“He is quite old enough, when I think of what I had already undertaken by the time I was his age.”
“But what of Anne?” asked Thomasin, rapidly changing the subject to a positive one. “You must be proud. She has achieved great heights.”
“An overnight queen,” he said, sighing, “only seven years in the making. So long as her son is born healthy, all will be well.”
“Her son?”
“All the astrologers predict it. They will call him Henry, of course. Although she must curb her tongue. She has grown too sharp with her power; she has angered Norfolk in the process so that he is often away from court when he should be her ally. She is not so high that she can afford to make enemies.”
Thomasin frowned, her mind circling around Sir Thomas’s doubts, although she did not feel it was her place to add to them.
“I suppose I should return to Lady Elizabeth. I am to accompany her back to Durham Place.”
Her companion seemed to mentally pull himself together. “Yes, yes, of course. She no longer confides in me. That part of things is gone.”
Again, Thomasin felt the intimacy of this comment and recoiled a little from him. When he started to head down the path, she hurried to match his pace, keen to end the conversation.
They walked swiftly past the fountain, just as George threw back his head and roared with laughter at some comment made by his circle. Thomasin heard Sir Thomas tut under his breath and he tightened his grip on her arm. As they reached the passageway to re-enter the palace, the scents of roasted meat rushed out, and the bright lights of the hall seemed to invite Thomasin to stay, sheltered by incomparable royal warmth and luxury. For a moment, the sensation rushed over her that she had missed such places as this, and she might be happy here again. But the idea was fleeting, did not root, and she quickly chased it away, surprised at herself.
Before they entered, she paused, looking round at the garden again. Dusk was deepening and the figures moving outside were all washed to a navy blue, until they were caught in the torchlight and briefly returned to life. But at the far end — was that a lone figure, in black robes? Her stomach flipped. Was there something familiar about him, with the longer hair, the broad shoulders, that way of leaning? It was too dark to see, but she could have sworn he was watching them. She almost said his name.
“It was most pleasant to speak with you again, Thomasin,” said Lord Thomas, leading her inside. “Again, I offer you my gratitude for your kindness.”
Wasn’t it strange, Thomasin thought, that Sir Thomas had not mentioned him either? This man of the shadows, who used to be in his employment, who used to follow him about, doing his bidding? Where was he now?
Henry, Anne and their party had long since departed, leaving the dais to be cleared by servers. The hall was emptying, but Lady Elizabeth remained where they had left her, at the top table, although she now had the companionship of a small man dressed in dark robes. As she approached, Thomasin realised it was the Imperial Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys. He turned as they moved towards him, his smooth features resolving themselves into a greeting, and he rose to his feet, being much shorter than Thomasin anticipated.
“My lord,” he said, bowing to Sir Thomas. He then made as if to depart.
“Do wait,” said Lady Elizabeth. “I wish you to meet dear Lady Waterson — Thomasin Marwood, as was. She served the former Queen Catherine.”
A change came over Chapuys’ face. Beside her, Thomasin was aware of Sir Thomas excusing himself and stalking away.
Chapuys waited until Sir Thomas was out of earshot, then took Thomasin’s hand enthusiastically. “Any friend of the queen is a friend of mine. It is good to have allies in this place where there is so much hostility to my cause.” His tones were clipped, his vowels almost staccato.
“Thomasin was a particular favourite of Catherine’s,” added Lady Elizabeth, her perception and faculties nowhere near as faulty as her husband had presented them. “I know that she trusted Thomasin particularly.”
“Then you have the gratitude of the Empire,” said Chapuys, his eyes darting about. “Have you any communications still with that royal lady?”
“Only the occasional letter, and I have sent her some warm clothes and food from time to time, but I am mostly in Suffolk now.”
“We must do what we can to bring comfort to her in this time of trial. I am doing all I can to plead her case, and that of the Princess Mary, so that they might at least be allowed to visit each other.”
“Are they not permitted that?” asked Thomasin, a thorn lodging itself in her heart when she thought of the fierce love that Catherine had borne for her daughter.
“Not at present.” The ambassador curled his lip, as if he would speak more if it were not for the presence of the new queen’s mother.
Lady Elizabeth rose slowly to her feet. “It is late. I must be getting back.”
Chapuys bowed. “A pleasure, my lady. Lady Waterson, I hope we might meet again, speak of the dear queen, perhaps somewhere a little more private.”
Thomasin had not intended to be drawn into the old factions once more, nor to engage in court intrigue, no matter how strong her private sympathies for Catherine might be.
“I’m afraid I will not be at court much longer. I intend to visit M…” She paused before she pronounced his name, recalling how More was out of favour with Henry. “I shall visit some friends in Chelsea, and soon after I shall be returning to Suffolk.”
“A shame,” said Chapuys. “I need all the friends I can get here. I bid you a good night.”
Lady Elizabeth watched him go, then gestured to Thomasin. “To my carriage. Back to Durham Place; I have drunk too much rich wine and eaten too much cream. I am already suffering for it.”
