Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Monk’s Place was exactly as Thomasin had left it.
Her carriage was standing in the drive, the grey facade rising up to greet her, keeping its secrets locked within.
Williams was at the door to assist her at once, and the delicious smells coming from the kitchen told her that Cook had been working hard to make her feel welcome.
“My lady, it is a pleasure to see you.”
“All is well, Williams?”
“All is well. No missing servants or unexpected fires.”
Thomasin smiled as she slipped off her cloak. “My work at court is done. You heard of the baby’s safe arrival?”
“All of the city heard,” he confirmed. “The bells would not stop ringing, even if it was a girl!”
“A most welcome and beautiful child,” Thomasin said with a wistful air. “I shall be departing for Suffolk in the morning.”
“Very good. Supper will be served at six, to allow you to have an early night and an early start.”
“That is most thoughtful, Williams. I shall rest in my room a little; it has been a long day.”
After a brief lie-down, Thomasin was up, busy arranging the items she would be taking into Suffolk.
Upon the window seat was a book that Lettice had left behind, bound in red leather.
She picked it up and read the gold lettering on the spine, smiling to find it was a copy of More’s Utopia.
Outside, the sun was setting, casting a golden September light across the garden and touching the river.
The dying rays caught the last of the yellow and pink roses, seemingly setting their cups afire.
The sight drew her outside, through the sweet-scented walks of box and lavender, down to the roses, where she turned to catch the same light upon her face.
For a moment, she stood still, as if she was another fixture in the garden.
The sweet, familiar scents surrounded her, and the salty notes of the river hung above them, so that she breathed in deeply and filled her lungs.
She had escaped. This time tomorrow, she would be with Giles, watching the sunset at Green Hollow.
She dined simply, happy to be alone, on a haunch of venison with prunes, prepared with Cook’s special sauce.
The wine was good, rich and deep, and although it was not court wine, imported from Portugal or Sicily, it tasted all the better for being her own.
Afterwards, there was raspberry syllabub, whipped with fresh cream, and spiced biscuits, brittle and sweet.
Thomasin was about to retire when there came an unexpected knock on the front door.
A moment later, Williams appeared in the dining room.
“Sir Thomas Boleyn, my lady.”
Her heart seemed to contract. She had thought she’d escaped and yet here he was at this late hour, at her door, knowing that apart from the servants, she was in the house alone.
The table was still spread with the remains of her meal.
“I will speak with him in the parlour. Show him in there.”
“Very good, my lady.”
The small parlour at the back of the house was not often used, but it had a pleasant aspect and a door that led out to the gardens. It also had the advantage of being beside the kitchen, so if Thomasin needed to call for help, she knew her voice would be heard. But no, surely she was overreacting?
Sir Thomas looked relieved to see her, stepping forward to greet her as she entered. “My lady…”
She put up a hand to restrain him. “Lady Waterson. What do you mean by calling at my house at this hour? We had already said our goodbyes at Greenwich.”
“You must know?” The sun had set now, and the parlour was lit only by candles and the two torches on the walls. His face looked shadowed, lit only from behind. “That goodbye was not sufficient.”
“My lord, it was enough. What more can you expect?”
“You, Thomasin. You.” He took another step closer. “I have been clear about my feelings for you. There can be no misunderstanding. It was too busy at court for me to be more open, or to speak with you alone, but this is the perfect opportunity. Surely you knew that I would come to you tonight?”
“No, my lord, I did not. Why are you not at court?”
“Come now, a little reluctance is acceptable, given your situation, but you do not intend to hold out against me now?”
“I assure you that I do, my lord. This was not, was never, part of the agreement.”
“No, my feelings have developed since then, but I had hoped it was understood. I was only holding back at court, waiting until the time was right.”
“This is not right. I do not wish you to be here. I am happily married to my husband and do not seek any other.”
“But think of the advancement for your family. Your husband can be found a place in the king’s household, if you just say the word.”
“He would not want it. Court is not the centre of the world. There are plenty who do not long for it like you, who live happy and fulfilled, all the better for being away from it.”
“Surely you do not believe it?”
“This is to your discredit, my lord. I wish you no ill, but I think it is time for you to leave.”
He drew himself up to his full height — still a tall, handsome man for his age, unaccustomed to being denied.
“This is not coyness? You are resolute?”
“I am. I thank you for your attentions, which flatter me in the extreme, but I have no wish to break my marriage vows.”
“Not even for a child, or the sake of your husband’s advancement?”
“No, my lord.”
Sir Thomas sighed. He nodded towards a small black bag on the table which she had not noticed. She understood it was her payment for her services to his family.
“I regret it has come to this, Thomasin,” he said, more softly, “but your refusal only increases my respect for you. I hope this will not colour your intentions to return to court in future.”
“Should I choose to return to court, it will be for other reasons not concerning yourself.”
“And if I should ask you to return, perhaps for Anne’s next lying-in?”
“Then I should consider it, so long as our agreement remained for that alone.”
He turned away, running his hand through his beard. “Is it my age? I am aware I am of an age with your father. Do you see me as too old?”
“My lord, I respect you too much to speak anything but the truth in this matter. It is entirely the reason that I have given. I am true to my husband, nothing more. Your age is of no importance to me.”
“Well, I hope he is as faithful as you deserve.”
Thomasin smarted at this. Sir Thomas had no right to speak of Giles or his impeccable behaviour as a husband. “You should leave, my lord. The hour is late.”
“I shall go to Durham House tonight. You cannot tell me there is any hope? You will not have a change of heart?”
“My lord, please.”
Thomasin thought she might have to call Williams to see Sir Thomas out, but at that moment there was a sound outside the garden door. A figure came crashing into the room, shrouded in darkness.
“Thomasin! I could not let you go; I must speak!”
The figure pulled back a dark hood to reveal Rafe, though Thomasin had already recognised him by his voice. Unaware of the man standing in the corner, and the warning in her eyes, he pressed on.
“I could not let you leave again without telling you of my feelings. Another four years cannot pass without…”
“Good evening, Mr Danvers.”
Rafe stopped at once at the sound of Sir Thomas’s voice, turning to the corner where his master stood. Thomasin felt the ripple of discomfort pass between them.
“My lord, apologies, I had no idea…”
“Clearly not. Should you not be at court with your wife?”
“We have come to Durham Place to collect items for Lady Elizabeth, my lord.”
“Then I suggest you head back there and fulfil your duty.”
Rafe looked wildly from him to Thomasin and back again.
“Was there something else?”
He gaped, caught so off guard that Thomasin almost felt sorry for him.
“It is better that you leave,” she said. “There is nothing between us to discuss. Go now.”
His head hanging in shame, Rafe turned and ran from the house.
“So,” said Sir Thomas, “this is why you send me from you, why you spurn my interest. I should have guessed.”
“No, sir, I am as honourable as I have always been. There was no assignation and nothing between us. You may recall there was once, years ago, before we were married, but that is now gone.”
“You expect me to believe that you did not invite him here? That you have not been waiting for him, inviting him to share your bed tonight?”
“Yes, my lord, I do expect you to believe that. I am true to my husband. Danvers’ appearance was as much a surprise to me as it was to you, and I am sure that he will tell you the same. Did I invite you here, my lord?”
“I confess you did not.”
“Neither did I invite him. Had I known of these intentions, I would have set out for Suffolk sooner and avoided them.”
“So there is nothing between you and Danvers?”
“Nothing but his past regrets.”
“It is late. This has proved a most unsatisfactory night, and I shall be better for removing myself from it.”
“That is wise, my lord.”
He lingered once more at the door, blocking her path, while she silently willed him to leave.
“Do not,” he said, looking closely into her face, “fall into the trap of believing things stay the same forever. Situations change. Your beauty will fade. So will your youth and your chances. Power comes and goes. Later in life, we often wish for the things we once took for granted, the gifts we did not seize, the chances we let slip. Do not fall prey to time, Thomasin.”
And he was gone. She heard Williams bolting the front door.
“My lady? All is well?” he asked, putting his head into the parlour.
“I believe so now, thank you, Williams. I shall retire now, and pray for no more unwelcome visitors.”
The morning dawned fresh and bright. Despite last night’s upsets, Thomasin had slept well. She dressed simply, broke her fast and headed out to her carriage. Williams and Cook were waiting at the front to see her depart.
“It has been a pleasure, my lady,” Cook smiled, pressing a bag into her hands. “Some pies, cheeses, tarts and suckets, and a bottle of ale for the journey.”
“Thank you — this will make the hours more comfortable.”
“All is loaded up,” said Williams. “The coachmen are ready.”
“My humble thanks to you both, for your good skill and kindness this summer.”
“I hope you will return before long,” Williams added, allowing his professional mask to slip for a moment before she climbed into the carriage.
The wheels ground over the cobbles, drawing Thomasin out into the street.
She settled back, breathing a sigh of relief, watching the gates close behind her and the bustle of Thames Street swarm around the carriage.
Just a few hours now, then she would be home.
The familiar journey would take her through villages and fields, into the heart of Suffolk, where Green Hollow and Giles would be waiting.
***