Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
The sound of approaching laughter wafted through the roses.
Thomasin paused under the archway, looking around the Bridewell garden one last time, taking in its beauty and colour, its rich scents, the warm sun on the red bricks.
She had spent many happy times here, and some challenging ones, but now she was moving on, and she could not be happier.
She waited for the party to appear. King Henry came first, dressed in scarlet and crimson, a feathered cap upon his head, sparkling with jewels.
On his arm, Anne wore a deep saffron yellow dress, her skirts swishing as she kept pace beside him.
After them came a train of their followers: Thomas Boleyn in conversation with George; Jane and Mary Boleyn, reluctantly thrown together; Norris; Bryan; Zouche and an array of women in bright clothes, after which came Rafe — the very person Thomasin was waiting to see.
They had come from somewhere full of merriment and music, and were clearly headed somewhere equally enthralling, confident that the world was theirs and that a new royal marriage was imminent.
The Papal Court had been adjourned for the summer, with the promise of a return in October, although Campeggio had privately visited Catherine in her chambers and informed her that he had no intention of reconvening.
The court would not pronounce one way or another, but would instead refer the case back to Rome, where it would be kicked around the corridors of the Vatican indefinitely.
In effect, Catherine had won this round, although it was only one battle in a whole war, and Henry was as determined as ever to make Anne his queen.
The failure had been placed firmly on Thomas Wolsey’s shoulders: he had been removed from his position as Lord Chancellor and frequently found the doors to the king’s chamber closed to him these days.
As they approached the spot where Thomasin waited, she dropped a curtsey, her eyes on the toes of their shoes.
“Mistress Marwood?” said Henry.
“My lord.”
“Please, rise. You were waiting to see me?”
She squinted at the group behind him, all peering around to see what it was that she wanted.
“Yes, my lord. If it please you, I have come to beg my leave. I am to be married and will retire to the country.”
“Is that so?” Henry looked her up and down. “Well, it is about time, given your age. You are a comely enough woman for any man to take to wife. Who is the lucky man?”
“Sir Giles Waterson, my lord.” She kept her eyes off Rafe as she spoke.
“Well, you have my blessing. A fine gentleman. I suppose your mistress has also given her approval?”
“She has, my lord.”
“Sir Giles,” said Anne, her smile hovering on a sneer. “So you are to become a country wife. How on earth will you manage all that peace and quiet?”
“With gratitude and humility, my lady,” Thomasin said, looking Anne straight in the eye.
“Oh, ha!” Anne laughed. “Those are blessings indeed, once a woman reaches three score and ten.”
“Good day, mistress,” said Henry. “My best wishes to your mother.”
Thomasin noticed that he did not include her father in the blessing, but paid it no attention.
She dropped a quick curtsey as the king and Anne moved past her, followed by their train.
Mary Boleyn shot her a particularly waspish look.
Her father Thomas nodded to her with a look of curiosity, but Jane Boleyn paused for a moment and pressed Thomasin’s hand.
“I do hope your marriage is a happy one. I never forgot the kindness you showed me once.”
“Thank you, Jane.”
Rafe was approaching, his expression sour, his eyes fixed ahead, as if he did not intend to acknowledge Thomasin at all.
“Rafe? May we speak?”
He stopped dead. “I will be late.”
“For a moment, please. You can give me that much.”
He ran a hand through his dark hair.
“I am to marry and leave court. I wanted to tell you myself.”
“So I heard.” He would not look at her. “So Sir Giles is the lucky man?”
“Yes, it is Giles, but I consider myself the lucky one. My betrothed is kind, gentle, honourable and reliable: everything I could have wished for.”
“How very exciting,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “But does your pulse beat for him? Does he excite you?”
Thomasin smiled. “He does. Is that all you think a marriage should be? A case of physical attraction that may fade over time?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“No, you have proved that to me many times.”
“Have you finished?”
“Were you always this rude? Yes, looking back, I believe that you were, only I did not wish to see it then. My eyes are truly open now, Rafe. I did love you. I truly did. I saw something in you that could have been noble, something good and strong and true that I hoped to connect with. There were times when I thought that was possible. I would have married you, against all odds and the company you keep, but I came to realise that was not possible, because of your behaviour.”
He shook his head. “You know nothing of me, of my struggles.”
“No, you never opened up to me. Instead, you reacted with jealousy, fear and anger at times when we could have grown closer. You never trusted me.”
“Oh, I suppose you have seen the light now: I’m the poor villain on your stage, while you look for your fairy-tale ending, Thomasin, behaving like a princess instead of living in the real world.”
“Not at all. I have found my happy ending. I have found a man who shows me how good life can be.”
“Well, how pleased I am for you. Why have you come here to rub my nose in it?”
“I had to come and say goodbye. After all we have been through together, it did not feel right to leave without drawing this to a close. I have learned much these past two years, but the biggest lesson of all, I think, is about the pursuit of my own happiness. The ability to make my own decisions, to exercise my free will and choose what suits me, not what appeals to my vanity or my fears or my base desires.”
“Is that what I was, a base desire?”
“No, Rafe. You were far more than that. But I have learned and grown, and am moving towards the future that I will live as a woman, not a giddy girl whose head can be turned by a few fine words and sparkling costumes. I am happy to be leaving court.”
“You are imprisoning yourself in a backwater to prove a point. Stubborn as ever, Thomasin.”
His words rankled. “Not at all. You are lashing out. I have merely come to say goodbye and to wish you good health and happiness.”
“So you are deserting the queen?”
“Not deserting. She has given me her blessing. She understands my desires: they were once her own.”
“You know her days are numbered. The court has stagnated; the cardinals have failed.”
“Yes, there is a stalemate.”
“Only briefly. This will force the king’s hand to some desperate act. And where will you be? Luxuriating in some country house. Do you not care?”
Thomasin refused to be drawn. “As you once told me, Rafe, we cannot bind our lives to the great ones we serve. We can offer them our devotion, but our lives must be our own. I will always love and serve the queen, no matter where I am.”
“So you really are going?” He looked her in the eye for the first time, and she recalled the tenderness she had once seen there.
“I am. The queen has me until the end of the month, then I will depart for Suffolk.”
“Oh, you will be back. I know you, Thomasin. You have something within you that craves this place: you want the attention, the excitement, the passion. You will not find that anywhere else, certainly not with the sedate Sir Giles, and the years will hang heavy upon you until you come to resent him. Then you will come running back here, your looks gone, your body grown stout with childbearing, too slow for the new dances, only to find that life has passed you by. What a tragedy that will be.”
Thomasin was stunned at his words. She turned to leave.
“Goodbye, Thomasin. For now,” Rafe called after her, as she hurried towards the queen’s steps.
His prediction burned inside her, threatening to eat away at her happiness.
How dare he make such assumptions about her.
It was his bitterness, nothing more. He had lost her, and he needed to make her suffer, to cast doubt upon her bright future because she would not share it with him.
She had been right about him all along. What an escape she had had!
Hurrying up the steps to help the queen dress, she pictured herself casting the dark shadow of Rafe clean off her shoulders like a cloak, and stepped into the bright warmth of Catherine’s chamber.