Thomasin groaned to herself, resigned to the task. “Very well, give me a minute.”
“I’m sorry. She won’t sleep without it.”
Mary’s head retreated and Thomasin turned out of her warm sheets, pulling on her kirtle which lay over a chair and picking up a shawl. She stuck her feet into some slippers and hoped there would be no one outside to see her.
The corridor was cold. The guards outside accepted her explanation, letting her pass without question, and she headed down in the direction of the kitchens, hoping that someone would still be awake, that the cook John Tandy would not have retired yet.
She turned into the dark passage that led down to the serving hatches, looking for the distant glow of light, but seeing nothing.
A figure stirred from barrels at the side.
“Hello? Can you help me?”
He had been lying back against the wall, propped against the wood, but now he struggled upright, swaying with drink. Thomasin recognised Rafe and recoiled.
“You, Thomasin?” he asked, stepping into her path. “What are you doing down here so late at night?” He ran a hand through his dark, dishevelled hair. She caught the stench of beer on his breath.
“I am fetching a caudle to help the queen sleep. What are you doing? Making a disgrace of yourself with this drunkenness?”
“Fetching a caudle?” he laughed. “The kitchens are closed, the fires are dead. Or are you meeting someone? That’s it, isn’t it?”
“No. Now excuse me, the queen is waiting.” Thomasin hurried past, towards the serving hatches, but Rafe followed hard upon her heels.
“Who is it you’re meeting?”
She ignored him, stepping inside the vast hall where a row of cold ovens was set into the wall and the central hearth and table were empty. A number of serving boys were sleeping on rushes, curled close around the bread oven.
“Who is it?” Rafe hissed. “Your married man?”
His words cut through her. “Go away, you’re drunk. You speak out of turn.”
“I’ve seen the way you are together, you and Will Carey. You know he has a wife, Thomasin, a wife? Where are your standards now? Sleeping with a married man?”
She turned slowly, as if rooted to the spot. “If you ever say such a disgusting thing to me again…”
“What? What will you do? I see you don’t deny it, then?”
“Of course I deny it. How dare you? How dare you apply your filthy, base standards to me. I shall complain to the queen.”
“That will get you nowhere. Anne is queen here now. She will hardly approve of you sleeping with her sister’s husband.”
“I am not! Nor is it your business.” Thomasin had a swift look down the corridor to ensure they were not overheard. “The Lady Anne has no scruples about stealing the husband of a queen, a woman infinitely her superior in every way, nor about helping to break my sister’s marriage, so she can have absolutely nothing to say concerning my behaviour, not that there is anything at all to comment upon!”
“You should mind your tongue; it could get you into trouble.”
At once she regretted such a hasty public condemnation of Anne. There did not seem to be anyone else around, but Rafe was right, she should be more careful. It was her anger that had made her rash.
But Rafe had not finished yet. “You are very defensive about Mister Carey.”
“Rightly so. Your accusation is obscene. Go away. Leave me alone.”
“I have seen you, Thomasin, seen you dancing, laughing, flirting with him. What would his wife think? Wouldn’t she ask Anne to appeal to Henry? To have you removed from court? Sent back to the country?”
“Leave me alone, or I shall report you.”
He held out his hands in surprise. “Really? To whom?”
Then it came to her. “To the king. No doubt you will recall my family’s former connection with him.”
