Chapter 22 #2
“I was also thinking, Mariot, that it is about time you visited your father. This Sunday coming, you may have a half-day to return home if you wish, or to visit any other friends and relatives you might have in the village.”
The girl fell silent. Thomasin noticed how her head hung down.
“Only if you wish it, that is. I am sure Cook will have a long list of jobs that need doing otherwise.”
Mariot nodded. “I will give her notice, on the Saturday, if I choose to go.”
“You are reluctant?”
“It’s just … this world is so different. I’ve finally adjusted. I don’t know about going home and seeing him, and becoming the daughter again, even for an afternoon.”
“I do understand. You can be your own person here. But do remember all that your father has done for you throughout your life, and the love he has for you. It is your choice, Mariot. If you do not go this Sunday, it does not mean you will never go. There will be other Sundays.”
“Thank you for being such a kind mistress to me, my lady.”
Thomasin smiled. “I am glad things have worked out so well for us both. We certainly benefit in this house from your presence.”
“I am preparing a special summer pudding for the feast of St John the Baptist.”
“We shall look forward to it. We usually have a small bonfire that night, as custom demands, and I hope you will join us for it, as we usually have the whole household outside on that occasion.”
“Indeed I will, my lady, with pleasure.”
The bonfire passed and the month of July arrived with a few sharp showers.
The stream in the garden flooded its banks and Thomasin supervised her gardeners in the operation to clean it up and save the nearby drenched plants.
Around Green Hollow, the fields were full to bursting and the men in the village were called in with their scythes to cut down the wheat and barley.
In the kitchen garden, an abundance of strawberries appeared and were used in tarts, syllabubs and syrups.
Thomasin also rode out to Dedham market as she had planned, although without Lettice, and paid a visit to Mother Lacey, who lived in a small cottage on the edge of the village.
She returned with a bag of new herbs to be chopped and boiled into a drink, and some to be rubbed over her belly and strewn across her bed, which Thomasin did diligently, adding her fervent prayers in the chapel.
Yet there was no child again that month.
In the later days of July, as the swallows and swifts looped their path overhead, a messenger brought a letter to Green Hollow.
Mariot brought it out into the garden, where Thomasin was snipping the heads off the dead roses with a pair of little shears.
She put down her tool, recognising the seal at once.
Catherine of Aragon had written a few lines from her current residence at Buckden Towers. Her hand looked shaky, although she still went to some effort to make the writing elegant and neat.
My dearest Lady Waterson,
I cannot tell you again how much pleasure it gives me to write to you under that name, knowing from your last letter how happy you are in your marriage.
I am presently still at Buckden, although there is some talk of moving me again, which prospect I relish not.
My health is not what it used to be, but with God’s continual grace, I remain his servant upon this earth.
I pray daily for the king’s good health and the return of his affections for me.
Your letters cheer me much. Forgive me for writing less often than I would wish.
I often reminisce with Maria about happier days, and think of you with great fondness.
My very best wishes for your continuing happiness and good health. God bless you, Thomasin.
Your friend, Catherine
Thomasin wiped away a tear. At court, it had been said that the lady was no longer permitted to refer to herself as queen, but only by her former title, Dowager Princess of Wales.
Here, Catherine had neatly circumvented the problem with her simple warmth and dignity.
It made Thomasin realise again how much she missed her former mistress and queen, and reminded her to add Catherine to her prayers that night, and every night.
At least she had her good friend Maria Willoughby at her side, which was some little comfort.
It was a week into August when Thomasin was walking from the chapel along the tree-lined avenue that led up to the house.
The day was surprisingly cool and the air was fresh with rain that had fallen overnight.
She had reached the front steps of the house when she heard the sound of a horseman on the road, and turned to see a man entering their gates while two others waited outside.
He spurred his horse on, into the grounds of Green Hollow, straight in her direction, his purpose unknown.
Thomasin wondered at his approach, knowing that Giles was out in the field with his falcons, not close but within reach.
The visitor was clearly a man of status, she could see as he drew clearer, with his horse draped in matching black velvet and touches of gold glinting in the daylight.
And then she recognised him. Shock and dread seized her at the sight of his face, because the arrival of Sir Thomas Boleyn in Suffolk could not be good news for her.
Thomasin curtseyed as he dismounted, her mind reeling with questions.
“My lady,” he said, advancing up the steps towards her. “Forgive this intrusion. I was travelling back from my estate in Norfolk and passed this way.”
“You are welcome,” she replied, conscious of the respect due to his position. “Come inside and take some refreshment. Send your men round to the kitchen for the same.”
“You are most gracious.”
A servant came round to take the horse and Thomasin led him inside.
“This is a very pleasant estate you have,” he said, looking around the entrance hall. “Well situated, quiet and spacious. The house is very well appointed.”
“Yes,” she replied, “we are happy here. My lord will be here shortly.”
She knew that word would spread from the stables to the kitchens and one of the boys would run over to fetch Giles. Pausing at the oriel window, she indicated the seats.
“Will you be seated?”
“If you don’t mind,” he said, “I have been in the saddle for hours, so I would rather stretch my legs. Would you be inclined to show me the garden you spoke of so proudly at Whitehall?”
“Of course. Please, follow me.”
She led him outside onto the steps, where the garden stretched away from them. Sir Thomas stopped and breathed in.
“Ah, now this was worth the ride alone.”
“Shall we?” Thomasin waved her hand in the direction of the rose walk.
“No doubt you are wondering at my sudden appearance,” he began at length. “I confess it was not so much coincidence as design. I was needed in Norfolk, to oversee some renovations at Blickling, as we are rarely ever there now, but I had already resolved to call in to see you before I left London.”
“Oh?”
“I find myself again in need of your assistance.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to stop there, not to voice his request, but to mount his horse again and ride away, but their respective social positions would not allow it.
“I am about to ask too much of you, but in truth, there is no one else I would ask, for the sake of your good qualities. Thomasin, the last time you were in London I was well placed to observe your calm, rational good sense, your sensible head in a crisis, and your gentle compassion towards my wife. Now I dare to ask for those same qualities in the service of my daughter. Anne is due to enter her confinement in two weeks. She has midwives and women about her, but none whose judgement I trust as much as yours.”
Thomasin waited.
“Anne is unsettled. You saw what she was like before the coronation, and now her fears are getting the better of her. Henry is —” he paused, seeking the best word — “distracted. His attention wanders and she feels this most keenly. To add to her fear of the impending confinement, there are certain rumours in the city, unpleasant predictions. We think they’re coming from supporters of the maid Barton, but it is sending Anne into a state most undesirous, considering her position.
Lady Waterson, Thomasin…” He stopped, forcing her to do the same and face him.
“I will offer any incentive you wish to name, should you agree to be Anne’s companion in these weeks ahead, to be with her in her confinement, at her side until the child is safely delivered. ”
Thomasin thought of the herbs she had strewn across her bed in hope. “I know nothing of childbirth, sir.”
“You need not. That is why her midwives will be present. I want you for your good sense and reason. Will you consider it?”
Thomasin remained silent. Every part of her wanted to refuse his request. Although she had felt pity for Anne upon her last visit, the memories of her former cruelty remained, especially the way she had treated her rival queen.
“I see you are hesitant. Reluctant, perhaps.”
“I had not intended to go again to court, my lord.”
“No, I understand that. This would be a personal favour to myself, Thomasin, and to the king.”
“The king?”
“Yes. He is aware of my request. He adds his pleas to mine.”
She dug the toes of her boot into the ground. A plea from the king was not to be refused and Sir Thomas knew it. It was practically a command. She felt a wave of frustration rise within her.
“This is not my wish, sir.”
“I know that. But it might be for three weeks, or a month at most. The birth of a future king is at stake here, Thomasin!”
“But he will be born, whether I am there or not!”
“I left Anne in a fevered condition. Her fears and fancies will put the child at risk, and nothing seems to calm her.”
“Why do you think she will listen to me? She has always loathed me.”
“She is a changed woman. You saw her at the coronation. She is worse than that, tormenting herself with fears. She spoke recently of the kindness you showed to her mother.”
Thomasin was caught. She could feel the net drawing in around her.
“I know this is a task you relish not. I promise I will make it worth your while.”
“Look around you. I have all that I desire, sir.”
“Do you? There is nothing in this world that you lack?”
She was silent again and turned half away.
Sir Thomas took a step closer and dropped his voice. “How long have you been wed now? Four years and no child? It must be a source of sorrow. In London, I can arrange for you to see the best physicians, herbalists, astrologers.”
“This is too much, sir!”
“Tell me I am wrong.”
Thomasin could not reply.
“I have hit home.” He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away. “I did not mean to hurt your feelings, truly, but I can help you. We can help each other. Just think how much the king and queen, and this future king, would be in your debt.”
“I wish for no man to be in my debt.”
“No one is so untouchable that they need wave away such a connection.”
Thomasin turned to see Giles heading towards them across the field.
“Your husband comes. Surely he will see the sense of my request?”
“Why? Because he is a man?”
“Because he is a man of good judgement, having taken you for his wife.”
Giles reached them, slightly pink-cheeked from having hurried. He looked at Thomasin, masking his surprise, then back at Sir Thomas. “My lord, what an unexpected visit this is. To what do we owe this honour?”
“I am minded to drink a little wine. Let us retire inside your good house and I will explain everything.”