“We have not thought yet,” said Thomasin, turning to Giles. “But we would like a quiet life in the country, at least at first.”
“A country wedding suits us well,” said Lady Elizabeth.
“And perhaps a joint one, with dear Ellen and Sir Henry Letchmere.”
“A double wedding! I must start thinking of what to wear, and all the people you can invite.”
“Slow down, Mother. There is no rush. All that will come in time.”
“But a double wedding — I never thought to see it!”
“Congratulations,” added Sir Matthew, coming forward to shake Giles’s hand and kiss Thomasin. “Such good news. I am pleased to hear about Ellen too; she deserves this happiness.”
“And now, we must be on the road,” said Sir Richard, “otherwise we will be kissing and shaking hands all day long. Come, ladies.” He held out his hand to Cecilia first, helping her to climb slowly inside and settle herself upon the seat. Then, he assisted his wife.
“We will see you again soon, very soon,” said Lady Elizabeth, beaming as she took her place alongside her elder daughter.
“You do know this journey is going to be nothing but wedding talk now!” Sir Richard smiled, rolling his eyes at the same time. “But it will give your mother a lift. She will feed off this for months to come, so do not leave it too long.”
“Safe journey, sir,” said Giles, securing the carriage door after he had got in. “And you take with you my profuse gratitude.”
“Take care of Thomasin. I know you will.”
“All ready?” asked Sir Matthew, nodding at the driver.
The carriage rolled slowly across the cobbles and out through the gates, away from Monk’s Place, the bustling city and the treacherous court forever.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The sound of approaching laughter wafted through the roses. Thomasin paused under the archway, looking around the Bridewell garden one last time, taking in its beauty and colour, its rich scents, the warm sun on the red bricks. She had spent many happy times here, and some challenging ones, but now she was moving on, and she could not be happier.
She waited for the party to appear. King Henry came first, dressed in scarlet and crimson, a feathered cap upon his head, sparkling with jewels. On his arm, Anne wore a deep saffron yellow dress, her skirts swishing as she kept pace beside him. After them came a train of their followers: Thomas Boleyn in conversation with George; Jane and Mary Boleyn, reluctantly thrown together; Norris; Bryan; Zouche and an array of women in bright clothes, after which came Rafe — the very person Thomasin was waiting to see.
They had come from somewhere full of merriment and music, and were clearly headed somewhere equally enthralling, confident that the world was theirs and that a new royal marriage was imminent. The Papal Court had been adjourned for the summer, with the promise of a return in October, although Campeggio had privately visited Catherine in her chambers and informed her that he had no intention of reconvening. The court would not pronounce one way or another, but would instead refer the case back to Rome, where it would be kicked around the corridors of the Vatican indefinitely. In effect, Catherine had won this round, although it was only one battle in a whole war, and Henry was as determined as ever to make Anne his queen. The failure had been placed firmly on Thomas Wolsey’s shoulders: he had been removed from hisposition as Lord Chancellor and frequently found the doors to the king’s chamber closed to him these days.
As they approached the spot where Thomasin waited, she dropped a curtsey, her eyes on the toes of their shoes.
“Mistress Marwood?” said Henry.
“My lord.”
“Please, rise. You were waiting to see me?”
She squinted at the group behind him, all peering around to see what it was that she wanted.
“Yes, my lord. If it please you, I have come to beg my leave. I am to be married and will retire to the country.”
“Is that so?” Henry looked her up and down. “Well, it is about time, given your age. You are a comely enough woman for any man to take to wife. Who is the lucky man?”
“Sir Giles Waterson, my lord.” She kept her eyes off Rafe as she spoke.
“Well, you have my blessing. A fine gentleman. I suppose your mistress has also given her approval?”
“She has, my lord.”
“Sir Giles,” said Anne, her smile hovering on a sneer. “So you are to become a country wife. How on earth will you manage all that peace and quiet?”
“With gratitude and humility, my lady,” Thomasin said, looking Anne straight in the eye.
