Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
In spite of Giles’s reassuring note, Thomasin could not prevent the tension mounting in her stomach as the carriage took her back to Monk’s Place.
The past three days had swept by in a whirl, seeming unreal and much longer than in reality, filled with pearls and feasts, cannons and drama.
Now it felt ages since the morning she had left home, filled with anxiety, trusting Giles to find Mariot and bring her home safely.
She was looking out of the window when the solid stone gateposts appeared ahead, and the horses began to slow, telling her that she was almost there.
Thomasin had never before been so pleased to see Monk’s Place.
Even with its brooding grey frontage, it felt welcoming and warm.
When the carriage drew to a halt, she climbed out to find Giles and Lettice in the hallway, having heard her approach.
She flew into Giles’s arms, before turning to embrace her sister.
“And Mariot?”
Giles nodded. “Safe in the kitchen. Come inside and we will explain all.”
“We have had almost as much excitement as you!” added Lettice. “Do not forget a moment of it, for we want to hear everything!”
They settled in the parlour and Williams brought spiced cakes and wine. Thomasin sighed at the familiar surroundings and placed Lady Elizabeth’s string of black pearls on the table.
Lettice snatched them up eagerly. “These are beautiful! From Lady Boleyn?”
“As her way of thanking me.”
“Those are priceless,” said Giles. “Does the family know she gave them to you?”
Thomasin coloured. “I don’t know, but she knew what she was doing and none of them were particularly interested in taking care of her. I fear she is quite neglected.”
“Well, you are home now, and we are glad for it. We have been feeling a little neglected ourselves.”
“But you have been busy yourselves? Tell me what transpired with Mariot.”
“Well, it is so much more than we feared. The poor girl has had a terrible shock,” said Giles, watching his wife raise her eyebrows. “It was a perfect string of disasters.”
“I am all ears.”
“It started with the smith’s boy, as we know.
He came to the house, delivering the nails that Williams had ordered to repair the side gate, but afterwards, he did not leave but wandered into the kitchen and helped himself to a venison pie that Cook had just taken out of the oven.
Mariot was coming in from the garden and saw him.
He ran, so she gave chase, thinking she could catch him and retrieve the pie.
He ran all the way to the smithy with her in pursuit. ”
“And yet he swore to us that he had not seen her!”
“Indeed he did, unwilling to be caught.”
“What happened next?”
“This was told to us in Mariot’s words. She ran into the yard at the back, thinking to find him there and recover the pie, but she overheard the smith and his men planning an attack upon the queen during the procession.”
“What?” Thomasin sat up.
“Yes, she had wandered into the centre of the attack at St Paul’s that we were warned about.
The smith and his friends were supporters of Queen Catherine and believed Anne to have bewitched the king into putting her aside.
They had listened to Elizabeth Barton and taken her words to heart, thinking the king to be damned and the country with it.
Mariot heard all this, hidden in the yard.
Then the men closed the gates and she was locked inside. ”
“And could not return home to warn us.”
“Exactly. She knew what she had heard and was very frightened. They discovered her there, of course, and realised she had overheard their plans, so they locked her in a woodshed.”
“She must have been there when Williams visited.”
“Yes, but it was far enough from the street that he could not hear her cries.”
“But how did it turn into a ransom?”
“The smith knew he had to keep her locked away until the attack had taken place. He considered dropping her in the river, but realised he might make money from the situation, so he commanded a clerk to write the note.”
“The demand for ten pounds? Because he cannot write himself?”
“That is correct — the last thing that happened before you left here. None of the men in his circle could write, only mark their names with a cross. But the clerk was uneasy about the content, believing it to show that harm was intended, and he came to Monk’s Place soon after and told me that it was the smith who instructed him to write it. ”
“And we went straight to the sheriff,” continued Lettice, excited. “All the men at the smithy were arrested, the plot was discovered and Mariot was set free.”
“Goodness me!” said Thomasin, taking it all in. “I can hardly believe this!”
“It was a good thing that Mariot ran after the pie, otherwise the plot against the queen would have continued. They had bricks and stones ready to throw at her carriage from the upper floors of the cathedral; no doubt she would have been injured before they could all be apprehended.”
“As might I have been,” Thomasin replied, shuddering at the thought of an attack coming from the air. “There was a moment that we feared such an attack, but it turned out to be wafers raining down on us.”
“Wafers?” asked Lettice.
“Yes, as part of the pageants. Just after the gilded Standard!”
“I don’t suppose you saved any?”
“I am sorry, no,” Thomasin smiled. “What a story, though. And thanks to Mariot and the clerk, the plot was foiled.”
“She is quite the heroine,” Giles agreed.
At that moment, there came a knock at the door and Mariot herself appeared, carrying a plate of biscuits. She smiled to see Thomasin had returned.
“My lady! I am so sorry to have been the cause of such trouble.”
“Mariot,” said Thomasin, rising to her feet, “I have been hearing all about your adventures, and the part you played in the prevention of the plot against the queen.”
“It was quite by accident, my lady. I only thought to run after the stolen pie. I didn’t know I was going to get locked up and ransomed.”
“It was that which led directly to the arrest of the smith. You have been very brave, though, locked away like that, not knowing whether you would be found.”
“It was terrifying, my lady, when I knew what they were planning. But all the time I was there I kept thinking how you and my lord would be looking for me, thinking I had run away, causing you more trouble.”
“Your instincts were good,” said Giles. “You ran to get the pie. You could not have known what the smith was planning.”
“Nor did I. I would have let that pie go if I had known. Cook would have had to bake another, but I did bake these biscuits all by myself.” She held out the plate.
They were made into simple round shapes and flavoured with marigolds, which gave them a rich yellow colour.
The tops were dotted with chopped almonds and dusted with sugar.
“These look delicious,” said Thomasin, biting into one.
“I think I have found my talent, if you please,” the girl said humbly. “Cook’s been showing me how to make sweet dishes, and I’m so much better at them. I’ve made an apple pudding for supper too, with raisins and cream.”
“I shall look forward to that! Thank you again, Mariot.”
“You’re not cross then, my lady?”
“Not at all; you have done well. I am pleased to see you back safe and sound.”
The girl curtseyed gratefully and turned to go.
“But don’t forget to leave the plate!”
“Of course, not, no,” she said with a smile, placing it on the table before she left the room.
“Well, we have both foiled plots, then,” said Thomasin, telling them all about the scuffling in the servants’ corridor.
“Two plots that we know of,” said Giles. “I wonder how many more have been quashed behind the scenes. No doubt Cromwell will have been hard at work.”
Thomasin recalled seeing his stony face at the coronation, his eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of trouble.
“Anne’s situation has not made her popular. She already knew that.”
“Still, to go in fear of one’s life each day — I would not choose that path for the world.”
“I wonder,” said Thomasin, with a flash of realisation, “how much choice she really had.”
Giles looked sharply at her, but she had no energy left to elaborate.
“Come,” she said to Lettice, “I wish to take off this headdress and the gown I borrowed from Mary Boleyn. It must be cleaned before it is sent back to Durham Place.”
Lettice’s swift fingers quickly removed the pins that secured the pearl headpiece to Thomasin’s hair and pulled her long chestnut locks out of the golden net. Thomasin shook them out with relief. It felt like a symbolic removal, shedding her responsibility.
“What a weight that was!”
Giles put his hands on her shoulders. “It is good to have you home. The place hasn’t been the same. The court didn’t manage to turn your head, then? You have no desire to remain and watch Anne’s reign play out?”
“I must admit,” she said, laughing at herself, “part of me is a little curious to see how she fares, with all this opposition and the birth of her child soon.”
“When is it due?”
“Late August, early September — it is difficult to be precise, especially with first children. But the taste I have had of court life reminds me again why I left. London is too busy, too full of conflict, the court too glittering and brimming with jealousies.”
“Very well.”
“What?” There was something he was not telling her. “What is it? Giles, do not dare keep any secrets from me now.”
“Oh, it is nothing, nothing at all.”
“Giles!”
“Only a little conversation I had with Nicholas Carew when I was at court.”
“Carew? Anne’s cousin?”
“Is he? I suppose he is. I was waiting to see the king, and we struck up a conversation. It seems we share an interest in birds of prey. Particularly the Eurasian Goshawks, with the striped breast, that is all.”
“It is not all, is it? Come on, I can tell there is more.”
“Nothing really, only that Carew happened to mention that he keeps a very fine aviary in London, and that if I am ever in the city, I would be welcome to sport with him.”
Thomasin nodded. “You and your birds! You are welcome to invite him to Green Hollow any time.”
“It is just something for when we next visit. As we must, by the terms of your uncle’s will, of course.”
Thomasin rolled her eyes. “Come upstairs, Lettice, and help me out of this gown. I will tell you all the details of the coronation. After that, we will start to pack for Suffolk.”