“You went to the Tower?”
“Yes, Cecilia. I saw Father and took him some supplies. He is in fairly good spirits, considering, and he is fortunate in his guardian. With any luck, he will be released when this matter of the royal marriage is concluded.”
Thomasin did not mention her father’s weak eyes. There was no need to trouble her mother and sister just yet on that front.
“Well, that is good news. I shall tell Mother upon my return.”
“But you still have not told me why you are here. Come now, I am your sister. What has brought you here? It must be important.”
Cecilia’s hands wound around her stomach. “I am due to bear his child soon, Thomasin, and he does not know. He should know that his child is coming, do you not think?”
“William Hatton? You are here to see him?”
Thomasin thought of the awful moment last Christmas at Greenwich, when she and her parents had discovered Cecilia and Hatton in bed together.
“Not to see him. It is not an assignation. A man has a right to know he is about to become a father, Thomasin. Surely even you must see that?”
Even you?thought Thomasin. Their childhood animosity clearly still lingered. “I must dissuade you in the strongestpossible terms, and insist that you return to Monk’s Place at once.”
“I will not do that, Thomasin. I am here now. I will not leave.” Cecilia’s stubbornness was legendary in the family: if she refused to do something, she would never do it.
“Hatton does not know you are here?”
“I do not even know that he is.”
“And yet you have come all this way?”
“I had to, Thomasin, I had to take the chance.” She cradled her belly again. “You cannot understand what it is like.”
“No,” Thomasin replied quietly. “I cannot. He is here, or he was a few days ago, in the company of the king.”
“Thank you. Where should I find him?”
“I came from the court not long ago, and he was not there. He is likely to be in the king’s chambers, I imagine, awaiting Henry’s return.”
“Would you take me there?” Her pale blue eyes pleaded with a sincerity that was rare for Cecilia.
Thomasin sighed. “I suppose I must, although I fear we are heading for the lion’s den.”
TWENTY
There was music coming from Henry’s rooms. Thomasin frowned at the jaunty tune that was being played on a lute and recorder, with the rhythm struck up on a tabor. The king himself was not there, of course; he remained where Thomasin had left him, still seated before the Papal Court, listening to the advice of his legal experts. But then realisation dawned: there was only one other person who might command music to be played in his chamber, just like she commanded every other aspect of his life, laughing at every sorrow that her behaviour had caused.
Thomasin paused outside the doors and turned to Cecilia, mindful of the last unpleasant encounter they had had with Anne, who had been jealous over Henry’s divided attention.
“You really want Anne Boleyn to see you like this?”
Her sister did not care for the shame of it. “I am a married woman. It might make her realise there are other women more than capable of providing the king with the heir he desires.”
“Very well, then.” Thomasin took a deep breath and went to knock on the door.
“Wait. Perhaps it is best to draw him out. If I wait somewhere nearby, then the shock for him will be less.”
“I think that is wise.”
“I will return to the courtyard, by the rose bower. Bring him to me there.”
“If he is within, I will do so.”
