“You have no plans to at the moment?”
“None that I know of.”
“I will have to marry one day.”
Thomasin kept brushing.
“Do you think I will have to marry?” Mary asked. “Even if I don’t wish it?”
“My lady, I couldn’t possibly say. I would hope that the king and queen would choose a good match for you, of which you could be proud.”
“But I could not choose my own husband?”
“That is the case for most women, I think. It is rare that a woman has the opportunity to make her own choice, but you never know what the future holds.”
“Will I have to leave England?”
“I can’t say. It depends upon who you marry. Often a bride goes to her husband’s country, like your mother did, coming here from Spain.”
“But if I am the heir of this country, doesn’t that change things?”
“My lady, where have all these questions come from?” Thomasin started to divide the hair, ready to plait it on both sides.
“No, keep brushing a while longer; I like it. Mother says it makes it shine.”
Thomasin obeyed, pulling the comb back down the length of the locks, reminding herself that Mary was but a child still, with only a child’s understanding of the world.
“You serve my mother?”
“Yes, I do, to the best of my ability.”
“And you tend to her personal needs — I mean intimate things, like her clothes and such?”
“I do, my lady.”
“And you know things?”
“I am not sure that I do. What things did you mean?” Thomasin pulled the comb slowly, hesitantly, wondering what was coming next.
“Private things. You would know, for example, if my mother was with child?”
Thomasin understood the significance of the question at once, even if Mary was not fully aware of it. “I might know such things, if they occurred. But I do not think it is the case, my lady.”
“My mother is not with child?”
“No, I am certain of it, although I should not really be discussing this with you.”
“But I am asking.” The twelve-year-old was suddenly as insistent and direct as a grown woman. “It affects me too. I would like a brother or sister.”
“My lady, this is something you should speak with your mother about.”
“But it could be possible, perhaps?”
Thomasin had abandoned all pretence of brushing now. “As I understand it, all women reach a certain age when that becomes less likely, although God moves in mysterious ways so it is not impossible. But after that, there are changes that take place in their bodies that mean they cannot bear more children.”
“Oh.”
“It is not something you need to worry about.”
