Philippa, Cat, or Mary, Nan thought.
The princess dismissed her with further expressions of gratitude, leaving Nan with no duties to take her mind off the implications of what she’d just been told. She’d denied the king’s interest in her as a potential wife when the suggestion came from her friend Anne, but if even King Henry’s daughter believed it was a possibility …
Nan told herself this was another mistake on the part of the imperial ambassador, akin to identifying the wrong Elizabeth Brooke, but she did not believe it. That night she tossed and turned, unable to sleep, unable to stop worrying about the future. Did the king want to marry her? Was that why, even though she had been given her own small chamber, he had not sent for her? Was that why he planned to release her mother and stepfather—so that he would not be marrying a traitor’s daughter?
She was young and pretty. And His Grace had known her longer than he had known Lucy or Bess. Perhaps he felt more comfortable with her. No doubt that made her more attractive to him.
“But I do not want to be queen,” she whispered into her pillow.
KING HENRY HELD another banquet a week after Catherine Howard’s execution. Once again, he flirted openly with Nan and set tongues wagging. Nan put on a brave face and flirted back, but inside she was quaking. Only the fact that this gathering, on the twenty-first of February, was right before Lent kept her from yielding to panic and fleeing the court.
Nan had come to the conclusion that she must find a way to deflect the king’s amorous interest. It was not only that she’d developed an ever-increasing distaste for his person. Her life might well depend upon it.
Parliament had passed the law Anne Herbert had spoken of in time for the king to use it to condemn Catherine Howard to death. Under that law, Nan’s situation was the same as the late queen’s. If anyone investigated Nan’s past—questioned Kate Stradling, talked to Mother Gristwood—Nan’s life could be forfeit for deceiving the king about her virginity.
Another week passed. Nan slept poorly at night. Lord Lisle had not yet been released. In weak moments she selfishly hoped he would not be.
On the first of March, as Nan’s newly acquired maidservant laced her into her garments, Nan realized she had lost weight. After she dismissed the girl, she studied her face in her looking glass. A stranger looked back at her—hollow eyed, pale, haunted.
It was her beauty that had attracted His Grace. Lose that and she would lose his interest. Nan only wished she could! But if he stopped wanting to please her, there could be even more wide-reaching consequences. Until her mother and stepfather were free, she must go on as she had been.
She combed her hair and donned a French hood, steeling herself to face the day. But before she could leave her lodgings, Anthony Denny appeared at her door.
For a moment, she thought he’d come to escort her to the king’s bed, although early morning seemed an odd time for a tryst. Then she saw the grave expression on his face.
“He’s gone, Nan,” Denny said. “Lord Lisle died in the Tower early this morning.”
A bone-deep chill swept over her, leaching warmth from her limbs and her face and leaving her dizzy. “Executed?” she whispered.
Denny’s eyes widened in surprise. “Never think it! Lisle received word of his pardon last night. The shock of learning he was to be released must have been too much for him.”
Guilt washed through her. “I should have gone to visit him when the king first promised to set him free. I could have prepared him for this news.” She had not wanted to raise false hopes, or so she’d told herself. The real truth was that, just like everyone else at court, she’d shied away from associating with an accused traitor.
“He was an old man,” Denny said kindly. “He lived a long, full life.”
Tears blurred her vision as she struggled to come to terms with what had happened. “But he was pardoned? There is no longer any taint on his name?”
“A full pardon. By now Lady Lisle has been freed. I expect she will leave Calais and return to England within the next few days.”
“And the lands and property confiscated by the Crown?”
Denny avoided her eyes. “I … uh … there was no provision made to return them.”
Nan swallowed the lump in her throat. She did not look forward to facing her mother. Lord Lisle dead. Property lost. Nan’s failures would far outweigh her success.
TWO WEEKS AFTER Lord Lisle’s death, Nan was still far from ready to deal with her mother. Lady Lisle had sent word that she would not come to court. This struck Nan as a bad sign. It meant that Honor Lisle felt no gratitude toward the king for her release. Doubtless, she blamed King Henry for her husband’s death. Nan could only hope she would not say or do something that would land her back in prison facing new charges of treason.
It was a woman Nan had never seen before who fetched her from the Lady Mary’s presence chamber at Greenwich Palace. She introduced herself as Lady Hungerford. “So,” she said, radiating disapproval from every pore, “you are the one my stepson thinks to marry.”
Taken aback, Nan was at a loss for words. She remembered that Lady Hungerford had accused Wat’s father of imprisoning and mistreating her. Nan did not recall Wat having ever said anything else about his stepmother. It seemed unlikely that Lady Hungerford held Wat’s wardship. She’d not have had the wherewithal to buy it from the Crown after her husband’s attainder. That meant she had no say in arranging his marriage. A good thing, Nan thought.
“You know the boy I mean,” Lady Hungerford continued. “He is too young for you, mistress, even if either of you had a feather to fly with.”
Even though her words echoed what Nan had told Wat, she resented the unsolicited opinion and was tempted to tell this odious woman that she fully intended to marry her precious stepson. Nan’s better judgment prevailed before she blurted out something she’d regret.
“I am certain that young man has forgotten all about me,” she said instead. “I have not seen or heard from him since a chance encounter at Hatfield Chase on the last royal progress.”
“I do much doubt it. He is the most stubborn fellow in all creation. I hope you will have the good sense to keep refusing him.” Without giving Nan a chance to reply, Lady Hungerford abruptly changed the subject. “I am on my way to Lady Garney’s house, in the village of Greenwich. Your mother is staying there and asked that I bring you with me.”
A short time later, they were on their way. “Is Lady Garney a friend of your mother’s?” Lady Hungerford asked.
Nan nodded. “Before Sir Christopher Garney’s death, he and his wife lived in Calais for many years. But you, madam—what is your concern in this? I have never heard my mother mention your name.”
“I was Elizabeth Hussey before I wed. My sister, Mary, is your mother’s waiting gentlewoman. Tell me, where will your mother go now that she is free?”
“To Tehidy in Cornwall, or so I suppose. That is where my sisters are living.”
“And will Lady Lisle have a place there for my sister?”
In that instant, Nan realized that Lady Hungerford’s situation was no better than Lady Lisle’s. In truth, it might be worse. Lord Hungerford had not just been accused of terrible crimes, he had been executed for them. At least Nan’s stepfather had died a natural death. Worse, Lady Hungerford and Mary Hussey were also the daughters of an executed traitor.
“That will be my mother’s decision to make,” Nan said, “but if they spent months imprisoned together, they have either become fast friends or your sister is ready to chew off her own arm to escape spending another moment in my mother’s company.”
Mary Hussey was waiting for them at the door to Lady Garney’s house. She rushed into her sister’s arms. “I have missed you so!” Mary cried. “Please say you have come to take me away with you.”