“Into the courtyard, but not inside the house itself. Why do you ask?”
“Hopefully it is only my caution that makes me doubt her.”
Lady Elizabeth frowned. “She has done much to cause doubt. What else do you fear?”
“Last night, I woke and heard voices outside my open window. I do not know what time, but it was Cecilia and William Hatton.”
“Yes, he was here last night. He called before supper to speak with her about their plans.”
“Their plans to wed after her divorce from Hugh?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, they are planning more than that. It seems that the king is reluctant to grant their wish and Hatton is all for whisking her away to some other country. He spoke of going to Italy.”
“Italy? In her condition? He must be mad.”
“That is what I thought. So he has said nothing of the sort to you?”
“No, I would have nipped that nonsense in the bud had he dared to do so. Your sister will come to Suffolk with us and spend her lying-in at Eastwell Hall.”
“Unless she has already flown.”
“No, surely not. She has no necessaries with her. She has been rash in the past, impulsive for the sake of love, but she is not stupid. She would not risk the life of her unborn child for a whim of Hatton’s, would she?”
“I hope not, Mother. There is more. John Dudley spoke to me of a woman on the south coast who may be betrothed to Hatton. I do not know the truth of it, but I do not like it.”
Lady Elizabeth rose to her full, diminutive height. “I will send the carriage for her at once. There is no need to trouble your father with this. You must rest and recover now, Thomasin. I thank you for your vigilance.”
“I pray it is unnecessary.”
“I think your sister is past prayer, now.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Presently, Thomasin heard the carriage arrive in the courtyard again. This time, she could not bear to remain in bed and wait for the news, so she wrapped a shawl about her shoulders and shuffled gingerly to the staircase. To her relief, she heard Cecilia loudly complaining about her back as Lady Elizabeth ushered her into a chair. However, another voice came after hers, its male tones rather familiar.
Thomasin retreated back into her chamber and scrambled into bed. Giles was here, downstairs in the hallway, speaking with her mother. She felt ashamed at the thought that he might come up and see her lying in bed, her hair unbrushed and loose, her nightgown untidy. She lay still, silent, planning to feign sleep should she hear his footsteps, but the front door clicked shut and silence fell again within the house. Her frustration ate away at her, teasing out all sorts of questions in her mind, until she heard Ellen’s soft tread. Her cousin entered the chamber carrying a tray of food.
“Well, I hope you are hungry.”
She placed the tray across Thomasin’s lap, with its array of invalid foods: a sweet almond custard, boiled chicken in spinach, a slice of beef pie and wafers with honey. The smell of it awakened Thomasin’s tastebuds, and she realised she’d not eaten properly for days.
“Cecilia is back?”
“Oh yes, she is back. She was not planning to run away at all; if anything, she has seen sense.”
“What a relief. Was that Giles downstairs?”
“It was.” Ellen took a seat in the carved chair. “Now, don’t hold back. You enjoy this spread and I will tell you everything.”
“He is still here?”
“No, he has gone, but he sends his best wishes. The pie and wafers came from him.”
Was that disappointment Thomasin felt? Something stirred in her as she wondered why Giles had not come up to see her, although she knew she would have felt awkward if he had.
“Come, tell me,” Thomasin said, having sated her appetite. “How came Giles to be here?”
