Catherine spoke softly. “My Lord cannot mean that, I think.”
“You presume to tell me what I mean?”
“Of course not.” She looked down at her hands, then redoubled her efforts. “Please, will you lift the guard? Do not punish good men for following their conscience. We all have to live with our consciences, as essential for the salvation of our immortal souls.”
“I am glad we are in accord,” said Henry. “It is precisely for the good of my soul that I pursue this course of action. Any day now Campeggio will arrive, and this papal court can be convened. We all shall answer to a higher authority than your emperor.”
He turned and left Catherine standing, walking away towards his lodgings.
The queen looked for a moment as if she would speak, then she pursed her lips and headed towards the abbey, to pray for guidance from that same higher authority.
Behind them, Thomasin heard Mountjoy speaking and paused to listen.
“Follow, go to him, divert him,” he was saying to Cecilia, who was at the end of the line. “This is the moment.”
Cecilia’s ice-blue eyes responded with recognition. “Yes,” she replied, “I believe it is.”
There was something her sister’s expression that filled Thomasin with dread. She took Cecilia by the arm.
“Be careful; the stakes are high. Don’t overplay your hand.”
Cecilia shrugged the hand away. “I require no maid’s advice.”
Thomasin blushed hotly at the reply, but her sister was already stalking off in the direction of the king’s chambers.
“This will not end well,” Thomasin murmured. “Not at all. There is pain brewing here.”
Mountjoy looked at her sharply. “You fear the outcome or the scheme?”
Thomasin looked up into his face, with its lines of wisdom and white-grey beard, and decided to trust him. “I fear both. I fear we are being too bold, in meddling between the king and Anne. It may backfire.”
“Only if it fails,” he replied. “Boldness is sometimes called for in desperate situations. Do you have any reason to suspect that it might?”
Thomasin watched her sister disappear around the corner. “She does not have Anne’s range. Her experience in the world, her culture, her subtleties.”
“Does she need to? We are not looking to make a new queen; we merely need a pretty face to serve as a diversion.”
“You saw her the other night in the hall.”
“Yes. She is over-keen, but if she follows instructions, she will do well.”
Thomasin sighed. The thought of Cecilia following instructions and acting with caution did not inspire confidence.
“You do not think so?”
“I know my sister, Sir. She has many good qualities, but patience and obedience are not the best among them. She is inclined to let herself get carried away in the moment.”
“Perhaps that is what must happen,” he said solemnly, “if she is to engage his affection.”
Thomasin understood him at once. “But what if there is a child? Surely the king would seek to legitimise it, to marry Cecilia? Wouldn’t we be back to the same problem, just replacing Anne with another?”
“Another whom we chose — that is the difference. Cecilia will simply disappear from court, and if he finds her again, she will already have been married to another.”
“Do you have anyone in mind?”
“Suffolk is working on it. Do not doubt, or dwell too long on this, and do not voice your concerns to the queen. She must believe in this scheme. It is giving her hope.”
“And if it fails?”
