Nico took a deep breath. “I must leave England for a while. I don’t know how long. My father is ailing; I have received another letter from my mother summoning me at once, as he is in his final days. I can delay no more.”
“I am very sorry to hear that.”
“I must go and be with him.”
“Of course.”
“But then there will be legal matters to settle. There is the question of his estate. I am his eldest son, but there are cousins with claims. It may take a while to sort. And then, I do not know what to think. If I have Venetian estates, do I leave them and return to England? Do I have a reason to return?”
The words hung in the air between them, laced with hope. She understood what he was asking, but did not feel able to give him the confirmation he sought. Something had always held her back from committing to Nico, charming as he was; there had always been some doubt or fear in the back of her mind. Perhaps it was this.
“If I was bolder, or more certain, I would ask you to come back to Venice with me, as my wife. But Thomasin, I do not believe that you would accept, and so I will go alone and write to you, and make a decision in a while, when everything has been settled.”
He took her hands in his. “Your friendship has been the best thing I have experienced in this country. The loneliness and uncertainty have been great, but loving you has brought both light and warmth for me. I cannot thank you enough.”
Unexpectedly, Thomasin felt her throat contract with tears. Glimmers of the old Nico returned to her in his words. She remembered their laughter, their kisses among the roses, the poem he’d written for her, hidden among a deck of cards.
“I am sorry to see you go, truly I am. I cannot say how things would have turned out between us, if you remained. I have my whole world here, my family, the court, the queen, my friends. In order to leave all that, I would need to be certain.”
“And you are not certain. At least not yet.”
“I am sorry.”
“It is best to be truthful about such things. I will not hold you to any promises or ties of affection between us; you are free to do asyou wish. Only think of me from time to time, and perhaps some time apart will rekindle your feelings.”
Thomasin smiled wanly. “When do you leave?”
“Within the next two days. I can afford no further delay. My master likes it not, but I have no choice but to go. Will you pray for a favourable tide for me?”
“Of course.”
“Thomasin, I really think that had things been different, we might have made each other truly happy.”
Unexpected tears welled up in her eyes at those words. Nico moved forward, as if about to kiss her lips, but thinking otherwise, he turned to her cheek instead.
“Will I see you before you leave?”
“Perhaps it is better that this is goodbye. That we remember each other like this. Farewell, beautiful Thomasin.” And he turned and disappeared into the corridor.
Although her feelings for him had been mixed, Thomasin felt his sudden absence keenly. She could not explain it, but after those dramatic words, a well of tears surged up and spilled over, so that she stood alone in the ushers’ chamber, weeping like a baby. No matter how she tried to calm herself, no matter how many deep breaths she took, the tears would not cease.
But what was she crying for? Thomasin asked herself, feeling like a fool. It was the loss of Nico’s person, his company and support, as it was always good to have a friend at court. The loss of a lover, someone who had made her feel special at the best of times, with his kisses and flattery. Or was it the loss of hope, some unspecified dream for the future, that involved a lifetime of love and security, perhaps even children? Yes, it was the loss of that last vision she mourned most, of having one person by her side as she walked through life, towards the vast unknown. With Nico’s departure, Thomasin felt she had moved a step away from achieving that.
FOURTEEN
Snow fell in feathery patterns, covering the world in a blanket of silence. Dawn was about to break over Greenwich Palace, nestled on the banks of the river Thames, far from the bustling city of London. All around, the peaceful fields stretched away into darkness, crossed by hedgerows and trees, the king’s hunting park stretching up the hill behind. All lay covered in white.
As the first rays of grey light began to lighten the sky, a stag galloped up to the crest of the hill. Tall, strong and muscular, he stood on powerful legs, overlooking the sight that lay spread out before him: the glassy river, bright from the fading moon; the dusted landscape smothered in snow drifts; and the redbrick castle, clustered around courtyards, turrets sitting upon towers like crowns The first lights were beginning to gleam in the kitchens as hearths were lit by servants and water was put on the boil. Shovels scraped against cobbles. Ice on the troughs was broken.
The sky grew warmer, pink and orange, although the land still shivered beneath it. Snorting out warm breath, the stag wheeled about, rearing up to paw his hooves into the air, before he turned and bolted. His hooves kicked up a spray of snow and left a deep set of prints, marking his retreat. In the royal stables, the dogs were stretching, yawning and yapping as their meat arrived. Smoke was pumping out of the many twisted chimneys above the main hall and the court was waking. People opened their eyes, shivered as they pulled on velvet and fur robes, and fumbled for their boots and headdresses. The scent of bread began to permeate the air, creeping around corners and up staircases, making hungry stomachs rumble. Choirboys werehurried, shivering, into the chapel stalls. Their throats opened in song. It was the first day of Christmas.
Thomasin blew on the tiny flame. Her hands and feet were almost numb from the cold, and this outer chamber had to be warm by the time the queen awoke.
Cinnamon and musk rose from the hearth: the pastilles she had placed on the coals were starting to burn and spread their scents through the chamber. Despite the cold, they brought the promise of warmth and celebration. Then the bright sparks flared upon dry wood, and sped along it like lightning. Watching the fire kindle, Thomasin sat back and rubbed her hands together, then blew into the space between her palms.
“Here.” Ellen handed her some twists of old paper. “Put these on.”
The fire leapt at once in response to the tinder, and soon they could feel its heat upon their faces.
