Her dear friend Thomas More, back from Cambrai, had travelled up to Suffolk for the occasion. With him was his daughter Margaret, Thomasin’s great friend, and her husband, the stoic William Roper. Also of the party were John and Jane Dudley, her bodice loose to accommodate her advancing pregnancy. The sight of them almost took Thomasin’s breath away, and she paused at the top of the steps to fix this moment in her mind forever. Her friends below applauded at the sight of her, their dear, beloved Thomasin, soon to be heading to the church.
“Do not keep your admirers waiting,” said her father gently.
Thomasin descended slowly, going first to her mother’s arms. Lady Elizabeth smelled of rosewater and citrus, the softness of her silk sleeves wrapping about her daughter’s waist.
“You are beautiful. Such a picture, Thomasin. I knew that gown was the perfect one.”
“You do look well,” added Cecilia, who was keeping one ear out for the baby with her nurse. “I wish you every happiness, as you deserve. We have not always been close, but I hope that will change.”
“I am sure it will,” Thomasin replied, smiling. “And I also hope that one day you will be as happy as I am. You deserve that, too.”
“Thomasin!” More came forward to kiss her cheek. “We had to come and see you for the last time as a Marwood. Forgive us the intrusion, but it comes with our love and best wishes.”
“You are so very welcome,” said Thomasin, looking at the More and Dudley group. “I am so happy that you have come, for it is a distance from London.”
“Not so far as Cambrai, although that matter is all sorted now.”
“We would not have missed this for the world,” said Margaret, hugging her friend. “Although Father has other news he will not raise, because this is your day. But the king has appointed him Lord Chancellor, as Wolsey’s replacement. And Wolsey is charged with…”
More raised his hand to silence her. Thomasin looked at him in wonder at this news, but read a mixture of emotions on his face. “We will not discuss this matter now,” he said. “This is a day for festivities. Let no clouds dim its brilliance.”
Thomasin smiled, grateful for his kindness, although she could not help wondering about Wolsey’s fate.
“Welcome, Will,” she said to Margaret’s husband. “John, Jane, thank you for coming. I hope your journey was not too arduous.”
“We stopped overnight at Hatfield and Hedingham,” Jane told her, “so it was quite endurable. This is a beautiful part of the country and I am inclined to visit more often.”
“Here!” said little Susanna, rushing up to her sister with armfuls of late roses. “Here is your bouquet. You must take it now before it prickles me!”
There was laughter all round at this.
“Now,” said Lady Elizabeth, “we must away to the church. Allow a short while before you follow. The time has come.”
“Is Ellen there already?” asked Thomasin.
“She went ahead, with Sir Henry’s sister. She will be wondering where we all are!”
St Luke’s Church sat a little beyond the Marwood land, surrounded by fields of sheep. Around lay a tumble of gravestones, weathered by the ages, bearing the names of those who had lived and died in this landscape long before them. Thomasin knew well the impressive stone box tombs in the south shadow of the tower, where the name of Marwood was carved with pride by the junior members of her family, although her grandparents and their parents had been buried inside, under the choir. As she alighted outside, with her father at her side, Thomasin saw that the porch had been decorated with flowers, hanging low to shower her with their rich blooms. Her heart raced as she realised that all the people she loved best in the world were gathered under that roof.
“Thomasin?”
Ellen came forward into the light, her apricot gown a perfect contrast to Thomasin’s violet, her brown eyes sparkling as much as the diamonds at her throat. She looked the happiest her cousin had ever seen her.
“Ellen, you look the picture of a perfect bride.”
“As do you, Thomasin. That soft violet is the perfect colour for you, restrained but warm.”
“Thank you. It took an age to choose and I rejected a green one, a white one, and a grey.”
“And the gold thread, and the cream,” added her father. “At one point, I feared that she would be walking down the aisle in her old shift! Which would, of course, have been much easier on my purse.”
“I cannot believe this day has come,” said Thomasin, taking her cousin’s hands. In many ways, Ellen had been the sister she had always wanted, close in temperament, gentle, kind and forgiving, but fiercely loyal. Since their earliest days at court, the pair had supported each other through the trials of the royal marriage, through heartbreak and sorrow, and were now to be united in happiness.
“It feels like we have been waiting a long time for it,” said Ellen. “But I do not think there are two women who are more ready for it than you and I. Not now that we have the right men waiting for us at the end.”
“I can honestly say,” said Thomasin, “that I do not regret any of it. All the difficult times, all the heartbreak we have endured has brought us here, today, side by side, to embark upon this future together.”
“You with Sir Giles.”
