Royal Palace of Langley, Hertfordshire, June 1341
Over the next couple of days, Jeanette tried to find ways to escape and meet Thomas, but as soon as they realised Thomas had returned, Katerine and Elizabeth kept her secluded in the women’s quarters.
On the third morning, Katerine told Jeanette to pack her things. ‘I have sought the Queen’s permission for you and my mother to retire to our manor at Bisham for the rest of the summer,’ she said. ‘I think it best if you are gone from court for a while and the Queen agrees it will suit your humours. If you are to have children with my son, your womb needs to settle down.’ Jeanette glared at her in dismay and resentment, but Katerine was unmoved. ‘Sulk as much as you wish, it changes nothing. You shall leave after dinner today.’ She began issuing orders for Jeanette’s baggage chests to be packed.
Jeanette knew she was being removed from any opportunity to speak with Thomas or members of his retinue. A part of her thought she might as well be dead, even while another part glinted with steely defiance.
When she emerged into the strong June sunlight, escorted by Katerine and Elizabeth and carrying Grippe in her arms, for his hind legs were not good these days, a covered baggage cart stood ready, with an escort of Montagu retainers. Frederick had been taken from the Queen’s mews, hooded, and placed in his travelling crate.
‘Come, make haste,’ Katerine said testily. ‘You are keeping everyone waiting.’
Jeanette immediately made a deliberate show of sauntering just to annoy Katerine, and looked around, hoping against hope that her prayers would be answered, but the courtyard remained empty save for servants going about their business. With a heavy heart she clambered into the cart and settled herself against the cushions, her hairline itchy with sweat in the summer heat. Lady Elizabeth joined her and plumped down opposite her on the interior bench, her weight making the cart lurch. The look she gave Jeanette warned without words what would happen if there was any kind of rebellion or upset.
Jeanette looked away through the arched opening and saw a troop of horsemen trotting into the yard. And there was Thomas, dismounting from a sweating palfrey. She drew a short breath and feasted her gaze on him. His linen shirt was open at the throat, his tunic slung across the saddle, and the sight of the long, lean frame that she had known so intimately, both clothed and naked, sent a pang of desolate longing through her.
He looked up and across at the cart, and their eyes met and held. Raising his right hand to his lips, he kissed his clenched fist and then opened out his palm in her direction. Jeanette had a brief moment to return the gesture before Elizabeth made an angry sound, and levered herself up from her bench to unhook the covering curtain and snatch it over the entrance.
‘Enough of that, my girl,’ she snapped.
Jeanette gave her a contemptuous look and then smiled, knowing how much it would infuriate the old woman.
As the cart rolled out of the compound, she concentrated on the vision of Thomas as she had just seen him, and her determination solidified.
When Thomas and Otto arrived at the family manor of Thorpe, Maude, Lady Holland, was in the yard with the poultry maid, watching the latest batch of pullets. Thomas smiled, watching her shade her eyes and point while the poultry woman nodded in agreement. His mother kept a close eye on the estate finances, and ensured she received good value for every penny she spent.
Hearing the horses, his mother turned, and her face lit up. With a welcoming cry, she hurried over to the sweat-lathered horses and embraced Otto, the first to dismount, calling him her bright-haired, dependable boy. And then she turned to Thomas. Her gaze fixed on the scarring disappearing into his eye patch, and she made a soft sound of distress. ‘Oh, my son! I am glad to have you home and alive, but what have you done – your face!’
‘I didn’t move fast enough, Mama,’ he replied with a shrug, and kissed her cheek before sweeping her into an enormous hug. ‘Fear not, I have healed well and it hasn’t slowed me down.’ Releasing her, he raised his head and, gazing around, let out a deep breath. ‘Ah, it is so good to be home.’
‘And it is so good to see you,’ she said. ‘I would keep you both here all the time if I could!’
Taking his arm, with Otto walking at her other side, she drew them towards the manor.
‘You wouldn’t want that,’ Otto said. ‘We’d be far too much trouble.’
‘Hah, do I not know it, but at least I would keep you from harm.’
Once they had washed away the dust of travel and changed into lighter indoor garb, they sat down in her chamber with a jug of wine and a dish of nutmeg custard tarts.
Maude turned to Thomas again. ‘Now,’ she said briskly, ‘what is all this I hear about you being married to Jeanette of Kent?’
Thomas paused, a tart halfway to his mouth. ‘I do not know what you have heard, Mama,’ he said warily.
‘Your sister told me.’ She gave him a steady, sorrowful look. ‘I wish you had found the grace and courage to tell me, your own mother, yourself.’
Thomas looked abashed. ‘I was going to, but circumstances moved ahead of me. I was hoping I could resolve the matter and present Jeanette to you in all honour as my wife, but the situation has grown more complicated than that.’
His mother gave an exasperated sigh. ‘What were you thinking to become involved with the King’s own cousin – a royal lady?’
‘I wasn’t thinking,’ Thomas said wryly. ‘I expect Isabel has had her full say.’
‘Indeed she has, but I have learned to reserve my judgement, especially where siblings are concerned. Isabel has your best interests at heart, but you do not always agree on what those interests are.’
Thomas said nothing and busied himself eating his tart. He knew his sister only too well.
His mother eyed him sternly. ‘Tell me your version,’ she said. ‘And I want the truth.’
Heat seeped into his face as he was reminded of the many times she had reprimanded him for boyhood misdemeanours. But he had to admit that this was more than a simple prank. Clearing his throat, he said, ‘We came to know each other while I was guarding the Queen and Jeanette was one of her damsels.Her hawk died and I helped her to train her new one . . . and it developed from there – from the time we spent together.’
