There was music coming from Queen Catherine’s rooms. It travelled along the corridor, drifted down the flight of wide stone steps that were richly carved with roses and heraldic beasts. They could hear a lute or two, a pipe, and the patter of hand drums. Their jaunty rhythm reached Thomasin and Ellen as the guard led them up to the first floor of Westminster Palace. It beckoned them, almost as if it had been expecting them. The long corridor was flanked with paintings, hangings in gold and crimson, braziers burning with hot coals. Underfoot, the rushes were fresh and thick, and the air was scented with cinnamon.
Thomasin twisted the pearl ring on her little finger. She was looking forward to seeing the queen again, knowing Catherine had not forgotten the good service she had done her in the summer. She was excited for what the autumn would bring. Cardinal Campeggio would resolve the royal marriage one way or another, and Ellen would marry Hugh.
The double doors ahead stood open. Servants in livery were manoeuvring armfuls of the queen’s dresses, brought up from the wardrobe department: swathes of blue and tawny velvet, gold and silver tissue, black and white taffeta. Behind them, a boy carried what Thomasin recognised as Catherine’s jewel box, encrusted with engraved crystals and ballast rubies. It appeared they had arrived at just the right time. The guards ushered them inside.
Although the day was advancing, the chamber was filled with gentle sunshine. Catherine’s rooms were also brightly lit, with branches of wax burning on the walls and ledges. The outer chamber they entered first was in a colourful state of disarray, with more crates stacked in the centre and gowns in green, white, red and yellow draped over the chairs. Thomasin recognised the brightest selection of Catherine’s wardrobe. A dozen pairs of shoes were lined up, ready to be selected: slippers made from gold cloth, embroidered dancing shoes, leather-stitched boots with red ribbon laces, Venetian silver mules and soft square-toed shoes made of doe skin. Laughter came from an inner room.
“This isn’t quite what I expected,” whispered Ellen, as they stepped inside.
The antechamber contained the musicians, plying their instruments with enthusiasm. Lady Mary, Countess of Essex, rose slowly from a brocade chair as they entered. She was looking older than she had at their last meeting, approaching her middle fifties now. Her eyes were tired and lined, her greying hair thin beneath the French hood.
“Thomasin, Ellen, it is a pleasure to see you. Our Lady will be delighted at your arrival; she has often spoken of you in your absence, saying she misses her girls.”
“Is all well, Mary?” asked Thomasin, placing a kiss upon her papery cheek. “The outer room is in a state of disarray.”
“Oh, never mind that. It is a good thing. All is more than well. The queen has just received a letter from her nephew the emperor, which has marvellously lifted her spirits, so she called for the best of her wardrobe to be sent up for the feast tonight. Go, go on in. See for yourselves.”
With a gentle hand on Thomasin’s arm, she ushered them forwards.
Catherine was a golden cross. Standing between her ladies, her chin was raised and her arms outstretched as a voluminous circle of shimmering gold was lifted down over her head. The dress was adorned with pearls and silver spangles, shimmering where they caught the light. As it moved, it gave the impression that the sun itself was burning bright and fierce within the queen’s chamber. The effect was breathtaking. Then, the maids on each side gave the material a tug and the dress settled into place, revealing Catherine’s face above it.
Thomasin and Ellen unfroze as she met their eyes. Both dropped a low curtsey at once.
“My girls!” Queen Catherine exclaimed at once, gesturing with a glittering hand that they should rise. “What a good day this is, thanks be to God. He has brought me encouraging news, and then delivered you safely to me. I was starting to wonder whether you might be stuck in the countryside forever.”
Catherine was looking well. Her face had the appearance of one who was well-fed and rested, and the former sadness and grey pallor had lifted. She was still etched with the lines of age, being now in her forty-third year, but her blue eyes had regained some life. The long red-gold hair, once the envy of women up and down the country, was thinner and streaked with grey at the temples, dressed in a jewelled net. But she stood like a painted icon on a church wall.
“Please accept our sincerest apologies,” Thomasin said at once. “We were driven from the road by the bad conditions, when the axle of our carriage broke.”
She paused, wondering if she should mention that they had been rescued by the hospitality of Lady Boleyn, but she did not see how this would improve her apology.
Catherine waved her words away. “But what do you think of this dress? Lady Elizabeth Howard said it will eclipse any other woman in the court, any other — didn’t you, Elizabeth?”
Thomasin turned to see a slight, dark woman of about thirty, with pretty, petite features and a wide mouth. She was shorter than Thomasin, but held her chin high as if to appear taller.
At the queen’s question, the newcomer smiled. “You will outshineallothers — how can you not?”
The implication was clear. In this dress, Catherine would not fail to outdo her rival for her husband’s affections, the young and vibrant Anne Boleyn. Thomasin wondered at the wisdom of letting the queen believe that a few yards of gold cloth would suffice to change the king’s heart.
“You will not know Lady Elizabeth Howard, Duchess of Norfolk,” Catherine said to Thomasin and Ellen. “She has just returned to court, with Sir Thomas, the Duke, and is pleased to serve in my household.”
The Duke of Norfolk? Only yesterday Lady Boleyn had been speaking of him, Thomasin recalled. Surely this was the brother’s wife she had mentioned, Anne Boleyn’s aunt by marriage, happy to serve Queen Catherine? It felt like a strange situation, and recalling recent plots and schemes by Sir Thomas Boleyn, Thomasin could not help but question whether this newcomer could be trusted. It would be best that she and Ellen were on their guard around her, alert to any possible betrayals.
Lady Howard dropped a tight curtsey. “It is my honour, my Queen.”
“Elizabeth has replaced Gertrude Courtenay, who has returned to the country with her husband.”
“Oh, Gertrude,” said Ellen at once, recalling their old friend. “I am sorry that she has left us.”
Lady Howard shot her a hard look, as if she had taken the comment as a slight upon her presence.
“And you are both well?” Catherine asked. “We feared for you over the summer. I did not wish to leave you behind at Greenwich, but with the pestilence in such force, I had no choice but to leave. People were dropping like flies all around us. I prayed for you both. Many were not so fortunate; good souls were taken.”
At once, William Carey’s face flashed into Thomasin’s mind.
“While others were snatched back from the jaws of death,” added Lady Howard pertly. “The disease did not discriminate.”
Catherine caught her eye. A look passed between them.
