‘Countess, I dislike troubling you, but could you come and see my Uncle? He isn’t able to rise this morning. He can’t seem to catch his breath, and he has asked to speak to you.’
Lettice jumped to her feet and passed the sleeping baby to Nell, who nodded assent.
‘Go, Mother. I shall ring for the nursemaid and organise the children. Go to Thomas. He would never ask if it wasn’t important.’
Kytt opened the door for Lettice, who moved swiftly past him with petticoats fluttering and swaying in her haste. She hurried down the corridor and up a flight of twisting stairs to the chamber that Thomas had occupied since she and Robert had lived in the house. He had his own bedchamber and a small sitting room, and Lettice smiled as she remembered how he had slept on a straw pallet outside Robert’s room to protect them when they had first begun their affair at the palace.
She blinked back the ever-present tears and swallowed her sadness, and opened the chamber door quietly, moving across the dim room to the thin, wasted figure in the bed. Lettice wondered how she hadn’t noticed how emaciated Thomas had become, and she pulled a stool toward the bed so she could speak to him.
‘My Lady,’ Thomas’ naturally terse, raspy voice had dissolved until it was barely a flat whisper. Lettice could see his throat working, and she held a cup of ale to his lips as he swallowed gratefully and relaxed back into the pillows
‘Thomas. You are ill, Thomas, and I should have noticed. I shall ask Jane for more linctus for your throat.’ Lettice placed her hand on his arm as she always had, and although she could feel the familiar tremble beneath her fingers, she no longer felt the strongly muscled forearm of her protector. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard.
‘I wanted to speak to you, my Lady. While I could.’ Thomas’ voice was breathy and Lettice had to bend forward to hear. She longed to comfort him, to deny what was happening, but she knew she could not. And if Thomas wanted to speak to her, she knew it must be important and she couldn’t dismiss his urgency with platitudes that would comfort neither of them. Lettice waited for him to speak.
‘I didn’t know, my Lady. I didn’t know my Lord was so ill. I would have done anything for him had I known there was something wrong. Did do anything, the times when I knew.’
Lettice wrinkled her brow at the man’s words. They didn’t seem to make sense.
‘Thomas, what do you mean, you did do anything?’ Lettice tried to keep her voice light, and she waited patiently while Thomas thought of a response and found the breath to give it.
‘My Lady, it was me that helped him out of his first marriage, although he didn’t know until afterwards. I know what they say about him, my Lady, but it was me, not him. She was dragging him down, stifling him, killing him. I couldn’t have that.’ Thomas began to cough and Lettice helped him take another swallow of ale, waiting for his breathing to settle before he spoke again.
‘And when I knew he loved you, and your first husband was less than kind, I made sure he couldn’t hurt you again. My Lord did know about that.’ Lettice gasped, and almost began to protest that Walter had died in Ireland of disease, then she stopped herself. What good would it do now, to contradict what Thomas was telling her? She waited until he could speak again, holding his hand and stroking the back of it, papery and dry in her grasp. He dragged another breath.
‘Then when you lost your boy, I would have done anything to bring him back to you. I shot the horse, but that was all I could do, and you were both so bereft. And I knew his digestion wasn’t right, he wasn’t eating but a mouthful and he was drinking that milky potion like it was fine wine.’ He began to rumble another cough in the back of his throat, but managed to swallow the irritation and clear his throat, although Lettice could see it pained him.
‘But he didn’t take me into his confidence at this last. Perhaps if he had I could have helped ease his pain at least.’ He stopped speaking and lay still for a while, as Lettice brought her threatening tears under control and pushed down more sadness. She squeezed his hand, feeling the familiar tremble again.
‘He didn’t tell me either, Thomas. And almost with his last breath, he just bade me to stay safe, find someone to protect me.’ She cleared her throat in an attempt to control the shudder in her voice. Thomas took a ragged breath.
‘I would protect you my Lady, but I am a dying old man, and always far beneath you.’ He paused and breathed raspingly for a while as he gathered himself.
‘But I have a suggestion, my Lady. You could marry Kytt. He worships you as I have always done, and he would be a good husband, my Lady.’
Lettice opened her eyes wide as the thought occurred to her.
‘Your nephew, Thomas? I hadn’t thought of that.’ She watched as a number of emotions crossed the sick man’s emaciated face, and she saw his lips twitch beneath his beard. Then she heard what she took to be a resigned sigh.
‘No, my Lady. He is not my nephew, he is my son.’ Lettice gasped and struggled to make her mind concentrate on Thomas’ words.
‘His mother was a maid in the household of Lady Elizabeth at Warwick. When my Lord was in the tower, and afterwards, I had many messages and duties to perform between the brothers. Peggy and I became ….. close, and then she told me she was with child. At the time we couldn’t marry because I couldn’t leave his Lordship and then the babe was here and she was ……gone.’
Lettice’s eyes had widened even more as Thomas poured out this story. That Thomas had protected Robert from his first wife, and her from her first husband, paled beside the significance of these revelations. She wondered absently if Robert had known, and decided that he hadn’t. He would have told her if he had known, of that she was sure. She brought her mind back to the rest of Thomas’ tale.
‘And what could I have done with a babe, my Lady? Lord Robert needed me. Lady Elizabeth helped and my sister vowed to take care of him. Her husband was a good man, my Lady, and didn’t object to her bringing up my son, but when she was so ill, near unto death, he made her send him to me so I could know what a fine lad he had grown to be.’
‘He is indeed a fine man, Thomas. A credit to you, and to your sister.’
‘And he loves you, my Lady. As I have done, since the day I met you.’ Lettice pressed her lips together and stroked Thomas’ hand.
‘I have always known I was special to you, Thomas. And I can never thank you enough for everything,’ she stopped and swallowed hard, taking a shuddering breath, ‘everything, dearest Thomas that you have done for me and mine. Robin trusted you above anyone, and I think he is looking after me though you, suggesting this to me.’ She rose from the chair and pressed a tender kiss to the manservant’s forehead, feeling him tremble though her fingertips over the thin linen sheet.
‘Thank you for all your loyal service, dear Thomas. And for your sound advice. I shall give it serious consideration.’ She dropped another brief kiss on his cheek and Thomas closed his eyes, another cough rumbling deep in his chest.
‘I shall let you rest now, Thomas. And I shall send Kytt up with some fresh linctus and some more cool ale.’ Lettice walked to the door and twisted the latch. Behind her she heard Thomas’ voice in a terse whisper.
‘My Lady.’
***
In the gloom of the encroaching dusk, Kytt’s footsteps echoed on the dark staircase as he made his way slowly down to the salon. He had been sitting with his uncle; no, he thought, his father, keeping vigil with him in his last moments.
That Thomas was his father had not been a surprise, as his mother had told him the truth before he had left the estate at Warwick. He had maintained the fiction at her request, but had been grateful to get to know, and in some measure understand, the man who had given him life. But the suggestion Thomas had croaked out to him
just before his body had finally given up the fight for more breath had astounded him.
Never had he imagined himself worthy to be Lettice’s husband. He had loved her since he day he had met her, captivated by her joyful approach to life, her humour, her graciousness to everyone she knew. The fact that she was totally, completely in love with her husband, a man he instinctively honoured, had meant he had supressed his feelings for the Countess.
But now, now he could be the protector and friend he had always wanted to be, for her. And although he realised that on her part it would bring a practical solution to a difficult problem, he still held out the hope that one day she would consent to be his, in every way. He could wait.
He reached the door of the salon, hearing Lettice’s irrepressible giggle through the door as she played with her beloved grandchildren. He knocked quietly, then pressed his lips together as he prepared to deliver the bad news that Thomas, manservant, steward, protector and friend, was dead.
Chapter 54
ettice beamed around the room at the gathering of her family and friends for her marriage to Kytt. She was pleased her sister Beth had arrived, but saddened that her Uncle Ralph was too frail to make the journey, yet she completely understood that her Aunt Meg couldn’t leave him. Her own father had managed to arrive, but had promptly fallen asleep in the corner of the room, and no-one had the heart to wake him.
Her daughters, daughter-in-law and grandchildren, Tom and Ursula, Jane and Dickon were all there. Essex was conspicuous by his absence and Lettice couldn’t say she regretted the fact. As she gazed around the room, she thought about their last conversation, when she had told him about her plan to marry again.
‘It’s embarrassing, Mother. An unhappy choice. He is your Master of Horse. Not even a real nobleman. At least he was that, but Kytt is just ennobled.’
‘I do not need his nobility, my son. I have my own. I am the Countess of Leicester and I am a Howard. Kytt is a good man, he is kind, and he is my best friend. Besides, if Queen Katherine de Valois hadn’t married her Master of Horse, we wouldn’t have a Tudor monarch. Surely, if it’s good enough for royalty?’
Essex threw her a contemptuous glance and swallowed a mouthful of wine, quickly pouring himself more.
‘But it wasn’t good enough for this monarch, was it, Mother? He was the Queen’s Master of Horse, but she didn’t marry him, did she?’
Lettice smiled sweetly, refusing to be drawn into an argument with her son.
‘No, she didn’t. But I thank God that I did, my son. And I had hoped you wouldn’t begrudge me some little happiness.’
Essex’s face fell as he thought about her words, then he visibly brightened and gave her a pleasant look and a brief kiss on her cheek. Lettice blinked in surprise at the swift change of mood, and Essex strode to the door. And he twisted the handle, he grinned at her.
‘Very well, Mother. Marry him if you must. But don’t forget, he was my friend first.’
The candles that lit the room glittered on the jewels and gowns of the ladies, and the ceremonial sword hilts worn by the men. Lettice was clad in a bright blue gown overlaid with silver tissue, with silver tracery embroidered down the bodice and along the edges of her fine lace ruff. She had pearls and silver studs twisted in her hair, and a parure of sapphires set in silver gleaming around her neck and in her ears.
Kytt, looking every inch a nobleman, was attired in dove grey silk, with chased silver clasps on his doublet, and a polished matching silver dagger and ceremonial sword completing his outfit. His fair hair curled onto his shoulders, skimming the edge of his narrow ruff and shining with gold and amber lights in the flickering flames of the candles.
Lettice and Kytt faced each other in the grand salon, and the priest began to clear his throat to begin the service. The front door slammed and everyone looked round.
‘Is it that I smell, sister? Am I obnoxious? Eat too much? Drink too much? Bat my eyelashes at the wrong women?’
Ed stood at the door, hands on hips and legs apart, as if balancing on deck. His hat was in his hand, and his broad face held the beginnings of a bewildered scowl.
Lettice supressed the giggle that bubbled in her throat at the look on her brother’s face.
‘No, brother.’ She smiled a tremulous smile and waited for his response. At her side she could see Kytt barely able to contain his amusement, seemingly at both the indignant Ed and the muttering, tongue-clicking priest, upset his service had been interrupted so presumptuously. Lettice compressed her lips so she didn’t laugh.
‘Then why, sister, on God’s soul, can this damned family not wait for me to arrive before they hold a wedding?’
Lettice stepped forward to embrace her brother, who kissed her and squeezed her tightly, whispering his sadness at the loss of Robert. She jerked her head briefly in acknowledgement but couldn’t voice her thanks, not on this of all days. She took his arm and escorted him to a seat by Tom’s side, making sure he was settled.
‘Perhaps they think your magnificence will change the bride’s mind, Ed,’ whispered Lettice as she moved back to her place in front of the priest beside Kytt. As she bent her head in prayer, her shoulders shuddered in supressed laughter as Ed’s voice, more suited to the deck of a ship than the solemnisation of a marriage echoed around the silent room in his whispered comment.
‘Or the groom’s?’
She stole a glance at Kytt and was pleased to see his mouth compressed wryly so a guffaw of laugher didn’t escape his lips either. He winked at her, then they both turned their gaze to the priest, who had begun to intone the service, oblivious to the whisper of amusement sweeping his congregation.
***
After the ceremony, there was a light meal arranged in the cavernous dining room, with slices of thick beef and venison, halved chickens and huge legs of pork. Piles of vegetables and fruit were also served, with marchpane animals and syllabub. As Lettice gazed around at the feast, she couldn’t help but think how different her life was when she entertained now than it used to be. The syllabub cups were no longer dipped in diamond dust, and there was no gold leaf on the meat. She shook herself mentally and brought her mind back to the present; she had sworn not to look back.
When he had eaten and regaled the company with tales of chasing Spanish galleons into the fire ships at the Armada, stealing booty and ransoming prisoners, Ed brought his goblet of wine and sat beside his sister.
‘I am to marry, Letty,’ he whispered theatrically, wiggling his brows at her.
‘Really, Ed? Someone real, not a mermaid or a Nubian princess?’ Lettice dimpled at her brother, teasing him about previous boasts of his conquests. Ed’s mouth twisted wryly and he chuckled into his wine.
‘She is real. Her name is Margaret Cave, and she is the heiress to some enormous estate at Kingsbury in Warwickshire. Father,’ he raised his goblet in the direction of the aged gentleman snoozing again at the end of the table as Beth sliced him some fruit for when he awoke, ‘Father has made the arrangements, so I am giving up the sea and settling down. Standing for parliament like Tom. If they let him in, they will fall to their knees and thank heaven for me.’
He gulped his wine and burst into loud laughter, saluting a chuckling Tom, who hugged his wife to his side and nodded at his friend. Lettice raised her eyebrow at her brother in surprise that he was giving up the sea.
‘I am sure they will, Ed. And if they don’t I am equally sure you will remind them to do so.’ She gave him a tight hug, and went to join her new husband to speak to other guests.
***
Lettice stood in the middle of the bedchamber and watched as Kytt poured them both a cup of wine. The bedchamber was the one she had refurbished for Jane’s marriage to Dickon, and was still almost
unused. The oyster satin drapery and coverlets looked as fresh as when new, and she felt relieved that she had never shared this bed with Robert. She tried to push those thoughts to the back of her mind and she smiled at Kytt as he handed her the goblet.
‘It would seem we are married, my Lady.’ He took Lettice’s hands and brushed his lips gently over her knuckles. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together to stifle a sob. She took a breath, wondering if she would be able to get words past the lump that had settled in her throat.
‘Indeed it would, my Lord,’ she managed to whisper, keeping her eyes lowered to gaze at their clasped hands.
Kytt gazed down at her bent head and sighed quietly.
‘Please don’t be afraid, my Lady. I married you to protect you. To keep you safe. I would not have you afraid.’
Lettice lifted her gaze to meet Kytt’s eyes, and the sympathy she saw there almost made the flood of tears begin. She shook her head in denial at his words.
‘I’m not afraid, Kytt. Not of you. It’s just that …..’
‘I do understand, my Lady. You loved Lord Robert beyond anything, and you find it hard to be married again, and to me.’
‘Marrying you wasn’t hard, Kytt. Never think that. I am so grateful to you. I just….’ her voice faded to a whisper as she found she couldn’t continue.
‘My Lady, I am your husband, and you are my wife. But we are still friends, always and forever friends. Until you want to change that fact, then that is how we shall remain.’ He smiled reassuringly and took the goblet from her grasp, kissing her fingers again and holding her hand to his chest.
‘You….you don’t expect….?’
‘I expect nothing from you, my Lady, other than you grace my arm and we present a united front to the world. Privately, nothing will change between us unless you want it to. Kindness is what you can expect from me, my Lady. Kindness and respect and gratitude that the most beautiful woman I have ever seen consented to be my wife.’ He brushed her knuckles with his lips, and Lettice beamed at him, tears starring her sooty lashes.
On the Altar of England (Tudor Chronicles Book 4) Page 41