William shrugged. ‘That is up to him. I can only do what is right for my family.’
‘And honourable?’ she bristled.
‘The Prince and the Queen have sent you gifts,’ he said abruptly, to change the subject. ‘See, there is some fine cloth for a gown and trim of ermine fur. Do you want to look?’
‘What good are such gifts when I am locked up?’ she spat. ‘Who is going to see them? Do you think trinkets are going to distract my mind?’
‘But you have them anyway, so why not look?’ he reasoned. ‘I will leave them with you. My mother said you should not have them, but even if you think nothing of me, I stood my ground, and here you are. They also said they were going to put bars at your window, but I refused and said that I would not permit it.’
‘How brave of you,’ she scoffed.
William turned on his heel and left the room – and locked her in.
Jeanette eyed the basket. Doubtless Katerine and Elizabeth had rifled through the contents to ensure no secret messages were hidden amid the gifts. As William had said, there were pieces of ermine that could be used to trim a gown and some velvet in a plush dusky pink. Two embroidered pillow covers with gold laces and a silver dog dish with Edward’s ostrich feather device carved on the base – which made her smile. A crystal phial of rose water and some candles from Joan Bredon, and a beautiful small leather-bound book of psalms. Some of the gifts might have been from Thomas, but since they purported to be from the Queen and court, the Montagu women had left them in situ, although for how long was another matter.
Jeanette picked up the book and unfastened the clasp. The pages were exquisite with illuminated letters and curl-leafed illustrations in the margins. A soft pink rose flowered at a line that was a quotation from the Song of Solomon, and moreover, it was written in English. A closer look revealed that the page had been cleverly inserted later and was not part of the original writing.
Her heart quickened as she read the line again: ‘I am my beloved, and my beloved is mine. Thou art the fairest among women.’
Tears filled her eyes and she cuffed them away, not wanting to damage such a treasure. Turning the pages, sniffing, she discovered that throughout, here and there, the letters had been changed to be slightly enlarged or diminished and she realised that Thomas had in fact sent her a coded message.
She fetched her wax tablet and stylus, and sat at the scribe’s lectern to solve the puzzle, telling the watchful maid that she wanted to practise her letters for something to do. It was only a small book and Thomas’s note was short, but he said that he loved her and that he was working towards her freedom and the moment when they would be able to live as man and wife. She must not give up hope.
She kissed the letter she had spent time copying out, but knew she dared not keep it. The maid would find a way to look at what she had been writing and would tell Katerine or Elizabeth. She committed the words to memory, then smoothed them out to blankness, sending up a prayer as the waxy surface lost its waves of writing and became as still water.
A couple of dreary months later, the air turned clear and mild and the trees were suddenly bright with new green leaves. Everywhere was in bud and leaf as spring took hold and raced forward. Jeanette, out in the courtyard throwing a stick for Nosewyse, wanted to race with it, but her constraints remained. Since Thomas’s surprise visit she had seen no one beyond the manor servants, officials and guards. She was expected to attend to her sewing and pray. They had grudgingly permitted her to read books on household management and the proper ways of wifely behaviour. She had become very well versed in the habits of poultry and their care. She knew that each hen ought to produce a hundred and fifteen eggs a year and raise seven chicks. That for every five hens there should be one cockerel. There were certainly plenty of the latter. At this time of year theirnoise began under her chamber window while the stars were still glimmering in the pre-dawn sky. One, then another and another, until the air was raucous and it was time to start the day – but not before she had read her little psalter and kissed its cover in daily ritual.
A shout came from the manor gates, and the watchman and his boy hurried to swing them open. Jeanette shaded her eyes to watch the visitors arrive, scattering the poultry. The banners of Kent fluttered in the wind, and her brother John rode in astride a dappled palfrey. Her surprise and joy flared, but died on the instant as behind the first riders a decorated long carriage came into view pulled by three sturdy bays.
John dismounted, and going to the carriage, helped their mother out of it. Jeanette swallowed nausea. No one had told her about this visit. Indeed, Katerine had returned to court a fortnight ago when the Queen had retired into confinement to bear her latest child, due in the early summer, and only Elizabeth was in residence.
Nosewyse ran up to her mother and danced at her on his hind legs. Margaret batted him away, which made him leap about even more and set up a shrill yapping. John looked on with amusement, stroking his new soft beard.
‘Sister,’ he said, grinning, ‘I see that nothing has changed.’
‘That shows you how much you know,’ Jeanette retorted.
Before they could embrace, Elizabeth emerged from the manor to greet the visitors. ‘Take that dog and shut him in your chamber,’ she told Jeanette, her expression pinched with annoyance.
‘Shall I shut myself in my chamber too?’ Jeanette asked pertly, but picked up Nosewyse and carried him off.
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘Come,’ she said to Margaret, ‘be welcome,’ and, leading her inside the manor, called for food and drink.
When Jeanette did not return, Elizabeth prepared to send a servant to fetch her.
‘I will go,’ John said quickly, and absconded the hall.
On entering Jeanette’s chamber, John looked around before sitting down on a cushioned bench by the hearth and fussing Nosewyse. ‘You have created a great stir,’ he said, fondling the dog’s coppery ears. ‘In certain places, your name is spoken in a whisper that might as well be a shout.’
‘Is it?’ Jeanette faced him, her arms folded. ‘Well, I am glad, for I have been screaming and screaming to no avail for a very long time.’
‘Is it true then? Did you and Thomas Holland truly make a pact and marry in Flanders?’
‘Do you think I would be putting this on myself if we had not?’ she said irritably. ‘Do you think Thomas would be going to Avignon to prove our case just to spite everyone? What do you think we have to gain from such an endeavour?’
‘I can see that he has plenty to gain,’ John retorted.
‘Oh yes,’ she snapped. ‘He loves living with a threat to his life and reputation hanging over his head. He so enjoys making enemies at court and delights in spending his time scraping together funds to fight the Montagus through the law courts. He stands to lose as much as he gains by continuing the battle.’ She shook her head at her brother in exasperation. ‘I suppose our mother has been pouring her falsehoods in one of your ears, and William in your other. She doesn’t want the scandal, nor the disparagement of having me wed to an ordinary knight and younger son with no title to his name and a disgraced father, when for now I am the Countess of Salisbury in waiting. She will do anything to keep me tied into this marriage – they all will. The lady Elizabeth went to Avignon and perjured herself by swearing I was a virgin on my wedding night, when it couldn’thave been further from the truth. She is trying to have the case transferred to England to be heard too.’
