“These were the jewels of the late Mrs Russell, and here is her prayer book, which your uncle wished you to have. There are furred gowns in the chest at Monk’s Place, which are left to you, Lord Waterson, and a tablet of gold in the chest in the back bedroom. In addition, Lady Waterson, you will receive an annual salary of five pounds, plus the use of the Russell pew in the church of St Mary, Thames Street, and the carriage and horses currently stabled at the house. Now, I think that is all.”
They were coming down the winding staircase out into the courtyard, when the lawyer’s words hit Thomasin.
“An annual income of five pounds, plus the house and all these jewels. I wonder what uncle was thinking?”
“You mean why he left it to you?” said Giles, blinking in the bright outdoor light.
“Well, I suppose so, yes.”
“He knew your mother was already provided for, and you have your life ahead of you. You were always the one who had the position at court, not Cecilia, so I think he wanted to give you the means to be independent if you wished to resume that.”
“Resume my court position, now that Queen Catherine has been sent away?”
Giles shrugged. “Perhaps. There is always Lady Mary.”
Thomasin thought of King Henry’s daughter, whom she had last seen as a child in her mother’s apartments, a melancholy girl wounded by her parents’ quarrels. She must now be seventeen. Thomasin wondered if Mary was at court or if she had returned to Ludlow with her governess Lady Salisbury.
They were heading across the courtyard, towards the central fountain, when Thomasin spotted a figure emerging from the archway opposite. Tall and broad-shouldered, with deft, fluid movements and a well-modelled head covered with greying hair, it was undeniably Sir Thomas Boleyn, promoted to Earl of Wiltshire since Thomasin had last seen him. She flinched at the sight of Anne’s father, who had often made himself unavoidable in the past, but it was too late. They were exposed in the middle of the courtyard and Sir Thomas had spotted them, preparing to pounce as an eagle upon its prey.
“Thomasin Marwood?” His deep, rich voice made her name sound sarcastic. “Well, it is many years since I have seen you.”
He stopped on the path before them, blocking their way, a favourite move often used by the family.
“Lady Waterson,” she replied coldly.
“Lady Waterson, yes, I heard of your marriage,” he said, scrutinising her face, before turning to Giles. “And you, I presume, are the husband.”
Giles refused to rise to the bait. “Lord Waterson. And who may you be?”
Sir Thomas laughed, knowing that Giles was fully aware of who he was. The father of the new queen needed no introduction.
“What business brings you to Lincoln’s Inn?”
“An inheritance from my uncle.”
“Ah, I am sorry for your loss. What form did it take? A mule? A pair of shoes?” His lips twisted into a wry smile.
“A substantial property and income,” interjected Giles. “Now, if you will please excuse us, good day to you, sir.”
He took Thomasin by the arm and plunged forward so that Sir Thomas had to step aside to let them pass. Thomasin could feel the tension in his hand as he steered her out towards their carriage, his face set.
“Odious man.”
“His daughter is the queen; we should have a care. They are crowning her soon, I think.”
News had spread even into Suffolk about Anne Boleyn’s pregnancy and the place she occupied at Henry’s side on state occasions. They had been married in secret, even though there had been no resolution to his first marriage, the old queen merely cast out into the countryside. Thomasin knew that Catherine must have heard about Anne’s success. She could only wish that the news had not caused her too much pain. Prayer was what had saved Catherine before; her former maid knew that she would be spending long hours on bended knee, dedicating her meagre days to God.
“We shall be back at Green Hollow before then,” Thomasin continued. “I cannot bear the thought of it, to be honest.”
“We will get this business conducted soon. None of the conditions Brown mentioned are insurmountable. Your parents could use Monk’s Place also, and Cecilia could bring her little girl Rose to play in the garden — Ellen and Harry too, with Benedict. The Mores, Ropers and Dudleys will always have an invitation, so there will always be friends and family in the house.”
“Yes,” Thomasin said, smiling. “There will be.”
“Now, let us return and see what Lettice makes of the garden in daylight. Then there are the papers to go through in your uncle’s study. It should take a day or two, little more.”
“You underestimate how much uncle loved to write letters!”
“Well, the sooner we start, the sooner we can leave.”
