“Which was unconsummated.”
“And…” The bishop faltered briefly. “And the matter concerning the validity of your present union. Present your understanding of the case as it stands and your reasons for…”
“Thank you, I need no instructions about how to speak on my own behalf.”
“My apologies, my lady, of course not. Perhaps instead, I may ask if there are any questions you wish to ask of us ahead of your appearance?”
Catherine rose to her feet majestically. “I wish to ask what has become of the lawyers that were to have come out of Flanders to defend me.”
“I believe they have remained in Flanders, my lady.”
“How so?”
Longland looked anxiously at Clerk. The second man spluttered, “They were advised to do so, my lady, given that their presence in England may cause a threat to their persons.”
“And who gave this advice? Who warned my lawyers to stay away?”
Neither man answered.
“Speak up, gentlemen. I can’t hear you.”
“I believe it was the Emperor, my lady,” Longland offered, “but I might be wrong.”
“My nephew? Charles? I cannot believe it. Why would he advise against them helping me?”
“Perhaps because he wants the king’s assistance against the French,” said Clerk bluntly.
There was a silence. Catherine absorbed this betrayal with a stoic expression, but Thomasin could see the information was turning to stone inside her.
“That is all. Leave me now.”
She waved her hand, and the bishops bowed and made their way to the door.
Watching them depart, Catherine began to mutter under her breath, her voice rising after they had gone. “This cannot be. I will not believe it. Maria, fetch me paper and ink. I will write to my nephew at once.”
She vanished into her room, and Maria went scuttling after her.
Thomasin flopped down onto a stool. The room spun, hazy and indistinct, before settling back into its familiar lines.
“Mistress, are you quite well?” Mary, Lady Essex, was standing above her.
“I didn’t sleep so well. I’m a bit dizzy, that is all.”
“Take this chance to rest then. Ellen and I will see to the room.”
“That is most kind of you.”
“Pay it no mind. You have often done the same for me, in my old age.”
She bustled away to fetch the sewing basket.
Thomasin leaned her head against the wall beside her and closed her eyes. Gradually, the sounds of the room settled, and there was nothing but birdsong outside and the crackle of the fire.
She woke presently at the sound of footsteps gently approaching.
Ellen was looking down at her. “Sorry I woke you, but your father is in the antechamber.”
Thomasin was suddenly alert. “Father?”
