“Has she not been tested enough?”
A noise in the doorway startled them and they fell silent at once. The broad-shouldered figure of Rafe Danvers stepped into the courtyard. Thomasin stiffened, hoping he had not overheard their talk.
“Please,” he said, outlined by the light from behind, “don’t be alarmed. I’m glad I caught you. I wished to speak a word or two with you, Mistress Marwood.”
Ellen stood between them, her eyes questioning Thomasin about this development, prepared to defend her. But Thomasin resolved to give him a moment’s grace. After all, she was a newcomer on his territory.
“It’s all right, cousin, I thank you. I will hear what he has to say.”
“Are you sure?”
“All will be well.”
“Then I shall step inside and seek out the others.”
Rafe stood aside to let her pass. His demeanour was entirely humble, his eyes gentle, like the old Rafe she had known. Should that change, Thomasin realised, she need only call out and instantly be heard.
“Thank you,” Rafe began, after Ellen had gone. “Thank you for allowing me this moment. I do not deserve it.”
Now she was closer, Thomasin could see how little he had changed, physically. His hair was, perhaps, a little longer, but the details were all exactly like those which had wrung her heart the previous year. Her old weakness returned undimmed — her susceptibility to beauty, the pull of desire. She dragged her eyes away, annoyed at herself. How badly he had treated her before. She must not, could not forget that.
“I wanted to apologise for my presence here, Mistress Marwood, Thomasin. I hope I have not made you uncomfortable. I would not have wished to startle you in such a way, had I known you were here. I promise you, I had no idea you would be at Hever.”
“Nor did we. You could not have known,” Thomasin replied, stiffly, “as we had no way of anticipating it either. Our carriage accident brought us here entirely by chance, as my father explained.”
“So the accident was genuine?”
“Of course it was genuine. We were travelling from Sussex to London; we have been staying with Sir Hugh Truegood. Our wheel came off in the rain; the axle snapped. What can you mean?”
He looked abashed. “I had wondered whether, maybe, it was devised so that you might visit Hever.”
“You thought we might have pretended to crash, walked through the mud and rain and imposed ourselves on Lady Boleyn’s hospitality without cause?” Thomasin was tempted to walk straight back into the house. He didn’t deserve any kind of explanation from her. “Why, for the love of goodness, would you imagine we would do such a thing?” But the answer was dawning in her mind and her temper responded immediately. “You thought this was some subterfuge? What, for Queen Catherine? Are we reporting back our findings to the queen? Should I go and write her a letter, to tell her that we ate beef for dinner and that the beds are comfortable but the room was a little chilly? Do you think she would be distracted from her prayers and good works for such nonsense?”
She recalled the plan that had sprung against Queen Catherine at Windsor, when Thomas Boleyn had bribed the Venetian ambassadors to get information about Catherine’s intentions. This smelled of the same nonsense.
Rafe held up his hands. “Please, don’t overreact. That isn’t what I meant.”
“Then what exactly did you mean?”
“Merely that you may have been curious, as I would have been. I’m sorry, sometimes I speak before I think. Can we start this again? I meant no harm by it.”
Thomasin stood, angrily, deciding whether or not to leave.
He saw her wavering and jumped in to try and change her mind. “I’m happy to see you looking so well.”
He waited but she gave him no reply.
“I don’t know if you remember the last time we were together at Greenwich, in June, Thomasin, walking in the gardens. We were both there when the servant collapsed on the path, taken by the sweat. I heard later that you had fallen victim to it, although I had no idea how severe it had been. I had not heard news of you, so I hoped you had recovered. I can’t tell you how pleased I was to see you earlier.”
“As you see,” said Thomasin, still cross, and remembering the harsh words he had given her at Greenwich, “I did recover, thanks to the kind ministrations of my cousin Ellen, who found me and cared for me.”
“Then I am grateful to her. It is a matter that has occupied my mind. Many were taken from us and I was also fortunate to recover, while some of my companions were not so blessed.”
“You had the sweat too?” Thomasin felt her heart jump in alarm, even though he stood there before her, and the danger had clearly passed.
“I remember little of it. I lay in my chamber for three weeks, I am told, before I was able to think and act for myself again.”
This was news to Thomasin. “And I, about the same, at Greenwich.”
