Chapter 12
TWELVE
As the carriage trundled back along Thames Street, Thomasin thought how good it had been to see her friends again.
They had spent a lovely four days in Chelsea, riding in the fields, walking by the river, and sharing good food and good company, but it was time to return to London.
Thomasin had bid More and Margaret a fond but reluctant farewell, promising to stay closely in touch and visit again as soon as they could.
Now the final arrangements needed to be made to close up Monk’s Place for a while, until such time as the family used it again.
The London street drew them along with its activity, reminding Thomasin of the difference between the quiet life in Chelsea and Suffolk, and the business of court.
As they turned in through the gates of Monk’s Place, and drew up before the front door, Williams was already waiting to meet them.
Thomasin could see at once that something was wrong.
Catching Giles’s eye, she quickly climbed out of the carriage.
“My lord, my lady,” said Williams, bowing. “I regret that there has been a very small fire in the kitchen with no structural damage at all — just a little smoke damage and some to the oven.”
“Goodness me,” said Thomasin. “No one was injured?”
“Thankfully not, but the kitchen is … compromised. We have brought in meats and loaves from the bakehouse for your table tonight.”
Thomasin heard Giles sigh behind her. “How did it start?”
“I believe it was a case of mistiming. A spark from the coals must have caught a loaf, but it was not checked in time.”
“Cook?” asked Giles.
“Not Cook, sir. Cook is very experienced and diligent.”
“Mariot, then?”
Williams did not need to answer.
“She is very inexperienced,” said Thomasin. “Cook is aware that she needs constant supervision.”
“Yes, my lady, but I regret that when Cook accepted the position, it was purely as a cook, not as a supervisor for —” he paused, choosing his words carefully — “a young person.”
Thomasin nodded. Mariot had clearly been giving them some difficulty during her absence.
“Where is the girl?”
“I have set her to polish the cutlery in the study.”
“Very well. Show us the kitchens.”
It was not as bad as Thomasin had feared. Part of the wall was blackened, but the roof of the oven had collapsed inwards and could not be used at all. A brackish, burned smell hung in the air, despite all the windows and doors having been opened.
“We have skillets and the means to boil, but no baking,” clarified Williams. “Soups and stews, fried items, sauces, poached and braised pieces will work.”
“Then all is not lost. Thank you, Williams; how long do you estimate it will take to repair this?”
“I have a connection who has assessed the damage and can begin work in the morning, but the oven will need to be rebuilt from scratch, so a day to build, a day to set.”
“We are to depart for Suffolk soon enough, but I should like to see it completed before then.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Serve us what you can for tonight, and I will make arrangements for tomorrow. I think it is time we took the young lady to dine at court, so this is a good opportunity.”
“Dine at court?” Lettice had been standing behind her all the time, and now her ears pricked up.
“Yes, Lettice, you heard right. We will dine at court tomorrow, while the oven is rebuilt.”
The girl clapped her hands together. “At last! But what shall I wear?”
“You run up and look through your clothes. I will be up in a moment.”
Thomasin found Mariot hunched over the silver, polishing a fork as if she could wear it away to nothing. She looked a pitiful figure, with her hunched shoulders, spinning round at the sound of her mistress, revealing eyes that were red from crying.
“Oh, my lady, I didn’t mean it. I am so sorry — I forgot about the bread. I am a terrible maid; you are right to take me back to my father.”
“Come now, it was not entirely your fault. You were not to know the coals would spark.”
“But if I had been there, I might have stopped it. I was out in the garden instead, picking flowers.”
“Well, again, you could not have known. These things happen and it is being fixed.”
“You aren’t angry?”
“Well, I’m not delighted, Mariot, but I don’t think you did this deliberately.”
“I honestly didn’t. I never would. I am so grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me, I truly am. I wanted to help you, not cause you trouble.”
“You can help by bringing that silver to a lovely shine.”
“I will, my lady, I really will. It’ll be the shiniest silver in all of London.”
Thomasin closed the door quietly behind her as Mariot resumed her enthusiastic rubbing of the fork. She wondered again about the wisdom of her choice. Mariot was a well-meaning girl, with a good heart, but he couldn’t help wondering what fresh disaster awaited them next.
The workmen arrived early the next morning, while they were breaking their fast. Williams had sent out for fresh bread and Cook had managed to boil eggs, so along with some cold cuts of meat and cheese, the household was well enough catered for.
Lettice had chosen her only suitable dress, which was one she had inherited from her mother, made from ash-coloured silk with a pearl-grey trimming, and she looked very well in it.
She had trapped her hair in a lace net and placed a plain French bonnet on top, suddenly transforming from a young girl into a suitable lady of the court.
Thomasin could not help but stare at her. It was like looking at her old self.
“We had better watch you carefully today, or else you will disappear among the ladies and I will not be able to tell you apart from them.”
“Do I look well in this dress?”
“Very well indeed. You must take care not to drop sauces down the front of it, as it is such a delicate colour.”
“If you can manage not to, I won’t either. What will the food be like?”
Thomasin laughed. “You will not be disappointed.”
“Will I see the king and queen?”
“Indeed you will.”
“Is she so very beautiful?”
“Anne? You must be the judge of that.”
“Why don’t you like her?”
The question gave Thomasin pause. She wondered whether to answer directly, with examples of Anne’s spiteful behaviour from the past, and the distress of Queen Catherine, but those things would matter little to Lettice, who would only see the glamour of her gowns and the seduction of her eyes.
“You know I served the old queen. You must make up your own mind about her character, as well as her clothes. Do not confuse the two.”
“But clothes matter so much, don’t they?” Lettice gave a twirl. “Do you think she will notice me?”
“She is the queen. She has much more to think about, so do not go thrusting yourself in her way to get her attention.”
“Would I do that?”
Thomasin had a sense of foreboding, reminded briefly of Cecilia’s antics, but Lettice was very young and excited.
She felt sure the girl would behave herself once they arrived at court; the atmosphere would probably overwhelm her, and they would seat themselves far from the dais and top tables, so as not to be conspicuous.
The pretext for visiting court was for Giles to speak briefly with Henry about granting his sister her estates in the north.
The interview would only last a few minutes, as he explained that she had been denied her modest inheritance from her much older husband by his surviving children.
With any luck, Henry would prove sympathetic and order the widow’s dole to be repaid, so that they might then dine in peace.
They journey to Whitehall was blessedly brief, although Lettice commented on everything she saw out of the window until Thomasin threatened to draw the curtain across it. The girl clambered down in the courtyard, turning around in awe at the white pillars and twisted chimneys.
“Will we have time to see the gardens? I can’t wait after everything you told us.”
Thomasin’s descriptions of her recent visit had been especially full and detailed, but they had served not to satisfy Lettice but to whet her appetite instead.
“Why don’t you two explore the gardens now while I seek out the king?” suggested Giles.
“But I want to see the king, too!”
“You will see him,” Thomasin reassured, “at dinner time. A walk in the gardens should calm your nerves. Giles, we will see you in the great hall shortly.”
Taking Lettice by the arm, Thomasin led her through the courtyard, nodding to the guards at the gate.
The gardens spread out before them in the midday sunshine, as bright and colourful as she had hoped when she first saw them by night.
The rails along the paths gleamed bright emerald-green and white, and the painted statues dazzled in a display of gilded horns, hooves and shields.
Among it all, the flowers were beginning to bloom, on the cusp of bursting into life.
A few other people were strolling about, pausing to watch the fountain or sitting on the benches dotted around the edges, where Thomasin noticed that vines were growing in rows.
She thought that this was where she had recently walked with Sir Thomas.
“This is just how I imagined it,” Lettice smiled, with her eyes wide as moons, “but even better, like a paradise.”
“You see how carefully everything is kept, the paths swept and sanded each morning, the rails and statues polished, the plants clipped close. Imagine how many people are needed to maintain this garden.”
“Just look at that!” Lettice drew them to a halt before a gilded lion, bright in the sun, almost dazzling to the eye.
“Each of these beasts has a meaning. This is the lion of England.”
“And that?” She pointed to a dragon painted red.
“The symbol of Wales, where the Tudor family came from.”
“And that?” She pointed towards a strange, goat-like creature with horns.
“That is a yale, from the Beaufort family, I believe.”
Lettice pulled her forward. “Does the queen walk here? I would, if I was the queen. Do you think she might come out for the air?”