The King's Damsel (35 page)

I had been of two minds about seeing him again. I might easily have avoided such a meeting altogether, as it was Madge Shelton whom Queen Anne had sent to inspect the silkwoman’s wares. At the last moment, I persuaded Madge to let me accompany her on her errand to the queen’s wardrobe of robes.

In spite of sharing duties and a dormitory with Madge, I did not know her well. She was a quiet young woman, soft-spoken and self-contained, although I’d often seen her laughing with courtiers who frequented the queen’s chambers. Madge could flirt with the best of us.

She did not seem to notice my distraction, or even find it odd that I did not return with her to the presence chamber after we’d finished our inspection. I made myself visible, in case Rafe was lying in wait for me along the way, but he did not appear. More disappointed than I wished to acknowledge, even to myself, I returned to
the maidens’ chamber to give myself a moment’s privacy and regain my composure.

“It is better he did not come,” I told my image in the looking glass as I fussed with the angle of my French hood.

I would not have known what to say to him. I prayed he would never know how far I had gone in my attempt to advance the princess’s cause. Or how much I had enjoyed some of it. Heat rushed into my face as I remembered one particular guilty pleasure.

Our use of coded messages had ceased once I was allowed to communicate directly with the princess. The last one I’d sent to Rafe had informed him that I had permission to write to her. I’d had no reply and had not expected one.

Once again, I resolved to banish Rafe Pinckney from my thoughts. I still had the king’s ear, and my mission was still incomplete. I had not yet persuaded His Grace to restore his daughter in the succession.

Throughout Yuletide, the king and queen sat side by side under their cloths of estate—gold tissue, embroidered with the king’s arms—and the king’s red and gold liveried servants mingled with the queen’s in blue and purple, but all was not well. Rumors flew. The king, it was said, had consulted members of his Privy Council, asking what grounds he might use to annul his second marriage. Having been the cause of the king putting aside one wife, Queen Anne had good reason to fear that His Grace might do so again.

On the evenings devoted to dancing, the king sometimes partnered his wife but more often danced with me. He also danced a great deal with one other lady—my fellow maid of honor, Madge Shelton.

“Madge is prettier than I am,” I confided in Bess Holland late one night in our shared bed. “I wonder why she never caught the king’s eye before.”

“She never before made any special effort to attract His Grace’s attention,” Bess murmured in a sleepy voice.

“Why should she do so now?”

Bess’s only answer was a soft snore.

I wondered if Madge had seen the jewelry “Harry” had given me and wanted baubles for herself. She knew he’d given me Star of Hartlake. She might even know that His Grace had presented me with an extra, early New Year’s gift, a solid gold toothpick garnished with diamonds.

It was not until New Year’s Day that the truth dawned on me. The queen was generous with her gifts, presenting each of her ladies with a palfrey and a saddle, but she also gave Madge a new gown and a specially blended perfume and a chemise made of lawn so fine as to be nearly transparent.

I saw everything clearly then. Having failed three times to rid herself of my presence at court, Queen Anne had devised a new plan. She had instructed her biddable cousin Madge to replace me in King Henry’s bed.

B
y February, it was Madge Shelton whom the king’s groom of the stool fetched from the maidens’ dormitory and escorted to his royal master. My tenure as His Grace’s mistress had come to an end.

King Henry granted me an annuity and sent me a jeweled broach as a parting gift, but neither could protect me from the queen’s vicious temper and her desire for revenge. If I needed any further reminder of how unprotected I was, it came with the news that Princess Mary was once again dangerously ill with pains in her head and her stomach. I feared that, this time, she
had
been poisoned, and went weak with relief when I heard of her recovery. I took great care what I put into my own mouth.

Without the king’s ear, I was of little use to the princess. Remaining at court became a perilous proposition. Since Princess Mary had no household of her own, and might never have one again, I was left with only two alternatives.

I could enter a nunnery. Aside from my lack of any vocation, I had another compelling reason to avoid taking the veil. Thomas
Cromwell had become a powerful figure at court since the long-ago day when he’d agreed to look into my legal affairs. Of late, he had been working hard to convince King Henry that all the monasteries and nunneries of England should be closed. Since dissolving the richest of the religious houses would transfer their wealth into the king’s own coffers, I suspected it would be only a matter of time before His Grace agreed to implement Cromwell’s plan.

My remaining choice—returning to Hartlake Manor to face Sir Lionel—also presented difficulties, but I told myself that I could deal with my stepmother’s husband. I was of full age to claim my inheritance. By law, I was entitled to control my own property, even if my ogre of a stepfather did have physical possession of the estate. If necessary, I would go to law to have him thrown off my land.

Accordingly, I penned a letter to Hugo Wynn, my steward, ordering him to send an escort of loyal Lodge retainers to fetch me home. I took the precaution of warning him to say nothing to Sir Lionel of my plans. Then I waited.

Weeks went by without any answer. I began to wonder if Hugo was still there. I knew I would have to leave court soon, even if I’d had no reply. The queen’s treatment of me had become well nigh intolerable. I had a dozen bruises on my body where she’d pinched me, and I’d become so fearful of poison that I scarcely dared eat. My clothing hung loosely on my body and my face was gaunt.

In April, one of the queen’s waiting gentlewomen came down with a case of the measles. Leaving her behind, the rest of the court removed to Hampton Court. It was time, I decided, to resign my post, hire henchmen to escort me—if I could find any willing to be employed by an unmarried woman—and make the journey to Hartlake Manor.

I had not yet found an opportunity to approach the queen with my request to leave her service when Her Grace called for all her
attendants to follow her out onto the balcony attached to her luxurious new first-floor lodgings. The king and a few of his favorite courtiers were hunting in the adjacent park. From the balcony we had an unobstructed view of the action.

The queen’s groom, Dickon, approached me just at the moment when everyone else was distracted because one of the king’s party had been thrown from his horse. Wagers were being made as to who he was and how badly he had been hurt.

“Mistress Lodge, you have a visitor,” Dickon whispered. “The queen grants you permission to withdraw.”

As I followed him inside, Queen Anne turned to watch me go, a malicious sparkle in her dark eyes. A sudden chill penetrated clear down to the marrow of my bones. As I’d feared, Sir Lionel Daggett awaited me in Her Grace’s presence chamber.

Once again, the years had not been kind to him. His belly bowed out above his belt, preceding him as he advanced to meet me. His nose, a map of broken capillaries, red and ugly, led the way.

“Your family has need of you, Mistress Lodge,” he announced for the benefit of the few courtiers within earshot. “Queen Anne has graciously released you from your duties so that you may accompany me back to Hartlake Manor.”

The words
your family has need of you
filled me with trepidation. “Is Blanche ill? Has something happened to her?”

“My wife is well.” Sir Lionel gripped my arm and propelled me out of the queen’s lodgings and down a flight of stairs. “Or so I presume,” he added when he was sure no one could overhear. “We have not seen much of each other since she decided to take a vow of chastity.”

Digging in my heels, I finally managed to halt his progress. We had reached the middle of the courtyard. “Do you mean to tell me that Blanche has become a vowess?” It was a course followed
by many devout women, but usually they were widows, not wives.

“I am amazed to hear you are unaware of that fact. I was certain you had put her up to it.”

“I would have, had I thought of it.” With a jerk, I freed myself from his grasp. “Where is she?”

“At Minchin Barrow.”

“Good.” With Blanche safe in the nunnery, at least until Master Cromwell had his way, I would have no qualms about evicting Sir Lionel from Hartlake Manor. I opened my mouth to say so, but he spoke first.

“She lives with the nuns with my permission and at my expense. Should I choose to withdraw both, she would have to leave Minchin Barrow and return to me. Will you come along quietly, or must I take out my . . . disappointment on your stepmother?”

“You would harm your own wife? What kind of man are you?”

“A determined one, as you will learn to your sorrow if you try to make trouble.”

I did not doubt him for a moment. I might have called out to one of the yeomen of the guard—there were always a few about—but that would only save
me
from Sir Lionel. He had every right to do as he wished with Blanche. Although it had been years since I’d last seen my stepmother and she’d not troubled to communicate with me in nearly as long, she was still my father’s widow. I did not want to loose this fiend on her.

“It will take me some little time to pack my belongings,” I said, hoping to delay long enough to plead with the king to intervene.

It had been a mistake not to tell King Henry how Sir Lionel had wronged me, but it had never occurred to me to do so. All the favors I’d asked of His Grace had been for Princess Mary’s benefit, not my own.

“I have already ordered your maid to pack for you,” Sir Lionel said. “We will leave at first light for Hartlake Manor.”

“Very well,” I agreed. I would talk to the king after supper. I would beg His Grace, for the sake of all we had once shared, to protect me and my stepmother.

But I had reckoned without Queen Anne. She sent two of her grooms to ensure that I did not leave the maidens’ dormitory once I returned there. When I wrote a note to King Henry and dispatched Edyth to deliver it, she was allowed to pass, since she had no hope of being admitted to the king’s presence, but the missive was confiscated.

“Queen’s orders, Mistress Lodge,” Dickon explained when he returned it to me unopened. He looked embarrassed but determined.

“I do not blame you. You are only doing your duty.” And hoping to avoid the queen’s wrath I took the note back from him and burned it.

“You intended to return to Hartlake Manor in any case,” Bess Holland reminded me when she and the other maids of honor returned to the maidens’ chamber late that night.

“But I planned to take a few precautions first.” I’d intended to consult a lawyer, and hire burly guards to protect me from Sir Lionel.

“Have you a cache of valuables close at hand?” Bess asked.

“Only the gifts the king gave me.” Access to the wealth I had inherited was not possible so long as Sir Lionel controlled my finances.

“They will do,” Bess said. “Do not tell anyone where you have hidden them. Is there a false bottom in one of your trunks?”

There was not, but I took her warning to heart. Before we left Hampton Court, Edyth and I sewed as many of my treasures as we could into our clothing.

I rode Star of Hartlake away from the palace, prompting a raised eyebrow from Sir Lionel. Edyth was mounted on the palfrey the queen had given me as a New Year’s gift. The burly guards I had envisioned hiring accompanied us, but they were not in my employ.

“If you think to marry and deprive me of Hartlake Manor,” Sir Lionel said when we had traveled westward for more than an hour in silence, “you are sadly mistaken.”

“I have no immediate plans for marriage,” I said in a mild voice.

“You will not marry at all. You ruined your prospects by your wanton behavior at court.”

My hand clenched on the reins. “I had no idea my fame had spread as far as Somersetshire.”

“Say rather infamy.”

“That is rich, sirrah, coming from you. You are the one who first suggested that I try to capture the king’s attention, and I was little more than a child at the time!”

“Back then, I planned to marry you myself, even if you were the king’s leavings.”

“You already had a wife,” I reminded him.

“Wives are easily disposed of.”

I sent a sharp look in his direction. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Do you mean to rid yourself of Blanche now? It will avail you nothing. I will never marry you.”

“I have changed my mind. I do not wish to wed another man’s whore. You are no longer fit to be my wife, although I still might find you amusing as a mistress.”

Too appalled by his suggestion to respond, I said nothing. We rode without speaking the rest of the way to the inn that would provide our first night’s lodging on the journey. From
his smirk, Sir Lionel thought me too cowed to object to his plans.

Once my first shock passed, I encouraged him in this misconception, riding with shoulders hunched and face averted. Let him think I feared him. It would make it easier to carry out
my
plan.

I told myself a story. The one Lady Catherine Gordon had once shared with me. If a kidnapped bride could escape her captors, reach London, and appeal to the Star Chamber, so could I.

Although we had ridden all day, we had not traveled far, slowed as we were by a baggage cart. We were still in sight of the Thames. The moment Sir Lionel left me alone with Edyth, to go down to the common room to sup and swill ale, I hastily packed a little clothing and all the treasures I’d acquired while at court into two small bundles.

Two of the pearls that decorated the front of my French hood were sufficient to bribe the innkeeper. He sent for his son and instructed the lad to row us downriver far enough to take passage on a tilt boat. For another two pearls, he agreed to hide Star of Hartlake and the palfrey. A third covered the cost of their care until I could retrieve the two animals. It was my fervent hope that the absence of our horses would make Sir Lionel think we had fled by land.