He indicated a lesser clergyman and could not remove himself from my presence quickly enough when I waved my perhaps contagious garments in his direction. I claimed to grow chilled and hot at the same time and asked if he could get me a drink, which he declined to do. He tripped on his robes upon his retreat. Should anyone come and ask after a child said to be buried quickly, due to plague, he would surely remember this encounter.
I headed back to the litter, in which Mary mostly slept or played with the leather straps that held down the draperies. Gerald drove the horses on, and soon enough we reached Brighton. It was nighttime, for which I was glad, as the cover of darkness allowed me to slip quietly into the house with Mary, up to my old room, and hope that no one had taken up residence there in my absence. Within minutes my brother’s steward came to greet me.
“Oh, it be you, Mistress Juliana. Does your brother know you’re here? Did any let you in?” He seemed befuddled at my quick and strange arrival.
“He does not, but will you let him know that I am here?”
“He is with his lady, Cecily,” he said. “But I shall call upon them.”
I left Lucy and Mary in my room, instructing them to be quiet. “’Tis a game,” I told Mary, and she clapped her fat hands softly, played with Lucy, and obeyed. I went down to meet my brother, who soon came to me, hastily dressed.
“Juliana! Why are you sneaking into the house like a thief in the night?” He clasped me in a great embrace and called for food and drink, and my heart lurched because he looked so like our father. I told him that Gerald would need some of the same, that he was in the stables, and that I needed to bring some to Lucy, who was upstairs too.
“I have a child upstairs as well,” I said quietly. “Though I wish that none should know of her.”
“Your child?” He looked concerned. “Not that he wouldn’t be welcome,” he hastily added. Dear Hugh. He would welcome my child even it was baseborn.
“No,” I said. “’Tis Lady Mary Seymour.”
I spent the next hour explaining the situation to him—from Edward Seymour’s likely fall, which did not surprise him, to the refusal of all of Kate’s friends and relations to help Mary, which did not surprise him, either.
“I may have been at court but for a few years,” he said. “But ’twas long enough for me to take the measure of those men who betray their brothers with pleasure and little cause. There is nothing to be gained in caring for a child with no wardship, title, or potential. So what will you do?”
“I mean to raise her myself.” I steadied myself to appear more confident on the outside than I did on the inside.
“Surely all will recognize her, if not you,” he said. “We are of no account and like as forgotten already. But Mary Seymour?”
“I mean to take her to Ireland,” I said, emboldened now. “I have friends who have told me that ’tis easy to be lost among the Irish. I plan to sail to Father Gregory and ask for his assistance. I can present myself as a widow and live on the money that would have been my dowry, if you agree. He will settle me in his village, I know, and give merit to my account.”
I did not tell him that Thomas Seymour had prospered our family’s income through his protection and trade connections, though it were true, and therefore some help toward Mary would be just. Hugh would give me the money for my own sake, I knew.
“And not marry? Nor bear children of your own? Even now, my Cecily is with child.”
“Already?” I teased him and he adjusted his shirt in embarrassment. “I am so pleased, Hugh.” I kept my voice quiet. “I was once, whilst at court, attacked by a man who harmed me in such a way that ’tis unlikely I shall bear children.”
“Who was it? I shall direct myself to him immediately!” Hugh stood up.
“He’s dead.”
“If he weren’t already, he would be shortly,” Hugh said. He grabbed me and pulled me close. I held him tight, then he brought me to arm’s length before speaking. “You are welcome here.”
“I know it, dearest.” I reached up and wiped away his spilled tears, and then wiped away some of my own. “But Mary is my child now, and I must attend to her. It cannot be safely done in Wiltshire so close to the Seymours.”
“None will miss her?”
“I shall have you send a letter from me, if you are willing, in which I tell the duchess that Mary died of plague on the way to her grandmother’s, and that will be the end of it. All will be relieved not to have to fund her keep. None will make an effort to inquire lest they be held financially accountable for her should she be found.”
He nodded. “I can arrange for passage to Ireland if you need it. On one of our ships. I shall have to tell Cecily of this matter but I shan’t have to tell anyone else—not Matthias. Nobody. And of course you may keep your dowry funds.”
I nodded. “I may need your help with the ships,” I said. “I am hoping, though, that help is coming from someone who can better assist me to navigate Ireland once there. If I do not hear from him within two weeks, you shall have to find us passage. We cannot keep this secret longer.”
We spent the days quietly, with Mary playing softly in my chambers; Hugh’s lovely wife Cecily suggested allowing the dogs into the house—something our mother would never have done—to help Mary pass the time. I spent the day in nervous prayer, wishing I had the certainty of faith that all would be well. I had near given up hope when one night I heard a commotion between the manor and the stable. Hugh’s man went down to see what it was, as ’twas past the time when visitors would politely call.
Lucy came racing up to my chamber. “’Tis him! He’s come, as I knew he would.”
I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.
I closed my eyes for a moment in rapture and then opened them with a small laugh. I knew he would come too. I hurriedly brushed my hair, but did not have time to slip from the simple gown I wore. I made my way down the stairway and as I did Jamie strode through the door.
I moved softly forward to greet him politely, but he brooked no polite compunction, and instead, he picked me up in his arms and spun me around afore kissing my forehead and then both of my cheeks. He did not kiss my lips, though I greatly wanted him to. I wondered if he were perhaps married but this was not the time nor place for such a conversation … yet.
“You came,” I said, unable to hold back my tears.
“Of course I came, love,” he said, and drew me to him, and then under his arm, whence I felt safe for the first time in years. I absorbed the feel of him, his arms tight about me, the scent of him, the spice of soap mixed with the lather of a hard ride, the look of him, a bit older but mayhap even a bit stronger. After some minutes those about us were stirring in curiosity, so Jamie took my hand and I led him to the receiving chamber, where my brother and his wife soon met us. His wife called for her servants to prepare a meal for the guest, and we all ate together.
Jamie’s eyes rarely left me, nor my eyes him. I hungrily took in the curve of his chin, the sound of his laugh, and his attention toward me. After dinner, I stopped him. “Shall we talk?”
He shook his head and took my hand. “Not tonight. I and my men are right weary, and we must leave early tomorrow. The ship we have used to come and fetch you and Mary will shortly be required for commerce, and I expect you must pack to prepare to leave early.” He must have seen my disappointment at losing his company, however temporarily. “Tomorrow we shall speak freely. I promise.”
I reluctantly agreed, and my brother had his steward show Jamie and his few men to their rooms. I remained with Cecily.