“I don’t care what she suffers. She deserves it all, for her spite. I wonder why she bothered to come to court at all.” Thomasin allowed herself to privately vent her feelings to her cousin.
“I heard she did so in order to prevent Norfolk bringing his mistress here instead.”
“I can well believe that, although the king is happy enough to do so.”
Ellen laughed. “There’s a truth!”
“Who else do you see?”
“Well, just along from them is Thomas Boleyn, his son George and his daughter-in-law Jane, newly returned to court, plus some Norfolk relatives of theirs called the Sheldons, I think, and beside them…”
“Rafe Danvers,” Thomasin completed, following her direction.
He looked well, she could not deny. Without question Boleyn’s young ward was the most handsome man in the hall, even with the dazzling Nico not far away. Theirs was a contrasting kind of beauty, she thought: Nico with his golden eyes and dark blond wavy hair, his skin tanned from the Italian sun, Rafe the opposite, with his chestnut flashing eyes, heavy brows and the almost-black hair that fell forward across one eye. Thomasin had loved him once, or she thought she had at the time, spellbound by his looks. But she had glimpsed enough of Rafe’s impetuous behaviour to turn her heart against him, and lessen the power of his beauty.
“Are you not eating?” asked Ellen. “You’re so busy looking around that you’ve almost missed the pork and mustard, which I know is your favourite dish!”
“Indeed, I must have been very distracted to let that pass!” Thomasin took the spoon her cousin offered and helped herself to a portion.
While Thomasin was eating, the far doors admitted a group of women wearing brightly coloured dresses. In a knot, they headed straight down the centre of the hall, their skirts swishing about their feet as they walked. Quietly, like an intake of breath, the whole hall paused to watch them pass.
“They’re getting so predictable!” Ellen rolled her eyes, forcing Thomasin to conceal her smile.
Anne Boleyn led the way, her head held high, having dressed her saffron robe with white fur and diamonds, which sparkled at her slender throat. There was a playful, laughing quality to her dancing black eyes and a lift in her step, which even seemed to affect her sister Mary, whose usually dour face was brighter tonight. Between them walked a third, who Thomasin recognised from the courtyard on account of her dark hair andlooks, although she had changed her simple tan and fawn dress for one of wine red, which complemented her dark colouring well. Thomasin had the sense it had been borrowed from Anne. Excitement radiated from the newcomer, who seemed delighted to walk between the two Boleyn women, drawing all eyes.
“I saw that woman arrive earlier in a carriage, when I went to the pump,” Thomasin commented, “but I have no idea who she is.”
“Me neither,” added Ellen, watching as they passed by. “I have heard nothing about new arrivals, save for the Lady Mary.”
Thomasin expected the women to continue their walk towards the king, as Anne’s usual target, or at least to present themselves before him, but to her surprise, they did not acknowledge Henry beyond a brief curtsey, before turning to take their seats with Sir Thomas, George and Rafe.
“Interesting,” said Ellen. “I wonder what game she is playing now.”
“I am glad the queen is not here to see it, nor the princess. It detracts a little from her arrival.”
“Has Mary even seen her father yet?”
“I believe she is being formally presented to him tomorrow.”
“Well, I hope that Anne will have the decency to keep out of their way. It’s quite bad enough the way she treats the queen, but the princess is a child and should not suffer as the result of her father’s amours.”
“I fear she cannot but suffer. It’s more a question of protecting her as much as possible.”
“Well, she has Lady Salisbury for that. She is quite fearsome enough.”
“Isn’t she?” Thomasin broke into a smile.
King Henry had noticed the women too, pausing his talk with Cardinal Wolsey to watch them. His eyes held them a long time,as they took their seats and made their greetings. Anne kept her eyes studiously on the table and upon her new friend, who chatted away brightly to George Boleyn and Rafe, although it seemed she was meeting them for the first time.
“Larks?” Ellen asked.
“Pardon?”
“Do you want one of these honeyed larks, Thomasin?”
“No, no thank you,” Thomasin replied, feeling suddenly full.
“You’re staring.”
