But then, she thought, there were other examples. Her own parents, still committed despite all these years and differences, Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor, still very much in love, and More himself, whose wife Alice awaited his return home to Chelsea. No doubt some people went into marriage reluctantly, as Cecilia had almost done, but other than that, why did some marriages fail and others thrive?
Queen Catherine was rising to her feet now. The brief meal was over.
Seeing that she was about to depart, More took Thomasin by the hand. “Remember, my deep-thinking friend, this life is merely the prelude to that eternal life that comes after. I am always your counsellor, should you ever be in need of advice.”
“Thank you,” Thomasin replied, touched by his kindness and seeking some way to respond with equal warmth.
But Catherine was on the move. With Fisher at her side, she headed down the table and out into the corridor. Thomasin was bound to follow.
Catherine headed to the presence chamber, where King Henry was hearing petitions. The space was busy with people from all walks of life. Once in a while, they might approach the king in person and request his intervention on legal questions. Only one chair had been placed on the dais at the far end, as this was a matter for the king alone. King Henry was sitting in the centre, wrapped in furs, with Cardinal Wolsey at his side. Thomasin was relieved, though, for the queen’s sake, to see that none of the Boleyns were present.
The petitioners bowed as Catherine passed them, to take a chair set in an alcove beside the dais. Bishop Mendoza was awaiting her. A number of those waiting turned to the queen and diverted their course from the king, trying to voice their requests. Guards stepped in to limit their access, and they approached one at a time, on bended knee. From his raised seat, King Henry looked across and frowned.
“Thomasin?”
Thomasin turned to see her father and uncle standing before her.
Sir Richard gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek and Matthew Russell beamed to see his favourite niece again. He was tall, grey-haired and distinguished, with the same delicate skin and bone structure as his sister Elizabeth.
“Father, you reached London so soon?”
“Your departure stirred your mother to action. She could not bear that you were heading to court whilst she remained in the country, so she made us leave in the afternoon. We arrived at Monk’s Place just after nightfall. She is in bed there, recovering, with Cecilia waiting upon her.”
Thomasin smiled to think of her impatient sister having to take that role.
“Your journey was uneventful, then?” Sir Richard asked.
“Very smooth, with no trouble whatsoever. Mr Danvers proved a trustworthy chaperon.”
Her father nodded, as if he did not wish to acknowledge this.
“It is a good thing you arrived when you did,” said Sir Matthew to Sir Richard. “You see that pair by the second fireplace? I believe those are the Aston children, come to press their suit.”
Thomasin turned to see her cousins by marriage. The first thing that struck her was how tall they both were, even the woman, who was taller than many of the men present. They were dressed plainly, in what appeared to be the best clothes they possessed, or had borrowed, although the styles were years out of date. They were standing close together, both dark in colouring, with sharp features, perhaps in their mid-twenties. Although they stood tall, and with dignity, they were ill at ease, and Thomasin could almost smell the fear coming off them. It reminded her of her first time at court.
“Should we go over and introduce ourselves?”
Her father and uncle looked at her in surprise.
“It can’t hurt, can it? If we start on good terms, it might make them more amenable.”
“It will not change the case one little bit,” said Sir Matthew, “but we have the advantage here at court, so as you kindly suggest, we should go and do the gracious thing.”
Thomasin followed them across the floor towards the Astons. Both turned at once as they sensed their approach, with startled eyes. The similarity between them was so striking that Thomasin realised at once that they were twins.
“Mr Aston, Miss Aston,” began Sir Matthew, “I am Sir Matthew Russell, the counter-claimant in your case, and this is my brother-in-law Sir Richard Marwood and his daughter Thomasin.”
The pair exchanged a glance that Thomasin found impossible to read.
“Russell?” said the gentleman. “We have heard your name.”
It was a surprisingly abrupt reply that contained no greeting. Sir Matthew did not flinch.
“I hope you have secured suitable lodgings. If you require any assistance in this matter, or in general matters at court, you may come to me, at my house in Thames Street. I hope we can resolve this question as swiftly and painlessly as possible. After all, we are family.”
It was a generous speech, given the circumstances. Thomasin felt sure that two friendless, illegitimate claimants, arriving at court for the first time, must be pleased to receive such a warm gesture from a man they might have feared meeting.
But Master Aston lifted his chin and spoke down to them. “The only assistance we require is for the king to approve our petition.”
