Thomasin watched the pair, eating slowly and silently. Although they did not exchange words, they were perfectly in rhythm with each other.
Ursula was a prim, proper-looking young woman, Thomasin decided. She had a modest look about her, for someone in her situation, although it might have been the circumstances she found herself in. The brother, Gilbert, was bolder and outward-looking, and his face had a harder edge. Both were very dark-haired, although their skin was pale and their features regular enough. What they lacked, Thomasin realised, was animation. Those faces could become pleasant, even attractive, with a little warmth. Dared they even smile at each other? Surely, when they were alone, out of sight of the world, they softened?
“How long are they staying?” asked Ellen.
“I suppose until their business is concluded, however long that may be.”
“And there is your Nico.” Ellen gave her a nudge. “He’s trying to catch your eye.”
The Venetian smiled broadly at being acknowledged and nodded towards the exit, as if to hint that they might meet later.
“Oh, he will have to do better than that,” sighed Ellen in disappointment. “Not at all romantic.”
“But where is Hugh?” Thomasin asked, realising that she had not seen him yet.
“Over with the Suffolks. They seem to have taken him under their wing a little, which might be of use to us, I hope.”
Charles Brandon was seated beside Hugh Truegood, who had paused his meal to listen intently to whatever the man was saying. Brandon seemed to be delivering a lecture of some seriousness, with the occasional anxious look from his wife. Then Mary Tudor looked up, directly at Thomasin, leaving her convinced that their conversation related to herself, or to Ellen. She pulled her gaze away with an uneasy sense of being single out. Ellen was chattering away to Maria Willoughby, and appeared not to have noticed. When Thomasin looked back a moment later, Mary Tudor was staring determinedly at her plate. Perhaps she had been mistaken, but still, that glance weighed heavily on her.
The meal was almost over when Thomas Howard appeared. It was impossible not to notice him stride towards the dais, brimming with anger. The sound in the hall dimmed briefly, and all eyes followed him, but he continued as if he were the only one there. Reaching the front, he leaned forward and spoke a word in the king’s ear. Henry paused, frowned, then gave a curt nod. Howard seated himself alone at the empty Boleyn table and began to eat as if he was ravenous.
At once, Thomasin could sense Lady Howard beginning to twitch. She felt it was only a matter of time before the little duchess made her excuses and headed over to him. For all her professed dislike, and his rejection, she was irresistibly drawn to her husband. And sure enough, a minute later, she muttered something about it “looking bad” that he was alone and crossed the hall to sit with him. As Thomasin watched, he ignored her initial greeting, but answered directly, seeming cross, when she asked him a question.
“Do you really think we can trust her?” asked Thomasin.
“Who? The duchess?” Ellen shrugged. “I wish she had not been included in this plan. She seems to be driving it now, when I don’t even feel confident in her loyalty.”
“I thought the same,” agreed Lady Mary. “What if she is only pretending that she dislikes her husband, and is passing on information as we speak?”
Thomasin looked to Catherine. “The queen seems to trust her. They have known each other a long time.”
Lady Mary nodded. “I just feel uneasy about her, with that sharp tongue. She might truly hate the duke now, but what if they are reconciled? What then?”
And as they watched, Lady Howard smiled, as if her husband had said something amusing or pleasant.
The meal over, they stepped out into a gentle twilight that bathed the gardens in softness. The moon was visible above the twisted chimneys, a blotted white amid the watery clouds.
“Look, there,” said Ellen, pointing towards the trees.
Nico was waiting in the shadows, keeping well back out of the light so that the queen wouldn’t see him. Thomasin looked round, reassured by the sight of Queen Catherine’s back disappearing ahead; she was deep in conversation with Bishop Fisher.
She half expected to see Hugh Truegood as well, waiting for Ellen, but there was no sign of his broad shoulders and bright shock of hair, so she concluded he must have left with the Suffolks.
“Go on,” said Ellen, looking disappointed. “Just don’t be too long.”
Once Thomasin was alone, Nico approached her with his dazzling smile. He still wore his livery, but had removed the obligatory black cap. His hair had grown quickly since the spring and was starting to form dark curls. Coming forward to meet Thomasin, he swept up her hand and pressed it to his lips.
“My Lady, a few stolen moments with you; an unexpected pleasure.”
She couldn’t help but smile.
“Shall we walk a little way?”
“Very well, although I can’t be long.”
“Of course, you have your duties. I am content with a few moments of your time.”
They walked round the flowerbed into an avenue of trees. There was a seasonal edge to the air — the mixture of dying blooms and falling leaves.
