Southey came to assist Lady Truegood to bed as the servants began to clear away the plates.
Following their host, the guests made their way out through a small courtyard where a fountain played, along a colonnaded walk. The gates at the end spread wide to reveal the park, emphasising the open space, all bathed in shades of green. A long central lawn stretched ahead, flanked on one side by an orchard and on the other, by the statue garden that Thomasin had glimpsed from the window. It was in that direction that Hugh led them, his head bent towards Ellen’s, her face turned up smilingly to his.
“I did not know that Ellen knew our host so well,” observed Lady Elizabeth. “They seem to have an intimacy.”
“We made a good acquaintance at Greenwich,” replied Thomasin. “I suppose they’re speaking of those days.”
“He seems a very pleasant young man.”
“Yes, he has a good heart.”
“And a beautiful home,” added Lady Elizabeth, “although some of his notions are very strange. You should not encourage him when it comes to reading, especially not More’s outlandish notions.”
“Well, as you saw, he took no encouragement from me. He has no time to read; he’s too busy chasing up new weaves of cloth overseas.”
“Yes, I suppose that is one blessing.”
Thomasin looked at her mother, thinking she was joking, but she was in earnest.
Cecilia paused at the threshold of the garden, by the stone carving of a lion rampant. “It really is a wonder that he has not married. All this and no wife. He must be thirty years old. I can see no good reason for it.”
“Many people are unmarried,” replied Thomasin, “for perfectly good reasons, some of which are apparent and some of which are not.”
“Oh, hush!” snapped her mother. “You have an answer for everything. Being in the queen’s service has made you impertinent.”
“I shall reprimand her on your behalf when I return,” said Thomasin, smiling and skipping ahead to catch up with Ellen and Hugh.
A circular pond was set in the centre of the garden, ringed by a low stone wall. Rising from the centre was a statue of a woman in Greek robes with lily pads clustered about her feet. Through the clearer waters, orange, white and black shapes moved sinuously, darting from one side to the other.
As Thomasin drew near them, Hugh was pointing into the water, and Ellen stared down, transfixed.
“This is my favourite place so far,” Ellen was saying. “See that one, the big white one? His back broke the surface.”
“You can be the one to feed them tomorrow, if you like,” promised Hugh. “They are fed every morning.”
“The gardens, your home, it is all idyllic.”
“Even Mother?”
Ellen smiled gently. “Is this not her home too?”
Thomasin stepped up to the edge of the pool, following the fishes’ motion with her eyes. “Please don’t think badly of us, Sir Hugh, for my mother’s insistent questions or our connections with taverns.”
He laughed. “Nothing could induce me to. Oh, look, there.” They followed where he pointed. “The moon has appeared.”
It was true. Against the darkening sky, still a mid-blue, the bulbous harvest moon was visible above the forest trees, yellow and full. It was strange to see sun and moon together in the sky: day and night signified at the same time, a reminder of the coldness amid the light. Thomasin closed her eyes, turned her face away from the moon, and bathed it in the dying rays of the sun.
THREE
The air was heavy with the scent of incense. Thick and spicy, it took Thomasin straight back to the chapel at Windsor, and memories of Queen Catherine prostate upon the stone floor in prayer. Soon enough, she and Ellen would be back following her devout routines.
The day following their arrival at Raycroft Court was a Sunday. Not long after waking, the occupants had been summoned by bells to attend the little chapel by the garden. Built entirely of ancient stone, with solid grey walls and carvings, it was a primitive place, barely able to hold twenty people. A simple altar stood at the far end, over which a plain white cloth was draped, topped with gold candlesticks and a wooden cross.
“Good morning,” said Hugh, standing in the doorway to welcome his guests.
It was a fresher day. Thomasin had changed into her lighter, pale grey dress, with the velvet trim and furred oversleeves. The usual French hood sat over her thick, dark hair, which she caught in a jewelled net behind.
“I hope you slept well?”
