Thomasin and Ellen exchanged glances. No doubt they would soon be meeting Lady Howard, then, if they were serving in the same household. Will Carey had not been a lone voice; here was another Boleyn family connection who backed Queen Catherine over Anne.
They proceeded to eat a while more in silence. The tension was unsettling, Thomasin felt, with so much unsaid between them. She managed to steal a glance across the table in Rafe’s direction. He had changed little since their last meeting in the summer at Greenwich. His hair was swept back, high off his forehead. The particular shape of his brows, the soft place where they met above his eyes, never failed to draw out tenderness in her. His dark eyes were cast down, the line of his jaw and throat so familiar. She tore her eyes away. How was it possible to have been wounded by someone so deeply, and yet to still admire their beauty?
“Mr Danvers,” Lady Elizabeth began, “I well recall our acquaintance at court, last autumn. Do you?”
Thomasin curled up inside. Her mother was testing Rafe, provoking him into admitting his role in Cecilia’s shame. “Mother,” she whispered.
“No.” Lady Elizabeth raised her hand slightly to warn her daughter. “We met at Westminster, did we not, but later you dined with us at Monk’s Place?”
“I did indeed, my Lady,” he replied, trying not to engage too far.
“And you were then much in the company of Sir Thomas Boleyn.”
“I am his ward.”
“If you recall,” added Sir Richard, “Mr Danvers was of assistance to me when I injured my ankle that time.”
“Of course,” Lady Elizabeth nodded. “And what are your origins, Rafe, pray remind us?”
“My father was a surgeon, who served this family before his death, after which Sir Thomas kindly took me into his service.”
“A surgeon? Ah, this is how you tended Sir Richard’s injury.”
“He was an excellent one,” added Lady Boleyn. “We were grateful for his care on many occasions.”
If Lady Elizabeth had been attempting to shame Rafe for his low birth, or his loyalties, she had failed. Thomasin hoped she would stop there, but she knew her mother too well.
“You will remember my elder daughter, Cecilia?”
Rafe paused in his meal and looked Lady Elizabeth straight in the eye. “I remember both your daughters, Madam.”
This time, Lady Elizabeth was wise enough to remain silent.
After the meal, Thomasin and Ellen stepped outside into the courtyard. The castle gates had been closed now, making a safe, attractive space inside, where lanterns warmed the cobbles. Evening was falling and beds were being made up in the rooms around them. The autumn air was soft and filled with the same sweet scent as pervaded the house.
“I shall be glad when this day is over,” Thomasin admitted, “and we are safely at court again.”
“Lady Boleyn has been kind, I think.”
“I am surprised. My mother, less so. Still, by morning we will be on the road again.”
“And then to court. I am looking forward to being back in Queen Catherine’s service. I wonder how things stand with her.”
“You heard what Suffolk said last night; they are awaiting the arrival of this Cardinal Campeggio, but his connection to the emperor suggests he will be sympathetic to Catherine’s cause.”
Ellen nodded. “He may take her part. But honestly, even though it is what she wants, and it might seem to solve the matter, I don’t know if that would be for the best. Even if the Pope rules against Henry, would it make him give up Anne and return to Catherine? I fear he is too far down his path to turn back.”
Thomasin nodded at the wisdom of this. “You may well be right. Unless a way can be found to reconcile him to her; if Anne failed him somehow.”
“She has him convinced that she is the answer to all his prayers. Perhaps it would be better for Catherine to retire to a convent. She is past childbearing now; she could live out her final years and devote herself to God, and to her daughter. Wouldn’t that be kinder?”
“It might be kinder to herself, yes. But she never will. It is not in her character. She believes God chose her to be Queen of England, so to give up would be to fail Him.”
“But isn’t it God who took all her children?”
Thomasin shrugged. “I can’t answer that. But there is also Princess Mary, don’t forget. Any child the king has by Anne might replace Mary, and Catherine would never see that happen.”
“Poor Catherine,” said Ellen. “I will pray that her suffering is eased and that God finds some way through this for her; it must be that He is testing her.”
