Chapter 12 #2
“I cannot say, but you are likely to see her at dinner.”
“I can hardly wait.”
“Why are you so interested in her?” Thomasin asked, trying to balance memories of her own youthful enthusiasm as a seventeen-year-old arrival against what she had learned since.
“Well, she is a queen! Who would not wish to see her?”
“Yes, there is that.”
“And I have heard tales of her beauty. Cecilia spoke of her a few times, how she came from a long stay in France, wearing her elegant dresses, and bewitched the king so that he turned away from his old wife.”
“Hush, you should not speak so unguardedly here, and never say that she has bewitched the king. Such words are dangerous.”
Lettice sulked.
“I mean it; you do not know what you say. A little more caution.”
They turned down a side path and were met by the scent of flowers blooming. Two other women walking together passed them by, bidding them both a good day. As Lettice spun back towards the palace, the sun appeared from behind the clouds and beat down warmly upon their heads.
Thomasin saw two figures appear from the palace entrance, heading out into the privy garden.
Mary Boleyn wore a blue and cream gown, strolling along leisurely as if she was killing time, her face distant but full of repose.
At her side, her companion laughed in response to something she had said and nodded, his shock of fair hair moving in the breeze.
Thomasin’s stomach constricted as she recognised William Hatton, the father of Cecilia’s daughter, and the cause of much trouble to the Marwood family.
“Come, let us take this path,” she suggested to Lettice, hopeful that they could avoid the pair.
“Why so? I want to see that strange dog.” The girl stopped and pointed towards the statue of a greyhound.
“We will return to it, but only come this way now, please. As I ask, Lettice.”
“Why?”
The girl was not stupid and span round at once to see who was there. “Is it the queen?”
“No, but let us go this way, if you ever wish to return to court!”
The note of urgency in her voice made Lettice obey, but she kept her eyes fixed on the gardens, watching all those around them.
“Who was it? You were avoiding someone?”
“Yes, so do not draw attention to us, please. Speak softly.”
Mary and Hatton had reached the central fountain now, pausing to look down into its splashing waters, having not appeared to recognise Thomasin.
“Who is it?” Lettice whispered. “An old enemy?”
Her insistence rankled Thomasin.
“I will tell you when we are safe at home again.”
But Lettice craned her neck, no matter how far away they moved.
“Is it those two men on the bench? Or the man and woman at the fountain? Why won’t you tell me?”
Thomasin pulled her closer. “Listen to yourself. There lies the reason. You are too loud and indiscreet. You must master yourself.”
Lettice sighed. “It isn’t fair. I’m at court for the first time.”
“And your behaviour must suit the location — now hush!”
They had reached the doorway, ready to head inside, when out of the gloom two more figures appeared. At once Thomasin recognised the dark-eyed young man of thirty and his pretty pale wife.
“John! It is you, isn’t it?”
“Thomasin? Thomasin Marwood?”
Her old friend John Dudley shook her by the hand with warmth, before passing her over to Jane to hug.
“I am amazed to find you here,” Jane smiled. “It is so long since we last saw you.”
“What brings you back to court?” asked John.
“An inheritance. My uncle’s former residence in Thames Street, and today Giles is speaking about a property matter with the king.”
“What a good bit of fortune that we also visited today,” said Jane. “I am usually at home, kept busy by the children. We had another son, born last summer. Little Robert.”
“Goodness,” said Thomasin, “that is wonderful news.”
“It makes six sons now,” John added, “quite enough sons for any man.”
Jane smiled. “He is quite the prodigy, walking already, although he is not yet a year old.”
Thomasin wondered about the life of little Robert Dudley and where the future would take him. “This is my sister Lettice,” she offered, remembering the girl at her side. “Lettice, these are my dear friends John and Jane Dudley.”
Lettice dropped the prettiest curtsey, which she had clearly been practising in her chamber.
“It is good to meet another Marwood sister,” said John, taking her hand. “They come highly recommended.”
“Are you going to dine here?” asked Jane. “It is almost time, and I should like to spend more time with you.”
“Yes, indeed we are,” Thomasin assured her, grateful not just for good friends, but for the distraction they provided. “Shall we head inside? Giles is joining us in the hall.”
She cast a look back over her shoulder as they stepped into the cool shade of the corridor.
Mary Boleyn and William Hatton were still standing at the fountain, apparently deep in conversation, but Mary had turned and was directly facing the group as they departed.
Thomasin was unsure whether she had been seen: Mary might have been squinting in the sunlight, or screwing up her face at the sight of her old adversary. Hopefully the former.