The two men had strolled in, deep in conversation. Hugh Truegood looked at ease, dressed in soft dark grey, smart and expensive, as Charles Brandon appeared to be explaining something, ever the elder statesman. They took a seat closer to the king, where both appeared to notice Cecilia. Knowing of the plan, Brandon glanced over briefly, then proceeded to ignore her as he dug into his dinner.
“I hope to speak with him later,” Ellen continued. “Perhaps he will stay to dance. But honestly, I hardly know what to say. I can only tell him again of my husband’s stubbornness.”
“Then we shall speak to both of them. You must spend some time reconnecting with Hugh; reassure him, dance, talk. I will tackle Suffolk at the same time and, hopefully, the matter will be resolved tonight.”
“Do you really think it could be so soon?”
“Suffolk is not a man whom Barnaby would dare disobey.”
“But would he speak on my behalf?”
“He is the queen’s brother-in-law, and we are her ladies.”
“I had heard,” Ellen said softly, “that he was married before, as a young man, before Duchess Mary. He had one marriage annulled, and another betrothal cancelled too. He is a man who knows the importance of these things.”
“Where did you hear this?”
“I overheard the queen and the Duchess of Norfolk talking, a while back.”
Thomasin looked over at the handsome Duke of Suffolk. “I suppose a man like that can do whatever he wants.”
“He thought so. But the king was furious when he married Mary in secret. He banned them from court and fined them; it took a long time before they were taken back into his favour.”
A servant leaned between them to refill their glasses. It was a dark, brackish sort of wine, with a woody taste that the spices couldn’t disguise.
“What is this, new wine?” asked a gentleman sitting further down the table. “By my eyes, it has a strong kick!”
“It’s imported from the New World,” replied the servant. “To Spain, and then to here.”
“The New World,” whispered Thomasin. “We are drinking New World wine!”
Ellen smiled. “I can’t imagine a new world. This old one is quite trouble enough.”
Presently, the meal came to an end. Servers appeared to remove the dishes, and the minstrels began to play softly. As they waited, Ellen nudged Thomasin in the ribs.
At the top table, King Henry had risen and extended a hand to Cecilia. Tossing back her hair, she accepted, her face all smiles, as he led her onto the floor in preparation to dance. A few other couples joined them, but Thomasin hung back.
“We should wait and watch Suffolk and Hugh, and take our chance when it arises.”
The pair were still deep in conversation and did not look as if they would welcome an interruption.
“I wonder what they can be saying all this time,” said Ellen.
The first chords of the dance began and the couples made their bows and curtseys. All eyes were upon Henry and Cecilia, who stepped together into the first pairing, then began a pattern of double steps.
“I can’t watch,” Thomasin groaned.
“It’s almost hypnotic,” Ellen replied, her eyes fixed upon the couple. “She’s really giving all she has, trying to outdo Anne.”
“I’m sure it will hold his interest this evening, but surely it won’t be enough when Anne returns?”
“Then let us hope Anne stays away much longer, to allow Cecilia to get a foothold.”
Ellen was staring again, and even Thomasin felt her gaze pulled in the direction of the king and his dance partner. Henry’s expression was one of interest and amusement. He offered Cecilia his arm and they walked about together in a circle.
“I danced to this tune with Hugh at Greenwich,” Ellen murmured. “I wonder if he recalls.”
“That’s something you can ask him later. Remind him of that time, when you get the chance to speak in private.”
