She pushed him to the side and hurried out of the gate. Rafe made no reply, and she did not turn to see how her words had been received. The realisation that he had no idea where she was going or why made her even more certain that she was doing the right thing in breaking with him. He might have moments of insight, times when he could be the man she had hoped for, but these were far outweighed by the darkness in him that could not be repressed.
At the waterside, she hailed one of the small boats that always gathered around the steps of the palace, and directed the rowers downstream. The tide was on the turn, high and full, but it meant that their passage was swift. Soon, the formidable thick walls of the Tower’s precincts came into sight, with their huge gates and the keep rising into the sky. She paid her fare and alighted at a slippery flight of steps, guarded at the top by a thick wooden gate and men in royal livery. Catherine had had the foresight to provide her with a letter of recommendation, despite her father’s friendship with the constable, Sir William Kingston, and the queen’s signature immediately opened the gates and gained her admission. A guard led her across the green towards the main apartments.
Kingston was an old man, but probably not much older than her father, Thomasin realised. He had a sensible, sombre disposition, suitable to his post, and a slight stoop and limp. His chamber was well furnished and comfortable, with a bright fire, a cupboard of silver plate and colourful wall hangings. Thomasin hoped her father was accommodated in a similar fashion.
“Mistress Marwood,” he said, rising to greet her. “You are most welcome. I trust you have come to enquire about your father?”
Thomasin was grateful that he had got straight to the point. “I hope I may see him, if that is possible, and bring him this basket.”
“Of course. I can tell you that he fares well in spite of his confinement, and his spirits are still strong. He has been most fortunate in his friends; you are not the first visitor he has received today.”
“Am I not?”
“A young man came early, with a similar purpose to you. Come this way; you may have an hour with him.”
Thomasin followed Kingston gratefully, back outside and across the courtyard towards a solid block containing a central round tower. Passing inside, her eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness, but it was not as gloomy as she had feared, and torches lit the darkest parts. She followed her guide through a corridor and up a flight of steps, past other locked doors where she imagined more unfortunates to be residing at the pleasure of the king.
Kingston paused outside a chamber door that had an iron grille set at head height, and peered inside.
“Another visitor for you, Sir Richard.”
Taking out a heavy iron set of keys from around his waist, he turned one in the large lock and the thick door creaked open.
“I’ll have to lock you in, miss, but I’ll be back in an hour to let you out. There is no cause for alarm, but I must check inside your basket before I admit you.”
“Oh, of course.” Thomasin held it out, watching as his hands made a quick search before he nodded in approval.
“People try and smuggle in all sorts; you wouldn’t believe it. Here you are.”
He stepped aside to reveal a round room with stone walls, a window in the far corner, a desk and chair and a narrow bed. However, she noted that there was no fire. Sir Richard was standing by the window, and came forward when he saw his daughter.
“Thomasin? Is it you? You should not have come to such a place!”
A second figure rose from a stool to her right. Giles had been reading aloud by the light of a lantern.
“Thomasin!” he echoed. “I would have accompanied you, if I had known you were coming.”
“I … I did not know you were here,” she said, momentarily overwhelmed.
“Come, come here, let me set eyes on you,” said Sir Richard, guiding his daughter into an embrace. “Are you well? And your mother and sister?”
“We are all well, thank you,” she replied, “but it was not the object of my visit to come and tell you that! We have been most concerned about you and how you fare in here.”
“As you see,” said Sir Richard, gesturing around him, “it is not the comfort to which I am accustomed, but I am hardly suffering as others here have.”
“He is stoic as ever,” said Giles. “He was just speaking of his eyes being weaker. I have told him to refrain from reading and writing letters, and to rest them. The poor light in here strains them.”
“It is nothing, just tiredness,” said Sir Richard, frowning. “I am well cared for and fortunate in my gaoler.”
“Here are a few items,” said Thomasin, placing the basket on the table. “And I can act as messenger or scribe, to save your eyes, should you wish to send word to those on the outside.”
“I am ably assisted in that already by Giles here, who has written and carried letters for me since my arrival.”
Thomasin felt mixed emotions at this news. She was grateful to Giles for his diligence and care of her father; after all, she’d hoped for his company on this visit, but he seemed to be acting a part that should be hers, as if he were Sir Richard’s son. It made her a little uneasy.
“I am pleased to hear you have been so well served. I apologise that I was not able to come sooner, but the queen delivered her speech this morning before the court, and I was required to assist her. Now I am here, I may perform any office you require, as well as any man, I hope.”
Giles got to his feet and put down the book. “I should leave you to have some time together, as family. I will wait with Sir William until you are ready to depart, Thomasin.”
