Thomasin caught her breath as they entered the dining room. With its long table and rows of chairs leading to the fireplace, it had hardly been touched since her last visit four years earlier. Many times she had sat here, eating her uncle’s delicious fare, sharing news, laughing, telling stories, and with such mixed emotions. She had sat here with her old love, Rafe Danvers, believing herself about to wed; here they had awaited news of Cecilia after her disappearance; and here they had worried about her father during his incarceration in the Tower. She had first arrived as an innocent girl, green to the world, her heart full of hope. Tears welled in her eyes at the memory of that girl, but she choked them back fiercely.
“Now this is very grand,” said Lettice, running her hand over the carving on the mantlepiece and inspecting the candlesticks. “I can quite see myself dining here.”
“Well, take a seat. You don’t have to imagine it,” said Giles, gesturing her towards a chair.
“Come and be seated with us,” Thomasin said to Mariot, who hovered in the doorway, unsure exactly what her place was and whether she should seek out the kitchen. “For tonight at least, before we get things settled.”
“If you’re sure, my lady.”
“It’s been a long journey. We’re all tired and hungry. We’ll eat and then retire, and begin things afresh in the morning.”
A rich, meaty stew was brought out in deep bowls, with freshly baked bread and rich, creamy cheese. Thomasin’s stomachrumbled in appreciation, as it had been hours since they had eaten a midday meal at an inn along the route.
“This is most welcome,” said Giles at her side, digging in at once, while Williams filled their wine glasses.
“What will we do tomorrow?” asked Lettice, her energy seemingly undimmed.
Thomasin sighed. “Well, there is much business to attend to in regard to this house. We must pay a visit to Lincoln’s Inn to sign the paperwork, and there are domestic arrangements to be made.”
“But when will we go to court? I can’t wait to see it all.”
Giles shot his wife a look.
“Well, we shall see,” said Thomasin, unwilling to tell her excited sister that she had no plans to visit court at all. “Soon we’ll be off to Chelsea to visit Thomas More and his family. He has three little granddaughters who will be keen to meet you.”
“When will we go? Tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow, but perhaps at the start of next week.”
“And what shall I do until then? Can we visit some of the London shops? I want ribbons and aiglets and cloth of silver.”
“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” counselled Giles. “One day at a time. London has many attractions, so do not fear you will miss out.”
When they had finished their meal, Thomasin rose to her feet, suddenly feeling the fatigue of the journey.
Williams appeared in the doorway. “My lady, I have prepared the main chamber and the two on the east side. Fires have been made up in each. Is there anything else you require?”
“Thank you, that will be all. Except, I might just glance at the garden. Is the south door still unlocked?”
“It is, my lady. I will not lock it until I retire for the night.”
“Thank you, Williams.”
“If you please, my lady,” said Mariot, rising to her feet, “unless there is anything you need me for, may I be excused for the night?”
“Of course.” The girl looked tired. It had been an overwhelming day. “Williams, please take Mariot to her quarters. She will be assisting us in the coming days. It is her first time in London.”
With an understanding nod, the steward led the girl away.
Thomasin held out her hand to Lettice, who rose eagerly to take it, and Giles followed.
“Now, this garden is very special,” Thomasin explained, as they passed through the corridor towards the back of the house. Moonlight streamed in from the windows above, lighting their way, giving the house a dreamy quality. The familiar door stood before them, swinging open gently to the touch and inviting them outside. The garden rolled away in waves of grey and purple, the paths criss-crossing about the central fountain, with beds of roses and box, patches of lawn and sheltered seats. To the right was the colonnaded walkway with its classical statues, which led down towards the little dock where Thomasin knew a small boat was tied up, barely visible among the reeds.
Lettice clapped her hands in delight. “But this is wonderful! Just wonderful, and it’s all yours!”
“Hush!” Said Giles, pressing his finger to his lips. “Do you hear that?”
They listened again in the darkness, and after a moment it came again: the hoot of an owl.
