“Indeed.” Anne raised her eyes. “Give them to me and I shall see whether they are in the room.”
“I beg your pardon, madam, but I hope you would already know that, as you were in the room yourself.”
“But you will never know, will you, whether or not they are here?”
Anne’s eyes narrowed; she was clearly determined to have her fun. She caught du Bellay’s eye and some communication passed between them.
It was then that King Henry appeared beside her, tall and wide in royal blue and gold.
“Who is it? What is this talk? Have you given the order?”
Anne demurred, lowering her lashes. “An unexpected visitor.”
Henry stared down at Thomasin with his small, pale blue eyes. His presence was always imposing, but it no longer had the power to overwhelm her as it had when she’d first come to court.
“Mistress Marwood.”
“My good lord, forgive my intrusion.”
Behind Henry, Thomasin could see Rafe, hovering inside the chamber. He frowned as he saw her kneeling before the king and her heart sank. Her risk had been misjudged after all.
“Come,” said Henry, turning to Anne, “I intend to reach the bridge before high tide.”
He strode past the spot where Thomasin crouched, trying to make herself as small as possible, and Anne followed him without another word. Thomasin smoothed out her skirts and rose to her feet as they swept out of the chamber.
Rafe was left staring at her through the open door. Once the king had disappeared, he came forward.
“What are you doing here?”
There was a strain of annoyance in his voice that wounded Thomasin. She decided not to admit her true motives.
“I am delivering letters for the queen.”
“Who to?”
“Bishop Fisher and John Clerk. I had already found Archbishop Warham here, so I thought it best to ask before I went on my way.”
“What letters?”
“Private letters from the queen.”
“Well, they are not here.”
“No, I gathered that.”
They stood in awkward silence. Thomasin waited for him to speak, perhaps to offer a gentle word or an apology for the other night, but his mouth was set firm. His chestnut eyes were hard. He seemed so contradictory to her, as if there were two Rafes, one kind and warm and the other hard and cold. Shaking her head, she turned to walk away, still hoping to be called back. He said nothing.
As she reached the final set of doors, Thomasin was choking back the tears that had risen in her throat. Just a few days before, they had been set to announce their engagement. Shehad believed all these difficulties between them to have been resolved: Rafe had seemed to get past his insecurities and immaturities, but perhaps he had just been trying harder to conceal them. How could he treat her this way? Was her heart, and her future, even safe with him?
TEN
Thomasin, Ellen and Mary, Lady Essex, were sent out to gather cherries from the orchard while Catherine met with her supporters. The orchard was a small, walled enclosure, attached to the side of the palace complex, best placed to catch the sun. Mary grumbled as they trod the path, placing her hand upon the small of her back.
“It’s bad today. Shooting through my hip and all down my leg.” She eased herself down onto a stone bench. “You two make a start. I’ll help when the pain has eased.”
“Is there anything we can fetch you?” Ellen asked.
“Nothing, but a few moments’ rest, I thank you. It’s what you get after having children, you mark my words — your body will never be the same again.”
