“Yes, queen permitting. I had not realised you had established that kind of friendship with Lord Letchmere.”
Ellen thought for a moment. “Nor did I. But I think we just did.”
On their way up to Catherine’s apartments, after delivering the cherries to the kitchen, they met Thomas More and Bishop Fisher coming out.
“Ladies,” said More, “good afternoon. I trust you are in good spirits?”
“Well enough, my lord,” said Thomasin, pleased to see her friend. “But you have been summoned from Chelsea, I fear?”
“It is no trouble. I will catch the return tide and rejoin your parents.”
“I’m sorry for your trouble. They are well?”
“Very well indeed. I left them enjoying the peace of my physic garden.”
“How fares the queen?” asked Mary.
“Somewhat ill, I fear. She is confronted by a stalemate with little more than her faith to comfort her.”
Thomasin and Ellen exchanged glances.
“She will be grateful for your company,” More continued. “Do whatever you can to cheer her. God keep you, ladies. I must away. Will you come, Bishop?”
Fisher nodded a similarly grave adieu and followed.
They found Catherine before her fire, her hands outstretched towards it. She did not turn or speak as they entered, and a warning look from Maria was enough to deter them from approaching. Quietly, Thomasin and Ellen slipped into the furthest chamber, where the queen’s bed stood waiting, and set about the business of making it fresh and dusting down the hangings.
“The signs don’t look good for dancing,” Thomasin whispered to Ellen, as the gloomy mood penetrated the walls of the queen’s apartments.
“Let’s light some more candles and stoke up the fire in here,” Ellen suggested. “A little brightness often helps.”
But Catherine seemed to take no notice of their efforts. They strewed herbs on her bed, placed a scented pastille in the hearth and scattered rose petals in her water bowl, to no avail. Dinner was served in the main chamber, a modest spread of which the queen ate little. Thomasin watched her picking strands of meat delicately off the bone and sipping wine so that it barely came into contact with her lips.
Afterwards, she rose and announced her intention to retire early. They assisted her in removing her heavy pearled headdress and drawing out her long, thinning hair. Its ends were frayed and weak, like the feathers of some aged, momentousbird. Their careful fingers found the pins in her sleeves, unlaced her bodice and removed her chains and brooches. Thomasin placed them carefully upon their velvet boards. Ellen slipped the soft kidskin shoes from the queen’s feet and packed them away with lavender.
They joined Catherine as she knelt in prayer, her knees bare under her night smock. The moments seemed to drag as she mouthed her way through her devotions, the night deepening around them. At one point she paused, and Thomasin waited for her to rise, but she stifled a sob and resumed her prayer. Finally, she rose to her feet, moving painfully back into the chamber, where little Catherine Willoughby had lit many candles to cheer her. A very faint smile raised the corners of her lips when she saw the girl awaiting her with bowed head.
Thomasin and Ellen assisted Catherine as she climbed into bed, pulling up her sheets and smoothing them over her. Ellen fetched the prayer book she always kept at her bedside, along with the small silver cross she had brought from Spain all those years ago. Often she would hold it in her hand before sleep. With a sigh, the queen called Maria to her side and dismissed the rest of the women with a wave of her hand.
Thomasin followed her cousin out of the chamber on soft feet.
“Do you think…?” whispered Ellen.
Thomasin knew exactly what she was about to say. “It is still early. We might slip out for an hour or so, as we are no longer needed.”
“Mary will cover for us.”
“Quickly then, before I change my mind!”
Feeling daring, Thomasin slipped out of the outer doors, where the guards eyed her in surprise. She pressed a finger to her lips.
“We won’t be long, promise.”
ELEVEN
The queen’s portion of the palace was dark and quiet as they crept away. Torches burned on the walls and guards stood idly, like dignified statues in the alcoves and doorways. But soon they left the peace behind them, heading out towards the king’s rooms, where life and colour crept back in.
Almost at once, Thomasin ran into Sir John Dudley and his wife Jane.
