“And when you go, I should like you to deliver a letter to Kat Ashley and a gift to the Lady Elizabeth, on my behalf.”
I nodded faintly but offered no answer. He seemed not to care, or even notice. The next morning he had a litter ready for myself, Lucy, and the packages. I left instructions for Mrs. Marwick, who needed them not, and took my leave.
We arrived at Hatfield, almost a day’s journey from London, late in the afternoon. The red bricks of the house looked aflame against the blunt gray winter landscape and dull, clotted clouds. Once shown to our quarters, I met with Kat Ashley, who warmed herself by the fire. She offered me some refreshments that I gladly took.
“I bring a letter from Lord Thomas,” I said, and she received the news with pleasure. I handed the document over to her. We talked about her time with Elizabeth—she had joined her household two months after the child’s mother was beheaded by her father, when the child was but three. “I do not intend to remain with Mary’s household forever, as a permanent member,” I said. “But I have promised the queen that I shall remain till Lord Thomas is remarried and the child has a new mother to love and manage her.”
“I am sure that there are many who would like to repay the queen’s love by mothering such a child,” she said. “I know of some, anywise.”
I did not inquire further, but ’twas clear to me that she knew Lord Thomas pursued the Lady Elizabeth, and now that Thomas was unmarried, she apparently found no fault in the proposition. I myself found it repulsive. But I knew Lord Thomas better than she did, so I did not find fault with her.
I indicated that I cared to visit with the Lady Elizabeth, and I did so after church the next morning. I was pleased to see that stirring services were still held regularly in the Lady Elizabeth’s household, and I felt renewed and refreshed afterward. Lord Thomas had not established such a pattern, though of course there were chaplains about from time to time.
We met in the receiving room, hung with tapestries from her father’s collection. In the seven months since I had last seen her she had, indeed, become a woman. I curtseyed slightly and she nodded and indicated that I should sit down.
“You look lovely, my lady,” I said.
“Thank you, Mistress St. John. Tell me. Was the queen’s death prolonged? I hope she did not suffer.”
“She died with difficulty,” I admitted. “Childbed fever stalks all women and is no respecter of persons. A queen dies in as much hardship as the lowest born.”
Elizabeth shuddered. “I have a horror of that particular death, I shall admit.”
“And yet … the queen preserved her dignity till the end.”
Elizabeth looked at her hands. “I am grieved that I was not with her when this evil overcame her,” she said softly.
“She loved you much and well.”
Elizabeth did not look up. “As I did her, but I could have loved her better.”
“She held you no ill will nor rancor. For anything,” I said. “She knew you loved her.”
She looked up at me, her eyes slightly moist, but her neck firmly held high. “Thank you, Mistress St. John. Is that all?”
I thought of the package Lord Thomas had given me, the letters, a miniature of him, a piece of jewelry. Should I tell her I had a gift? Or no? I looked at her steadily.
Do not let him harm her.
“That is all,” I said. Giving the package to her was likely to harm both the child and Elizabeth.
She stood, and then turned toward me. “You would be welcome in my household anytime, Mistress St. John. You have a way with words, and gowns.” She smiled. “And with the heart.”
“Thank you, lady,” I said, and nodded my head. She nodded back and took her leave.
I hoped that I should not have to find a place in her home and wondered, for a moment, if she meant I might remain as Mary’s governess should she marry Lord Thomas, or if she meant as a member of her own household. I had no desire to remain a governess one day longer than required; it limited my freedom to move and act as I might have liked, and kept me at court, which had become tarnished to me.
I returned to Seymour Place and hid Sir Thomas’s gifts and letters in my chamber, hoping that he would not find out that I had not delivered them.
EIGHTEEN
Winter: Year of Our Lord 1549
Seymour House, London
Syon House, London
Barbican House, London
Lord Thomas entertained lavishly that winter, well beyond what he’d done whilst the queen was alive, though I was sure that it was her fortune that was paying for the entertainments. One afternoon he held a post-hunting banquet, complete with whole roasted boar, and his guest of honor was Sir William Sharington. After the meal, Sharington came to find me. Though he was long married, he endeavored to hold my attention all evening. He had meat betwixt his teeth and he smelt of spent ale and had not been a familiar during the queen’s lifetime, so I did not know why he was there now. In desperation, I threw a look to Lord Thomas, who came and spoke a word into Sharington’s ear. Lord Thomas was pulled away by the arrival of a messenger and departed for the receiving chamber. Afore he left me Sharington said, leering, “Thomas keeping you for himself before joining with the Lady Elizabeth, eh? Can’t blame him.” I pulled myself away, revolted by both the man and his accusation. He dressed beyond his station but spoke and acted beneath it, and I wondered who he was. As I took my leave and went back to Mary’s rooms I passed by the receiving chamber, where Sir Thomas spoke loudly to the messenger.
“I care not whether my brother commands my presence. He may ask for it or I shall not respond. I am not his to command.” He handed over the document to the messenger and then returned to his guests.
Late that night, Lucy helped Mrs. Marwick bathe Mary whilst I organized the child’s clothes and made a note to order some in larger sizes as she was quickly growing. Then Lucy joined me in my chamber an hour later to assist me as I prepared for bed.
“Do ye know of Sharington?” she asked me.
“No,” I replied. “And that is a most peculiar question, as I was only today wondering when and how he and Lord Thomas came to be such fast friends.”
Lucy shook out my dress. “Gerald was drinkin’ ale wi’ some of the serving men in tha stables today after tha hunt. After they was in their cups one a them let slip that Sharington is making money for Lord Thomas.”
“Making money? Do you mean gathering money?”
She shook her head. “Making it. He’s tha treasurer of some sort of a mint outsida London, and Lord Thomas asked a hi’ to make enough money ta hire soldiers for a revolt. Sharington readily agreed.”
My joints jellied and I sat down in the nearest seat. “Be you sure of this?” I asked. If it were true, he was doomed.
“I be sure it was said,” she answered.
On January 17, Lord Thomas was arrested and sent to the Tower along with Sharington.
As soon as Lord Thomas was arrested, the household panicked like a clattering of jackdaws, which, appropriately, nest in ruins. Lady Tyrwhitt, and her husband, who had stayed on only due to Kate’s presence and for the sake of Lady Jane Grey, were called to present themselves immediately at Hatfield, where the Lady Elizabeth resided. ’Twas an ominous sign. Lady Jane had been returned to her parents, who had been told by Lord Thomas, wrongly, that his mother was present at Seymour Place and managing the household. Most of the rest of the household scattered, though Mary’s stayed intact—for the time being—as they’d been paid through March and I was there to take charge.
We were, however, to take our leave to Syon House, unbelievably as it was the residence of the lord protector, Lord Thomas’s chief persecutor, and his wife, Lady Seymour. She was none too glad to see us; she knew I was close to Kate and of course, so was the babe, and she and Kate had not loved one another at all whilst the queen lived. Lady Seymour made room for us in a lesser wing of her sumptuous estate and left word that she would be back to speak with Mary’s household staff directly. She did not arrive for days, though we were fed and housed.