“Thank you. She needs all the friends she can muster at this time.”
Thomasin looked at him again. He was not a young man, with his greying temples, but his face was kindly and his eyeswere warm. She recalled that she had first met him when he accompanied Giles to the queen’s apartments, and wondered how close the pair of them were.
“You are an acquaintance of my cousin Giles, I believe.”
“Oh, more than acquaintance. I am proud to call him my friend, such a noble and blessed gentleman as him.”
Thomasin was surprised; was this merely the exalted praise of a friend?
“You have known him long, then?”
“Since we were boys. He is, in truth, the kindest, most sincere man I have ever met. When we lost my father, and my mother was ailing in her grief, he rode over to visit us every day for a month, devising means to cheer her spirits. He had a hand in my sister’s marriage too, adding to her dowry from his own purse. I have never heard another fellow speak a bad word about him, save from jealousy.”
Thomasin thought of Rafe at once. “He must indeed be a saint, if all you say is true.”
“He is your cousin; you should know the mettle of the man.”
It was true, Thomasin realised. Despite not having known him for as long as Sir Henry had, she instinctively felt that Giles was the best of men, everything that was good and true in a gentleman. She felt her cheeks blushing.
“Do come and visit us soon,” she insisted. “My other cousin, Ellen, will be pleased to see you.”
“It will be my pleasure. I will take my leave of you, Mistress Thomasin.” He gave a short bow and strode off towards the river. Watching him depart, with his long stride and fine calves, Thomasin had to admit he was not an unattractive man.
She decided she would take this opportunity to go to Monk’s Place and tell her mother about her visit to the Tower. It would be a short ride by carriage, and she need stay only an hour. She turned towards the northern court, which gave out ontothe church and London streets, where the palace’s horses were stabled. She knew some of the young men who worked here; they often carried the queen’s messages, and one of them would surely find her a carriage to travel into Thames Street.
As she headed through the gateway, a distant figure came into her line of her sight. It was a woman with a hood pulled down over her face, moving slowly, laboriously, in a long tan and cream dress, open-laced about her swollen belly. Even across the courtyard, Thomasin recognised Cecilia as she disappeared into one of the corridors. A jolt of surprise moved her forward in pursuit. What on earth was Cecilia doing at court? Had something happened at home? Did she bring news?
“Cecilia?”
Thomasin caught up with her as she reached the dark point of the corridor, by the turning towards the cellars. Cecilia turned, wide-eyed with surprise.
“What are you doing here? Has something happened?”
“Hush! No! All is well.”
“Were you seeking me?”
Cecilia shook her head. “Leave me be, Thomasin. Pretend you have not seen me; go about your business.”
“But why? What is your business here?”
“Mother believes I have gone to the tailor in search of new linen for my lying-in. Do not reveal this to her.”
“I was about to visit her myself. Might I take you home with me, in a carriage? You should not be walking about here, not in your condition.”
“I still have three months before the child arrives. I do not need your concern.”
“I disagree. Come, tell me, why are you here? Otherwise you will have to explain to the guards at the gate. You can’t just wander into the palace.” She paused and frowned. “Is Mother faring well?”
“She is still upset, as you can imagine.”
“And you left her?”
“Well, Thomasin, it’s not as if you are there with her either.”
The rebuke stung but was true. Thomasin’s role at court had kept her from Lady Elizabeth’s side in a time of need. But she had been able to stay away in the belief that Cecilia and Sir Matthew were with her mother.
“That is hardly fair. And I have visited Father in the Tower today. That was the news I was to take her.”
