Thomasin had reached the top of the great staircase, and was heading back towards the guests’ chambers when the servant boy caught up with her.
“Mistress Marwood? Thomasin Marwood?”
Thomasin paused. Ellen had already gone ahead with Lady Essex in order to search around the kitchen corridor and cellars. Maria was headed for the hall, although it was unlikely to be left somewhere so open. But no stone was to be left unturned.
“Letters for me?”
“Just arrived by messenger. The first to get through the snow. Two of them!”
The boy handed over two folded papers, both bearing red seals. Thomasin glanced at the design embossed in the wax. One was Italian, which she guessed was from Nico, but the other was the seal of the Truegood Family, from Raycroft Court.
Thanking the messenger, Thomasin pocketed Nico’s letter for later, but snapped open the other at once. It was from Hugh. He wrote from Bruges, making Thomasin marvel at the speed and distance this letter had travelled. He was still absent on business, having left Cecilia behind in Sussex, so he thought, in the care of his mother, where he trusted she would remain until his return. Thomasin shook her head upon reading this.
However, Hugh went on to explain, he had received a concerning letter from his steward, Peter Southey, who feared that Cecilia was intending to leave and attend court alone. The letter had been written a week ago, before the snow, before Cecilia’s departure, so Thomasin knew better than the concerned husband how those doubts had already come to fruition. Hugh expressed his fears, delicately, that his wife would not be welcome at court and that as her sister, Thomasin should advise her in Hugh’s absence about the best course of action, so that there would be no discomfort arising.
Thomasin sighed and folded the paper back into shape. It had arrived too late, but through no fault of Hugh’s, and the sentiment was sound. However, the damage was already done. Now, they needed to act to minimise its effects, but she dreaded the inevitable moment when her father spoke with the king.
Her mind turned back to her task. The missing book. Was there, she wondered, any connection between the book’s disappearance and Anne’s outburst towards Cecilia, since the events had come so closely together? Was Anne afraid? Were hernerves already worn thin at the possibility of discovery? Could that explain why she had behaved so wildly? Or was there a chance that she thought one of the Marwoods might be hiding the book?
“Thomasin?”
Rafe was heading towards her, striding quickly, with an air of concern. He was handsome, almost irresistibly so, but she remembered her doubts, and her allegiance to the queen and adopted an air of innocence.
“Rafe? What is it? You are in a hurry?”
“You have not heard?”
“Heard what?”
“Our chambers are in an uproar. Anne is beside herself.”
Thomasin opened her eyes wide in surprise. “Goodness, what has happened?”
“She lent a book to Nan Gainsford, and now it is missing! Nan says that one of her admirers snatched it from her!”
“Snatched it?”
“George Zouche? He thought it was funny, but now he has put it down somewhere, and cannot remember where. So Anne is furious with him and Nan is in tears.”
Thomasin recalled seeing George sitting in the Boleyn apartments, reading a book, before he had shut the door upon her. It must have been the same book, no question about it. She tried to suppress her smile. “All over a book?”
“Ah well, it is not just any book. That is the problem.”
Thomasin decided to play the innocent. “What can you mean, Rafe?”
“Between ourselves,” he said more quietly, “you recall the book that Anne spoke of, that dinner at Bridewell, when you were present?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. Vaguely.”
“It was by Tyndale.” He looked up and down the corridor. “It’s a banned book!”
“Oh yes, Anne’s banned book.”
“Sssh! Not so loud. Now it is missing.”
“Heavens above, what does the king say?”
“Nothing as yet. That is the problem. He is playing dice in his chamber with Brandon, and knows nothing of it, nor can he.”
