SEVEN
Catherine was waiting for Thomasin in the window alcove of her antechamber. Her anxiety was plain as she wrung her small, jewelled hands together, rising to her feet as her gentlewoman approached.
Thomasin curtseyed low. “My lady, be not alarmed. There was little of import today beyond the swearing of oaths and laying out of procedures. Nothing was discussed touching your marriage, only the date that you would be summoned to the court, on the eighteenth of June. The clerks will visit you soon, to give you formal notification, but that was the sum of it.”
Catherine held out a hand to her, and Thomasin took it.
“You are the most faithful and true of ladies, Thomasin Marwood. Take this as thanks for your pains.” She held out a gold coin.
“Oh, I did not expect this. I truly did not; I did it in your service.”
“But it is my pleasure to reward you. Put it aside for your wedding day.”
Thomasin blushed and the queen smiled.
“Perhaps you already have someone in mind. You have visitors, Thomasin, in my main chamber. They came to pay their respects to me, but have lingered in their desire to see you, I believe.”
“Me?”
“You are the only Thomasin in my household. They asked after you, quite boldly. Two young men; I could hardly decide which was more handsome. Go, go — they are still waiting.”
“First I must give you this, my lady.” Thomasin held out the silver cross. “And the most devoted love from your servant and friend, Sir Thomas More.”
Catherine took it and smiled. “God bless dear Sir Thomas.”
“May I do anything more for you, my lady?”
“Send Maria out to me, but otherwise, go!” The queen waved her hand and in a flash of diamonds and rubies, Thomasin was dismissed.
Thomasin approached the door in a sudden fever of excitement. Had Rafe come here, to find her? Surely he must be intending to seek the queen’s approval for their match, or else he would not have been so direct. Did the Boleyns know he was here?
The sound of music and laughter reached her from beyond the doors.
The guards in green livery threw the heavy wooden panels open to reveal a jolly scene, of musicians playing, Ellen singing and little Mary Willoughby walking through dance steps with their encouragement.
She looked about wildly, seeking Rafe, but instead, standing before the fire, clapping in time with the rhythm, stood Sir Giles Waterson, resplendent in red and yellow velvet.
Thomasin struggled to conceal the surprise on her face, and perhaps also a little disappointment.
“Here she is, just in time!” Giles cried, his face lighting up. “We had begun to despair that you had fallen into the Fleet and been carried out to sea!”
“And we would have to take a Spanish ship and sail after you, all the way to the New World,” added little Catherine, “and fight monkeys and bears to get you back!”
Thomasin opened her eyes wide at the child. “That does sound like an adventure. Unfortunately, I was only at Blackfriars, and survived the crossing of the bridge.”
Mary, Lady Essex, called for wine, asking Thomasin a hundred questions with her eyes.
“Yes, all is well,” Thomasin reassured her, “nothing to fear.”
“For now,” said Mary, handing her a glass. “You will need this, after listening to all that talk!”
Thomasin sipped her wine eagerly, letting the spices roll across her tongue.
Then, across the room, she spotted Ellen sitting with the second of the two gentlemen the queen had mentioned.
He was a man in his thirties, with flecks of grey at his temples, a kindly face and twinkling eyes, but what Thomasin noticed most was the way he was smiling at Ellen. And the way she smiled back at him.
As if her cousin could feel her eyes upon her, Ellen turned and saw Thomasin watching them. Beckoning Thomasin over, Ellen gestured to the man at her side.
“Cousin, this is Sir Henry Letchmere from Kent. He came with Sir Giles.”
Thomasin dropped a curtsey. “Very pleased to meet you, my lord.”
“And I likewise. Please call me Harry.” He rose and gave a short bow. He stood at about her height in grey and silver, and there was a pleasant air about him.
“Your cousin was speaking of you just a moment ago, anticipating your return.”
“You were in court?” asked Ellen.
“Yes, I have given my report to the queen.” Thomasin shot her cousin a look: she was not prepared to speak about this matter before a stranger.
“It is pleasant to be at court,” said Harry, as if understanding her reluctance. “I have just returned after a long absence, and I forgot how good it is to be among merry people.”
“Unfortunately, we are not as merry as we have been,” Thomasin could not resist saying. “Great cares hang upon the king and queen, as you must have heard.”
“News reached us even in Calais,” confirmed Harry, “although we are not as close to the heart of things as you are here.”
“In Calais?” asked Ellen. “What was your business there?”
“I was placed as a child in the household of Lord Berners, so I accompanied him when he became lieutenant of that city, serving with him on the Council.”
“What is it like there?”
“Very much like England in many ways, but in others, very different. It is hard to explain; it has its own unique atmosphere, with the Channel on one side and France on the other.”
“Were you not always afraid that the French would invade?”
“We worked hard to maintain good relations with our French neighbours, counting some of them as friends.”
“I should like to see the place one day,” said Ellen, “if I dared set foot aboard a ship. I am not sure how I would like to sail.”
“Everyone did it for the first time once,” Harry said with a smile, his eyes crinkling. “If you embark upon a fair tide, with the wind behind you, you will sail across and barely feel it.”
“Come now,” said Giles, striding up to them. “Catherine is going to talk me through the steps of the Almain. Do any of you know it?”
“Now that’s something that didn’t cross the Channel,” admitted Harry.
“Are you so sure?” Giles laughed. “The north sea, perhaps, then. It is German, is it not? Allemagne?”
“A German dance!” exclaimed Harry. “Surely there is at least an Italian one instead? I’m not sure I’m heavy-footed enough for a Protestant dance.”
“Thomasin, do you know it?” asked Giles.
The Almain was a dance Thomasin had learned during her time at court, but she was not really in the mood to join in.
“I recall it vaguely. I will direct you if I see you taking the wrong steps.”
“You will not join us? It would be better if you were by our side to guide us.” His blue-green eyes sent out a silent appeal.
“Go on, Thomasin,” urged Ellen. “You must help them if you can, or else they will be all a-muddle instead of Almain.”
Thomasin winced at her cousin’s painful play on words. “Very well, but it is only to escape from your poor attempt at puns that I agree.”
She joined Catherine Willoughby in the centre of the room as the musicians struck up their opening chord.
“Thomasin!” said the child. “You must follow me!” And she started her pattern of steps.
Laughing, Thomasin did her best to keep up, although little Catherine was so fast and nimble, twirling about and jumping like a hare. Opposite them, Giles did his best to partner her actions, but she left him behind, too.
“I see you need no assistance,” he declared, “but only seek to make fools of your elders who cannot match your speed.”
The girl laughed and twirled about again, following the steps through until the end of the song.
Giles followed as best he could, his feet fumbling occasionally, and once he had to clutch at her arm to keep his balance.
His laughter was infectious, lifting the mood of the whole chamber.
Those ladies sitting around the outside started to laugh too at the sight of their antics, and one or two of the younger ones got up to copy their steps.
With the last strains of the dance, little Catherine took them both by the hand and made them join her in an elaborate curtsey.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” Giles said to Thomasin above the girl’s head, “but she has quite worn me out.”
“Nothing German about that at all!” exclaimed Harry, mopping his brow.
The queen clapped from the doorway, where she had entered unseen during their dance.
“Excellently done, young lady. Now, gentlemen, will you dine in my chamber this day?”
Giles bowed low. “What an unexpected honour, my lady.”
“We would be your most humble guests,” added Harry, following suit.
“Then you kindly bring us more good cheer. Until then.”
Presently, sounds came through the doors to the antechamber, where servants were busy preparing trestles and benches, laying cloth and setting out glasses and plates.
More busy hands came to light candles and stoke up the fire, as despite the sunshine, the late spring evenings still could turn out a little chilly.
Thomasin found herself pleased that Giles was to dine with them, and she was interested to observe how Ellen and Harry laughed over a game of chess they had started.
When the time came for them to take their seats at the table, she was not surprised to find Giles seating himself beside her, offering her his best smile.
“I have missed this,” he admitted.
“Court?”
“Yes, being merry and in good company. Especially yours, Thomasin.”
She blushed, spreading out her skirts.
“I lacked good company in the north. I thought often of my friends back at court.”
“And now you are here.”
“And I intend to enjoy myself, to balance the bitter business of the courtroom. Have you been very merry during my absence?”
He looked straight into her eyes. Thomasin sensed it was a challenge, to get her to admit that she had missed him, but the spectre of Rafe raised his head.
“It has been a difficult time,” she said, choosing her words carefully, aware of Catherine at the head of the table. “The queen appears happier today than she has been in a long time.”
“And you, Thomasin?”
“I am well enough, thank you.”