‘Then I suppose that like all truth it is buried, and must be sought by diligent investigation,’ she said pertly, giving as good as she got, and was rewarded by the flash of his grin.
‘I have always found that to be the case, demoiselle,’ he said, as they came to the Queen’s door. ‘And usually well rewarded.’
‘Is that so?’ she said with a provocative, sideways look, and gestured to Joan and Hawise to go ahead, each carrying some baskets. Taking the last two from him, she stepped so close that their outer garments brushed against each other. ‘Shall we take the hawks out soon?’
‘Do you not have the Queen to care for?’
‘As long as I comb her hair properly and rub her feet, she will give me permission. Indeed, I do not know for how much longer I will be able to train him if I have to go to Gascony.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Nothing will be decided until the King’s return. You still have time.’
‘No, I do not,’ she said bitterly, her mood dampening. ‘I don’t want to go to Gascony, but who listens? If I refuse, I will be accused of shirking my duty and being ungrateful. Indeed, they will not let me refuse. Do you think it is ever possible to wed for love? To wed for choice?’
He looked taken aback. ‘I suppose it must be, but it is easy to say and much less simple to do, and seldom for the likes of us, for we are bound by duty and family expectation.’ He took a back-step. ‘You should return to the Queen.’
She remained where she was, her eyes drinking him in. The last thing she wanted to do was be trapped in the bower again.
‘Jeanette!’ Joan hissed, coming back down the stairs. ‘What are you doing? Make haste before you get us both into trouble!’
The spell broke and she tore her gaze from him, but as she started up the stairs, she looked over her shoulder and gave him another long look.
When she was gone, Thomas palmed his face. This beautiful, mercurial girl so knowing but so vulnerable was twisting him in knots and it was not good. He would find himself thinking about her at odd moments of the day and he looked forward to their training sessions with the hawks, with a hungry, hollow sensation of need in the pit of his belly.
She was so different from the other young women at court. He loved her unaffected walk – no silly mincing steps like some of the damsels, but a proper long-legged stride. Her natural manner, her smile, her mischief that sparked his own. The scent of her, and the changing expressions in her eyes. Otto was entirely right to warn him against dallying with her, but he could not stay away. Last night he had taken himself off to the Gilders with Otto and Henry, and had relieved some of the pressure inhis cods. The new girl had been exactly as his brother described, but it hadn’t stopped him thinking about Jeanette. It was probably fortunate that she was going to this Gascon marriage soon, and that he too would be called away to his duties, because otherwise, rather than dancing around the fire, he would well and truly be in it.
8
Monastery of St Bavo, Ghent, March 1340
While the Queen recovered from John’s birth, Jeanette continued to visit the mews to train Frederick. A few times she absconded the bower to watch the knights at their training when she knew Thomas would be there, and her body stirred as she watched him ride. The muscles of the stallion and the man, moving as one. The thrust of the destrier’s powerful haunches. The push and pull of Thomas’s hips between pommel and cantle, his hands light but firm on the reins. He was perfect in motion and her throat was dry and her pelvis heavy with a melting pain that was almost like flux cramps.
She watched him in the hall when everyone ate together. He would look back and it was like lightning. Feeling the power of her womanhood, she would push out her bosom and jut her hip to gain a reaction from him – teasing, excited by the danger.
There had been no news from Gascony concerning the marriage proposal. Her mother had written, saying she must obey the King in all things, but she had given no indication as to whether or not she approved. She had sent the gift of an embroidered chemise for her marriage chest which Jeanette had barely looked at, stuffing it away and slamming the lid. Hertrousseau continued to grow. She had two new gowns, a set of linen bedsheets, a silk coverlet and pillow cloths, and each addition to the tally tilted her equilibrium ever further from a state of balance.
The Queen, although not yet churched, held gatherings in her chamber and often invited some of the favoured knights to lend their company to play at backgammon and chess with the ladies. Ten days after John’s birth, the Queen decided on such a gathering, for the day was overcast, cold and wet. Looking forward to the event, which would enliven the afternoon, Jeanette bustled about the chamber, humming to herself, plumping cushions, playing tag with the children and dogs, until Katerine rebuked her for over-exciting them.
Dainty pastries arrived at the chamber door, together with trays of almond-stuffed dates and brightly coloured eggs – the hens were laying well again as the spring advanced. There were small squares of salty cheese, sugared fruits, raisins and nuts. Jeanette stole some of the latter from a silver dish, ate some herself, and divided the others between the Queen’s daughters Isabelle and Joan – and was rebuked again by Katerine for lacking decorum. The scolding only made Jeanette rebellious and she poked out her tongue behind Lady Katerine’s back, deliberately childish, and made the little princesses giggle.
She retired to her curtained-off bed space and with Hawise’s assistance changed her gown ready to welcome the visitors. Her underdress was of deep blue velvet with a gold belt that hugged her hips, and the sleeveless overgown of silky golden damask shone with a filigree pattern of ferns and birds. Hawise coiled Jeanette’s thick golden plaits over her ears and set a band of pearls at her brow. Propping up her little ivory hand mirror, Jeanette applied a dab of carmine to her lips and very lightly darkened her brows as a foil to enhance her eyes, and knew with sinful vanity that she looked utterly ravishing.
Satisfied, she returned to the Queen’s inner chamber. Musicians were tuning their instruments and the Queen’s ladies were putting the finishing touches to Philippa’s headdress, fussing around her like bees.
Seven-year-old Princess Isabelle was crying and rubbing her eyes and Jeanette went to comfort her. ‘What’s the matter,ma très chère?’ She touched the child’s brow and it felt hot and clammy beneath her palm.
‘My belly hurts,’ Isabelle whimpered, and without warning vomited spectacularly over Jeanette’s beautiful gown.
Isabelle’s nurse rushed over and grabbed the child’s hand. ‘You’ve been giving her sweetmeats!’ She glared at Jeanette. ‘You know they do not agree with her, yet you persist!’
‘Do not blame me!’ Jeanette retorted. ‘You are the one supposed to be watching her!’ She stood up, wrinkling her nose at the stench. ‘I scarcely think this is the result of a few dried fruits!’
The Queen intervened, sharply ordering the nurse to take Isabelle away and see to her. ‘Your gown can be cleaned,’ she told Jeanette briskly. ‘Go and change quickly, everyone will soon be here.’
Grimacing, Jeanette retired. Isabelle’s vomit had soaked the underdress too, and through to her chemise. The smell made her want to retch herself as she stripped off the stained clothing and washed herself in the bowl of tepid rose water that still stood on her coffer. She bundled the chemise away for the laundry women. The gown and underdress would have to be carefully sponged by the wardrobe mistress and then brushed. From the pole above her bed, she pulled down her spare chemise and her red silk gown. The garment had fitted perfectly well at the January parade, but two months later was so tight across her breasts she had to remove the clean chemise and wear the gown next to her skin. Requiring Hawise’s assistance to secure thelaces and button the sleeves from elbow to wrist, she moved from behind the curtain to call to her.
At that moment, Thomas arrived, bearing two backgammon boards and a soft cloth bag of gaming pieces. Jeanette gasped and froze, her laces unfastened either side of her waist, exposing a pale gleam of flesh, and her nipples clearly outlined where the dress strained across her breasts. One of her braids had come uncoiled when she had been pulling her chemise over her head, and hung down, adding to her dishevelment. Her gasp sent his gaze straight to her; his eyes widened and he dropped the bag, scattering the pieces all over the floor.
Jeanette knew she should turn her back and draw the curtain across, but she faced him and jutted her chin. His gaze dropped from her face to her body and her breathing quickened.
