“That Bess Holland who used to work in the Norfolks’ household. Some say she was the children’s laundress, but that is unlikely, surely? She was the daughter of his secretary, we know that much, and she has come to court and intends to pay her respects to the queen. Can you imagine?”
“How does Catherine take it?”
“Very ill. While the duchess is no great favourite of hers, the idea of receiving the duke’s mistress fills her with horror. She says it is akin to Anne Boleyn visiting her. Anne’s position has made this Bess woman bold.”
They entered the central chamber, where everyone turned round to look.
“Oh, it is not her yet, then,” said Mary, looking up from her darning.
“It will not be long,” Ellen told Thomasin. “Norfolk’s servant brought word to expect her within the hour. I wonder what she will look like and how she will conduct herself.”
“We shall find out soon enough, by the sound of things. I should go and report to the queen of today’s events in court while they are fresh in my mind.”
Thomasin found Catherine staring out of her window at the late afternoon sky. The queen did not notice her arrival at first, but eventually she turned and nodded, holding out her hand for Thomasin to kiss.
“Mistress Marwood, you’ve come from the Papal Court?”
“Yes, my lady, with little pleasant to report.”
Catherine’s eyes looked tired. “Do proceed.”
“Initially my way was barred by Master Cromwell, who tried to argue against my presence on various flimsy accounts, but I was prepared for him, so made my way inside. The discussion was mostly concerning a potential French match that Wolsey intends the king should make, and the legal precedents for separation. Nothing was resolved and little progress made. My apologies, my lady, that I am unable to bring you better tidings.”
“You have reported fairly, as I knew you would, Thomasin. It is not for you to set the matter of the court’s proceedings.”
“I would add, my lady, that the thinking among some of those assembled is that Wolsey is out of touch with the king’s intentions. He continues to push for an alliance with the French and is likely to lose the favour of the king on account of it.”
“That may be the case,” Catherine agreed. “I have sometimes wondered why he is such an ardent supporter of France, but it is no concern of mine. How fared Campeggio? Of him I have greater hopes.”
“It was merely routine business on his part. Tomorrow, the court will hear from those speaking in favour of your marriage. I hope I shall have better news to offer after More, Fisher, the bishops and my father have given their views.”
“I have submitted letters from Vives and Erasmus to the court on this matter. I believe even the great heretic himself, Martin Luther, supports my case, so we shall see. Make sure you are at the court promptly.”
“Of course, my lady.”
The sound of voices from the outer chamber reached them. Catherine looked up, her head on one side, trying to make out their words. Thomasin thought this must be the anticipated arrival of Bess Holland, but it was not her place to speak of this unless the queen herself raised it.
Catherine swept out through the main doors, with Thomasin at her heels. But it was not the Duke of Norfolk’s mistress who greeted them, but Sir Richard Marwood, clearly agitated.
“Lord Marwood,” said the queen in surprise. “What is the matter?”
“My lady, I have come to speak with you directly, as I scarce know what to make of this, or what to do. It seems that Cromwell has got wind, somehow, of my intention to speak in your favour tomorrow, in court. Now, under some pretence, he intends to send me into the country on a fool’s mission, in order to prevent me from offering my defence.”
“What? He cannot be so bold! On whose authority does he override mine?”
“It can only mean that he has the king’s support, whether directly or tacitly, but I am commanded to leave court at once and deal with some trivial matter arising in the Suffolk assize court. He claims it is of the utmost importance and I must be gone by the morning.”
Thomasin could see the queen’s anger rising. Her back stiffened and arched; her head flew back. She gripped the back of a chair before her.
“That upstart nobody, that low-born servant, a blacksmith’s lad plucked from the streets — how dare he cross me! I am of a mind to find him and speak with him at once.”
“He is currently with the king,” added Sir Richard.
“My lady,” offered Mary, Lady Essex, “I do not think there is anything to be gained by confronting the man. It will only serve to show he has raised your anger, which he might take as asign of success. Perhaps there is a better way around this. Sir Richard, was the instruction given to you in person?”
“No.” He held out a piece of paper. “It came from this damned letter.”
Mary crossed the room and plucked it from his hand. “What letter? Who delivered it?”
