‘Hah! My niece is a handful, then?’
‘Let’s say we’re both learning a lot.’ Lord Somerville did not return his friend’s smile. ‘But you sound, Elion, as if you’re keen for us both to be there. Is there something you’ve not told me?’
Sir Elion leaned forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. He looked at his hands, then let them droop into the space. ‘Your nose is still as sharp as ever, Nic. Yes, there is something. Cecil needs you as one of his links.’
‘Spies? The Secretary of State needs more spies?’ Somerville sat up straight, alert and already suspicious.
‘No, not exactly spies.’ The hands flapped. ‘Informers, more like. Traders in information. Nothing too deep. We’ve already recruited your sister.’
‘What? You’ve dragged Levina...?’
‘Hold it! Nobody’s dragged her into anything. Levina is the Queen’s friend and she’s only too happy to help. She was not coerced, but she’s in a very useful position, Nic, as one of the late Queen Mary’s friends, now favoured by Elizabeth, meeting sitters every day, listening quietly while they gossip.’
‘What d’ye mean by gossip?’
‘You know...at ease...people open up to her...tell her what they’ve seen and heard at court...some of it useful, some not. But it doesn’t do for Levina to be seen talking to me except for a Good day to you, Sir Elion, because it’s known that I work for Cecil. So we need your help here. She tells you what she’s heard...’
‘About what? Treason?’
‘Heavens, no. But the reign has just begun and people are still milling about, trying to find the safest faction to support, those who think Elizabeth is on the right track, those who want her married, those who don’t, and so forth. These are the people Cecil needs to watch more closely. Levina could pass on any information to you, speaking in Flemish, perhaps, you then pass it on to me as your new uncle-in-law. Simple. No one would think anything of that. You leave it to me to sift out what’s useful and what isn’t, and you’d be doing Elizabeth another good turn.’
‘She wouldn’t know, would she?’
‘No, she only knows what Cecil tells her about where information comes from and he doesn’t tell her everything. Not yet, anyway. That’s why I want you there with your wife, enjoying yourselves and visiting your sister. Easy.’ Sir Elion clasped his hands and waited.
‘M...mm,’ Somerville said. ‘Well, I suppose if Levina thinks it’s safe, then I don’t see why I couldn’t help. That’s negatively positive I know, but, yes, I’ll start a move to Cheapside in the next few days. Will that do?’
‘Thank you, Nic. And you can rely on my help with Henrietta at any time. And Sophia’s, too.’
Somerville nodded. ‘I might need it. What is Levina doing about this, meanwhile? Does she have a contact already?’
‘She gets notes to me. But that’s dangerous, Nic. I’d rather use you.’
‘Is this why you’re returning to London so soon?’
‘It is, yes. These early months are rather fraught, as long as the lady changes her mind almost daily. In Parliament the other day, she let off a hail of warnings about how they need not think she was a soft touch. She would have her own way, or else.’
‘Sounds like somebody I know,’ Somerville said, smiling.
* * *
Not knowing anything of the conflict between Somerville’s desire for a family and Etta’s ambition to see the Queen, Lady Sophia had seen no reason not to tell her hostess, next morning, what Sir Elion had hinted at last night as they lay in a strange bed on the brink of sleep. Etta’s wish was no secret to any of the family, but Lady Sophia had not thought it would be allowed to come between the newlyweds so soon, nor had she quite expected such a display of triumph and elation from Etta as she helped to prepare for the last few miles of their guests’ journey. ‘But let his lordship tell you himself,’ Lady Sophia said, holding Etta’s arm. ‘You must pretend not to know. It will be his surprise.’
His lordship, however, did not give Etta the news in a nutshell, as their guest had done but, later that afternoon, casually announced that they would visit the shop within the next few days to find fabrics for a new wardrobe and, yes, they might even stay a few nights so that the tailor could take measurements. About any more plans he would not be drawn, using the excuse for his vagueness that he had business that must be attended to which might take some time. As for what would happen here at Mortlake Manor, he was equally unconcerned. ‘The staff here are used to my coming and going,’ he told her. ‘I like to be able to get away from London at short notice.’ Casually, he added, ‘I don’t have rooms at court, either. They’re very sparse and uncomfortable, and I can easily reach Cheapside from most of the palaces.’
‘Does the Queen offer hospitality to many of her ladies?’
‘Those closest to her have suites of rooms. Those who have duties are given a small room and to those women she needs but is not keen on, she gives the smallest rooms with no fireplace and a long walk away. That’s how it works, from what I’ve heard.’
‘I shall be kind to all my ladies,’ Etta said, ‘when I have some.’
‘You need more than one? Yes, certainly you do. A companion for the times when I cannot be there. Do you have someone in mind?’
They were sitting together on a wooden bench where the knot garden overlooked the river, where small craft struggled against the tide that pushed the water back against its flow. The low evening sun made pink ripples bounce off the banks and reflect the questions in two pairs of eyes. ‘The only one I’d like to have with me is Aphra,’ Etta said. ‘May I invite her to come, too?’
‘Of course. Aphra would be the perfect companion for you.’ He placed his arm across the back of the bench, touching the strands of red hair that spiralled down Etta’s neck, twisting them round his fingers. ‘You have done well,’ he said. ‘Five guests already, Lady Somerville. I wonder who’ll turn up tomorrow.’ His hand moved round to her face, easing it towards his own and tilting her head back to rest on his shoulder, his eyes searching hers for some sign of capitulation, almost drowning in the startling brown that changed to black even as he watched. Was she warming towards him, at last?
Etta had seen his desire grow as they talked and now she felt his hand upon her bodice move upwards to the exposed skin where the cleft of her breasts had held his attention. The warmth of his hand sent waves of pleasure rippling over her body, catching at her breath and holding it, waiting for the next intimacy as his head bent to hers. But surely this was not what ladies did, in view of those on the river, servants in the house behind them? Was this what any man’s touch could do? ‘No...not here,’ she whispered. ‘My lord, we can be seen.’
He took her by the hand, standing and pulling her up in the same movement, confident as never before that she was putting some of her grievances behind her. Many times he had thought of a long and leisurely wooing for her first time, but the desire blazing from her eyes and the mouth waiting for his kiss told him that her passion was already soaring with his own, mindless, impatient. His kiss was long and fierce, making up for all those times of denial, anger and petty revenge. Etta melted under his mouth, feeling the surge of aching warmth in her secret parts that made her cry out against his lips. ‘Yes...yes! Where can we go? Quickly, my lord.’
Without waiting for more assurances, he placed an arm about her waist and drew her along as his strides on the gravel pathway led her towards a distant corner of the garden right on the river’s edge where a small banqueting house nestled between clipped hedges. The last of the sun’s rays caught the thatched roof. A sprinkling of dry leaves littered the floor beneath a central marble table where, with mouths already seeking each other’s, Etta was held upon the edge, with all her senses flaring into life like a new-kindled fire. She did not question what he did, but let her mind follow of its own accord, follow hi
s hand that stroked the smooth skin of her inner thigh, his command, whispered and breathless, to lift her legs and clasp him, sure of her willingness. Overcome by their shared excitement she obeyed, trembling with desire and seeing nothing except the heat behind her eyelids, feeling only that powerful part of him plunge deep into the aching cavern of her body and, under her hands, the unstoppable energy of his rhythm, the fast pulse of being. The force of life itself.
She moaned, throwing back her head, feeling the ripples of sensation flood into her with each of his thrusts, melding her body with his in a way she had never thought possible. Spontaneous, immediate and all-consuming, this was no gentle or courteous coupling, but something primal that neither of them could have ignored beyond that moment. If it took Etta by surprise, it was even more unexpected to Somerville, for he had not thought his new wife would respond to him in this way after her vehement objections to marrying him. For her part, Etta had not known that there was any other way to do this other than in a bed, after a certain time of preparation and a slow build-up of desire, so when the peak of excitement came almost at once to blank her mind, the wail that echoed around that empty little room seemed to come from far away, from another world.
She heard his groan come with the last plunges, felt his mouth over hers, hushing her between kisses and breathless cries of wonder that came on the edge of laughter. ‘What a woman!’ he said, softly. ‘What a woman!’
Etta felt his careful withdrawal as, for the first time, she became aware of the discomfort of her position. She could not speak nor, thankfully, did he expect her to, but with her feet on the floor once more she was held tenderly within his embrace, her nose nestling beneath his jaw, her heartbeats returning to their usual pattern.
‘Are you all right, sweetheart? That was rough. It was not how I meant our first time to be. Did I hurt you?’
With her lips under his jawline, she moved gently over the skin with a flurry of nibbles. Then a soft but noticeable nip. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘You did.’
‘Oh, my beauty. Forgive me. I should not have...’
‘Yes, you should. It was not how I thought it would be, either, but it happened, didn’t it? And perhaps that’s the best way, after all. Unthinking.’
‘Next time, we’ll take it slowly, with all the trimmings. Can you walk? It’s already dark. We shall not be noticed.’
‘I can walk. Just.’
‘Come here. Let me kiss you again.’
Rocked in his arms, it was on the tip of Etta’s tongue to ask how soon they would go to London. But something warned her not to, that this was not the time, for he would surely think she was expecting a reward for her compliance. She knew that this was not the case, but would he? Yet the dark thought was still with her as they walked slowly back to the house that he himself might be playing some clever game which would ensure a pregnancy, just when it seemed his mind had been changed in her favour. He would deny it, certainly, and she must try not to think along those lines or impart any bitter taste to the unexpected joy she had just shared with him.
Chapter Five
After that, it was not to be expected that things would ever remain the same between them when each had recognised in the other a certain impulsiveness that could be kindled by no more than a look or a touch. Merchants were not impulsive beings, as a rule, yet this so-far-unseen side of Nicolaus nevertheless had its echoes in the way he had wanted to capture that brilliant creature on sight and decided there and then to make a bid for her, as he had on occasion bid for a rare diamond. He had already experienced her puzzling changes of humour and had done his best to resist their effect on himself and his plans. But now he had seen how quickly her fiery passion could be kindled, even when he might have expected the more usual reserve of a virgin. And although much had been missing from that encounter in the way of seduction, it had apparently excited her as much as himself. In some respects, that had perhaps been the best way to start, as she had said, for now there was a great deal more for them both to look forward to of which, as yet, she was quite unaware.
Etta, however, had most to lose by being swept into what could easily become a frenzy of lovemaking, for although that amazing experience in the banqueting house by the river had aroused her curiosity about what could be done without clothes, the risks of finding out were very great. As it happened, her immediate fears were suspended as soon as she reached her room that same evening when she had to call Tilda to bring her cloths. The energetic consummation had served a different purpose from the one for which, she thought, it might have been intended. He had been quite clear about his wish for a family, and indeed that was understandable, at his age, nine years older than she. As for her, she intended to wait longer to become a mother, until she felt the time was right for her mind to be cleared of other concerns. After all, making babies must surely be as much at the mother’s convenience as the father’s?
* * *
That perfectly natural excuse was made to spin out until the next one came along in the form of Aphra, not alone but with Master Leon of Padua, who had been sent by Dr Ben on some important business in London. To accompany Mistress Aphra Betterton as far as Mortlake were his instructions, then to proceed into the city on the next day, not knowing that Lord and Lady Somerville were preparing to do the same. ‘Where do you stay in London?’ Somerville asked him at supper.
‘I hope to be offered a bed at the Apothecaries’ Hall near St Andrew-by-the-Wardrobe, my lord. They’re interested in the unusual plants Dr Spenney grows in his herb gardens, you know. His name is well respected by apothecaries everywhere, these days. I’m fortunate to be allowed to study with him at Sandrock.’
‘Well then,’ said his lordship, ‘if you find their hospitality not to your liking, there will be a bed and board for you at the Sign of the Bridge on Cheapside.’
‘Thank you, my lord. What does the bridge signify?’
‘Bruges, in Flanders, my friend. It’s my birthplace, though now I work from Antwerp. Bruges has almost as many canals and bridges as Venice.’
Etta listened to this exchange with interest while realising, to her shame, that she had never asked him this, nor yet any other thing about himself except his experience of women, and that all she had picked up about him had been from their talk with Dr Dee and the scraps of information left over from conversations he’d had with her parents while she had sat there, stewing in her anger.
So this night, it was Aphra who shared Etta’s bed, chattering in hushed tones about all that had happened, leaving aside only those controversial details about which Etta was still confused. Unwilling to explain why she was allowing her determination to make contact with her half-sister the Queen to override every other consideration, she dwelt instead on the excitements ahead of them. She also wanted to know if Aphra’s opinion of Master Leon had changed since their last meeting. ‘He’s very good looking,’ Etta said, ‘and he obviously likes you. You should see the way he looks at you.’
Aphra was still cautious. ‘He’s well enough, I suppose, and young. But I shall reserve my judgement until I’ve seen how he looks at other women. One cannot tell the true mind of a man until one has observed him in the company of other women, can one? Oh...dear me...what am I saying? I don’t mean your husband...no, not at all. I’m sure he would never look at another woman while he has you, Etta. You’ve had no chance to find that out yet and he’s such a man of the world, but he chose you above...well...others.’ Aphra floundered to a standstill like a woman wading through a bog, sinking deeper into trouble. Quickly, she changed the subject, but her concerns had provided Etta with more than enough food for thought about her lord’s travels and contacts with beautiful women, about how many he had made love to, how and where.
She had not expected to be in the slightest way disturbed about the possible answers to such questions, but it was some time before she could dismiss them from her mind
as she relived those shared moments of fierce passion, sure that, for him, they would not have been as exceptional as they had for her. Somehow, the thought of him holding another woman in his arms troubled her, while her fertile imagination clothed unknown foreign beauties in those diaphanous gauzes he had once held to her face while seducing her with his words. And now, she was insisting that he take her into the very place where women were at their most alluring, where they would be sure to compete for his attention, where she herself could not afford Aphra’s cool detachment, or pretend not to notice.
Banning those thoughts, she talked instead of the gift she would make for the Queen, of how they would spend their days in preparation for a court debut, what colours, dresses, embellishments and headdresses, what jewellery and fabrics, hair-pieces and shoes, how they would respond when the Queen noticed them, as she would surely do, and how they must practise harder at all those accomplishments expected of them. They would hire a dancing master, too, well before being required to perform a galliard, a coranto or a volte. They would, of course, be expected to involve themselves in the domestic side of managing Lord Somerville’s city dwelling, for he would have guests to dine, fellow mercers, merchants, neighbours and clients for which a table laden with good food was an essential. What a good thing, they said, yawning, that they had been well schooled in housewifery.
Etta’s last thoughts, however, were of how it would feel to have her husband’s warm naked body settling into hers, his strong arms, and of those stolen moments of frenzied desire that they would surely find almost impossible to repeat, once they were in London’s hectic domain.
Cheapside, London
With her pen poised over a long list of requirements, most of them fabrics, Etta’s query was aimed loosely at Aphra. ‘So what’s the difference between a yard and an ell?’ she said.
‘Very little, I think,’ Aphra said, looking down from the stool on which she stood.
Taming the Tempestuous Tudor Page 10