“I was hoping to talk with you sometimebefore you left,” she said. “How goes it for you with SirWalter? How have you been?”
“He’s no worse out of the ordinary.” Robert smiled. As a dependent relation of Sir WalterFenner, Robert was in service to him from necessity rather thanchoice. “Aside from the fact that he has plans for mymarriage, I’m managing well enough.”
He said it lightly, but not quite lightlyenough.
“Your marriage?” Frevisse asked. “You’re of age and you were never his ward, so how does it comeabout that he should be making your marriage for you?”
“He has a well-landed cousin, a widow who hastaken a fancy to me, and if I have any hope of a life abovecleaning other people’s pigstys, which is what Sir Walter willbreak me to if I refuse, I’ll marry Blaunche the haunch when I’mtold to.”
“Oh, Robert!”
“But-“ Robert held up a hand againsther commiseration. “Life isn’t doing well by him,either. Lord Fenner recovered from what was supposed to behis final illness – just when Sir Walter could all but feel thelordship in his hands – and now is looking like to live anothertwenty years.” Robert managed to hold his brimming laughterto a wide grin.
Well able to imagine impatient, ambitious SirWalter’s reaction to that turn of fate, Frevisse could not help heranswering smile. “So perhaps your wife-to-be is not the worstthat can happen to an ambitious man after all?” she suggested.
“She laughs like a tickled crow. Andhas the brains of one.” He turned abruptly away, saying,“Pray, pardon my failed manners. Have you met Jevan Deyyet? He came with his uncle yesterday.”
Frevisse had not noticed the quiet young manwaiting in the doorway behind Robert until then. He came intothe room now and bowed to her and Dame Perpetua. Hismovements were as angular as his build, though with a precariousgrace that might have had charm if he smiled. But his longface did not look as if he ever found anything amusing. Something about his pale skin and plain brown hair and eyesreminded Frevisse of someone. “Jevan Dey,” she said. “Would your uncle be Sir Clement Sharpe?”
“The resemblance has been often mentioned,”Jevan said shortly.
“And he doesn’t much like to hear of it,”Robert said, with the glint of humor Jevan lacked. “SirClement is a bullying-“ He thought better of whatever word hehad had in mind, and said instead, “We came to know each other thetimes our lords have met to abuse each other’s company. Nowwhen we’re alone we abuse them.”
“That’s neither wise nor charitable, sincethey are your lords,” Dame Perpetua said mildly.
“My uncle is neither wise nor charitable, andnever scruples to say what he thinks of me,” Jevan said. “Toanyone who might be listening.”
“And more especially to your face,” Robertadded.
“I’ve only met Sir Clement briefly twice,”Frevisse said, “but can believe he enjoys sharpening his teeth onother people’s reputations. Robert, there are duties I mustgo to, but if we can speak later…”
“At your pleasure, my lady.” Both youngmen bowed and stepped aside for Frevisse and Dame Perpetua topass.
On the stairs outside the room, Dame Perpetuasaid, “Unless you need me, I’d like to go to the chapel. I’vehad hardly a chance to pray for Master Chaucer’s soul, and Iremember him kindly.”
“Please go if you want. There’ll bemore than enough women around Aunt Matilda by now. Even Iwill probably be unneeded.”
Dame Perpetua patted her arm. “You knowbetter than that. My prayers will be as much for you today asfor your uncle.”
Frevisse felt the warmth of tears again, andwas grateful for the comfort; the living needed prayers as much asthe dead. “Thank you.”
To her surprise, there were not many peoplearound her aunt. Only Alice and Joan and three maids of thehousehold, and Bishop Beaufort sitting to one side, with SirePhilip behind him, an open prayer book in his hands.
With the shutters closed and everyone dressedin black, the room seemed full of denser shadows moving in thelesser ones of the subdued lamplight. Aunt Matilda was readyexcept for the padded headroll and black veiling she wouldwear. Joan, a comb in one hand and pins in the other, hadapparently been fastening up her mistress’s gray hair, but AuntMatilda had moved away from her and was standing in the middle ofthe room saying in a voice thick with nervousness and grief, “Howam I going to do this? I don’t know how to do this!”
Quickly, Frevisse shut the door. Alicecast her a grateful glance on way to take her mother’s hands thatwere wringing and twisting at each other. “Mother,” she saidin a golden, winning tone, “it will be all right. I’ll bethere with you. And so will Suffolk. You know you cando this. For Father’s sake.”
“Everything I ever did was for his sake,”Aunt Matilda moaned. “And he left me anyway. I can’tface his being gone!”
“You can, Aunt,” said Frevissesoothingly. “Of course you can.”
“I won’t!” She was clinging nowto Alice as tightly as Alice was holding her, but blindly. She was falling into utter panic, and if she did there might be noreaching her for no one knew how long. There was nothingwrong in the widow weeping through the funeral, and surely AuntMatilda needed the release of tears – she had shed too few of themso far – but for her own sake as well as everyone else’s she shouldnot be in hysterics.
“Matilda,” Bishop Beaufort said in the deep,rich voice that could fill the reaches of a cathedral but here onlyspread warmth and assurance through the room. “God is withyou. And so are we.”
Aunt Matilda caught her breath in the middleof another rising cry, gasped into silence, and stared athim. Bishop Beaufort rose to his feet in a contained andgraceful movement and came to her. He took her hands fromAlice, engulfing them in his own.
Again, Frevisse was surprised at how large hewas, and at his control. She suspected his anger was a thingto be avoided at nearly any cost, but he was all gentle strengthnow as he told Matilda, “You must do this thing, this last, hardthing, for Thomas. He loved you, Maud. He trusted youto show the great lady that you are. We know you’ll notdisgrace him now.”
Aunt Matilda gulped and sniffed and looked upat him, her courage visibly returning to her. Sire Philipcame to her side and spoke too low to her for Frevisse to hear; butAunt Matilda’s back straightened further and her face regained itsfirm shape.
“Of course,” she said, and withdrew one handfrom Bishop Beaufort’s to take hold of the priest’s arm. Supported by them, she nodded to her women to complete her for whatneeded to be done.
Quickly, Joan pinned up the last of her hair,and the maid servants brought first her black wimple, then thepadded roll and veil. When they were done, her round, whiteface was surrounded in the black lineaments of mourning in whichher red-rimmed eyes were the only color.
Alice came forward to kiss her cheek, andFrevisse was about to add comfort of her own by saying she was anhonor to Thomas, when there was a questioning knock at thedoor.
Perhaps the marshall, come to say everythingwas ready in the yard, Frevisse thought, though it seemed too soonfor that.
One of the maid servants went to open it, andFrevisse was surprised to see Jevan Dey, his face even more rigidthan when he had been with Robert. He bowed stiffly and saidwithout entering the room, “Mistress Chaucer, my apology fordisturbing you, but Sir Clement Sharpe asks leave to speak with younow.”
“Speak with me?” Aunt Matilda let herdisbelief in such a request show. “Now?”
“Surely he knows this isn’t the time!” Alice was already past her mother’s disbelief into anger.
“He’d speak with you before the burdens ofthe day accumulate,” Jevan persisted. Frevisse doubted thewords were his; he seemed to dislike even the taste of them in hismouth.