Thomasin sighed. “You know I was in the household of the real queen, Queen Catherine, not so long ago.”
“Yes, but she is gone now, isn’t she? She is old and can’t bear any more children, so she’s been sent into the country. I have heard Anne is quite beautiful and clever.”
Giles sensed Thomasin stiffening. “Come, Lettice, we shall leave her alone to read her letter.”
“What did I say? Can’t I read it too?”
“Come inside,” he said, extending his arm for her to take. “It is time to prepare for dinner.”
Lettice allowed herself to be led inside, dragging her sullen feet. At the house door, she turned and cast Thomasin a baleful look.
Thomasin waited until they had disappeared inside the house, then walked a little way down the path, between the roses, to a spot overlooking the lawn, where she broke the seal. Theimprinted letter B, decorated with curlicues, broke right down the middle.
The folded paper only contained a few lines. She didn’t recognise the hand.
I was pleased to learn from my lord that you have returned to London. I would be glad if you would call on me at Durham House tomorrow morning, or at your earliest convenience thereafter.
Lady Elizabeth Boleyn.
EIGHT
Thomasin climbed reluctantly out of the carriage and smoothed down the skirts of her black dress with the tawny sleeves. She was glad she’d brought it in the end, having only packed for a week, as it was the only thing in her trunk that befitted a visit to the new queen’s mother. Yet she would rather be any place than here.
Durham Place was built in the same vein as Monk’s Place, although on a much larger scale, having also sheltered a religious community in the past. It loomed up darkly with huge grey stones, and little ornamentation to soften its exterior. Thomasin recalled Catherine of Aragon speaking of the place once, having lived there as a young widow after the death of her first husband, Prince Arthur. How different things might have been, Thomasin had thought at the time, if that young man had lived.
She had argued against complying with Lady Elizabeth’s wishes, so much that she and Giles had almost quarrelled about it. The last thing she wanted was to be drawn back into the circle of that family, with everything that had passed between them, not least to avoid any association with Rafe Danvers again. Thomasin had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that they might slip in and out of London without seeing anyone, but their chance encounter with Sir Thomas had made that impossible. Giles had understood her feelings, but explained that to ignore Lady Elizabeth’s letter would be taken as a slight upon what had become the most powerful family in the country, barring the Tudors themselves. One visit, he’d told her, just the one, then they might dash back to Suffolk again and forget all about the Boleyns.
Lady Elizabeth had always been kind to her, Thomasin mused, as a footman showed her into the great hall. She was the one member of the family with whom Thomasin had shared some sort of connection, after they had met at Hever Castle. And she had always felt a little pity for George Boleyn’s wife, Lady Jane, with her struggles to conceive a child, but Sir Thomas, Anne, her sister Mary, and even George himself had proved themselves to be vain, arrogant and unpleasant.
“My dear?”
Lady Elizabeth appeared in the archway at the end of the hall. She looked smaller than Thomasin recalled, draped in her long furs and leaning heavily on a stick. The last time they’d met, Thomasin had been aware of her frailty and the cough that had been troubling her; there had even been the suggestion that her mind had been wandering.
“How lovely it is to see you.”
Thomasin crossed the hall to meet her hostess, whose movements were slow and laboured. She dropped a diplomatic curtsey.
“Lady Boleyn.”
“Ah, how well you look. Married and happy, I daresay. Let me look at you.” She stretched a lined hand out to take one of Thomasin’s and gave her an appreciative glance. “Any babies yet?”
Thomasin flushed.
The old woman patted her arm. “Plenty of time, but don’t wait. Come, let us sit.”
She led her guest towards the chairs that were placed in the oriel window and a servant brought wine.
“Now, you mustn’t mind me, the aches and pains have got to me now, at my age! I want to hear all about you. How have you come to be back in London again? Not bored of country life?”
“Not at all. We have come to wind up my uncle’s estates. I find that he has left me Monk’s Place, which came as a surprise.”
“A generous gift.”
“Yes,” admitted Thomasin, seeing it that way for the first time. “It is.”
“And you will live there?”
“Oh no, not permanently. We will visit from time to time and other family members will use it too.”
