ELEVEN #2
“You’ve made it so easy.”
He laughed. “Call it beginner’s luck.”
“Beginner? So you’ve not danced this before either?”
“It’s my first time too. Now swap.”
She crossed over with Ellen, circled and returned, impressed by her partner’s nimbleness.
“But how did you pick it up so easily?”
“I’ve been following the king!” He nodded behind Thomasin, and she looked quickly over her shoulder to where Henry and Anne were leading the crowd. “Besides,” he added, “how would you have known if I had set a foot wrong?”
Thomasin laughed. “I could have been following your wrong steps all the time!”
He turned about her neatly. “Indeed, I could have been leading you through some strange northern dance.”
They straightened out into a line, facing each other. The final chords of the music sounded, and she dropped her curtsey just as Giles made his bow.
It was when Thomasin straightened up that she saw, across the floor, the dark figure of Rafe, who had been watching them intently. A jolt of something raced through her. Was that nerves, or fear? Immediately the moment changed.
“What is it?” Giles read her face and followed her gaze. “Oh, this fellow again?”
She was torn. Stay here with Giles or follow Rafe?
“Thomasin, did you see me dance?” Ellen appeared at her side, glowing with happiness. Lord Letchmere was a little behind her. “We danced so well; Harry knows all these new ones and I just followed him. It was easy!”
“Unlike us,” added Giles, “because Thomasin led me the entire way!”
“Honestly, I did not!” she was forced to admit. “It was my first time.”
“And how very well you did, too,” said Giles, his eyes twinkling.
When Thomasin looked up again, Rafe’s glowering face was gone. Her stomach flipped.
“What is it?” said Ellen.
“Nothing.” Thomasin tried to force a smile but knew that her cousin was not convinced.
The music started up again for the next dance.
“Come,” said Lord Letchmere, holding out his hand to Ellen, “if you can bear another turn about the room with me?”
But Ellen lingered. “Will you dance again, Thomasin?”
“I must be getting older, as I need to rest my aching limbs for a turn,” said Giles, bowing as he stepped away from them.
Thomasin felt shame flood through her. He had understood her feelings and given her an opportunity to escape.
“You dance,” she said to Ellen. “I may just take a breath of fresh air.”
“Very well, but don’t be long. And you and Giles made such good partners, too!”
Thomasin smiled wanly and headed towards the door.
The night air streamed down coolly, smelling fresh and clean. For a moment, Thomasin thought of Catherine, lying alone in her bed, fears for the future looming over her.
Her eyes scanned the darkened courtyard. Where might Rafe have gone? Back up to the king’s quarters, or down to the river to take a barge to Durham House? It was more likely that he was lurking close by somewhere, perhaps even hoping to speak with her.
In her heart, Thomasin knew why she still clung to him.
She had let down her defences and was prepared to commit herself to him.
After all her doubts and his many wrong turns, she had finally thought that Rafe had mellowed, matured, and become the man who she could be happy with.
She had decided to trust him. To have this happen now, after she had chosen him, was disappointing and exhausting.
Surely he would not have gone far? He must be wanting to speak with her, to sort out this quarrel, rather than running away. That was not in his nature, so far as she had understood it.
Something stirred in the darkness ahead. And as if she had called him, Rafe stepped out of the shadows and onto the path. Her fears were mingled with a twinge of relief. She hadn’t misjudged him so much, then.
“Tired of dancing already?”
His tone was bitter, mocking — not the Rafe she had hoped to encounter. More like the old Rafe.
Thomasin took a deep breath. She must approach this carefully, sensibly, with love. “I was dancing; there is nothing more to it. I went with Ellen while the queen sleeps; please don’t make something of it.”
“With him again?”
“With Giles? He is my distant cousin. It is the first time we have danced together since he returned to court. Surely I am permitted to dance?”
“Oh, but it is how you dance, Thomasin. Laughing and casting eyes at him, as if you would throw yourself at his feet.”
She was taken aback by this. “No, that is not true at all. I was simply dancing, along with Ellen. There was none of what you describe.”
“I saw you laughing.”
“I may have laughed. That is not a crime.”
“There, so you admit it.”
“I admit nothing. There is nothing to admit.” She took a step towards him. “Rafe, what is this? Suddenly you don’t trust me?”
“I saw you.”
“Dancing. That is all you saw. Openly and publicly. There are no secrets. I thought we had moved past this? Why have you decided not to trust me all of a sudden? How have we moved so far away from that night, just last week, when we were to announce our engagement?”
“I know what men are like. I saw the way he looked at you.”
“Nonsense. He is my cousin.”
“He is in love with you. I saw it.”
“He has just returned to court, after having been away for more than a year.”
“He is in love with you and now you have given him encouragement.”
Was he? Was Rafe correct and Giles was in love with her?
“I merely danced with my cousin. Rafe, this is unreasonable.”
“You should not have!”
“Not danced? Am I never to dance again, or only to dance with those partners you approve? And what about when you’re not there?”
“He will appear soon, you wait and see. He will come out looking for you, hoping to take you into the bushes.”
“Rafe! This is nonsense.”
He stepped closer and made a little growling noise in his throat. That was when she realised he had been drinking too much again.
“You can’t believe this. I do not believe this is you,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height and looking him in the eye. “You should reflect upon your words. You will regret speaking to me this way in the morning.”
“Will I?” he said. “Will I indeed?”
And in a flash, the realisation broke inside her that it would never work out between them. Rafe would never change. There would always be terrible scenes like these.
“You are drunk. You know that drink affects your judgement. You should not drink so much.”
“Here we are,” he said, leering. “Already playing the part of the nagging wife before the wedding has even been announced. Do you think I will be content as the henpecked husband all my life, at your beck and call?”
Thomasin was stunned. “What a terrible thing to say, and so far from the truth, as you well know. I will not speak with you when you are in this state. You are doing yourself damage and you will rue your words.”
She turned to go, but he caught her by the arm and held it tight.
“Let me go! You are hurting me.”
“Why don’t you call him then, your cousin-lover? Call him to help you!”
“Rafe?” Her fury mingled with shock, tears flooding her eyes.
“And now you turn on the tears for him.”
“I do no such thing! It is your barbarous treatment that provokes them.”
He looked her in the face. “You are just like your sister.”
Those words were the last straw. Thomasin felt the rage course through her as she lifted her hand and slapped him round the face. The contact stung her palm. Rafe dropped her at once, his hand flying to his cheek. His eyes widened in surprise.
“Don’t you ever,” she said, with the power of her anger suffusing her words, “don’t you ever speak to me like that again. Ever.”
She did not give him the chance to answer, but turned on her heel and hurried away. Straight into Sir Thomas Boleyn.
He caught hold of her to prevent her from falling. “What is this?” He looked from Thomasin to Rafe, glowering in the background. “Some sort of lovers’ tiff?”
“No,” she replied angrily, “nothing of the sort.”
Thomas frowned. “Has he hurt you?”
“Not in body, no.”
“But in heart, in mind? I admit he can be a brute.” Thomas looked again at Rafe, then back to Thomasin. “There is no other matter? No delicate concern?”
Thomasin wondered what he meant. Delicate concern? Surely he could not be asking what she feared he was: that their argument had been occasioned by her expecting a child?
“Nothing of the kind!”
“Well, then. You should not be out here, alone, with a young man. Both of you should be about your business. Go to it.”
He stood aside to let Thomasin pass, burning with indignation, then summoned Rafe with an imperious wave.
Thomasin felt as if her insides were on fire.
The indignity, the shame, of Thomas Boleyn suggesting she might be with child!
That she might have already surrendered herself to Rafe!
Oh God, let him not tell Anne of his suspicions.
The cool night air stung the tears upon her cheeks as she headed back up towards the queen’s apartments.
So many times in the past she had considered taking that final step with Rafe, and reasoned her way out of it, letting her head rule over her heart.
What a good thing it was that she had been so wise.
How relieved she was now that the predicament Lord Thomas suggested had not come true.
To be pregnant and dependent upon Rafe for her welfare and her happiness: the thought sent a shudder through her.
No, it could never be. He would never make her happy.
The engagement, along with her hopes and dreams, was over.
She must break with him, once and for all.