The Last Howard Girl (Tudor Chronicles Book 3)

by Lesley Jepson

  Cecily pulled the laces tighter on her bronze gown and Ralph’s eyes widened.

  ‘Good grief, wife. Where did those come from?’ Meg wrinkled her nose at him and looked down at her huge bosom almost escaping over the top of her gown.

  ‘Oh, Ralph. Jane must be due a feed.’ Emotion began to show in Meg’s voice.

  ‘She’ll be perfectly well with the wet-nurse, Meg, and the other nursemaids that know and love her and the others. And I must say, you look astonishing,’ he laughed.

  Meg sighed. ‘I can’t go to the wedding like this, Ralph. I’ll be despised as a lewd trollop looking like this.’

  ‘Ma’am, you look lovely,’ whispered Cecily, then Meg squeaked as Cecily pulled the laces even tighter. ‘I feel huge,’ said Meg breathlessly as she tried to get used to tight lacing again after the recent birth.

  Suddenly the door opened and in walked Cat, resplendent in an iridescent grey gown, with her hair piled up in an intricate plaited design with a miniscule lace coif pinned into the centre with a beautiful emerald hair ornament. Meg gasped at how wonderfully regal her friend looked as she swept into their room.

  ‘Oh, my lovely, that bronze gown suits you so,’ smiled Cat at Meg, still in front of the looking glass. Meg looked back at her friend with a glum expression.

  ‘I thought it did, Cat, but look at these,’ she nodded down to her bosom, ‘and my thoughtless husband can’t do anything but laugh.’ Cat rolled her eyes at Ralph, who took a sudden interest in spreading another piece of bread with honey, and she looked back at Meg.

  ‘I have just the thing, my lovely. It belonged to my mother, and I know she would love you to wear it to her granddaughter’s wedding. Wait a moment,’ and Cat swiftly left the room, returning almost immediately with a delicate lace fischu that she draped round Meg’s neck. She tucked the ends into the top of her gown, covering the offending globes of flesh and then felt in her pocket, withdrawing a beautiful brooch.

  ‘I found this a few days ago, Meg, and I want you to have it.’ Cat pinned the brooch onto the front of Meg’s gown, anchoring the fischu safely in place and ignoring Meg’s gasps of protest.

  ‘It too belonged to my mother, and I think it is a companion piece to your lovely necklace. Perhaps my mother and my aunt Anne got them at the same time from France?’ Cat’s eyebrows lifted in question and she continued, ‘It has the similar shape of amber stones as your necklace, and it is set with pearls and topaz just the same. I want you to take it and keep it safe for your Mary, a gift from her namesake.’

  Meg’s eyes were filled with tears at Cat’s words, and she had to swallow hard before she could reply. ‘Thank you, Cat. My necklace,’ she touched the item round her neck, a gift from Queen Anne Boleyn on the evening before her death, ‘will go to my Anne, as a gift from her namesake too. But only if you are sure you don’t want it for one of your daughters.’

  Cat snorted a laugh. ‘I have more than enough other jewels to give them ten times over, Meg. My mother had an absolute hoard that she never wore, and Francis has always been generous. I would love your little Mary to have something from my mother, and I shall look out something of hers that is equally pretty for baby Jane. My mother loved babies, Meg. She would be happy to know we have so many between us.’

  ‘Then thank you again, Cat. I feel quite decent now,’ she smiled at her reflection and then looked across at Ralph, who made his mouth turn down in disappointment, although laughter brimmed from his eyes. He stood to escort Meg from the room as Cat sailed out in front of them.

  Ralph bent his head to whisper in Meg’s ear as they walked down the gallery towards the chapel where Lettice and Walter were to be married. ‘You look lovely, my Meg,’ his voice dropped even lower and he nodded towards her concealed bosom, ‘but if one of those puppies escapes, can I have the one with the brown nose?’ Then he yelped with laughter as Meg, blushing to the roots of her newly-coiffed hair, swatted his arm with her fan and tried not to burst into helpless giggles.

  ***

  Meg took a deep breath as she walked in the garden on the morning after the wedding. Ralph and Francis were speaking with Cecil and the Queen, a brief meeting before they all rode away back to London. The maids were packing their clothes, supervised by Cat, and everyone else was either asleep or breaking their fast.

  Meg, now comfortably clad in her modest blue brocade travelling gown, with her hair in its usual simple twist under her cap, felt more herself, although not being able to help with the packing was strange. Ralph had told her that Lady Sadler did not pack her own chest when visiting friends, so she had taken the opportunity to walk in the garden for some fresh air and to gather her thoughts before she hurled herself back into her life of children and babies and domesticity.

  Turning down a different path, following the direction of the beautiful rhododendron bushes planted either side of the gravel pathway to the lake, Meg saw Lettice on a stone bench just in front of her, hidden by the shrubs and unseen from the house.

  ‘Lettice! You are up early, sweetheart. Is Walter with you?’ Meg looked around but they were quite alone, although she could hear the shouts from the stables as Lord Robert supervised the harnessing and saddling of the horses.

  ‘No, Aunt Meg. I’m by myself. Being quiet and thinking.’

  ‘Oh. Would you rather I left, Lettice? I don’t want to disturb you if you want to be alone?’ Meg’s forehead creased slightly in anxiety. Lettice was the most sociable of girls, and seldom enjoyed her own company.

  ‘No, Aunt Meg. I am happy you found me. I would ask you about something. Something I cannot ask my mother.’ Lettice looked up sharply at Meg, and Meg smiled reassuringly at the girl and sat gently beside her, taking hold of her cold hands.

  ‘You can ask me anything, sweetheart. You know that. Although I am sure your mother would …..’ Lettice shook her head. ‘I know my mother would tell me the truth, Aunt. But she also might tell my father, and I don’t want that. He is …..,’ Lettice let her words trail away, and Meg nodded her understanding.

  ‘Last night, Aunt Meg,’ Lettice swallowed and took another shuddering breath.

  ‘Did Walter hurt you, sweetheart? Was he unkind? I wouldn’t have thought he…’

  ‘No, no, Aunt. He was kind. Sweet. Too sweet,’ Lettice burst into quiet tears. ‘Oh, Aunt Meg. He didn’t know what to do with me. I knew what to do better than he. He kept asking if he was doing the right thing, if I minded when he …… My mother had told me the mechanics, what went where,’ she wiped her eyes on her kerchief, ‘but no-one had told him. His father is dead, and he has no older brothers, but I would have thought at least his cousin Henry might have….. We talk about little else, the Queen’s ladies, who does what to who, and how. I hadn’t expected to have to …..’ Lettice subsided into quiet sobs again.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart. It will get better, I’m sure. Once you are comfortable with one another, you will find it improves.’

  ‘Did Uncle Ralph know what to do, Aunt, when he first married you?’ Meg coloured at the memory of the passion of her own wedding night. Lettice saw her blush and said, ‘You see. You had desire, and love and a hunger for one another. I had embarrassment and awkwardness,’ she shrugged, ‘I had Walter.’

  ‘He loves you, Lettice. I watched his face as you walked towards him in your beautiful ivory gown on the arm of your father, and his face was filled with love. Do you love him? Your parents seem to think it is a good match, and you have been so excited to marry him. You said he was kind.’

  ‘He is, Aunt. He is kind and quite sweet, although he is dreadfully under the thumb of his mother.’ Lettice looked at Meg and gave a little shrug. ‘And he is very good looking and I suppose he loves me, as I love him. But I do not ache for him, Aunt. He doesn’t call to my s
oul. I don’t watch him swallow wine and want to trace the line of his throat with my kisses. I don’t watch him chew and want to touch his face so my hand might feel his jaw move. I don’t look at his fingers and wonder how they would feel on my skin. I don’t watch him walk away and want to cup his buttocks to make him turn round to me.’ Lettice blushed, then closed her eyes and caught her breath in a shudder.

  ‘But, sweetheart. Whomever do you want to behave like that with, if not with Walter?’ Meg’s heart had sunk at Lettice’s impassioned words. There was obviously someone who had engendered these feelings, someone who called to her soul and made her ache for him, and it obviously wasn’t her husband. Meg waited, breath caught in her throat, for Lettice’s answer.

  ‘Lord Robert.’

  Chapter 24

  obert had been up since before dawn on the morning of the May Day joust, to ensure everything was perfect for his Bess. He had put his head out of the gallery door of his apartment and spied Tom Sadler curled up in one of the window embrasures.

  ‘Tom,’ he whispered loudly. ‘Tom Sadler,’ louder than a whisper. Tom’s face, swollen with sleep and with the pattern of the curtain still on his cheek, looked towards Robert calling his name. Suddenly the light came on in his eyes and he jumped down from the window and hurried towards Robert, hat in hand.

  ‘My Lord?’ Tom swept a bow, and staggered slightly as his balance faltered in his haste. Robert caught his arm and Tom stood up, his wide hazel eyes looking up at Robert obediently.

  ‘Tom, do you want to be a squire when you are done with being a page?’ Tom nodded enthusiastically, a grin splitting his features.

  ‘Would you like to help me today? I have a lot to do before the Queen comes to the joust, and I could do with a helpful lad like you this morning.’ Robert smiled at the boy, and Tom nodded again.

  ‘Oh, yes my Lord. Anything you want help with.’ Tom crammed his hat over his curls and stood to attention, waiting for his orders. Robert snatched his leather doublet and his dagger from the chair. ‘Come with me then, young Tom. We have many tasks this day.’ Robert strode swiftly down the gallery, and Tom struggled manfully to keep pace with Robert’s lengthy stride.

  When Robert and Tom reached the tilt-yard they could see how busy the servants had been during the night. There were coloured candle-holders strung through the trees, and the platform on which the Queen and her entourage would sit for the joust was swathed in an iridescent pinky-grey fabric, held to the uprights with twined strings of ivy and blossom. Tom gasped at the scene and looked up at Robert.

  ‘It is very beautiful, my Lord. It is like fairy-land.’ He turned a full circle with his mouth agape, taking in all the lights and flowers and beautifully crafted fabric roses decorating the edges of the canopy.

  ‘Thank you, Tom,’ Robert clapped the boy on the back, ‘that is exactly what it is supposed to look like. The Queen will be Queen of the Fairies, and all her ladies will have tiny wings sewn to the back of their gowns. I planned the colours to match what the Queen will be wearing, and persuaded Lady Cat to tell me the secrets of the costumes.’ Robert rolled his eyes at Tom to indicate how difficult that conversation had been, and Tom laughed.

  ‘So, young Tom. Can you climb trees?’ Tom nodded and grinned. ‘Then take off your tabard and hat, and scale that tree there,’ Robert indicated a large tree which overhung the Queen’s platform, ‘and loosen the light holders on that branch. They are too tightly bound, and may set fire to the leaves when we light the candles.’

  Tom obediently climbed and stretched out over the branch, loosening the strings which held the lights. The branch wasn’t too high, so Robert didn’t feel he was putting the lad at risk. When Robert was satisfied, Tom climbed down and stood straight, waiting for his next set of orders.

  ‘Right then, lad. Gather your things and come with me to the stables. I will have a dozen more jobs for you there,’ and Robert turned towards the stable yard as Tom gathered up his tabard and hat and trotted after his new master.

  ***

  Elizabeth stood in her chamber, allowing her ladies to adjust her gown and listening to their chatter. Cat sat on the window seat, tilting her head to the left and to the right as the skirt of the Queen’s gown was lowered over the hooped farthingale.

  ‘Pull the skirt down on the right, Frances,’ Cat instructed, and Lady Frances Howard duly complied. Cat nodded her satisfaction and Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

  ‘Am I nearly finished, Cat? Can we go down and view the horses yet?

  ‘Almost, Princess. You need your fairy wings on and your beautiful ruff attaching.’ Cat nodded, and Lady Frances’ widowed sister Lissey Sheffield brought the wings and Lettice carried the lace ruff over her outstretched arms.

  ‘Put the wings on first, Lissey, and then fold them downwards until we have the ruff in place.’ Cat stood and walked round behind Elizabeth to supervise the pinning of the wings. ‘That’s good. Now Lettice, you unfold that end while I hold this end here,’ Cat pinned the edge of the ruff to the shoulder of Elizabeth’s silver silk gown and Lettice carefully walked to the other side, unfolding as she went, until the ruff rose behind Elizabeth’s head like the tail of a peacock, ‘and then you can pin it on your side,’ Lettice did as she was instructed, ‘so when it is pinned at the back, we can raise the wings to hide the pins.’ Cat nodded and Lissey Sheffield plumped up the wings again, hiding the join of the gown to the ruff.

  ‘Oh, your Majesty,’ breathed Frances, as she stood in front of the Queen, ‘you look like …… a fairy Queen.’ She laughed and raised her shoulders, as if she couldn’t put into words how lovely Elizabeth looked.

  Elizabeth smiled at her own reflection and turned to her ladies, all dressed in delicate shades of pink and blue and grey and green silk, with iridescent fairy wings of their own sprouting from their backs. Even Cat had a pale grey watered silk gown that whispered as she walked, and diaphanous ribbons falling down her back from her matching grey cap. Cat couldn’t quite bring herself to dispense with some form of cap, and have only a piece of lace held by a jewel which was swiftly becoming the fashion. But her cap today was very light and thin and fairy-like, she thought.

  All the ladies hurried down to the tilt-yard, which was packed with knots of courtiers dressed in the same shades they wore, pastel shades of lace and silk everywhere. The vendors walked through the people, offering ale and sliced meat and sugared fruit, and there were jugglers and fire eaters and tumbling dwarfs dressed as harlequins. The noise and the colours and the smells were quite overwhelming, cooked meat and leather and horses.

  Elizabeth climbed the steps of her platform, and took her seat on an enormous chair completely swathed in pale green fabric, twined with roses and pink blossom. There had been rose petals scattered over the floor of the dais, which was also covered in pink and silver fabric so the wood didn’t cause splinters in her and her ladies delicate silken slippers. She smiled and waved at the people around, who cheered and waved handkerchiefs or caps at her. Cat sat on a small chair to her left, and the other ladies of the court sat on cushions at her feet, careful to spread their beautiful gowns around them in a wonderful display of colour.

  A trumpet sounded and then the unmistakeable sound of horse’s hoofs and the clink and chink of silver harness on armour as the gentlemen of the court came to pay their respects and get the favour of their ladies before the jousting began. Robert led the line of knights, and smiled up at Elizabeth in her bower. Behind him, peeping round the gate of the stable yard was Tom, face and hands filthy from climbing trees and polishing tack. Cat spotted him and snorted a laugh, wondering what his parents would think when they saw their grubby little urchin later that afternoon.

  ‘My Queen. I would beg your favour, Majesty.’ Robert dipped his lance for Elizabeth to tie her favour on the en
d, and then took it as it slid down, kissed it and tucked it inside his breastplate. Elizabeth gasped at the heat in his gaze, and sank back against her cushions. Lettice gave Walter her favour, and Robert’s sister Katherine tied her kerchief to her husband Henry’s lance. All the ladies gave their favour to one of the knights, then with another salute to the Queen, Robert led the parade back to the stable yard so the jousting could begin.

  ***

  ‘Robbie, you were magnificent.’ Elizabeth stroked his cheek and smoothed the grey silk of his doublet over his powerful shoulders as they prepared to go into the hall for the celebratory feast and dancing after the joust.

  ‘I had your favour with me, Bess. How could I be anything less when you are with me?’ Robert laughed down at her and kissed her nose. Elizabeth swatted him with her fan and turned, preparing to go into the hall on his arm.

  Suddenly the door to the gallery was snatched open and Thomas Blount hurried into the corridor, stopping abruptly in front of Robert and bowing briefly before thrusting a folded paper into his hands.

  Elizabeth watched Robert’s face as he read the few words on the paper, his skin paling underneath his tan.

  ‘Robbie, what is it?’ she asked worriedly. ‘What has happened? Is it a threat?’ Her voice was starting to rise in panic and she caught her lip in between her teeth.

  Robert looked at her blankly, and crumpled the paper in his hand.

  ‘Robbie, you are frightening me. What has happened? What’s wrong?’

  ‘My Lord.’ Thomas’s flat tones seemed to wake Robert from whatever thoughts had been passing through his mind. Robert let out the breath he had been holding and turned to Elizabeth.

  ‘Bess, I am so sorry, but I must go with Thomas. I’m sorry I have to leave you tonight, but it is unavoidable.’

  Elizabeth took a deep breath and straightened her spine. Suddenly she was no longer his Bess, but his Queen.