Rafe’s confident stride came to a halt as he registered their faces. “Forgive me, my Lady. I was unaware that you had guests.”
That voice, that deep, soft voice again.
“Rafe, you know Sir Richard Marwood and Lady Elizabeth, their daughters Cecilia and Thomasin, and their cousin Ellen Russell.”
He gave a short bow, clearly uncertain as to whether he would be well received by them. Although his relationship with Thomasin had been secret, the Marwoods all knew he had sided against them when it came to Cecilia’s affair. But then, so had the Boleyns, their current hosts.
“Our carriage wheel broke on the journey to London,” said Sir Richard. “It was good fortune that it occurred close by.”
Rafe looked wildly across at Thomasin, before reaching into his saddlebag.
“Your letters, my Lady.” He placed the packet on the table beside Lady Boleyn, as her hands were occupied with the meal.
“Very good,” Lady Boleyn replied, putting down her knife and dabbing at her mouth with a white napkin. “Tell me, do they contain anything pressing? Is all well?”
“As I left, all was well.”
“Then I shall defer the pleasure of reading them for a short while. Come, Rafe, take a seat. There is still food aplenty, and you must be tired and hungry from the road.”
He obeyed, taking the nearest place at the end of the table, closest to Thomasin’s father.
Suddenly, Thomasin found herself unable to eat. Her hands became clumsy, her throat unable to swallow.
Ellen leaned in. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, I am well,” Thomasin managed to say. She put down her meat and reached for her glass. Sipping the wine slowly helped to steady her. Being forced to stop at Hever was one thing, but nothing had prepared her for the physical, visceral surprise of Rafe appearing unexpectedly.
“Tell us all the news from court,” urged Lady Boleyn, after Rafe had loaded his plate.
“The king is well,” he began. “He has been hunting, and meeting with his council, but he and Anne have been most merry, taking pleasure in hawking and dancing. She visits most days, or else he visits her at Durham Court.”
“Does she have everything she needs?”
“I think there are one or two books she has requested, but nothing of significance. She has written the titles in her letter. Mary is also there, and in good health, but George and Jane have gone to Essex.”
“And has my Lord written?”
“Not at this time. He has been very busy with the king and Cardinal Wolsey, ahead of the court they are holding soon.”
“Very busy,”Lady Boleynechoed, not quite managing to keep the emotion from her voice. “It is a very important matter indeed, which must require much of his time. Is there any news on the Italian cardinal?”
“According to his last letter, Cardinal Campeggio has left Paris and is travelling towards the Channel, but his progress is very slow as he suffers terribly from gout in his feet. The other news is that your brother, the Duke of Norfolk, has returned to court.”
“Thomas?” Their hostess sat up. “Thomas is back at court? He has not set foot there lately. So has his feud with Wolsey been forgotten?”
“You may read for yourself,” said Rafe, “as he has written to you in his own hand. He has been much in conversation with your Lord and the king; he hopes that you will come to court so that you may meet again.”
“Then I shall seriously consider it,” Lady Boleyn said, holding up her glass for more wine. “It is a good few years since we met. I wonder how he fares, and I have an inclination to see him again. You will remember my brother, I am sure, Sir Richard?”
“The last time I saw Sir Thomas Howard, he was in mourning for his wife.”
“Goodness, how long ago that was.”
“She was a daughter of Edward IV, was she not?”
“You are right. She was the present king’s aunt. He has remarried, of course, although this match is less harmonious. No doubt you will meet her, if she is at court.”
“That she is,” Rafe confirmed. “She has entered the service of Lady Catherine.”
