Chapter 15 #2
“That seems reasonable. I wish you to be here ahead of the procession, to help me prepare, to sit with me during it, and at the feast afterwards, and then in the abbey the following day. Does that sound fair?”
“It does, my lady. I am glad we can come to an accord so easily.”
“After my own daughters,” she said, smiling, “you are as smooth as cream.”
They had come to the end of the long gallery and stood looking out of the end window. Its view gave out across the rooves and outhouses of the Durham House complex, over the river itself and into the south bank, a not dissimilar view to that which she was used to.
“Now, have you given any thought to what you will wear?”
Thomasin cringed. “I have my black velvet dress with tawny sleeves — the best I brought with me, as I had no idea I would be staying more than a couple of days, let alone attending a coronation.”
“The same one you wore to the feast?”
“Yes, then this green one is my second best.”
Lady Elizabeth nodded. “We can find something. You look to be about the same size as my Mary; there will be a suitable gown in her wardrobe.”
“I don’t want to put anyone out.”
“Nonsense. You need a gown; we have gowns. Dark red always suited you well, and I will be in a crimson cloak, so we shall compliment each other. Come.”
They reached the chamber door and all seemed quiet within. Lady Elizabeth rapped upon the wood with her knuckles and her husband came to open it.
“All is well.” He turned to Thomasin. “You have had a chance to speak about my commission?”
“She has been so good as to accept,” said Lady Elizabeth, “so now we need to find a suitable dress. Is Mary still there? I want her dark red velvet gown for Lady Waterson to try.”
Thomasin felt her cheeks colour. “I do not want to be any trouble. I can come at a more convenient time.”
“There is little time, especially if alterations need to be made. Now, come with me.”
Thomasin followed Lady Elizabeth into the chamber as instructed.
It was a wide, pleasant room with large windows and a fire burning in the hearth despite the season.
A wide, comfortable chair set with cushions stood abandoned by the flames, presumably where the mistress of the house had been sitting.
Mary stood on the far side, with a brush in her hands, working it through the tangles of Anne’s long dark locks.
Anne looked up at once, staring straight at Thomasin. “I suppose she has come to gloat.”
“Enough of that!” snapped her father. “You will keep a civil tongue while you are under my roof. Lady Waterson is here as my guest and you will show her some respect.”
Anne rose slowly to her feet. “Have you forgotten to whom you are speaking? I might be your daughter, but I am also your queen.”
There was a cold, uncomfortable moment. Sir Thomas looked at her with disappointment. “And yet here you are in your mother’s chamber, fretting and complaining like a fishwife! You might command some queenly respect when you start to behave like one.”
Thomasin expected a tirade of abuse, but instead Anne bit her lip. “Where else might I go? I have no one else.”
Silence fell in the chamber. There was nothing but the sound of the fire crackling.
Thomasin took a deep breath and spoke directly to Anne. “I need to borrow a dress for your coronation. What do you recommend?”
Anne turned her dark eyes upon her as if she had spoken in a foreign language. Hostility sat across her brows.
“I had never thought to attend, but I am to accompany your mother, so it must be something suitable.”
Slowly, Anne turned, stalking straight past Thomasin and out of the door. They heard her footsteps disappear down the corridor.
“She gets worse!” said Mary in despair. “I will fetch you the red velvet, Mother.”
Lady Elizabeth touched Thomasin gently upon the arm. “Thank you for trying.” Then she turned to her husband. “My lord, will you go after her?”
“I will not,” said Sir Thomas. “She needs to master herself. She can go back to court by herself, without us fussing over her constantly.”
“This bodes ill. She must think of the child.”
“We cannot do more for her. She must go back to Henry and apologise.”
“She always was too proud, even as a little girl. Do you recall when she broke the vase and refused to admit it, even though I had seen her?”
“I do.” Sir Thomas nodded, then turned awkwardly to Thomasin. “Lady Waterson, I am too convinced of your kindness to fear this little episode has changed your mind about assisting my wife.”
“Of course it has not,” Thomasin insisted. “I will be at her side throughout the coronation.”
“I thank you for it. There are other reasons why Anne is on edge. Certain whisperings in the city, rumours about the procession through the streets, threats to her person. She will be vulnerable, and with child, as they ride across London.”
“She fears they will boo her,” added Lady Elizabeth. “Just yesterday, a baker in Cheapside was branded for speaking against her. Terrible things they say.”
“She will be surrounded by guards; the usual number for such events has been doubled, and the streets will be railed so the crowds are kept well back, but voices travel, no matter what. She fears the assassin, or at least a stone thrown from a distance. You understand?”
“Of course. I had not thought of that.”
“All the eyes of the world will be upon her, with her swollen belly, and if they do little else but choose to remain silent, it will be hard enough. Anything less than smiling faces and cheers will signal the city’s disapproval.”
“Yes, I see.”
“It is supposed to be the day she has waited for, all these years,” said Lady Elizabeth, sighing, “but I fear she will not enjoy it at all.”
“There was a letter, delivered to Whitehall,” Sir Thomas continued. “Have you heard of this false prophetess, the maid of Kent?”
“I have not, sir.”
“Some village woman claiming to be a nun who has visions of the future. Prophecies and suchlike. She was believed by Warham and Fisher and even More, your friend More! At first she was a mere flatterer, praising the king, so all was well, but then she took against Anne, predicting that the king would die soon after marrying her. Well, a letter containing one of her predictions arrived at court this morning, describing the circle of hell Anne would find herself in. That was why she was seeking Henry out, already in a state of distress, and she found him with this … this other woman!”
“This holy maid is a madwoman,” said Lady Elizabeth, “and should be treated as such. She should not be permitted to remain in London, nor to address the crowds as she does.”
“What is this woman’s name?” Thomasin asked. “So that I may look out for her.”
“Elizabeth Barton, the supposed Holy Maid of Kent. Nothing more than a charlatan. She should be in the Tower!”
“She will be, soon enough,” said Sir Thomas. “It is only on account of her popularity that she retains her liberty. They do not want her arrest to distract from the coronation.”
Mary returned to the chamber with the dark red gown slung over her arm. She looked Thomasin up and down.
“Fitting, isn’t it? You tried out my husband and now you get to wear my gown.”
“Hush now!” Lady Elizabeth shooed her away. “Pay no mind to her; we are all on edge because of this. You see how much your help is needed.”
Thomasin set Mary’s unpleasant words aside and held the gown up against herself. It fell in long, soft folds, with intricate embroidery and gold piping, and rows of tiny glass beads catching the light. Thomasin could never have afforded something so rich and exquisite herself.
“Yes, that will do very well,” said Lady Elizabeth admiringly. “It looks to be the right size, too. Perhaps between us we can salvage something of the day.”
“What is the alternative?” asked her husband. “Throw her to the wolves?”
Lady Elizabeth turned away, but Thomasin saw the look of concern on her face. This situation was going to be far more difficult than she had first thought.
While the carriage carried her the short distance back to Monk’s Place, Thomasin turned over in her mind what she had learned.
Anne was more unpopular than even she had guessed, with very real fears about being exposed to the people when riding through the streets.
And this Holy Maid of Kent was a problem, her prophecies not just treasonous, but causing the king and queen to argue.
She wondered why men she had trusted, Fisher and More, had initially believed her.
Perhaps a letter to More in Chelsea might bring some answers.
There was no doubt she would have to be vigilant, seated at Lady Elizabeth’s side; was this more a matter of protection than companionship?
Lettice hurried out of the main entrance to meet her. “Is she with you? Mariot? Did you find her?”
Giles had followed Lettice outside, and Thomasin’s heart sank as she met his eyes.
“I did not, but I was not looking for her. Do we need to?”
Giles nodded slowly. “She has gone again. Quite deliberately this time, as she had been told most definitely to stay in the kitchen.”
Thomasin climbed down from the carriage. “I assume you have searched the entire place?”
“From top to bottom, and all the garden,” confirmed Lettice. “She has simply vanished into the air.”
“Williams says the only visitor to the house this morning has been a blacksmith’s boy, who dropped in some sharpened knives, just before it was discovered that she was gone.”
“Might she have gone with him? Or perhaps he encouraged her?”
“It is possible.”
Thomasin sighed. “I should have left her in Suffolk. She has proven to be more of a challenge than a blessing. Do we know where this smith is based?”
“In Ironbar Lane. Williams has gone there already.”
“Right. Then we must await him. I am in need of some wine, Giles, if I am to survive this day!”