Thomasin held her ground. “I was due to return to Suffolk tomorrow. I wish to firm up my plans.”
At that moment, a crash came from above as if a chair had been knocked over.
Sir Thomas turned and hurried back up the stairs, Thomasin seizing the chance to follow.
The upstairs corridor was lit again with torches, but the doors to the chamber ahead stood open, and raised voices reached them more clearly. Thomasin recognised the first voice as Mary Boleyn’s.
“You don’t need to throw things around. How does it help your cause to destroy Mother’s room?”
“I was angry!” replied Anne, an edge of panic to her voice. “What if I miscarry? And he puts me aside — into a nunnery or worse?”
“Please,” muttered their mother, “calm yourselves, both of you.”
“He was kissing her hand,” Anne continued. “He had it raised to his lips, then dropped it as soon as he saw me. I’m no fool. I know what he is like.”
“Are you sure it was not just an innocent greeting?” asked Mary.
“I know him well enough. You didn’t see his face. There was something devious and secret about it.”
“Hush,” said Lady Elizabeth, “you should not speak so.”
On the landing outside, Sir Thomas forced a cough to make the women inside aware of his presence. Having insisted on being present, Thomasin now felt prickles of discomfort creeping across her body.
“I should go,” she whispered to Sir Thomas, but he held up his hand to stop her. It was too late to leave now; she was in this for better or worse.
“Who is there?” Anne stepped through the doorway, her eyes blazing, her hair wild after she had discarded her headdress. With one hand, she cradled her swollen belly.
“Calm yourself,” said her father. “If you let this matter get out of hand, you will harm yourself and the child.”
But Anne’s black eyes roamed over his shoulder. The expression on her face as she recognised Thomasin was pure fire. “What in God’s name is she doing here?”
“Lady Waterson has very kindly come to accept my invitation to act as companion to your mother during the coronation. Although I am now sure she is questioning that decision, having witnessed what sort of a household we are.”
Thomasin said nothing. She noted how the statement of her acceptance was casually inserted into his sentence.
Anne drew in a deep breath and turned back into her mother’s room.
“Wait here,” said Sir Thomas, following his daughter inside and closing the door.
After that, snatches of their words reached Thomasin through the solid oak panel. Henry’s lips on another woman’s hands; his disparaging words to Anne; her fiery retort before she stormed out of the palace and returned to her parents; her fears for her marriage; her betrayal; her future. She heard it all with littlepleasure but with a great deal of wonder, thinking of Catherine’s suffering and the cruelty she had observed in the king over those years. Catherine had been nothing but a model of goodness and decorum, and yet Henry had deceived her so often and renounced her so harshly. Yet it had been less than a year since he’d married Anne, and she was carrying his heir. Had it really taken the king so little time to tire of her?
Another crash came from within the room, followed by Sir Thomas’s firm but low tones.
“No,” cried Anne, “I cannot!”
“You are queen. This is what you wanted. This is but a momentary squabble; it will pass.”
“But he spoke to me so harshly. You did not hear him. He was brutal. And I, his wife! All the promises he made me! All those letters, with their soft words. Now he has me where he wants me, a child in my belly, he thinks he can treat me as he pleases.”
“Hush, hush!”
Mary Boleyn was of a mind with Thomasin. “Remember how he treated me. And Catherine. He speaks as he wishes and it is not for us to answer back. That is the man you wanted, sister.”
Silence followed. Thomasin could imagine Anne’s speechless fury at being told that she must bite her tongue.
“You either want to be queen or you don’t,” Mary continued. “Being queen means you must smile when he curses you, curtsey when he ignores you, love with all your heart when he loathes you, and keep your dignity.”
“Well, that did not work out so well for you, did it?”
