Thomasin watched his boat pull upstream across the dark mass of the Thames and turned back to the house. A light gleamed in the upstairs chamber that she shared with Ellen. Poor Ellen — she’d had to witness Hugh’s outburst, knowing that she would have been a true, loving wife to him. Thomasin wondered if the thought ever crossed Hugh’s mind, too.
Thomasin found her cousin in her nightgown, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her long brown hair was loose about her shoulders, and she was staring into the looking glass.
“I am not as beautiful as her, I know. I cannot hope to match her looks, but I am not unpleasant to gaze upon, I don’t think.”
“Ellen?” Thomasin closed the door behind her. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I know why he chose Cecilia. I can’t blame him. She is more beautiful than almost any other woman at court, with her icy blonde looks.” She put down the glass. “But I loved him, Thomasin. I truly loved him, and I would never have given him a moment’s doubt or unkindness. I would have thought it an honour to bear his children.”
“Oh, Ellen.” Thomasin put her arms about her cousin. “Do not torture yourself so. He is not worth your tears.”
“Oh, I know it. He shall not have them. I am quite resigned to it, because he made his choice. And now he must face the consequences.”
“That is right, exactly right. He might have had a true wife in you, but he allowed others to influence him, and this is his reward.”
“I just felt a little wistful, considering what might have been, but I will be well again. And merry again, at some point, I am sure.”
“And you will fall in love again.”
Ellen laughed. “I’m not sure about that. No, I have my inheritance. I don’t need a husband.”
Thomasin smiled. “I know your heart, Ellen Russell. We shall see.”
“And Cecilia? What will become of her?”
Thomasin kicked off her shoes. “Now, that I cannot say, but she has brought it upon herself.”
“And her child? We cannot overlook the child, who is innocent in all this. Your niece or nephew, Thomasin.”
“Let us think about it in the morning. I have had quite enough for one night.”
She started to undress, unlacing her bodice. Ellen got up to help remove her heavy outer garments and lay them carefully in a trunk, as they were accustomed to doing for the queen.
“I’m sorry your special night was spoiled.”
“Rafe says there will be another chance.”
“Of course there will. You will be Mrs Thomasin Danvers. It has a nice ring to it.”
Thomasin smiled. “Thomasin Danvers. How strange it sounds.”
“Well, you had better get used to it. When will you ask the queen for permission to marry?”
“After the court is over. I cannot speak to her of marriage whilst hers is under trial.”
“Of course, quite right. That is thoughtful of you, Thomasin. Now, let us close our eyes upon this strange night. Tomorrow is another day.”
As Thomasin blew out the candle, a fox screeched in the garden, sounding like a woman’s strangled cry. Then all fell silent.
THREE
Queen Catherine sent her carriage to collect Thomasin and Ellen from Sir Matthew’s house in Thames Street. It was an elegant, dark grey coach trimmed with gold, bearing the queen’s coat of arms. Two bay mares waited patiently before it, draped in red velvet to match the cushioned interior.
“I shall see you in a day or so, once the Papal Court opens,” said Sir Richard, placing a gentle kiss upon his daughter’s forehead. “Try not to think about that other business. Keep your focus on the queen.”
There had been no further appearance from Sir Hugh, and Thomasin hoped he had thought better of his wild threats and returned to Sussex. After all, he could not fight a duel with a man whose name he did not know. And none of the Marwoods were about to tell him that Sir William Hatton was the father of Cecilia’s baby.
“Is Mother coming down?” asked Thomasin, unwilling to depart without having seen Lady Elizabeth.
