“Yes, my lady.”
“So that he might ask your father’s permission to wed you?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Thomasin kept her head low, unable to read the expression on Catherine’s face, but the queen sounded amused.
“But if I grant you leave, then you will return as a betrothed woman.”
“I very much hope so, my lady, with your blessing.”
“And I shall be losing two members of my household, as you and your cousin are both deserting me to become wives.”
“It is not a desertion, my lady,” said Ellen, who was standing at the side. “Our hearts will always be with you, along with our warmest wishes.”
“You plan to be wed soon?”
“In the early autumn, I think,” said Thomasin.
“Then I will keep you with me but a few weeks more, until the end of July, when the Papal Court will adjourn for the summer. We shall go to Windsor and pass our time quietly in the countryside, and then you shall be free.”
Thomasin could not suppress her smile. “Thank you, my lady. It has been the honour of my life to serve you.”
“But you wish for happier times. It is only natural.”
“I only wish for my husband, my lady.”
The queen sighed. “As all maids do. Marriage is not what maids think it to be. It is a trial for women, a source of both joy andsorrow. Look at me, Thomasin — you too, Ellen. The pair of you have served me well, with loyalty and honour. I cannot deny you the happiness that you deserve, but my blessings come with a warning. You are fortunate in being matched for love. Do not give the whole of your heart; keep a small part of it back for yourself, in case you might need it one day.”
Outside, Giles was waiting at the gate, leaning on a wooden crutch for support. Harry Letchmere had assisted him with his dress, and with getting down the stairs and out into the early morning sunlight. His face lit up when he saw Thomasin hurrying along the path in her rich, dark blue gown, dressed with pearls and silver embroidery. It was the finest gown she had ever owned, adapted from an old one of the queen’s that no longer fitted her, but it made Thomasin feel like a princess.
Giles leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “I have a carriage waiting. You have not changed your mind overnight?”
Thomasin laughed. “Do you think me so changeable that the wind might blow my affections away?”
“No, I do not think that of you.” He looked up at the blue sky above them. “But still I am grateful for fine weather today, to better complement our news.”
“I spoke with the queen. She is sorry to lose me, but she is prepared to let me go. Ellen too.”
Letchmere bowed his head in appreciation.
“What could be better than a joint wedding?” Giles smiled. “Cousins and friends together?”
“Oh!” Thomasin gasped. “Ellen and I married together? What a wonderful idea. I had not thought of it myself, but if she and this good lord agree, it would be the best day we could imagine.”
“Now, come into the carriage. We must catch your parents before they leave.”
They passed along the city streets, busy despite the hour, jolting on the cobbles, pausing to let a flock of geese pass. Giles had taken her hand when they were seated and held it in his until the gates of Monk’s Place came into view. Sir Matthew’s dogs began their welcoming bark at once, and they drew to a halt before the familiar doorway. The door already stood open and a second carriage, laden with chests, was waiting for its occupants.
Sir Matthew Russell came striding out, then paused upon seeing the new arrivals.
“Here she is!” he called back into the house. “Thomasin, we knew you would not let them depart without bidding farewell. And Giles Waterson too, you are most welcome.”
“I am glad not to have missed them,” said Thomasin. “I knew of their intention to leave early, but had to ask permission from the queen.”
“Of course. But they would not have left without seeing you! Won’t you step inside?”
The greyhounds came rushing out, pressing their noses into Thomasin’s palm eagerly. She did not make it into the hall before her father appeared, dressed in his brown cloak, his eyes tired.
