“And who is to occupy that?” I asked, pointing to the truckle bed tucked beneath the larger one. “I have no maid of my own.”
“You do now. The girl whose services you have been sharing with your bedfellows, if you want her. She packed for you and can be sent for to take up her new duties tonight.”
I winced. “Then no doubt she has already carried stories back to the servants’ hall.” I worried my lower lip. “Are you certain the king wishes to call so much attention to me?”
He looked at me askance.
“Your pardon. I should have known better than to ask.” None of the king’s men did anything unless it was at His Grace’s express command. For whatever reason, King Henry now wished the entire court to know that the duc de Longueville had taken me for his mistress.
A mirror lay upon a small table, next to a coffer meant to hold jewelry. I picked it up and stared at my reflection in the polished steel surface. I looked the same as I always had—pale skin, brown eyes, brown hair, and a small nose set in a narrow face. I was no great beauty. How was it that I had suddenly become the object of so much male interest?
Abandoning the looking glass, I moved on to my traveling chest, reaching down to run one hand over the familiar curved top. It was a sturdy piece with a leather exterior that had been soaked in oil to make it waterproof. The iron fittings included a lock. I frowned. The key still hung from my waist, as it always did, even though I kept nothing more valuable than my clothing and a few bits of jewelry inside the trunk. That had been no barrier when the king wanted my possessions moved. There was a lesson there, I thought. A warning.
Will’s hand settled on my shoulder. “Discover useful information, Jane, and His Grace will be in your debt. He can be most generous. If the information you provide has sufficient value, you will be able to name your own reward.”
I AWOKE ON Christmas morning uncertain where to go or what to do. Was I still to attend upon the princess? I knew she would hear Mass in private with the king and queen, then walk in procession with them to the chapel for Matins. The entire court would join them there, both to worship and to watch the king participate in the service. I doubted that anyone would notice if I was absent. Except, perhaps, Will Compton.
I sighed and wrapped myself more tightly in the sinfully thick and warm coverlet that graced my bed. I ran my hand over the soft fur from which it had been made and wondered what animal’s pelt I stroked. That made me think of the spaniels some ladies in waiting kept at court. Although in general I detested the little beasts, I thought perhaps I should acquire one. I was not accustomed to sleeping alone.
Always before I had shared my bed with someone. I was not certain I liked having the entire expanse of mattress to myself. On the other hand, I did not miss my most recent bedfellows, two of the Lady Mary’s attendants who thought themselves my betters simply because their fathers had been knighted.
I tried to imagine the expressions on their faces when they heard about my luxurious new quarters. They would speak disdainfully of my morals, but secretly they would envy me.
Drowsing in my warm little cocoon, indulging myself in pleasant fantasies, I was startled by the sound of the outer door opening. I cowered behind the bed hangings, uncertain what to do. A moment later, two servants entered the inner chamber. They seemed surprised to find me peering out at them from the gap in the bed curtains.
“What do you want?” I was relieved to hear no tremor in my voice.
“We come to collect all the unfinished candle stubs and the torches, mistress.”
“Why?” Genuinely curious, I pulled the coverlet around myself and leaned out into the chamber. They had a large basket with them, into which they’d put the remains of candles.
“They are melted down and made into new, if it please you, lady.”
“You collect these every day?”
Two heads bobbed in unison. “Aye, mistress.” They looked anxious, as if they feared I would call a guard.
“Away with you, then. Go about your business.”
They scurried out like mice pursued by a cat and left me to wonder what else went on in the royal household that I had never noticed. Even on Christmas, I supposed, close stools must be emptied, candles replaced, and meals cooked.
That made me wonder where Nan was. Nan Lister, the maidservant who was now all mine to command, should have brought washing water to the chamber by now. It was her job, too, to keep the brazier—the fireplace, I corrected myself—fueled, in addition to mending tears in clothing and serving as my tiring woman.
What else did she do, when her work was done? Was she well compensated for her services? A wry smile made my lips quirk at the thought that her wages per annum might be greater than my paltry stipend. It was fortunate indeed that I was not responsible for paying her.
She should have slept on the truckle bed. Stepping through the hangings, still wrapped in my coverlet, I almost tripped over the narrow, wheeled bed, but of Nan there was no trace. I shoved it into place beneath the larger bed, noticing as I did so that a bunch of mulberry twigs had been tied to the underside to keep fleas at bay.
Had Nan declined to serve a French nobleman’s mistress? That seemed an unlikely explanation. What servant would dare refuse an order from the king? But why else did I have no one here to wait upon me?
I was alone.
Abandoned.
I shook off the sense of disquiet that shivered through me. I told myself I should be glad of the privacy, a rare and precious thing at court. In truth, I could not remember ever being so completely solitary before, save for once when, as a child, I wandered off into the woods near Amboise and was lost for the better part of an hour. I had been terrified then. Now I was merely ill at ease.
Trailing the coverlet, I approached the clothes press. It contained new garments in the Flemish fashion. Unfortunately, I would need help to assume any of them. Every piece—sleeves, bodice, kirtle, and partlet—required fastening together with points. It was a physical impossibility to dress myself.
Would anyone notice if I did not attend one of the greatest feasts of the year? My stomach growled at the thought of all that food. To begin the first course, a boar’s head was always carried in on a platter decorated with rosemary and bay. Seethed brawn made from spiced boar was a traditional Christmas treat. There would be roast swan, as well. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of other dishes would follow. The best never reached the lower tables, but there was plenty enough for all to dine well, and no sooner would dinner be complete, than we would sup. This year the king had planned a banquet, too, a rich offering of sweets and fruits after supper.
The whole court would feast, I thought miserably, while I starved to death for want of a maid to lace me into my clothing. Would anyone notice I was missing? Harry Guildford might, but only if he needed my help. For weeks he had been preoccupied with organizing the revels to be presented for Twelfth Night, neglecting both wife and friends to supervise every detail. I sighed. Even if he realized I had vanished, he would have no notion where to look for me.
I was dressed only in a chemise and half in and half out of a new kirtle when my rescuer arrived. The tentative scratching at the outer door was accompanied by a soft voice calling my name. Guy’s voice.
Clasping the sleeves and bodice to my bosom, I let him in.
“Jesu, Jane!” His eyes widened as he took in my disheveled state.
Heat flooded into my face, and with it, no doubt, high color. I did not dare glance at my reflection in the looking glass. My loose, uncombed hair was better suited to the role of wild woman than waiting gentlewoman.
“Compton sent word to the duke only this morning of your new accommodations. When I noticed you were not in chapel, I thought I should come and find you.”