Ursula blushed. “I promise I will. Perhaps in time, I might even send you a wedding invitation.”
“I sincerely hope that you will. It is not so far from Suffolk, after all. We are practically neighbours.”
Thomasin watched her walk away. The sun slanted gently across the stones, but despite the warmth, she had a sudden sense of foreboding about the place, a dissatisfaction she could not shake. Unanswered questions and trials lay ahead. The approach of Cardinal Campeggio meant that soon, the royal marriage would come under official scrutiny, with all the pain and grief that entailed. Ellen’s broken heart filled her with a sense of frustration over the cruelty of men and their laws, along with the speed with which the king had been happy to fall into Cecilia’s arms while Anne was away. Were people always destined to suffer? To inflict cruelty upon each other when their wishes clashed?
With a sigh, she turned and headed back up to the queen’s apartments.
TWENTY-SIX
Lady Howard was holding court with all the other women clustered around her, hanging on her every word. Cecilia stood beside her in a new gown of russet and cream, chin held high and emitting a sort of self-satisfied glow. Even Queen Catherine, seated beside her, waited with excitement to hear what had been achieved. Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor sat at the table, drinking wine with Baron Mountjoy. Thomasin was taken aback by the scene, having left the rooms so quiet. Now, there was a thrill in the air, a bubble of success. She joined the group, noticing that Ellen stood on the far side, her head bowed low.
“At first he refused to admit her,” Lady Howard was saying. “He said that she had chosen to leave court and could not just come back as and when she wished. He said that she was his subject too, and must wait upon his pleasure, that she had no right to barge into his apartments.”
Thomasin realised she was speaking of Anne Boleyn and the king.
“And what did she reply?” asked Maria Willoughby.
“She was furious. As we had hoped.”
A murmur of excitement ran round the room. Lady Howard took her time, enjoying her audience.
“She could hardly speak, spitting out her fury like a cat. I was entranced by her. The king can only have been disgusted.”
“Did he send her away?” asked Catherine.
“No, not yet. I think he was held in the same captivation as the rest of us.”
“So what did she say?”
“She said that she had every right, as his betrothed, to demand answers from him, given the news that had reached her ears. He replied that she had no right to question the king’s choices. His private business was his own, and if she continued to deny him his freedom with her, then what did she expect?”
“Then they have not lain together,” said Catherine, nodding her head in confirmation. “She is holding him at arm’s length in hopes of a marriage.”
“How furious she must be about Cecilia,” added Lady Mary, with a sort of glee. “This has played out so well, right into her fears and insecurities. The arrogance of her! Does she really think she is the only woman at court? Pray, go on.”
“Well,” continued Lady Howard, “she refused to leave, although he kept requesting it. She demanded that he never see the Lady concerned again.” She shot a satisfied glance at Cecilia. “She hurled all manner of insulting terms at the king, calling him weak and less than a man for submitting to temptation, saying he had undermined their love and that he was not worthy of her. I thought that he was about to explode at her sharpness.”
The room was agog. Surely this must spell the end for Anne Boleyn?
“But he did not?” asked Maria.
“He merely stood and observed her, like a wild animal set loose, and she went on, lashing him with her tongue, until he rose to his feet. He looked most kingly and held up his hand to stop her, saying that she would do well to remember who she was, and who he was, and that only God might dictate to a king. And then he left!”
“He left the chamber?” echoed Lady Mary.
“Yes, he walked straight out and left her alone, and has now ridden out hunting.”
“So where is she?”
“She retired to her family’s rooms, where my husband told me all of this.”
“Well,” said Mountjoy, separating himself from the group, “it seems that your plan has been most successful. With a wedge driven between the king and his paramour, he will be more open to suggestion from those who wish her harm. I shall have a word with Wolsey.”
“Thank you, Baron,” said Catherine. “We also await the arrival of Campeggio, and his news from Rome, and we hope to count upon his support in the forthcoming trial.”
“Indeed, my Lady.” He bowed and departed.
The room sighed in collective relief. The plan had provoked the desired conflict between the king and Anne Boleyn. All that remained to be seen was whether it would drive him back into the arms of the queen.
