7: The Seven Deadly Sins

by Bach, Tia Silverthorne

  He took a step back, never releasing her hand, and let his eyes drink her in.

  Modest as she was, she tipped her head forward so her hair covered her nakedness, even as her free hand moved to cover her most secret spot.

  “My lady, please, do not cover your beauty.”

  She sucked in her bottom lip and continued to stare at the floor. “But—”

  “Shhhh… Hush, now. Please?”

  It seemed she struggled with her own will, but eventually won. Her hands dropped, and slowly, inch by inch, her head rose until she looked directly at him.

  Pride filled him at seeing his wife overcome her shyness, and he allowed his eyes to roam her flesh.

  “Truly, husband, you do flatter me with your gaze,” she whispered. “You make me feel beautiful.”

  “You are stunning.” Quickly, he removed his breeches and shirt, casting them to the stone floor with her garments, and embraced her again. Their skin was as liquid fire, rolling and licking the flames of the other in their caress. Hotter and hotter it burned, until it seemed he could stand it no longer. Reason boiled away, and he allowed himself to be lost in her moans, her whimpers, and the touch of her fingers.

  They fell to the bed and he was overcome with desire.

  Time became a thing measured only by the hourglass and as insignificant as smoke lost on a breeze.

  §

  Thomas awoke with the first brilliant rays of sunlight streaming through the windows. Rolling over, he stared at his wife, thinking how lovely she looked as the light played through her brown hair, her face serene as she slept. He burned with an unsated inferno. “Good morning, my lady.” He kissed her lips, jaw, and neck.

  Her eyelids fluttered, she giggled, her arms snaked around, and her hands caught in his hair. She pulled him down into a spiral of oblivion once again.

  She lay in his arms afterward, seeming content, her necklace picking up the rays of the sun and splitting the solid beams into several more. Carefully, he reached out and lifted it, remembering the time he had stolen it and tried to take a scraping to test. It had been impossible to damage. When he had asked her about it, she told him it had been with her since birth, and she knew not where it came from.

  Never had he seen, or touched, silver so light and pure. It radiated something that connected to his heart, but he could never figure out what.

  Kelleigh had been livid when she discovered it missing, and she had pouted over it for days. He never dared to try stealing it again.

  A sigh left her, and she looked up at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, distracting him from his musings of the past.

  “Again, my love?” he whispered.

  As answer, she brought her lips to his and wrapped her limbs around his body.

  There was no hesitation in his body as it responded to her advances, and they were lost in the love of one another for several hours more.

  When they finally arose, near midday, it was to trumpets blaring in the courtyard.

  He dashed to the window and peered through the murky glass.

  “What is it?” Kelleigh asked.

  “It seems a monarch or great lord has announced their arrival. I must be off. We have tarried too long.” With a mischievous grin, he spun around and caught hold of her waist, pulling her to him. His left hand held her in place against his hip while the right pushed the hair floating in her face behind her ear before cupping her jaw. “Though, I would tarry all day with you if I were allowed.”

  Their lips met as gently as a petal touches a pond.

  When they parted, she sighed and embraced him, pressing her ear to his chest. “How I love thee.”

  “You know I love you, too.” He grinned. “Tonight, we shall play with our daughter in the garden. But now I must go to work.”

  A new lightness in his step accompanied him as he readied and set off.

  Date: May 15, 1585

  Location: Windsor Castle

  Thomas had completed the stone settings and was locking the jewels away when someone pounded on the door. Quickly, he stuffed the key down his shirt, placed the canvas over the new lockbox, and went to pull back the iron bar. When he yanked the wood back, he was met with his wife’s ashen, tear-stained face. “Kelleigh! Whatever has you in such a state?” He caught her as she fainted and pulled her to the only chair in the room, propping her up carefully and fanning her face. “Sweetheart? Return to me.”

  She opened her eyes and blinked. Fresh tears sprang up when her eyes met his, cascading down her cheeks before dropping on her cloak. “Oh, husband…”

  Upon closer inspection, he saw that one sleeve was torn free from the bodice and was hanging freely.

  Her eyes tracked his own, and she gasped, pulling the cloak around herself more tightly.

  Immediately, his thoughts ran to Lord Hale, sure the man had attacked and harmed Kelleigh in some way. Thomas’s insides caught fire and pushed hot coals through his veins. He ground his teeth. “I shall do that pompous Lord bodily harm if he has but laid a finger on you!”

  “‘Twas not him,” she whispered.

  His eyes burned as the air assaulted them. “There is another!”

  Nearly inaudible, her words carried out on a faint breath. “No. It is your father. He has passed.”

  Rage faded as sorrow bled in on top of confusion. “But, your dress.”

  She shrugged. “I caught it on a chair in my haste and ripped it.” Sadness dripped from her words.

  Thomas knelt in front of her and rested his head in her lap as grief consumed him. It was a comfort having her hands on his hair, even as his beard scratched and picked at the delicate satin of her skirt when his body shook. Gently, she stroked his hair and the scar in his eyebrow, allowing calm to descend upon him after a while. When he had poured the last, salty tear, he rose and guided her to her feet and into an embrace.

  “The Queen sent me. She would like an audience with you forthwith.”

  Inhaling, he nodded. “We shall go to her.” He took Kelleigh by the hand and led her out, locking the door behind them.

  Every now and again, as they made their way through the palace, he would press her fingers more tightly between his own. It helped having her nearby in such a trying time. They finally arrived at the Queen’s antechamber, and he knocked.

  One of her maids opened the door. She had a deep scowl on her face. “Her Majesty has been waiting! In with you!”

  Chastised, he pulled his wife along as he hurried inside.

  Elizabeth was seated in a high-backed chair on a dais with all her ladies around her, here and there on brightly coloured cushions, applying themselves either in needlepoint or in the reading of small books. She smiled softly at the couple and rose to greet them. “Sir Thomas, Lady Kelleigh, I am wrought with grief at hearing of your father’s death. It pains my heart greatly to know he has passed from this world.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” Thomas bowed, took her hand, and kissed the fingers lightly. “I am aggrieved as well. I must return to London immediately.”

  She turned to Kelleigh, who repeated the show of respect and gave thanks for the condolences.

  “I am ordering your lady wife to accompany you on your journey. Your child will remain in the care of her nanny until you return so you may go swiftly.” Elizabeth snapped her fingers, and one of her ladies leapt up, handing over a box. “This is for your father’s funeral.”

  Thomas received the box and bowed again. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “Now, you must be on your way. You know it is at least a half-day’s ride back to London. I shall send for the horses to be made ready.”

  Kelleigh fell into a deep curtsey. “Thank you again, Your Highness. Your kindness knows no measure.”

  She and Thomas left, hands clasped once again. They ran for their apartments to pack and kiss their daughter goodbye.

  Marian was carried in and put on the carpet. She crawled to her mother’s leg and put two chubby hands in the air. “Mama!”


  “There you are! My beautiful girl!” Kelleigh picked the baby up and snuggled her close, kissing her head. Tears formed. “How I shall miss you!” One drop escaped and landed on her curls.

  “Mama!” Marian smiled and clapped her hands.

  Thomas took her and kissed her cheek. “We love you. Be a good girl.”

  She gurgled at him, spraying baby slobber everywhere.

  He laughed, dragged his hand down his face, and handed her back to her nurse. “Thank you. We shall only be away a fortnight.”

  “Bye-bye!” Marian chanted, her little fingers opening and closing.

  Sniffling and waving, Kelleigh sobbed as she was led through the corridors toward the paddock.

  “Wife, will it be so difficult?”

  Through tears, she mumbled at him. “It is not as though I am away from her very often.”

  “Well, it is a good thing I am around to apply distractions!” With that, he stopped walking, dropped the bag he was carrying, pulled her close, and kissed her soundly.

  When they parted, her face was flushed, and she was smiling.

  “There! That is better. Now, let us be off. We have much to tend to.”

  They emerged to the courtyard and made their way to the stables where the Master of the Horse was waiting with two steeds.

  “I cannot ride on that… thing!” Kelleigh said.

  Thomas laughed. “If you would, please, fetch my lady a man’s saddle. She cannot stay aloft like a proper woman should.” He winked at her.

  She blushed and dropped her head.

  In a moment, the horse was outfitted with the new saddle, and the couple were on their way back to London.

  Date: May 28, 1585

  Location: On the banks of the Thames near St. Paul’s Cathedral

  Kelleigh rolled over and put her arms around her husband, resting her head on his chest. “I know your father’s passing has been difficult, but what else is it that has been troubling you? You have spent many hours walking the Thames to listen to the water rushing. Where is your mind these last days?”

  Thomas dropped his right arm from its position behind his head and pushed her hair behind her ear. He smiled, thinking how she always noticed when he was elsewhere. It was nice to be cared about. “I have something very special for the Queen, but I know not when I should present it. The decision troubles me greatly.”

  “Why? What do you suppose will come of it?”

  “I do not know. My fear is that she will hate the sight of it, and I shall lose my employment.”

  She sat up, clutching the duvet to her chest. “After sending such a gracious amount for your father’s interment, I do not think she will so quickly cast you out.”

  “He was a favorite of her father. It was her duty. My presentation could be seen as a move for power.”

  “Is that the truth of it?”

  He sighed. “Yes. I have great pride in my work, and I want it to be seen by all, admired, and praised. I plan to make a gift publicly.”

  “Husband, pride is a mortal sin. You should not throw such words around loosely.”

  “And I struggle with it daily.” His hand found hers, and he pulled her back into his arms. “I do not know what to do.”

  “I suggest you present her with the gift in her chambers.”

  Thomas smiled. “But that would be in contrast to my plan.”

  “You cannot risk everything you have worked for—the position of your family—for the sake of praise! It is as though I know not who you are. My Thomas would never put ambition before blood.” With that, she stood, dressed in haste, and fled the bedchamber.

  As he stared out the window, deeply in thought, he rubbed the scar in his eyebrow until it stung. She was right, but he knew not how to remove the ingrained desire for recognition. It was like the night sky’s grasp on the stars; it had hold of his heart and refused to loosen the fingers holding him captive. He had worked his whole life to be recognized.

  Frustrated, he donned his clothing and shoes and left to take a walk along the Thames so he could think clearly. They were to leave the next morning, and still he had not closed the house.

  He kicked at rocks as he walked to the bench where he had sat the day Marian was born. Once seated, his thoughts ran roughshod as he considered how to breach the issue.

  For the remainder of the day, Kelleigh did not speak to him. When they mounted the horses to return to Windsor the next day, he could no longer stand it.

  “Wife, please accept my apologies. I fear I have grown too used to thinking only of myself.”

  She glared at him. “Did you think on it, then?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “There is no need to present the piece publicly. I shall gift it to the Queen in private.” Even as the words left his lips, he wished to recall them. There was not a thing in the world he desired more than being renowned for his work.

  After a moment of studying his face, she fixed her eyes forwards. “I do not accept your apology.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because it is insincere.”

  The remainder of their journey passed in silence as he tried to discern how she could have known and what he might have shown on his face.

  They dismounted, turned the horses over to the groom, and stalked to their apartments.

  When Kelleigh saw Marian, it seemed all the upset and arguments bled right out. Cooing and nuzzling one another commenced, and Thomas excused himself.

  As he meandered the halls of the palace, he thought about his wife’s perception and advice. Suddenly, he was faced with the door to his workshop. He unlocked it, went in, and closed it quietly before throwing the iron bar and letting out a huge whoosh of air.

  Once he had pulled himself out of the dark place his mind was thrusting him, he fetched a pint and sat on the cot in the corner to drink and contemplate. It was not long before, weary from riding, he collapsed and allowed his eyes to close.

  His thighs were burning as though he had been set to the stake. Something carried his sandal-clad feet forwards to the temple where the priests and teachers of the law resided. He knelt on the steps until summoned. Wind assaulted Thomas from all sides, sending his robes into a frenzy.

  A man, seeming familiar, exited the temple and knelt on the sand. “You have come to give us what we desire.”

  Thomas woke and seized the privy pot, emptying the contents of his stomach. Bile burned in his throat a second time, and he heaved again. Shaking, he rolled off the cot and rushed through the palace to his apartments.

  He leapt onto the bed and shook his wife awake. “I am sorry. I will not present the Queen with the trinket in front of the nobles.” Several passes of ill swept through him, taking his breath quite away, until she sat up. His voice wavered. “I am sorry.”

  “Whatever has happened, husband? You look like the Reaper has come to claim you.” She squinted and touched his hand.

  Beads of sweat consumed him.

  A rapid knock sounded at the door, followed by the nanny’s voice. “My Lady, come quickly! ‘Tis Marian!”

  Kelleigh leapt from the bed and ran, Thomas close on her heels.

  Marian was shivering and coated in perspiration. She was taken into her mother’s arms but was unresponsive. Tears poured down Kelleigh’s face, and her voice was barely above a whisper. “Please, do not succumb. I could not bear it if I lost you.”

  Thomas could not move. His feet had turned to stone as he gazed upon his sick child. He twisted towards the nanny. “Ague?”

  She shrugged even as she wrung her hands. “I know not.”

  “Go. Fetch a doctor!”

  “At once, sir.”

  While she was gone, he turned to comfort his wife.

  “I do not know what to do. She is so quiet, but I know she is so ill.” Kelleigh hiccupped and sniffled as she swayed to and fro.

  He put his arms around the pair and moved with them, trying to provide all he could silently.

&n
bsp; It was not long until the doctor arrived, still in his nightshirt, bag in hand. “I would like to examine her, if you please.”

  Kelleigh placed Marian in her crib and backed away.

  The doctor moved in and turned her over. Right away, she retched and covered the duvet in thick, green vomit. He lifted her away from the putrid pile and put her on the rug. “Please, would someone remove the filth from the child’s bed?”

  Thomas put his hands on Kelleigh’s. She had such a frightful grip on her fingers they had turned blue. “I love you. She will be fine.”

  Standing up and cradling Marian, the doctor moved to hand her back to her mother. Once the exchange was made, he cleared his throat. “I am afraid she has caught the ague.”

  “What shall we do?” She turned to her husband and gripped the front of his shirt with her free hand. “I cannot bear it.” Her eyes were wet, and her hand trembled.

  He answered, “We shall do whatever the doctor tells us to, and we shall pray.”

  Lips pressed together in a thin line, she nodded.

  “Doctor, what is it that you suggest?” He never took his eyes off his wife.

  “Keep watch on her. Try to make her comfortable. Do not let her choke when she must vomit. Use this—” the doctor passed over a small, smooth, wooden spoon “—when she has a shaking spell so she does not swallow her tongue.”

  Thomas said, “We owe you many thanks.”

  Kelleigh cradled her daughter and repeated the words, but they were without conviction.

  §

  A month later, Kelleigh still had not recovered from the ague fright, but Marian was improving by the day. She could not go far without her mother as a shadow. No more balls or fine dinners were attended; she just stayed with the baby.

  Thomas was troubled by the change and often begged his wife to attend him. Most nights, she refused. He knew not what to do, so he went alone and sat by himself in a corner or at the Queen’s table.