I thought he would never be so harsh as to say what he did in public like that.”
“To reject her? To say she was not his wife?” Thomasin felt deeply for Catherine and the pain those words had plunged her into. “No, that was cruel.”
“He has clearly been holding that thought in for some time, and the letters brought it out.”
“Poor Catherine. She will never accept it.”
“She may not have a choice.”
The room was quiet. Maria was dozing in a chair, and Gertrude was reading.
“Where is Mountjoy?” Thomasin asked, realising she had not seen Catherine’s chamberlain for some time.
“A servant from the king came and summoned him, while you were with the queen,” said Gertrude, “but he has been gone these two hours. I wonder what it can be about.”
A slight sense of unease crept over Thomasin at the length of the man’s absence, but there was nothing to be done. She picked up her needle again and tried to forget it.
“What was Will Carey speaking of before?” Ellen asked. “Before the king arrived.”
“He was hoping to arrange an entertainment.”
“Oh, that would be nice. I do hope it is not spoiled now, by all this.”
“It depends how long the king is angry.”
Ellen lowered her voice so the others could not hear. “But he seemed to show particular favour to you. Carey, I mean, not the king.”
“Did he?” Thomasin did not look up from her needle.
“I think so. He paid you most marked attentions, did he not?”
“Perhaps he did. I scarcely saw.”
When Ellen kept her silence, Thomasin looked up. “What? It was just a conversation. He wanted my opinion.” But Ellen just smiled in an infuriating way. “That is all, there is nothing to smile about.”
“Of course not,” Ellen replied, “nothing at all. That is why you are blushing.”
“I am not blushing!”
“If you say so.”
“I am not. Definitely not blushing.”
