ONE
May,1529
Thomasin Marwood held up the looking glass and gazed into it. Outside, the daylight was fading, but the candle flame danced and flickered, making the room alternately bright and dark. She turned her face right and left, then back again. She could make out a pair of warm, dark eyes, the soft curve of cheeks and chin and two generous red lips, pursed together. The eyes followed her as she moved, fixing her in their stare.
“It’s so strange to see your own face looking back at yourself, like a stranger,” she marvelled, lifting her little chin. “To think this must be how others see you, every day, from the outside.”
The hand-held mirror had been a gift from her mistress, Queen Catherine of Aragon, as a reward for Thomasin’s discreet and loyal service in her household. The royal Spaniard had proved generous to those who understood her private griefs and helped her present her best face to the world. The mirror was set in silver, in the Spanish style, with knotted vines and love hearts, entwined with flowers and the queen’s own device of the pomegranate, spilling its seeds from within. Thomasin traced her finger over the handle, where the fruit was ripest. At nineteen, she had been serving the queen for almost two years, watching sadly as the royal marriage disintegrated.
“My eyes are not plain brown at all,” she said, peering closer. “They have a ring of green, and flecks of amber. And has my nose always been that long, or is it just today?”
Across the room, her cousin Ellen did not try to suppress her laugh. They were in the back bedchamber at Monk’s Place, home to Thomasin’s uncle, Sir Matthew Russell, situated on London’s Thames Street. Queen Catherine had granted them afew days’ absence from her side in order to visit family, who were assembling below, ahead of the dinner hour. Thomasin had not confided in the queen about her special reason for requesting the time, as if she did not wish to tempt fate, barely able to imagine her plans might come to pass.
“Come now, put that down.” Ellen rose, the rich crimson of her silk skirts rustling as she crossed the room to take the looking glass from Thomasin’s hand. “You look well enough. You do not need to fret about your nose or your eyes. They are the epitome of perfect beauty, not least in the eyes of someone we both know.”
Thomasin blushed. She knew who Ellen was referring to. The past few months had been a challenging time, full of adventures and hard lessons. The court was like the sun, drawing all into its orbit, desperate for its warmth. It offered glamour, fortune and fame, and she herself had danced in golden slippers and received visits from ambassadors from all round the world. But she had also learned how the glittering surface of the royal world concealed envy and malice, and how those who smiled in public might deliver fatal words in private. On the other side, she now knew that friends might be found in the most unlikely of places. It had been a harsh lesson for the little country girl from Suffolk, steeped in the scent of hayfields and apple blossom, to learn the realities of court politics. But it had also been a voyage of self-discovery, and now, upon this May evening, with the fading light skimming the river outside and the sweet scents of the garden stealing in through the chamber window, she could look herself in the eye — in the queen’s mirror — and say that she truly knew who she was.
Thomasin Marwood of Eastwell Hall: too vain, too impulsive, too rash, too quickly drawn to a handsome face or a dazzling gown. She had learned how fast passion could grow within her, and how hard she had to battle to keep it in check. How quicklyideas could take root in her head and spread through her like fire. Yet she was also kind, warm, devoted, too keen to feel the pain of her loved ones, unable to turn away from even her enemies in their suffering. She had a desire to learn, to seize ideas and forge her own path. And yet, she still loved to dance, to twirl about in her wide skirts and feel the pulse of the music race through her, bringing her to life. And to plunge out into the cool of the garden, where birds sang and flowers bloomed, and the warmth of the sun beat down upon her back. She felt what a pleasure it was to sleep amid soft, scented sheets and wake to clean water with rose petals, and to join the others in the dining hall, where dishes with spices and cream were placed before her. Never before had she felt so fortunate, so blessed, as she did that May evening. And surely, Thomasin thought, things were about to improve, a thousand times over.
“Have you seen him arrive yet?” she asked Ellen.
“Of course not. You know I would have told you the second his boat arrived.”
Thomasin went to stand by the window. The diamond-shaped panes overlooked the garden at Monk’s Place, with its criss-crossed paths, colourful rose beds and long walk that stretched down to the river. The Thames gleamed silver in the evening light, but there was not yet any sign of the little craft she was impatient to see. Excitement and frustration mingled inside her.
“Do you think this dress will do?” she asked, looking down at the ash-coloured silk that fell in folds about her feet. “You do not think it too plain? After all, this is a special occasion.”
“Have we not spoken of this a dozen times already?” Ellen said with a roll of her eyes. “You know it becomes you very well and it is one of the queen’s own favourite colours. But if you don’t like it, then let’s quickly swap it for the cream, or the green, then perhaps you will stop asking.”
“No, no, the cream is too pale and the green is the wrong shade of green. Are you sure this suits me well enough?”
Ellen forced her usually smiling eyes into a frown. “Now, cousin, stop. You are working yourself into a state. It is unlike you to fret so much about such matters; it becomes you ill.”
Thomasin let out a deep sigh. “I know, I know. But I am not like myself tonight. It is pure nerves, dear Ellen, putting me on edge. I can think of nothing else but what may transpire. My entire future depends upon it. What if … what if…”
Ellen’s expression softened. “I know your fears, dear cousin, but at this moment there is no remedy for them but patience. There is no dress, no looking glass that can calm you as well as your own faith and trust in your loved ones. Unless… Here, take some wine; that might steady you a little.”
She poured out a glass from the jug on the table. With a shaking hand, Thomasin sipped the rich liquid, tasting its overtones of citrus and nutmeg.
“He will come, won’t he?”
“I would stake my life upon it.”
“He won’t … he won’t change his mind, because of his situation…?”
“I am certain he will not. I never saw a man so devoted these past few months.”
Thomasin sighed. She felt the truth of her cousin’s words, but only wished she could share that happiness with her a little. Ellen had recently known the sting of a broken heart, but the inheritance that followed soon after had brought her the freedom to make her own choices.
“Wait, look!”
Thomasin pointed through the window. The two women held their breath. In the far distance, a small vessel was drawing up against the quay adjoining Monk’s Place, bobbing on the tide. As they watched, a tall, dark figure climbed ashore and began tomake his way towards the house. Both knew at once that it was him.
Thomasin’s heart leapt into her mouth. She turned and hurried down the wooden staircase, through the hallway where lamps gleamed on the walls, and out through the back door.
It was a gentle evening in late spring, ripe with the promise of summer. The air was cool and scented, the colours dimming as the sun sank behind the trees, its last rays flaring through the leaves. Above, the stars were beginning to show their faces through a rich mantle of blue, and a half-moon hung shyly among them, as if waiting its turn.
Yet Thomasin saw nothing of this, felt nothing of its charm. Usually, the beauty of such an evening would affect her deeply, but today she noticed none of it as she picked up her skirts and hurried down the path. At the far end, beyond the sundial, the dark figure hastened towards her with the same eagerness.
