by Olga Daniels
The Earl’s town house was on the south side of the Strand, one of the most sought-after areas in London. It was three storeys high, built of stone, with mullioned windows and the Thurton arms carved above the heavy doorway. An oriel window in the parlour overlooked the street. Meg was pleased to be allocated a small chamber on the first floor, but dismayed to discover it was next door to that occupied by the Earl and Nancy.
“Reckon they intend to keep a close eye on you whilst you’re here in the big city,” said Sarah.
Meg had thought exactly the same.
“Nice, though, ain’t it?” Sarah said approvingly.
The chamber was well furnished. The estate at Bixholm must be rich to be able to support such an affluent town house. A stab of anger shot through Meg as she remembered how simply and frugally her mother had been forced to live in the nunnery.
Thurton had been callous and ruthless in his treatment of his gentle sister-in-law, widowed, alone with a small child. Meg shuddered as she wondered why he was now bringing her to London. Of one thing she was certain: whatever plan he had it was for his benefit rather than hers. His secrecy added to her fears.
The gardens sloped to the river, and the palaces occupied by the King were close by. For health reasons the royal household moved along the banks of the Thames, from Richmond to Windsor, Greenwich, Eltham and Westminster. As one site became polluted everyone moved to the next. The huge Palace of Whitehall, an intricate mass of apartments and galleries, also had gardens, covered tennis courts, a tiltyard and bowling green.
Within days of their arrival in London the Earl had arranged a banquet, to which he invited all the most powerful men and women he knew, or could get introductions to. Invitations to pageants, balls and banquets flowed back. He and Nancy were smugly delighted, but Meg became increasingly puzzled and despondent. She was decked out in the elegant gowns newly made for her. Jewels which, she suspected, should have belonged to her mother were hung around her neck, decorated her hair, or were pinned to her garments. Meg squired to think that more recently they had been worn by Nancy.
The Court lay at the centre of everything. The palaces and great houses were thronging with ambitious men and women, all vying with each other for the King’s favour. Those who were not high-born enough to be within his orbit bowed and scraped to those who were now, or might one day be there. She began to understand that those courtesies Richard had been teaching her were, as he said, “the only way of getting promotion or of gaining wealth”.
He might have added that the rich and aristocratic never expected to have to earn a living. Wealth was available more abundantly than ever before. With the dissolution of the monasteries the King had acquired land, fine buildings, gold, silver and jewels. They were his to sell, or bestow upon those he favoured.
Meg was uncomfortable at being thrust into the company of so many strangers. Everyone was lavishly attired, the men just as flamboyant as the women. You would think it was a sin not to spend freely and dress brilliantly, she thought. Meg had never felt so alone as she did in that throng, and more so because Nancy was never far away. Meg curtsied and smiled. She answered politely when she was spoken to and regarded the glittering scene with such open amazement that it brought smiles to those who watched her. She had never known that such wealth and splendour existed, and she could not help being excited by it.
In every gathering she looked around, seeking Richard, but he was seldom present, and when he was there it was impossible to speak with him privately. She had become accustomed to his attentiveness and realised how much she had relied upon his companionship. She missed him terribly. At banquets she was always seated with the Earl on one side of her and a stranger on the other. That should have been pleasant, for normally she enjoyed talking to people, but the main topic was always concerned with events at Court, of which she knew little.
There was endless speculation as to who was in favour with the King. Even greater relish was shown when the talk concentrated upon those who were said to have fallen foul of His Majesty and had been dismissed. More than anything there were always a multitude of suggestions as to whom the King might choose as his new wife. The Court chuckled at the joke that one foreign princess had refused, saying she would not marry him even if she had two necks!
One wife divorced, another beheaded, and it had been said that when Queen Jane had had such a terrible time in childbirth Henry had been more concerned with saving the child than with care for his wife! After her death he had shown great remorse, but he was still sending envoys to all the European countries, seeking princesses whose fathers or brothers were seeking an alliance with England. Two of his previous wives had been chosen from among the ladies-in-waiting at Court, and there was always the possibility that might happen again. Various names were mentioned and their family connections discussed in minute detail. Meg understood only half of all that was said, for she had little knowledge of modern politics.
Nancy glowed, gossiped and giggled at scandals regarding people of whom Meg knew nothing. She preened and was complimented by other ladies and gentlemen with words that Meg was sure were falsely uttered. She was surprised to observe that the Earl was treated as a high-ranking gentleman of considerable consequence. Even more amazingly, she noticed that those to whom she was introduced were fawningly flattering.
“It is as if they think I am a person of importance,” she whispered one day to Richard.
It was late in the afternoon and they were attending a pageant which had been performed in the streets by one of the guilds. She had managed to draw him a little aside from the throng, so as not to be overheard by Gervase, though they remained within sight of his ever-watchful eyes.
“You will become accustomed to that, if the Earl has his way.” Richard’s voice had a grim undertone which was reflected in the set of his face.
“What do you mean, Richard? Why should it be? I don’t understand.”
“No, of course you don’t, my sweet innocent. But soon you will be introduced to the King—”
“That’s arranged for tomorrow,” she told him, with a light little laugh. “I’m so nervous! Just imagine it! I had never met any aristocratic people at all until I encountered you, Richard. To tell the truth I find the prospect rather alarming. I’ve been practising my curtsey, and I’ve been told to smile at him and to listen to him and agree with everything he says to me.”
“Good advice,” Richard said curtly.
“Naturally I shall be civil. I hope that I always am to strangers. Anyway, I don’t suppose I shall be in the company of the King for more than a few minutes.”
“Meg—take care—”
“Ah, Richard—and Lady Margaret.” The unwelcome voice of Gervase Gisbon came insidiously between them. “My apologies to be the cause of breaking up this delightful tête-à-tête.” The sneer was unmistakable. “His lordship sends compliments and requests that you join him and Mistress Nancy. They are about to move on to another gathering.”
Meg tried to read from Richard’s face what he had been about to say. Take care. Why now especially? A sense of insecurity had been with her ever since she had left the nunnery.
“Will you accompany us, Richard?” she asked.
“Alas, I cannot,” he said. “I have to practise for the Great Tournament in a few days’ time. But I shall be with you tomorrow when you are formally introduced to the King. You know that you have already been noticed by His Majesty?”
Meg gasped. “No! I had no idea! I have been at events where the King has been present—but you are teasing me, are you not, Richard?”
“It is true, my lady.”
She shook her head, genuinely puzzled. “But why should His Majesty have noticed me?”
Gervase gave Richard no chance to answer. He stepped between them, lifted Meg’s hand and tucked it within his arm, drawing her away from Richard.
“I understand we are all to accompany you tomorrow,” he said. “The occasion may include some dancing, and it is propo
sed that Sir Richard shall partner you.”
“We are to dance before His Majesty?” Meg gasped. She turned to Richard accusingly. “You did not tell me.”
“I didn’t know, until this moment,” said Richard. “But of course I shall be happy to do so.” Despite his words, he looked far from happy. His expression puzzled her. He’d always appeared to enjoy the dance almost as much as he enjoyed jousting. She thought he would have been pleased and proud to perform before the royal party.
“The Earl had intended to partner you personally, my lady,” Gervase said. “But Nancy convinced him that your sweetness would be shown to better advantage with a younger man. Your lively stepping will also bring you to his notice.”
Meg stared at Gervase. “Why would the King care how well I dance?” she asked. “Surely he has professional entertainers?”
“He does, naturally. The best in the land. But he particularly enjoys watching delicate young maidens disporting themselves.”
Meg was relieved to hear that, taking it to mean that there would be several couples dancing for the King’s pleasure.
“You will find it a truly memorable occasion,” Gervase said. He bowed. “Now, my lady, we must move on. The Earl and Mistress Nancy are waiting for us.”
The following day, when the Earl escorted Meg into the Great Hall, he strutted like a peacock and was as brightly gowned as the bird itself. Nancy, Richard and Gervase followed a short distance behind. Meg’s nervousness increased with every step. The grandeur of the huge room far outshone all the other wondrous palaces she had seen since her arrival in London. She gazed up at the elaborate ceiling, at the magnificent tapestries on the walls and the rich carpets on the floor. Brilliant colours and intricate designs clamoured to be noticed, but gold and scarlet predominated.
Her wonder and amazement grew as her attention turned to the people gathered there. Magnificence and artistic splendour were on blatant display. All were hoping for an audience with the King. A hundred or more ladies and gentlemen lined the sides of the great reception hall. The soft chatter suggested an underlying but unmistakable excitement, yet was kept within bounds. The men’s caps, of the richest materials, made a sea of colour, were decorated with flashing jewels and nodding plumes. The ladies’ hoods framed fashionably pale faces.
Meg understood then why so much trouble had been taken over her appearance that day. She was clad in one of the most elegant of her new gowns, though not the one which had offended her. Never—never—would she be seen in public wearing that! The gown Nancy had chosen on this occasion was of a rich russet colour. It had a tight-fitting bodice, heavily embroidered in gold around the delicately curved neckline, and elaborately slashed sleeves. The full skirt trailed on the ground and was open in front to reveal a jewel-encrusted petticoat.
Sarah had, of course, accompanied Meg to her robing, but Nancy’s maid had been called to dress Meg’s hair. Meg would have protested, but Sarah had whispered to her that she did not mind in the least. This was to be a great occasion, and it was possible that the other girl knew more about current trends than she did.
The maid had worked on Meg’s hair for almost an hour. She’d smoothed it till every hair was lying straight from the central parting, in exactly the right shape. Her long tresses had been combed to ripple thickly down her back—a style that denoted her maidenhood—and the undercap set slightly back on her head. Lastly the gable hood had been placed in position, framing Meg’s youthful face in the most becoming way. A rope of pearls finished the picture, opulent, fresh and charming.
Meg had been shown a portrait of the King, and it seemed to her that several of the gentlemen present looked much like him. Perhaps they all believed that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, for each one of them looked big, in broad-shouldered doublets, flat hats, and shoes with square toes. Many adopted a pose with their legs slightly apart too.
She was led forward, with her hand lightly resting on the Earl’s arm. “Which is the King?” she asked.
“His Majesty has not yet arrived,” Thurton said. “We will move close to that dais on which he will be seated, for he knows of our coming.”
“My lord, is it to one of the gentlemen here that I am to be wedded?”
The Earl did not answer immediately. He negotiated a place near the front, to the obvious annoyance of some who had been standing there for a considerable time. Thurton brushed them aside, aided by a few sharp comments from Nancy and a shoulder applied by Gervase.
“He is not yet here,” the Earl said.
Meg was not sure if he was referring to her question or to the King. She did not bother to pursue the matter; she had just noticed that Richard was standing almost beside her. As always his presence was reassuring, giving her a feeling of warmth and well-being. She wished she dared reach out and take hold of his hand. His eyes met hers, and she thought she read a longing in them that matched her own feelings. Why—oh, why could he not be the one for her? She smiled, but the expression on Richard’s face was solemn.
The air of expectation among those in the Great Hall intensified as time passed and the hour at which it was thought King Henry might arrive drew nearer. When at last that moment came, the musicians trumpeted loud and clear. The King entered, and with one accord those multi-coloured caps were swept from the men’s heads as they bowed low. The women lowered themselves in deep curtsies. The Earl and Meg paid homage in the same manner, but she could not resist lifting her head slightly to get a glimpse of the King.
Her disappointment was intense. He was a large man, tall, but also overweight, even allowing for the widening effect of his clothing. As he processed close to her she noticed that if he had taken off his cap, which he wore dashingly aslant, he would have shown himself quite bald. He walked with a slow, waddling movement, and she recalled that Sarah had told her that His Majesty suffered from ulcers. His legs were painful.
“Just like that old priest who took confessions,” Sarah had said.
“That’s just gossip,” Meg had reprimanded her, and had refused to listen when Sarah had protested. “You shouldn’t repeat such things.”
Meg pretended to look down humbly as he passed by in front of her, but her eyes were fixed on his legs. Beneath the silken stockings they were obviously wrapped around with thick bandages. She had never expected that the most important man in the whole land would suffer such a disability. She felt sorry for him, as she would have for any person with such an affliction. Then she looked around in dismay, fearing that someone might be able to read her thoughts—for surely that could be treason! No one would be permitted to think of the greatest man in the land as a “poor gentleman”.
He passed by, and the company raised themselves to normal height again. The King was seated in a throne-like chair on a dais. It was beneath a huge canopy of cloth of gold. Servants offered refreshments but he waved them away. The musicians who had followed him, playing a march of triumph as he processed along the length of the Great Hall, now grouped themselves to one side. They began to play some of the popular tunes, including several which had been composed by the King himself. The conversation, which had been flowing freely before the entry of His Majesty, started again, in whispers and hushed tones.
Nancy began to fiddle with the skirts of Meg’s gown, as if she thought it had been ruffled. Of course it had not! She had taken the greatest possible care to ensure that it had not been crushed or creased.
For the first time an anxious expression came over the Earl’s face. “We shall soon be in the royal presence, Meg,” he said. “Don’t forget what I’ve told you.”
“Smile and wait for His Majesty to speak to you before you make any comments,” said Nancy.
The King was graciously offering audience to courtiers and their wives and daughters, who moved gradually towards him. A queue had formed and the Earl, with Meg on his arm, slowly led her towards the presence.
Most people were with His Majesty for only a short time, then, with a leisurely gesture of his
fat beringed hand, the King would wave them aside. Meg watched with a sense of relief. At this rate her ordeal would soon be over. She might as well enjoy the occasion; it would be something to tell her grandchildren about when she was an old lady. He said so little to any of them that she was confident she would remember every word. Thurton removed his cap. There were only a few people before them now.
The King lifted his head, which had slumped slightly. In that moment he looked directly at her, and to her amazement an eager twinkle sprang into his eyes. Abruptly he dismissed the family who were in front of her.
Bowing low, Thurton swept the floor with his elegant cap. Meg lowered herself into the graceful curtsey she had spent so long practising, and was pleased that she managed it without the slightest tremor. She stood up and smiled, warmly and honestly, for she did indeed feel she was greatly honoured to be in this position.
“Ah, Thurton,” said the King. “And the pretty young lady I’ve been hearing so much about.”
“Your Majesty. I have the honour to introduce my very dear niece, Lady Margaret Thurton.”
The King’s eyes roved over Meg, from her demurely hooded head down over the bare flesh above the tight bodice. They rested for a moment on her tiny waist, then flashed back up to her face, and he nodded as if in approval. Her cheeks flushed with pleasure and embarrassment.
“Charming,” he said. He smiled at her, then turned to the Earl. “Just as well your niece does not take after you in looks, eh?”
The Earl turned a good deal redder than usual and forced out a loud laugh. He would not have accepted such a comment from any other man.
“I am told that I take after my mother, Your Majesty,” Meg interposed, quite forgetting that she should not speak until she was spoken to.