“Well, come on.”
Ellen’s expression softened and her round cheeks bunched into a smile. “He kissed me, he actually kissed me. I had explained my horrible situation, he knows everything and he still kissed me.”
“That is wonderful, you seem very happy.”
“I am. It’s like a dream. I never thought this would happen. We will talk more, pass time together and see what happens.”
“I am sure the king would grant you a divorce, or influence those who can, and Barnaby will not complain, or else you can cite his bastard child.”
“It may have been born already. No, this is best for us all. Hugh is young, as I am still. I can bear him children.”
Thomasin decided to say nothing of what her father had told her. “Do not move too fast. Make sure you are certain.”
“I can’t think of what might prevent it. We like each other well enough. When we are free, what more is there to say? I could be his wife. And happy. Imagine that.”
Thomasin nodded. “He does seem a gentle soul, and I am sure he will never give you trouble.”
“He is sweetness itself. You should have heard his kind words to me tonight. So gentle and understanding, such flattery.”
“I am glad he has found his tongue!”
“Yes,” laughed Ellen, “it is funny. The circumstances were just right. He had much to say.”
“Then I am truly happy for you. You deserve happiness, both of you.”
“When my marriage is taken care of, we will ask the king for his permission.”
“You must catch him upon a happy day, when he is dancing or laughing with Anne at his side, then he will wish his joy upon you.”
“I would have to leave Catherine’s service.”
“Maybe not at once. Gertrude is married and remains.”
“Yes, I saw that,” Ellen nodded. “But I could not be apart from Hugh as she is from Exeter. I shall be a country house wife, with a brood of children, and will visit court from time to time to cheer at a joust, and you will come and stay with us, as our guest.”
“That sounds idyllic.”
“It sounds too good to be true.”
“Do not say that. Never say that. It is all within your reach.”
“I hope so, I hope so,” said Ellen, settling down to sleep.
Lying beside her, scenting the smoke in the air, and hearing the creak of the wooden furniture settling, Thomasin wondered whether she was ever destined to experience such happiness. Where could she find the man who combined the allure of Nico, or Rafe, with the warmth and easiness of Will Carey, or even the ready wit and playfulness of her friend Giles Waterson? Months had passed and no word had come from him. She wondered how his business in the north, and his engagement, were progressing.
When would love come calling for her?
TWENTY-TWO
Thomasin was just drifting off to sleep when the door to Catherine’s chamber creaked open.
“Are you awake?” It was Mary in her white shift, peering into the darkness.
“I am, just,” Thomasin replied, rubbing her eyes.
“The queen is asking for a caudle to help her sleep. She likes it with cinnamon.”
Ellen was dead to the world, lying on her back and breathing heavily with her mouth open.
