I nodded. “I think that too. Same eyes.” I took the babe from her and as I did I noticed that Dorothy’s eyes went from mine, then to Mary’s, and then back again. Some kind of surprise registered, and before she could make another comparison I handed the babe back to the servant girl after quickly kissing Mary’s pink and fleshy cheek.
I sat down in the chair and took a cup of mead. It had not occurred to me that as the child grew she might look like me, which would give cause for whispers and speculation. “I am sure Kate would be pleased that you came to visit.”
“’Twas not the only reason for my visit,” Dorothy said. “I came, mainly, after I heard from Tristram’s aunt that you were here and attached yet to the household.”
I looked at her queryingly but said nothing.
“John Temple is dead,” she said. “He was run through with a sword in Scotland and died on the field cravenly fleeing the enemy.”
I set my cup down. “Be you certain?”
She nodded. “I heard it from his mother herself.”
I closed my eyes and let relief overflow my spirit. “Vengeance is mine; I will repay,” saith the Lord. Justice is not the domain of men, John Temple. It is the domain of God.
“I hoped that hearing this would bring you some peace,” she said. “’Tis why I truly came.”
I looked at her, and tears came unbidden, rolling down my face. So much had been taken, so little had been given in return. I had held my back and heart stiff for so long in order to assist Mary as we walked through the evil days that I had allowed myself little emotion. Now some was eagerly spent. “Thank you, Dorothy,” I said with great feeling. “It does bring me peace.”
“I daily repent that I told Tristram of the attack upon you,” she said. “Have you absolved me? Because I have never been able to absolve myself.”
I nodded. “I have absolved you, do not dwell upon this matter any longer. And you were right. I was haughty from time to time. You were right about Sir Thomas in many ways, though I would not hear it. I thought I knew much about all, and in fact, I knew little about much. I hope you’ll absolve me too.”
“’Tis nothing near the same as my sins, but of course.” She reached out and took my hand in hers and we both smiled. I felt, for a moment, that in spite of all that had transpired we were young women again, and great friends. “What came of your Irishman?”
“He left much of the business of his shipping in the hands of his brother and returned to Ireland to marry,” I said.
“I’m sorry.”
“I too.”
We spent the evening talking about old friends, now married, some no longer with us, and of her children, born and not yet born. Before the night came to a close I gave her one of Kate’s necklaces, a thin filigree of gold with a carefully wrought Tudor rose, of which Kate had two, for Dorothy’s daughter. I would save the other for Mary. Kate, ever generous, would have wanted Dorothy’s child to have it.
I found that I wanted her to have it too.
Dorothy left the next day to visit another relative, and whilst Lady Fitzgerald Browne was gone during the day she came back to Syon to spend one more evening with me.
We took our dinner privately, in my chambers, where I inquired as to the Lady Elizabeth’s household.
“And now, what of Kat Ashley?” I asked. “Is it true that she and Parry are in the Tower?”
“Yes,” Lady Fitzgerald Browne answered. “As I heard it, and I heard it from those who were there, shortly after Lord Thomas’s arrest, Lord Denny and William Paulet arrived at Hatfield.” She pointed to her plate of food. “After stuffing themselves like geese with the Lady Elizabeth’s hospitality, they arrested Kat and Mr. Parry and had them sent to the Tower for questioning! Then they faced the Lady Elizabeth. Sir Tyrwhitt eventually became the inquisitor in chief—after first trying to trick her into believing him to be a friend and disclose all.”
“Robert Tyrwhitt? Who was Kate’s master of horses?”
She nodded. “The very same. And Lady Tyrwhitt, his wife, was right sharp with the Lady Elizabeth, implying in all manner that she had carnal knowledge of Lord Thomas and the sooner she admitted to it, the easier it would go for her. Sir Robert, of course, reported all back directly to the lord protector.”
I set down my knife. “Kate would be horrified to hear that they were treating the Lady Elizabeth thusly.”
“Indeed,” Lady Fitzgerald Browne said. “And then they soon sent for me—to come and stay with the household and spy upon her.”
“Why you?” I asked.
“Mayhap because I remain Catholic they think I am no friend to her, or mayhap because of the way her father ill used my family. But they forget that I was long in the Lady Elizabeth’s household afore my marriage to Anthony Browne. I told them, rightfully, that I had never seen her in a compromising position with Lord Thomas, nor with any man.”
I sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving that it had been Elisabeth Brooke and not Elizabeth Fitzgerald Browne who had witnessed Lord Thomas’s ill-conceived bedside pranks at Seymour House, though the Lady Elizabeth bore no responsibility for them.
“One night I heard her declare to Tyrwhitt that neither she, nor Parry, nor Kat had ever considered any man, not the admiral or anyone else, for marriage, but that it would have been approved firstly by the king’s council. And then she dictated a letter to the lord protector, which her secretary wrote down whilst I was still in the room. In it, she said, ‘Master Tyrwhitt and others have told me that there goeth rumors abroad which are greatly both against mine honor and honesty, which above all other things I esteem … that I am in the Tower and with child by my lord admiral. My lord, these are shameful slanders, for the which, besides the great desire I have to see the king’s majesty, I shall most heartily desire your lordship that I may come to the court after your first determination, that I may show myself there as I am.’”
“And did the lord protector allow her to speak with her brother, the king?”
“Nay, not by any means, and you mark me, he will not allow Thomas to speak with His Majesty, either.”
“Is the Lady Elizabeth safe, then?” I asked. “No matter what comes of Lord Thomas?”
She took a piece of manchet, ate it, and considered. “Yes, I believe so. They searched her rooms and found no trace of the lord admiral. And Kat and Parry say exactly as she does. ‘They sing the same song,’ Tyrwhitt has said, ‘and she sets the note.’ I believe she will come through safely, though just.”
I was fervently glad that I had not left Thomas’s miniature with her, nor his letters.
“But this may not be the last of it,” she said, selecting a sugared plum. “In some respects, I wish I could smuggle the Lady Elizabeth to Ireland, as we did my brother, for safety.”
Especially if, as the Countess of Sussex had predicted, King Edward died in but a few years—according to Sussex, his reign was half-over. The Lady Mary held little affection for the girl she believed to be the daughter of a concubine who had usurped her mother’s place.
A few moments passed in comfortable silence as we ate and drank.
“I wonder,” I began quietly, not looking at her, but still at my plate, “do you know of the Hart family? I thought perhaps you might, as they’re Irish.”
“Of course,” she said. “I don’t see much of Jamie, as he’s oft up north in Sligo, I hear, or at sea. But Oliver and his wife, when they come to England, yes, I’ve seen them a time or two. We keep watch on one another against the English.” She looked at me strangely. “Why do you ask after the Harts?”
“Jamie and I were … friends,” I said. “I wondered how he fared … if he’d married.” I could not stop the blush upon my cheek so I tried to cover it by quickly cutting another piece of meat.
She grinned knowingly. “I do not know, but I could surely ask. ’Twould not be difficult to get a letter to him. Or to his brother.”