“All this nonsense about green sickness,” she said to Ellen. “Rest and a good, wholesome diet have cured my malaise, not any man.”
Ellen smiled. “You are a doctor now?”
“No, but that’s the truth. I was probably tired, perhaps with a little chill. I do not believe this notion that women’s bodies suffer without connection with a man. We can manage quite well without one.”
“Well, Thomasin, remember that you are speaking to someone who is making plans for her wedding.”
“Yes, but you are marrying Letchmere because you want to, not because you will sicken and die without him.”
Ellen smiled. “Sicken, maybe.”
“Oh, this is just romantic foolishness. I thought the same about Rafe not so long ago, and now look at us.”
“Yes, here you are, ill in bed.”
“But not because of him, although his behaviour has sickened me at times. I could live quite happily without him.”
“So it is quite over between you and Rafe.”
“Quite over, finally. I told him the last time I saw him. I can’t live with his jealousy and bad temper. I had thought him quite over it, and glimpsed the man he could become, but I was mistaken. It would always be hanging over our lives like a shadow, every time he drank or perceived a rival. I could not live like that.”
“Then it is fortunate that you did not announce your engagement. Hugh turning up at the house that evening actually saved you from that fate.”
“It did indeed. No, I am quite over Rafe. I rarely ever think of him now, and when I do, it is with regret, and a little sadness for him, because he might have been so much more.”
“Do you think it is the influence of the Boleyns? Living so closely with Sir Thomas, who we know is a schemer?”
“Perhaps, but that is not my problem anymore. I wash my hands of him.” Thomasin picked up a slice of spiced pear and bit into it.
Ellen watched her eat. “So, there is a vacancy in your heart? I wonder who might fill it. Someone beside whom Rafe pales in comparison.”
“Oh, stop that. It is too soon. Let me be.”
Ellen raised her eyebrows. “Unless that person has already found their way into your favours?”
“Nothing like that has happened. I have been about the queen’s business, nothing more. I should get up and dressed soon. When must you return to court?”
Ellen got reluctantly to her feet. “I have been overlong here. The queen wants me to help pack up her items in readiness for the move, and then to attend her this afternoon when she is in church. I fear Mary and Maria will frown at me for my lateness.”
“But it has been so pleasant to have your company. You did me such good by being here, and helping me forget my illness.”
“Then it has not been wasted. I will see you soon, upon your return to Bridewell, and I hope to reintroduce you to Harry as my future husband.” Ellen could barely keep the smile from her face.
“It is good to see you so happy at last, after everything that you have been through.”
Ellen pressed her hand. “If only we could say the same for you, Thomasin.”
TWENTY-SIX
It was a glorious day at the height of summer. Thomasin breathed in the morning air, with its scents of chimney smoke and fresh flowers masking the ever-present undertone of the river. On the dock, a vessel decked in ribbons and pennants awaited the guests, bobbing gently against the Bridewell steps. From there, it would sail upriver, around the bends and turns, to Westminster Abbey, where the wedding of Arthur, Lord Lisle, and Honor Basset, née Grenville, was due to take place.
Thomasin had settled on the dusky pink gown that Ellen favoured. Her cousin had helped dress her that morning, in the queen’s new chambers, lacing and pinning her into the bodice and smoothing out the long folds of the skirts with their embroidered hem, and placing her pearled hood carefully on her long, dark hair. Ellen had been right: the colour perfectly complimented Thomasin’s skin, which had picked up a light hue of gold from the time she had slept in the gardens. Her paleness from the illness had quite faded and her usual colour had returned, highlighted by pearls in her ears and at her throat. The queen had lent her a pair of her old gold slippers, worn out by days of dancing that were behind her now, but they shimmered softly when Thomasin walked. She could not conceal her glee to be wearing royal slippers, even if they were cast-offs.
A few other courtiers were waiting on the bank, including some of Anne’s ladies. Thomasin recognised Nan Gainsford and Bess Holland, decked out in bright dresses, accompanied by George Zouche, Francis Bryan and George Boleyn, but she kept her distance, chatting with friends of the bride. John and Jane Dudley were already at Westminster, while others were travelling on horseback or by coach.
As they began to climb into the boat, a second vessel drew up behind them to the sound of trumpets blown on the bow. This was a wide barge, comfortably decked out with carpets and cushions under a canopy, flying the royal flag, with silver bells tinkling. Thomasin realised that this was the means by which Henry and Anne were travelling to Westminster, and they were no doubt waiting nearby, as guests of honour at the wedding. Looking around, she saw no one from Catherine’s circle, only those who were guests of the bride and groom or favoured the Boleyns. As Thomasin took her seat, slightly queasy at the way the waves hit the side, she hoped her presence would not be seen as endorsing one side over another, at the expense of the queen. It was so difficult to navigate the subtle loyalties at court, but she should have realised that Henry’s uncle would align with the king over his Spanish wife.
The tide was behind them, so fortunately the journey was quick. The oarsmen pulled them along, past the great mansions of courtiers and lords, giving a glimpse of their splendid grounds that ran down to the water’s edge, past the Savoy Palace on the bend, and past Durham House, where Catherine had once lived, but which now housed the Boleyns. Next to it, Wolsey’s home at York Place sat in darkness while the cardinal deliberated over the finer matters of law, as the whole court awaited the Papal Court’s verdict. They passed the building works at Whitehall, which was to be transformed into a palace to rival those Anne had seen in Europe, and then the spires of Westminster loomed above them. Thomasin was grateful to be dismounting on the wide stone steps, where John Dudley was waiting to greet the guests. He extended his hand to help her up onto the quay.
