“In the meantime,” said Lady Elizabeth, placing her hand upon her daughter’s shoulder, “we will stay here with Matthew, and after your father’s release, we will all repair to Suffolk. You can lie in there, in your old chamber.”
“And I will come to you in Suffolk, never fear. This will be resolved, even if Hugh and I have to work together!”
“A strange sight that would be.” Cecilia gave a weak smile.
“It is only a temporary pause, nothing more. Do not let it trouble you. Stay serene and calm, for the sake of the child. No more worries.”
“You promise that all will work out as we hoped?”
Thomasin was the only one who saw Hatton flinch. It was only the slightest twitch about his eyes, but she caught it.
“I promise,” he said.
TWENTY-TWO
The Papal Court was in session again. Thomasin dressed herself carefully in sombre dark grey, alleviated only by the whiteness of her cuffs, headdress and trimmings. John Dudley called at Baynard’s Castle to walk her back into Blackfriars, ready to hear Fisher’s speech.
“I saw your father yesterday,” he began at once. “He is well and in good spirits, as we had hoped.”
“Oh, that is good to hear.”
“Sir William keeps him well, although he says he cannot spare more candles for his chamber than the quota allows. I think it is this which is affecting his eyes, as he tries to read and write in the gloom.”
“Oh, such a small thing. I will send some at once.”
“No need. I have ordered a crate, to be delivered today.”
“Thank you, John.”
“I also sent him your love, which he was pleased to receive, and he sends his in return.”
Thomasin smiled in relief. As they walked past the tightly packed houses, she thought about her father, sitting alone in that dim cell. The little London street between the palaces was quiet enough, but the sounds of voices and chickens reached them, along with the sound of horse hooves on the cobbles ahead. John noticed her silence.
“You are well this morning, Thomasin?”
“Well enough for the day ahead.”
“Something ails you? Apart from your father’s situation and the unfairness of the court?”
“Those are bad enough, adding to the queen’s suffering, but we have troubles at home, too. I should not let them cloud my mind, but it is my sister again.”
“Ah.” John already knew all about Cecilia and her history. “She is with child, is she not?”
“Yes, it will be born in the early autumn, God willing. But the matter is complicated.”
“I am not one to gossip, Thomasin, but you must know she is spoken of at court. I cannot say from which quarter, but I suspect the rumours come from a source very close to the king.”
“That does not surprise me. She has made an enemy of Anne Boleyn, who will do all she can to besmirch her name. Not that she needs much help in doing so; Cecilia has been her own worst enemy in that.”
“What is the new difficulty?”
“She wishes to be married to the father of her child, William Hatton.”
If Dudley was surprised or scandalised, he concealed it well. “I see. But she is already married, to…”
“Sir Hugh Truegood, a worthy enough gentleman who wed her willingly, but he has since discovered her secret and cast her out. He has been petitioning the king for a divorce to be sped through Parliament before the child arrives.”
“Hatton,” mused Dudley. “Isn’t he the fellow with very fair hair?”
