“Oh, I am sorry. Thank you. I didn’t plan to be so long.”
“What happened? What secrets are you hiding?”
Thomasin sighed. “I had to deliver the letter. The one that Lady Boleyn gave me.”
“You still have that?”
“She told me to give it directly to Anne, and I promised, but I have not had the chance. I don’t want the queen to know that we stayed at Hever.”
“No, I understand why.”
“I still need an opportunity. I thought to deliver it to Mary Boleyn, but I could not find her either.”
“Do you know what is in the letter?”
“No, it is sealed still. I would not read a sealed letter!”
“Of course not. I only wonder if it might be urgent. Perhaps put it into the hands of a servant?”
“I will have one more try. If that fails, then I shall do so. But what happened while the queen was on her ride?”
“Maria said that they came upon the king’s party, who were hawking at Aldgate. The king was assisting Anne, with his arm about her waist, speaking into her ear. She says the queen gave a little cry, then turned her horse about and returned.”
“That must have been humiliating for her.”
“You saw her just now,” added Ellen. “That was her composed. When she first came back, she wept a good deal.”
“Did they see her?”
“We don’t think so. They were quite engrossed in themselves.”
“I am glad I was able to bring her tidings of the cardinal’s arrival. That seemed to give her a little hope.”
“And now this meeting?” Ellen looked up and down the corridor. “Shall we go and seek out the Duke of Suffolk?”
Charles Brandon’s chambers were close to those of the king. Guards let them into the outer room, where his wife, Mary was reading from a leatherbound book. She looked up at their entrance, her arched eyebrows forming a question. Her cheeks were drawn from illness and her blue eyes had lines around them, but this could not conceal the great beauty that had once led her to be described by poets as the fairest woman in the land. Mary Tudor’s red-gold hair and angelic face were similar to that of her brother in his youth. Thomasin could see the likeness of the king in her face, but there was also something softer there. She and Ellen curtseyed low.
Mary Tudor closed her book.
“My Lady,” Ellen began.
“You are seeking my husband?” Her voice was low and languid.
“Yes, my Lady, but also yourself.”
“Myself? You have business with me?” Mary Tudor looked closer. “You are Catherine’s ladies, are you not?”
“We bring a message from her, for your Ladyship and the Duke of Suffolk.”
“A message? Pray, do deliver it.”
“Queen Catherine desires your company in her chambers this afternoon at four.”
“Is she hosting a dinner?”
Ellen faltered. “A dinner?”
“It’s more of a meeting, I believe,” Thomasin jumped in. “Of her allies. The queen finds the current situation intolerable and wishes to find a solution.”
