“Then the Emperor and France will be clamouring for an alliance, and I shall get to choose.”
“The world will be at your feet, my lord.”
Thomasin turned away from Cromwell’s oily words. Anne lay in her chamber, calmer this morning, awaiting the arrival of her son. Such a heavy fate to place upon the shoulders of an infant not yet born, Thomasin thought. This prince would be the answer to England’s prayers, the divine approval that would end Henry’s long battle with his conscience and God. All those around the king promised the same.
Rafe and Isabel were announced by the guard at the door. Thomasin sunk down into her window seat as they approached Henry, bowing low, unaware of the conversation they had just walked into. Rafe was looking tired, Thomasin thought; from a distance his face seemed pale, his shoulders sloping, more careworn. No doubt they had been in the countryside, visiting their little son after the coronation, before returning to be present for Anne’s imminent delivery. A brief question flashedunbidden into Thomasin’s mind: was the child dark like his father or fair like his mother?
“Welcome to court,” said the king, casting off his former mood. “Your arrival comes at a time of waiting; I hope you are both of good patience.”
“Excellent patience, my lord,” replied Rafe, rising to his feet, “for such an event as this. To help while away the time, we have sent a freshly killed buck down to the larder, along with two barrels of Cyprus wine.”
“It is well received,” said Henry, “and I hope you will enjoy partaking of it at our table.”
“My lady also has tokens and gifts for the queen,” said Rafe, nodding towards Isabel. “May she be conducted to her chamber?”
Henry turned. There were other women present in the chamber, some of the older Boleyn aunts and ladies of the court, but his eyes alighted upon Thomasin, who had escaped for a brief while after having spent the morning reading to Anne from Erasmus’s work on the New Testament. She knew what was coming.
“Mistress Waterson?”
Thomasin jumped up from her seat and made a curtsey.
“Conduct Mr and Mrs Danvers to the queen.”
Having been unaware of her presence before, Rafe turned his chestnut eyes upon her in surprise, but she deliberately ignored him, looking instead to Isabel.
“Of course.” She bowed her head, waiting for them to reach her. “This way, please.”
Isabel fell into step with her as they left the chamber, with Rafe following behind.
“I had not thought to see you here,” said Isabel with a smile, “but it is a pleasure. Will you be attending the queen during her lying-in?”
“Yes, I have been brought here for that purpose alone.”
“Oh, you are not in her household now?”
“No, only until the child is safely delivered.”
“Then perhaps I have a chance,” she said innocently. “Rafe has been trying to get me a permanent position, but it seems there are so many women around her now that she does not need any additional ones.”
Thomasin felt Rafe’s presence, silent behind them.
“But I also have my son to think of,” added Isabel, “so it is not so great a trial. Perhaps when he is a little older, I might find a position.”
“How old is he?”
“Just two. Still in the nursery.”
They rounded a corner and turned into the corridor leading to Anne’s apartments.
“Is the queen close yet?” asked Isabel. “Has she experienced any twinges?”
“Nothing that I am aware of, and I was with her all morning.” Thomasin suddenly thought of how little she knew about the physical aspect of delivering a child.
“When does she plan to formally retire?”
“Very soon, I believe. The sooner the better.”
“Yes, this is the time of trial. I found it almost worse than the actual delivery.”
