“Maybe not this alone, but her behaviour earlier this year, her intrusion into the queen’s chamber? All are significant.”
The choir boys began to sing, conducted by Richard Sampson, and the women fell silent.
Following the service, they went to the great hall to dine. Thomasin paused a moment before the roaring fire, enjoying the spread of its warmth through her limbs. While Catherine and Princess Mary occupied seats with Henry, this time under a cloth of silver, the queen’s ladies took the top table nearby. The trestles quickly filled, with hungry guests breaking bread and calling for wine, the Boleyns in their usual place, and all the leading families positioned as their ranks demanded.
Thomasin watched as Mary Boleyn gently led her mother to the table. Lady Boleyn went slowly, constantly pausing as if shewould go another way, looking around for people who were not present. It made Thomasin wonder again about her mind, and she was relieved when the lady was finally seated beside her husband. Anne spoke briefly to her mother, but she too was distracted.
Hot plates of food appeared at once, and the chatter slowly died down as the rich dishes were consumed. There was a strange quietness in the hall despite the sounds of service and consumption. Even the king seemed to feel it, calling for a musician to play, and another to sing, but this did not dissipate the tension in the air. Perhaps it was her own expectation, Thomasin thought, since she was waiting for something to happen. Perhaps others were oblivious, but catching Rafe’s eye across the hall, she could see at once that he was feeling the same.
The second course arrived, with its towering jellies, fruit pies and a magnificent centrepiece, a great ship carved from sugar and frosted with gold leaf, which was placed before the king to great applause. The princess clapped her hands along with the others, Thomasin noticed, but her spirits were dulled this morning. It might be the toothache that had plagued her at the tournament, but Thomasin feared it was the knowledge she had gained about her father and Anne, and the dangers of their liaison. She resolved to find a moment to speak to the girl later, and reassure her as much as possible.
The meal ended with wine, wafers and spices, and no revelations. Anne rose in quiet satisfaction, offered her arm to her mother, and processed out of the hall. Thomas Boleyn followed, with his daughter Mary at his side. Dozens of eyes watched them leave, including those of the queen and princess, until the group was out of sight. The king summoned Wolsey and Campeggio and headed back to his chamber. Catherine announced her intention to rest, and accepted Maria’s arm.
Thomasin took the opportunity to visit the table where her parents and uncle still sat.
“Thomasin, do join us,” said Lady Elizabeth Marwood, moving along to make way for her. “What a quiet dinner that was, thankfully, but very pleasant.”
“We had a tray sent up for your sister,” added Sir Richard, “seeing as she was unable to join us.”
Thomasin was pleased at the return of his wry wit, but knew that it only masked his deep-seated annoyance. “Is she improving at all?”
“Oh, she is doing very well, despite the doctor’s recommendations. She has barely stopped talking. It was a relief to go to chapel this morning, for the peace and quiet.”
“And now there is the new fall of snow,” added Lady Elizabeth. “She cannot be expected to travel any time soon, with the roads unpassable.”
“Is it still falling?”
“It was when we came in to dinner,” confirmed Matthew Russell. “I stepped into the courtyard and the sky was white with clouds.”
Lady Elizabeth nodded. “Then she must remain where she is.”
Sir Richard sighed and reached for his wine glass. “I would that she had remained at home all this time, and not put us to this trouble. I would be sleeping in a proper bed and not a chair by the fireside!”
Thomasin drew the letter from her pocket. “I received this from Sir Hugh late yesterday. It seems that he only became aware of her plans once he had reached Brussels and was powerless to stop her.”
Sir Richard read the letter quickly, before handing it to his wife. “Unfortunately, it all happened too late. She will always pursue her own pleasure, regardless of the consequences. We should have sent her to a nunnery, not to court.”
“Oh, Richard, that is a little harsh,” said Lady Elizabeth.
“Do you think?”
A heavy silence fell between them.
“Have you thought any more of approaching the king, about the incident with Mistress Boleyn?” asked Thomasin, changing the subject.
“I am determined to do it,” her father replied. “I was prepared to go to him now, although he has just departed with the cardinals, so I may be interrupting his business. I do not wish to leave it much longer, though. It’s awkward.”
“Have you thought of approaching someone else instead?” suggested Thomasin, with a sudden flash of insight. “Someone who might be well placed to advise Anne but not so emotional towards her?”
“Who did you have in mind?”
“A relative, but not her parents. A wise man. Someone she would listen to.”
Thomasin was thinking of More, but her uncle had other ideas.
“Thomas Howard,” said Sir Matthew. “He would be the right person to speak to. He is not so doe-eyed towards her, and he understands her temperament. He could speak with her, or her father, or even the king. I am sure he would not condone her behaviour.”
“You are right,” said Richard. “We would do better speaking to the Duke of Norfolk than the king. I admit the thought of it has been causing me some anxiety. We could even present it to Howard as being in the woman’s own interests!”
