The Last Howard Girl (Tudor Chronicles Book 3)

by Lesley Jepson

  ‘I would love to, my Lady. Pour me a cup of ale and I will drink it after I have eaten my bread and cheese.’ Tom nodded at the door as it opened and Jennie catapulted into the room with a tray that almost got upturned in her haste. Meg took the tray from Jennie and set it on the table. Jennie bobbed her another curtsey and exited the room without taking her eyes from Tom, who was too engrossed in his conversation with his sister to notice.

  ‘D-ickon ‘ikes cheese,’ proclaimed Dickon, striking himself on the chest to make sure everyone knew who he was talking about.

  ‘I shall make you some in a moment, Dickon. And you, Jane. Go and set your table while I feed Tom. He has come from the palace and he is hungry.’ The children dutifully trotted off to the other end of the room, where their nursemaid waited patiently for their return to the game.

  Tom took several cheese-laden pieces of bread from his mother and flung himself into the window seat, wolfing them down quickly, and then taking an apple from the tray, he began to peel and then slice the fruit with his dagger. He cut a small piece and offered it with a smile to Penelope, who was now occupying Meg’s lap while Lettice still held baby Dorothea. She took it solemnly and smiled.

  ‘You enjoy working at being a squire, Tom?’ asked Lettice as she rocked with her baby.

  ‘I do, Letty. Lord Robert works us exceedingly hard, and we have to be up very early, so he has enough time with us before his other duties.’ He bit a slice of the apple from his dagger. ‘I wonder if Lady Sheffield has come to watch today.’

  Meg glanced at Lettice, who was busy with the baby, then she looked across at Tom, ‘Does she come often to watch the squires, Tom?’

  ‘Yes, Mother. She comes most mornings,’ he shrugged and laughed slightly, ‘but not until we have almost finished. She misses the best fighting, I think. Sometimes we are just having a drink and a sluice from the water barrel.’ Tom carried on eating his apple, and Meg smilingly passed two pieces of bread and cheese to Jane, who had come forward with a tiny doll’s plate to be served.

  ‘Lord Robert always ends up with a soaked shirt and has to go and change before he goes to the council.’ Tom shook his head as if incredulous that Lord Robert would take the time to get changed.

  Lettice looked across at Tom. ‘Does my mother know that Lissey comes down to the yard?’

  Tom shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Letty, you will have to ask her.’

  ‘I most certainly shall, when I get back to court.’ Meg heard the irritation in Lettice’s tone of voice.

  ‘Lady Sheffield always smells so lovely, Mother.’ Tom smiled at the memory, and Meg looked at him sharply.

  ‘Does she, Tom? Of what, I wonder.’ Meg was very conscious of Lettice listening to this conversation.

  ‘Flowers. Like in the garden at night.’

  ‘Jasmine then,’ huffed Lettice, putting the baby up to her shoulder so the blanket hid the expression on her face.

  ‘’Om, ‘Om. Ale,’ Dickon’s commanding voice sounded from the other end of the room. Tom stood and smiled at his mother, then went to join the little ones at the party. Meg smilingly shook her head at his patience, then looked at Lettice questioningly, raising her brows as she did so.

  Lettice smiled tightly, then said, ‘I would like to thank you, Aunt Meg for having my babies here in your nursery.’ Meg smiled and leaned across to pat Lettice’s hand.

  ‘It is no trouble, sweetheart. Those two are no longer babies,’ she nodded towards Jane and Dickon, engrossed in their game with Tom, ‘and will be in the school room soon enough. I am happy to have more babies here, but doesn’t Walter’s mother want to look after them?’

  ‘I wouldn’t trust Dorothy Hastings to raise sheep.’ Lettice’s voice took on an impatient tone. ‘It’s bad enough we have had to name her for the old bat,’ she gestured with her head to her sleeping baby daughter, ‘although I did insist we made it slightly different.’ Lettice huffed out a breath. ‘I wanted something classical to compliment Penelope,’ she smiled across at her other daughter, trying not to fall asleep in Meg’s arms. ‘Persephone or Andromeda. I really liked Ariadne but Walter insisted we honour his mother. Hmmph! Catherine or Margaret would have been my choice had I wanted to honour someone.’ She wrinkled her nose at Meg and Meg smiled back.

  ‘We impose names on our children, Lettice, and then we find we can’t imagine them as anything else. When I had Tom,’ she nodded towards her large son balancing on a tiny chair, ‘I wanted anything but Thomas. Everyone at court at that time was a Thomas. But Ralph wanted to honour Master Cromwell, who had been more than a father to him, and who was always very kind to me. So he was Tom, and now he couldn’t be otherwise.’ Meg shook her head at Lettice and adjusted Penelope, who had finally given up the fight against sleep and was breathing quietly in the crook of Meg’s arm. Meg laughed, ‘And when your mother told Lady Mary what your name was going to be, well, there were a few choice words about that, I can tell you.’

  Lettice laughed. Her mother had told her that story many times. ‘I want my girls to have the happy upbringing you and my mother gave all of us, rather than the smothering, possessive one Walter had. We were always so happy here, Aunt Meg. When Mother couldn’t be here, you and Uncle Ralph were always so wonderful.’ Her voice cracked and she looked away.

  ‘And how are you and Walter now, Lettice?’ asked Meg gently, becoming attuned to the fragility of Lettice’s emotional state as she spoke about how happy they had been.

  ‘Well enough, I suppose,’ she shrugged, but her eyes filmed over with tears.

  ‘You have two beautiful daughters together.’

  ‘Yes, and they took a great deal of wine on Walter’s part to get them. He’s still useless in bed, Aunt Meg. He still needs me to tell him how well he’s doing when we are in bed together.’ Lettice dropped her voice to just above a whisper, conscious of Tom, the nursemaid and the children not far away.

  ‘Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry. I had hoped… But he’s a soldier, Lettice. One would think …’

  ‘Yes,’ she hissed back, ‘and if I dressed as one of his troops, he might have more idea what to do…’ Lettice could hold her tears back no longer, and she sobbed into the baby’s blanket. Meg laid Penelope gently at the back of the chair and moved to sit by Lettice, arm around her shoulder and patting her as best she could around the baby and making soothing noises.

  Lettice gulped back a sob and raised a tear-stained face, ‘I long for an assertive man, Aunt Meg, to sweep me up and take me to bed. Not one I’ve got to convince he must do his duty and that he’s doing it properly. And Lissey Sheffield is obviously feeling the same, if she’s in the stable yard every morning, watching Lord Robert wash!’

  Lettice realised the absurdity of her words as she spoke them, and her tears were overcome with a shriek of laughter and she and Meg giggled together. When Lettice could speak again, she looked directly at Meg.

  ‘I might go and join her, Aunt. He still makes me dissolve inside, I’ve just got better at hiding my feelings. With Walter I get a lot of practice.’

  Chapter 28

  obert climbed the tower staircase to his apartment, carrying his jerkin and mail shirt and flexing his shoulders following the sword practice with Edward Knollys. Ed was only twelve, but was tall and stocky with powerful shoulders. He had been able to parry and thrust without too much instruction but with an inordinate amount of strength and enthusiasm, and Robert was feeling the effects of the exercise.

  He entered his chamber and tossed the items on the chair just inside the door, as he levered his boots off and stripped his damp shirt from his skin. Loosening the laces on his breeches, he walked to the armoire to find a clean shirt and the doublet and breeches he would need to wear to the council meeting. He always felt more
confident with Cecil and Walsingham if he was well dressed.

  ‘I thought you would never come up, my Lord.’ A soft voice from the bed, hidden behind the bed curtain.

  ‘How did you get in, Lady Sheffield?’

  ‘The same way you did, through the tower door. You will have to tell your henchman to guard it better or keep it locked, although to be fair I came down the tower today.’

  Robert stared at the woman in the bed and she sat up, allowing the sheet to fall to her waist and revealing her naked breasts. She slid forward and stood up, walking towards Robert, who was transfixed by the sight of her body, slender with full breasts, a small waist flaring out to shapely hips and…..

  ‘My Lady, you are naked. And not only that, you are completely …. bare.’ Robert stared at the junction of her thighs and swallowed, unable to take his eyes from the sight before him.

  ‘Yes, my Lord. My husband preferred it, as do I. The ancient Queens of Egypt and Empresses of Rome used the technique. You will find it gives you a completely different sensation. But you, my Lord, are decidedly not….bare.’ Lissey ran her fingers teasingly through the hair on his chest, and that which was lower down on his belly, then pushing down his unlaced breeches, she cupped him in her hand. ‘Decidedly not,’ she whispered, nipping at his lips as she breathed over his skin and kissed just below his ear.

  Robert dragged a harsh breath in. ‘I am expected by the council, my Lady. We cannot …..’ He put his hands on her waist with the intention of pushing her away, but the softness of her jasmine-scented skin and the roundness of her hips were proving his undoing.

  Lissey wound both her arms around Robert’s neck and pressed her body into his, squirming her pelvis against him sensually and giving a husky laugh as his body reacted and his breath shuddered out.

  ‘My word, my Lord,’ she murmured as he bent his head and kissed her neck and shoulder, then dragged his mouth up her throat to capture her lips. He put his hands under her buttocks and lifted her upwards, locking her legs around his hips and walking across to lower them onto the bed before sliding inside her warm moist core.

  ‘We had better hurry, my Lord. And on this evidence,’ she pulled him into her a little further and his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of her bare skin sliding against him, ‘you are not as reluctant for this as some of the other ladies in waiting think you are.’ She squirmed and rocked again, and Robert closed his eyes, breath becoming laboured.

  ‘I love ….. I am ….’

  ‘Yes, but you can have me as well. It can be our secret,’ her lips murmured beside his ear, her breath raising gooseflesh along his spine; Robert cupped her buttocks in his hands and thrust firmly into her. Lissey squeaked and then sighed her pleasure that he had decided to stop fighting the feelings she had engendered. ‘And tomorrow morning, hurry up those stairs, Robbie.’

  He stilled and opened his eyes, looking directly at her. ‘Never, ever call me that.’

  ‘Then what should I call you, my Lord?’ She began rocking again and Robert felt unable to stop himself from meeting her thrusts.

  ‘My family call me Rob. That will serve well enough.’ He was silent for a moment, and the quiet of the room was punctuated by Robert’s breathing and Lissey’s sighs of pleasure.

  Robert spoke again, as quietly and gently as he could, ‘You have to realise this is just what it is. I can’t ….. We ….. There can be no promise of more.’ His motion was becoming quicker as he spoke, and Lissey’s breath was beginning to come in shorter and shorter gasps.

  Lissey panted a laugh at his discomfited words, ‘I was born a Howard, Rob, and I am already Lady Sheffield. I have no wish to be Lady Dudley,’ she gasped, then, ‘Oh, oh, Rob, oh!’ She buried her head into his shoulder as she clenched onto him, and he could do no other than empty himself into her; he hadn’t thought quickly enough to do any other, his feelings were so overwhelming. He put his forehead onto hers and kissed her gently.

  ‘Are you all right, Lissey?’ She unclasped her ankles from round his hips and moved from beneath him onto her side, pressing against him and kissing him again. Robert could feel her whole smooth bare body sliding across him as she moved, and his breath shuddered in his chest.

  He knew that he was dishonouring his love for Elizabeth with this liaison, but his sudden overwhelming desire for this extraordinary woman had taken him by surprise. He kissed her again and then said softly ‘I must go, Lissey. I shall be missed, and I wouldn’t have us found here, like this.’ He indicated their state of undress and moved towards his clean clothes, still at the bottom of the armoire, where they had fallen when she had surprised him.

  Lissey smiled provocatively at him, unconcerned by her nakedness, and walked from the bed to the ottoman, picking up a robe that she shrugged on.

  ‘My Lady, your gown?’ asked Robert curiously, looking round the chamber. Lissey smiled again.

  ‘I didn’t bother, my Lord. I knew I wouldn’t wear it for long once I was in here, so I came in my robe. I shall creep quietly back up the tower stair and along to my apartment. No-one will see me.’ She looked at Robert and raised her eyebrow, ‘No-one will know.’

  ***

  As the summer progressed and turned towards the autumn, Robert found his mornings began to follow a pattern. Sometimes Lissey Sheffield would come down to the yard and watch the sparring, walking round gently so she didn’t disturb the squires at their practice, but calling out encouragement or praise for a particularly clever move or block. These were the mornings that Robert knew she would leave the tilt-yard and go straight to her duties with the Queen, sewing, practicing the lute, dancing with the other ladies.

  But on the mornings that he didn’t hear the terse ‘My Lord’ from Thomas, announcing her presence from his position near the foot of the tower, watchful at who entered and assessing any possible threat to his master, these were the mornings when he hurried up the steps to his apartment afterwards, and Thomas remained on guard so he wasn’t disturbed. Thomas was the keeper of all his secrets, even those to which he made no admission.

  On one such morning, after catching his breath and watching Lissey’s perfectly smooth buttocks straddling his chest, he caressed the sides of her breasts and her flanks gently as she sat up and wiped her mouth with his kerchief.

  ‘How did you learn all these techniques you know so well, Lissey?’ She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, then moved across him, turned round and lay down by his side, fingers stroking his chest and kissing his collar bone gently. He cradled her into his shoulder and waited for an answer.

  ‘My husband was very adventurous. In bed, I mean. He enjoyed variety, and he taught me many things, mainly that the act doesn’t have to be endured flat on my back with my eyes closed and the candle blown out.’ Robert laughed at her words.

  ‘Indeed not, Lissey. That is that last way I would dream of taking you.’

  ‘Or I you, Rob. I want us to enjoy one another, to take pleasure in this …. this …. union-that-will-not-lead-to-marriage.’ She looked up at him through her lashes and laughed.

  ‘I miss a virile man in my bed, Rob. I have given my husband’s family an heir, and a daughter to marry away for power to another family. I miss them both, but I always knew that I wouldn’t be able to bring them up; that they would belong to my husband’s family. So now I find myself a widow, with a reasonable settlement, and a position at court. I can please myself what I do.’ She sat up and straddled him again, bending to taste his lips before sliding her body down his. ‘And you, my Lord Robert, please me.’

  ‘As you do me, Lady Sheffield. Very much.’

  ***

  Robert entered the Council chamber and was surprised to see that many of the members were sat in a small huddle at the
top of the table, surrounding the Queen. Ralph Sadler was to the side, making a note of things they had discussed already. Robert noticed he was well down the page and wondered what he had missed. He knew he wasn’t late; he hadn’t seen Lissey at all that morning, either in the yard or in his bed. So he wondered why the meeting had started early.

  ‘Ah, my Lord Robert,’ Will Cecil looked up at him from the Queen’s right hand side, brows beetling together as he squinted across the table. ‘The very man.’

  Robert bowed and looked quizzically at Elizabeth, whose dark eyes danced merrily with barely-concealed amusement. Walsingham gazed at him with his customary impassivity. ‘My Lords?’

  ‘We have a question for you, my Lord,’ boomed Cecil, as if he was addressing a public meeting.

  ‘Yes, Robbie, a question,’ echoed Elizabeth, trying to hide a smirk by looking down at the table as she spoke.

  ‘A question, my Lord? What is your question?’ He tried to swallow his irritation at the feeling that he was the butt of some jest of which only he was unaware.

  ‘How would you feel about marriage, my Lord?’ Robert raised his brows as Walsingham spoke in his usual deceptively quiet tone. An admirable voice for a spymaster, thought Robert distractedly, as he pondered the question he had been asked.

  ‘Marriage? To whom?’ His eyes immediately went to Elizabeth, who had the grace to blush before she looked away from the hurt in his eyes, and she caught her lip between her teeth. He knew he was being played for a fool; whoever they might suggest, it was obvious it wasn’t a serious proposition.

  ‘The Queen of the Scots, my Lord,’ Cecil responded to break the silence in the room. Robert snorted a brief laugh and looked around the council.

  ‘Why?’