They took the main door down the wide stone stairs and out into the courtyard. The Venetians had left and Ellen had returned to her duties, leaving Hugh Truegood sitting in reflection upon the bottom step. A bright moon was hanging overhead as the horse hooves clattered over cobbles. More’s carriage drew up before them and the footmen jumped out to open the door.
“It was wonderful to see you again,” said Margaret, tactfully moving things on by embracing Thomasin tightly. “Do not forget you always have an invitation to stay at Chelsea. Imagine a few weeks of reading, walking in the garden, good food.”
“It sounds idyllic. As soon as I get any leave, I shall write to you and fix a date.”
“You must! I have so much to show you.”
Thomas More handed his daughter into the carriage. “I echo her words, Mistress Marwood. You will always be welcome among us. Do not leave it too long.”
“Goodnight,” added William Roper, smiling kindly. “Do come, or else my wife will never stop urging me to come to court.”
Thomasin laughed. “I will try.”
Richard was the last one left. He held his daughter tight again, leaving his kiss upon her cheek.
“You will not let that man upset you, Father? You have told him exactly what he is, and what his fate will be.”
“I could not hold back, even after these months. It has been brewing inside me; I am grateful that he gave me the opportunity.” He smiled wryly. “Now, I could not speak frankly inside, and still cannot fully, but beware of Cromwell and Wolsey. This matter of the king’s marriage makes them slippery as eels. The cardinal knows he has lost Henry’s ear so will be seeking any allies he can in this awful business. They have tried to bribe and pressure me to back their cause with no luck, so do not let them get to you.”
“I will never betray the queen, but I thank you for your warning.”
“I know you will not. You are strong and honest and loyal. But they may try, and their methods are less than honourable.”
Thomasin nodded.
“I will write when I reach Suffolk.”
He climbed into the carriage and Thomasin watched it rattle away.
The courtyard was quiet, save for a maid tipping out a bucket of water and a cat lurking near the kitchen corridor. For a moment before returning, Thomasin paused, unwilling to run into William Hatton again. She leaned against the stone wall, warm with the heat of nearby ovens.
The patter of hurrying footsteps reached her. A cat bolted away behind some barrels and a familiar figure appeared from the service corridor, carrying a bundle in his arms. Will Carey’s usual smart attire and cap were looking dishevelled.
“Will, is that you?”
He hurried over, detouring from his route. “Oh, Thomasin, it’s you? Out here alone?”
“I just bid goodnight to my father; he left with Thomas More only a moment ago. What brings you here? What is this?”
In his arms, Carey was balancing blankets, towels, a basket of bread, a jar of oil and other bits and pieces. He looked around to check they were alone. “You must not share this. You promise?”
“Of course.” His expression gave cause for alarm. “What is it?”
“Jane Boleyn is losing her child. She is barely ten weeks, maybe twelve, but there is no doubt now, she has lost it.”
Thomasin thought back to the other night, when Jane had been glowing yet delicate and George Boleyn so attentive over her food and welfare. “I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“I have just requested hot water and wine from the kitchens. Only keep it quiet. The family do not want it known. Think how the king would react, if he suspects any such difficulties among Anne’s siblings.”
“Oh, I had not thought of that.”
“No, Sir Thomas is insistent that it is kept secret for that cause. But I can trust you, I know.”
“Poor Jane. I will pray for her, and send along some treats for her in the morning.”
Carey smiled. “You are most kind. Now I must hurry back, and deliver these items. God grant that she pulls through this.”
As she watched him striding across the yard and out of sight, Thomasin could not help but be struck by the thought that in spite of all his protestations, when it came to a crisis, Carey was still very much part of the Boleyn family.
