Thomasin’s stomach was rumbling by the time the final hymn was sung, almost two hours later. She followed Catherine back to her presence chamber, where the queen took her position ina red velvet chair, ready to receive her guests. And suddenly, there was a multitude of people asking for admittance, wanting to offer greetings, blessings and small personal gifts. Hot, spiced wine and venison cakes broke their fast as they waited in turn, inching as close as they might to the queen, or the fire, whichever was closer.
Thomasin spotted her parents and uncle, More and his family, and John and Jane Dudley queuing among them, demonstrating their allegiance. Some guests had headed straight for the king’s chambers after the service, but those who came to the queen first were to be especially valued for their loyalty amid such difficult times. While Catherine spoke with Mendoza, Thomasin was able to escape.
“Such a moving mass,” said Thomasin’s mother when Thomasin reached her, “such beautiful words.”
“And the singing of the choir,” added her uncle Matthew, “sublime little voices, those boys, before they grow up!”
“Both cardinals spoke well,” said More, referring to the way Wolsey and Campeggio had split proceedings between them. “It bodes well for the coming trial, if they are able to work so harmoniously together then. But the queen looks well. Is she in good spirits?”
“She had been somewhat quiet of late,” Thomasin admitted, remembering the letter that had upset Catherine about precedence. “I think she has concerns about the coming days, hoping they will be peaceful, without incident.”
More caught her meaning at once, and nodded. “There is a certain sensitivity required in situations like this; I do hope that all concerned will be respectful of the season.”
“It is the king’s part to insist upon it,” said Margaret, “and to ensure that all runs smoothly. He is a king, with a duty to his people, above any aspect in which he is also a man.”
Thomasin watched as Catherine spoke warmly to Mary Tudor, who placed some small trinkets into her hands. The queen smiled in genuine gratitude, feeling the blessing of a true friend and sister, before turning to Princess Mary and handing her one of the items. The princess, dressed more sombrely for the occasion, in grey velvet to match her mother, held up a small gold cross on a chain and thanked her aunt enthusiastically.
Beyond them, Ellen approached her former father-in-law, Matthew Russell, and took him to one side. The pair spoke hesitantly at first, given their recent history and the loss of Barnaby, but displayed good will and love on both sides, partaking of wine together. Thomasin was reminded of Ellen’s absence, and determined to ask her about it when she had the chance.
“All seems well so far,” said Lady Essex, appearing at Thomasin’s side. “Long may it remain. The queen took her rightful place and that woman kept her distance. So long as she does not break that pattern, all will pass peaceably.”
Thomasin nodded, fervently hoping that the remainder of the week would unfold in a similar manner.
“You think she will? Keep her distance?”
Lady Essex leaned closer. “Between you and I, no, I am sorry to say that I do not think she has that kindness in her. She will thrust herself forward at some point, and we must be ready for it.”
“She tried last night, but she left her arrival too late.”
“That is the blessing of having so many people here: it is more difficult to spot just the one. We can use the guests as a diversion. But goodness me, who is this? Not a Boleyn, not here?”
A slow, stately figure was moving cautiously through the chamber, having just been admitted. Thomasin was surprised to see Lady Elizabeth Boleyn here, in the queen’s apartments, alonesave for her daughter-in-law Jane, who followed cautiously behind her. At once, the familiar sensation of anxiety gripped Thomasin, although she was certain that Anne’s mother was not here to cause any trouble, quite the opposite. Yet her presence felt a little incongruent, almost intrusive.
Thomasin watched her approach and saw the moment Catherine responded as Lady Boleyn moved into her line of sight. The formality of the situation overlaid the queen’s surprise, which she was quick to conceal. Feeling the need to support the queen, Thomasin moved quietly to stand at her side, just as the new guest approached.
Following the court tradition, Lady Boleyn had dressed soberly for Christmas Day, an occasion for quiet worship and humble gratitude, in contrast to the riotous colour of the previous day, and the days that would follow. She came forward in deep green velvet and a grey cloak, the hood pushed back to reveal a plain headdress. Her face, still beautiful, and celebrated by poets in her youth, was reminiscent of Anne’s but there was more softness there, more empathy about her eyes and mouth, less of the drive and determination that had propelled her daughter to her current position.
“My dear lady and queen, my old friend.” Lady Boleyn made a deep curtsey.
Catherine waited patiently, clearly wondering what might have occasioned this visit. Surely all the other Boleyns were flocking to pay their respects to the king?
Jane Boleyn, sober in ash-grey, sent Thomasin a reassuring smile. Her mistress seemed none the worse for her little escapade the night before.
“Lady Elizabeth, Viscountess Rochford, I wish you the blessings of our Lord on this holiest of days.”
Anne’s mother looked relived. “I could not let the day pass without coming to offer you my respects, for the sake of thedecades of friendship that are between us and my continued affection for your good self. I am forever your servant, my lady, regardless of all else, and wish you great health and spiritual comfort in the year ahead.”
Catherine inclined her head and Thomasin wondered at these words. Lady Boleyn gave every indication of sincerity, but were these words what the woman thought the queen wished to hear? Was she hoping to smooth matters over between Catherine and her family? She did not speak against her own daughter by uttering these kindnesses, but surely there would come a time when she must take sides?
“I thank you for your kind intentions in paying this visit,” said Catherine, in a statesmanlike manner. “You are most welcome at court. I trust you are well.”
“I have been overlong in the country. It nurtures me to be among the fields, in my garden and the quiet of my own rooms, but as the dark months are upon us, it can be melancholy. I was pleased to accept the invitation, to attend your celebrations among old friends and loved ones.”
Thomasin decided that Lady Boleyn was genuine. There was a wistfulness about her, a tinge of sorrow that she had also seen at Hever.
Lady Boleyn turned to her, standing at the queen’s side. “Mistress Marwood, you are a welcome face, so true and loyal a young woman, and blessed with such beauty, modesty and pleasant manners.”
Thomasin blushed at the unexpected praise, but Lady Boleyn made no reference to their meeting yesterday. Had she forgotten?
