by Olga Daniels
“He said as I didn’t seem like a peasant girl and he’d never met anyone like me before and it’s what I am now that matters.”
“Quite right.” Meg nodded emphatically.
“Then he said that although he was of noble birth, he was really quite poor. His older brother inherited everything and he’s had to live on his wits and get by as best he can, and that’s why he’s here in the service of the Earl. Then he looked at me, silly idiot that he is, and he asked if I found him very ugly, an’ of course I said, ‘No, not at all.’ I told him it was how he behaved to me that mattered, not what he looked like. An’ anyway, he couldn’t help it if he had a scar on his face, an’ it didn’t make no difference to me. In fact I don’t see it no more, now.”
“I know, Sarah,” Meg said. “When you get to know people well you don’t think so much about appearance. It’s other things that count then.”
Sarah was silent for a moment. Her eyes were shining. Her cheeks were shining too. Meg knew her well enough to realise she was about to say something that she thought was unbelievable! Like the time when she’d taken Meg into the stable at the nunnery to watch a litter of kittens being born.
“What is it?” she asked gently.
Sarah took a deep breath. “Alan Crompton—” she rolled the name round on her tongue “—said as how he’d ask me to marry him, only he’d nothing to give me. “Course I said as how that didn’t matter to me. I ain’t got nothing either.”
“Oh, Sarah. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you, my lady. I was quite overcome. An’ I told him how proud I was to be asked. An’ I would have liked to say yes, but I had to say no, because I couldn’t leave you, my lady.”
“Dear Sarah.” Meg had tears in her eyes. “I won’t stop you. If you wish to go away with Alan—”
“No, my lady. That I’ll never do. At least not until I know as you’re properly settled an’ safe.”
“I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness,” Meg insisted, though her heart was heavy. She knew how greatly she would miss Sarah, her constant friendship, her sensibility, humour and high spirits.
“I mean it, my lady. Alan Crompton’ll have to wait. It won’t do him no harm. If he won’t do that for me, then he’s not worth having. That’s what I say.”
“But, Sarah, it’s your happiness—” “There’d be no happiness for me unless you were happy as well!” Sarah was adamant.
Every day Meg had to spend several hours with Nancy and the dressmakers. They discussed the latest fashions, held up beautiful material to see its effect. Sometimes they asked if she liked this or that, then completely ignored her response. So mostly she took the easiest course and simply left it to them.
She always took Sarah with her to these fittings, not only to assist with the interminable dressing and undressing, but because she needed her maid’s companionship, even though she had to remain quietly in the background. If she uttered a word she was threatened with being summarily expelled from the chamber.
Once Meg had remonstrated when she’d considered a gown to be too revealing. Her objections had been brushed aside.
“Nonsense,” Nancy had said. “You must leave those convent pruderies behind you now.”
“It’s the fashion, my dear,” Mrs Goodley had cooed.
“The Court would be more surprised if you hid the upper part of your bosom,” Nancy had said. “They would be sure you had some hideous blemish that you wished to cover, and such a rumour would totally ruin your chances.”
“You have such a lovely complexion!” one of the sewing maids had said. “Not a mark from the smallpox. You don’t know how lucky you are.”
Meg was disturbed when one afternoon Earl Thurton joined them in Nancy’s chamber. Mrs Goodley and her assistants immediately drew back and curtsied.
“Carry on, ladies.” He waved his hand magnanimously and seated himself upon the bed. “I’ve come to see how the robing is progressing.”
“You are most welcome, my lord.” Nancy was all smiles. “I am sure you will find we are assembling a very becoming wardrobe for your niece—”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Meg. “Surely it is not seemly for a gentleman to see me in my underwear?”
“Don’t be so prissy,” Nancy snapped. “The Earl is paying the bills; he has a right to see what he’ll get for his money. Besides, he’s well used to seeing ladies in their underwear.”
“Quite right,” the Earl chuckled. “You’ve no need to be bothered by my presence. As I’ve said before, you’re too skinny for my taste.”
Nancy laughed loudly, taking the comment as a compliment to her own buxom form. Meg hung her head. Perhaps she was being foolish. The Earl was old enough to be her father.
“Very well,” she said. That was foolish too, for she’d been told, not asked.
A moment later she heard the ring of quick footsteps on the stone-flagged passage. The door was flung open and Richard stood on the threshold.
Meg gasped. She was about to protest, until she saw the welcoming smile Nancy was bestowing on him.
“I invited Richard to give us his opinion. Please enter.”
He bowed to them all, then strolled forward, relaxed and at ease, pleasantly smiling. Meg froze. Was he also accustomed to seeing ladies in a state of semi-undress?
Cold fury seized her. Like a statue she stood as they continued with the fitting. Tight-lipped, showing her disapproval with silent rebellion. Mrs Goodley and her sewing maidens busied themselves around her, tacking and tucking. They lifted her arms and put them down again, turned her this way and that.
“What’s the matter with the girl?” exploded the Earl. “Does nothing make her happy? That’s a magnificent gown, enough to turn any man’s head. What do you say, Richard?”
“Lady Margaret does indeed look very beautiful in it.” Richard spoke softly, sincerely.
“There, Meg,” said Nancy. “What more can you wish for? Aren’t you one of the most fortunate girls in the land?”
Meg made no answer. She stared straight ahead, looking at no one. She felt humiliated, a spectacle. When Mrs Goodley began to remove the gown, which in any event only partly covered her, Meg instinctively stepped back.
“We are merely educating you into the ways of the Court, of the very highest people in the land. Who are you to object? You are infuriating!” Nancy moved to slap her face.
“No.” The one word from Richard stopped her with her hand raised. “You told me Lady Margaret wished for my opinion,” he said quietly. “I see now that was not the truth.”
“I was sure Meg would wish to be guided by what you think, Richard.” There was malice in Nancy’s face.
“What nonsense!” he snapped. “I shall leave.”
Meg did not move an inch. She held her head high, dissociating herself entirely from the conversation. She felt angry and humiliated. In the silence, she heard his footsteps crossing the floor as he left the room. Part of her wanted to turn and look at him, but she could not—would not—do so. She maintained her silence for the rest of the session.
It put Nancy into an ill-temper. She ranted at the dressmakers, insisted that the bodice of a gown be lowered yet further, although she knew well that Meg had previously objected to its cut. The dressmakers complied with Nancy’s wishes, then stood back, looking at the new line critically.
“Do you not think it was more fetching as it was, Mistress Nancy?” said one of the dressmakers. She regarded Meg with a look of sympathy. “A little modesty can have great appeal, especially in one so young—”
“Modesty be damned!” Nancy turned to the Earl. “What is your opinion, my dear one? Am I not right? A man wants to see what he is being offered.” Nancy gave a harsh laugh.
“You have a point there,” agreed Thurton. “I would say it reveals just enough, not too much. Quite luscious. You’ve made a good choice, Nan.”
Nancy smiled broadly, pleased to have her opinion vindicated.
“There is j
ust one point, your ladyship,” said Mrs Goodley. “If it is lowered, as you suggest, there is a possibility that the gown will fall off the shoulder.”
“Let it,” snapped Nancy.
“That’s my girl!” The Earl chuckled.
Meg thought there was a distinct possibility that her bosom would spill out over the top, even if the gown did not fall off altogether, but she said nothing. She would refuse to wear that gown, even though it was intended to be the most beautiful, and was the most expensive in the whole magnificent collection.
Nancy’s lip curled as she spoke to the woman. “If you cannot make the alteration, I shall take it to a better dressmaker when we get to London.”
The sewing maids exchanged anxious glances.
“I’m not saying we can’t do it, my lady. Indeed it’s quite a simple job. I was merely making a suggestion.” She could not afford to lose the custom of her wealthiest client.
Nancy would have none of it. “I’ve made up my mind. I shall have this gown finished in London, and we’ll have more made when we get there. There will be a better choice of materials than you can provide. If we had more time I’d suggest to his lordship that I should take her to Paris—there they really understand how to make clothes!” She turned from the mortified women and spoke directly to Meg. “You can go and join Richard, who will no doubt be expecting you for further instruction on behaviour.”
Nancy held out her hand to the Earl and together, looking well pleased with themselves, they sauntered from the chamber.
Chapter Seven
Richard paced up and down in the passageway that led to the Music Room. It had been almost unbearable to walk away from Nancy’s chamber, to leave Meg’s delightful form partially exposed, then covered in alluringly rich garments. He had seen the expression in the Earl’s eyes as he had watched, and no matter what he said, Richard could not believe that any man could look at Meg without lusting for her.
His pulse-rate had quickened when Nancy had said, “Meg would like you to attend her next fitting, and I should value your opinion of the styles I have chosen for her.” He had been unbelievably excited, as feverish as a schoolboy rushing to his first assignation with a woman.
It had taken all his will-power to wrench himself away from the delectable sight of her in the shimmering silken underwear which had clung so revealingly to the curves of her lovely body. He’d yearned then to cover her, to comfort her and carry her off to his own private chamber. He broke off the thoughts. How could they treat her like that? It had been evident the moment he saw her frozen face that all had not been well with her.
He had seen Meg in many different moods during their daily contact, and he could readily recall her anger at their first encounter in the crowded street in Norwich. But that had been different from this. Then she had been proud and unafraid. He knew her face when she was concentrating, so willingly trying her best at archery. He had seen fear in her eyes at the tilt, and delight when under his patient tuition she had mastered a new step in the dance. He was entranced by the sound of her laugh, which would ring out with uninhibited gaiety when she was amused.
Hers was the most expressive face he had ever seen, and never had she looked so thunderous as in the dressmakers’ hands. Rage was tight-bottled within her, fanned by her helplessness. Like a prisoner in chains she had stood stock-still, but her eyes had darted about, seeking escape and seeing no way out. He sensed that they were trying to break her spirit, forcing her to bend to their will.
He felt anger for her, and fury that his helplessness was as great as her own. He longed to gather her into his arms and carry her away—but he had no place to take her. No home, no fortune, no means to support her as a lady of her rank had a right to expect.
Nancy’s invitation had suggested that she suspected there was an attachment between them. Had it been a trap, set up to test him? The Earl’s expression had been watchful and mistrustful.
He was no fool. He was ambitious and he was playing for high stakes in this enterprise of arranging a marriage between Meg and the King.
Richard feared that his outburst might have fanned suspicions already harboured by the Earl and Nancy, but he’d been unable to prevent himself. Had he witnessed any further indignities inflicted upon Meg his anger would have exploded even more forcefully. She did not deserve such treatment. She was beautiful, intelligent, a truly delightful character. Of course he liked her, but he had taken care that it should be no more than that. He ought not to have kissed her as he had done that day in the woods, but what did a few delicious kisses mean? He’d kissed many women, and lain in the arms of several, but this was different—because Meg was different.
It had been a pleasure to spend so much time with her, but that was all. Most definitely there was not the least suspicion that he had fallen in love. He assured himself that he would have felt the same concern for any woman who was destined to be married to Henry VIII. It was his pride in chivalry, his training in knight-errantry that demanded he should make the tuition he was giving to Meg as pleasant as possible.
He had last seen the King during the Christmas festivities, and had been horrified to see how gross His Majesty had grown, especially for a man who was only in his mid-forties. Some said Henry had never fully recovered from that fall he’d had when jousting, when he’d lain unconscious for two hours or more. Could that have had an effect upon the regal brain? Heaven forbid—and heaven forbid also that anyone could read such thoughts, for surely they were treasonable.
Henry had been handsome, vigorous and popular in his youth. Then he might have made a fair match with Meg. Now it sickened Richard to think of it. If only he could devise some means to protect her! He must redouble his guard. If any mischance befell him there would be no one to watch over her, and she was so vulnerable. There was little he could do except remain vigilant for her welfare, and that meant taking care of himself also. A knife in the back was not a fate to which he intended to expose himself.
His unease increased as he entered the Music Room and saw Gervase Gisbon sprawled on a bench. They exchanged perfunctory greetings as Richard walked over to the musicians. One of them handed him a lute. He settled himself in their midst and began to play. The music was soothing, but could not entirely dowse the anxiety he felt as he waited.
Would Meg come to him for tuition as trustingly as before? She had made her feelings abundantly clear when he’d seen her with the dressmakers. Had he lost her good opinion for ever? He was surprised at how deeply that thought distressed him. His fingers slipped on the strings of the lute, making such an ugly twang that he laid the instrument aside. He was too disturbed to make music. The other musicians continued to play. Richard sat with his head bowed.
Perhaps it was time for him to step aside from Meg? Time for someone else to take on the task of preparing for her launch into high society? It would be sensible to say he had done all he could, but even the thought of that was unbearable.
“Richard.”
The Earl’s voice boomed into the room, thunderous above the gentle music of the lutes.
He looked up uneasily. It was the last sound he wished to hear. Nancy was with the Earl, the two of them standing in the open doorway. Thurton with thick legs placed sturdily apart, his heavy frame accentuated by his fashionable padded doublet, slashed sleeves puffed to the elbow. Nancy plumply filling her gown, expensive necklaces decorating the bare flesh above the fitted bodice. Her sleeves had exaggerated cuffs hanging loose, revealing elaborate undersleeves of richly patterned silk. Despite the richness of their clothing, their appearance was coarse.
“Yes, my lord?”
They watched as Richard walked towards them. He bowed.
“We expected to see Lady Margaret here with you,” said Nancy.
“She has not yet arrived,” Richard replied stiffly. “Perhaps she is changing her gown. She has several now from which to choose.”
“And the minx is hard to please,” growled the Earl. Then sharply he asked, “What
was that scene about?”
“In Mistress Nancy’s chamber?” Richard enquired.
“You know perfectly well what I am talking about. No prevarication. I want the truth.”
“There was no more to it than you saw for yourself,” Richard said. “You must remember that Lady Margaret was brought up in a nunnery. She is not accustomed to the ways of the world.”
“I’m not blind, Richard. She would have dismissed me if she had been able, but it was when you came into the room that she became really upset. Why should that be, I wonder? Is there something between you? Some—attachment, perhaps?”
“No, sir. I think her shyness springs entirely from her convent upbringing. She thinks of me as a friend.”
“Only that? A friend?”
“Just that. I am no relation to her, and in truth I had no right to be there.”
The Earl brushed that aside. “You were there at the invitation of Mistress Nancy. Perhaps it was a mistake. It is the extent of this ‘friendship’ that I am querying.”
“It was but part of the task you entrusted me with, sir. It was necessary to gain the young lady’s confidence as I educated her in those sports and pastimes necessary for her to enter the sophisticated circle at Court.”
The Earl’s small eyes narrowed till they were but slits in his big florid face.
“I also gave instructions that you were not to ingratiate yourself into her affections.”
“I assure you I have done only that which was necessary to fulfil the task you entrusted to me.” Richard stood straight and returned the Earl’s searching gaze unwaveringly.
“I have to believe you,” he said grudgingly. “I admit you have greatly improved the wench. She begins to act almost as if she belongs in the real world. If we play our cards right she should catch the amorous eye of our lusty King.”
“I have no doubt about that,” Richard agreed. He believed it, but had difficulty in saying it without a note of despondency in his voice. It pained him to think of the future mapped out for Meg, who was still so lovely, fresh and innocent.