Ellen’s eyes were cast down. She sat with her hands in her lap, toying with a ribbon.
Thomasin pulled up a chair before her. “Was it Hugh? Did you find him?”
She nodded and choked back tears.
“What did he say?”
Ellen took a moment to compose herself, but even then, her voice came out in a wobble. “Apparently it is impossible for us to marry. He says these are not his wishes, he would marry me tomorrow if he could, but I am a married woman and that is not likely to change.”
“He does not believe you can divorce?”
“He does not. He says if the king can’t divorce, then I can’t either. And Barnaby is refusing, so I am stuck.” The tears flowed freely now. “I am stuck, Thomasin, stuck forever with that awful man. Even the queen says my duty is to return to him, but I can’t!”
“I am sorry. I think that Suffolk has influenced him. He said a similar thing to me earlier, but I was called away before I could speak with you.”
“I thought he loved me,” she said in a desperate voice. “I believed him.”
Thomasin moved to take her hand. “I believe he does genuinely care for you. We all saw it at Raycroft. I think he has been influenced, as I said, persuaded that this is not the right course for him. In his heart, I am sure he does still love you, but is doing what he believes to be right.”
“But if he loves me and I love him, I don’t see why we can’t find a way.”
“Oh, Ellen, if only things were that simple. When it comes to the law, Barnaby holds all the power. I am sure he is digging his heels in to spite you.”
“How can he be so cruel?”
“He is jealous of Hugh, no doubt. And all Suffolk sees is the marriage and your duty, not your happiness. I am so sorry, Ellen. Perhaps it might still all work out.”
“Thank you, but I don’t see how.”
Nor did Thomasin. She smiled brightly, squeezing Ellen’s hand in hers, but although she searched, she could find no glimmer of hope to offer her cousin.
TWENTY-FIVE
The change in the air was palpable. The morning brought an autumnal dew that chilled the air and left the late-blooming flowers heavy with moisture, and the castle was filled with a heavy foreboding as the hours of the morning passed.
Anne Boleyn had returned first thing, as the bells of the abbey were ringing for Terce. The little black Boleyn carriage that had brought Thomasin and Ellen from Hever had been sent out to fetch her from Durham Place, no doubt at Mary Boleyn’s instigation, and it returned accompanied by Rafe riding alongside. She strode through the courtyard with steely eyes and her lips set in determination, dressed in scarlet and grey. Ellen and Thomasin saw her pass on their way to the gardens, while Cecilia was closeted with the queen and Lady Howard, biding their time for developments. But Anne did not even notice them. She went straight to the king, whose chambers were emptied, courtiers racing like rats to escape as the doors slammed fast behind them. The court retreated, in anticipation of the rumbles of thunder and lightning bound to erupt.
Thomasin traced her finger along leaves heavy with the morning. Ellen seemed a little calmer, standing facing the river, watching the boats crossing back and forth to Lambeth on the other side.
The last of the season’s bees buzzed lazily close to the ground, venturing into the hearts of flowers in the hope of treasure.
“Perhaps I should leave court,” said Ellen at length, “if Hugh is to stay. Perhaps the best thing is that I live quietly in the country, or in a religious house, as they advise the queen.”
Thomasin was horrified. “No, why should you have to give up on life? Barnaby is in the wrong, on two counts: his infidelity and his refusal to release you. You should not have to suffer as a result.”
“But I can’t be with the man I love.”
“You might love again. Anything might happen. Your next love might be a stronger, braver man than Hugh!”
“But I will never be a mother now, never have a family. That’s all I really want.”
In that moment, Thomasin felt such a rush of hatred for Barnaby that, if he had been standing before her, she would happily have strangled him. “You never know. The sweat might take him, or an illness, or a stray carriage or bolt of lightning, if there is any justice. There is always hope.”
Ellen smiled feebly. “Thank you. But I can’t live my life based on possibilities. I need something more certain.”
“Nothing is certain in this life.”
“True. But as you have always told me, we must make our own decisions, be accountable to ourselves, and exercise our free will.”
