Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set

I have been in hand with Mrs. Anne, who, I assure your ladyship, making not a little moan for your ladyship’s displeasure, but weepeth and taketh on right heavily. Mrs. Katharine Stradling hath the pearls, part of them as lent and part of gift. Mrs. Anne sayeth that she putteth no doubt to have them again, if your ladyship’s pleasure had not been that I should have monished her the contrary. She sayeth that the said gentlewoman hath been ever most loving and glad to do her pleasure, and always ready to help and assist her in all her proceedings and doings.

—John Husee to Lady Lisle, 5 May 1538

5

John Husee’s next visit to Sussex House did not occur until early April. He was accompanied by several gentlemen, but Ned Corbett was not one of them. It irritated Nan that she cared.

She had been out of sorts quite a lot of late.

As Cousin Mary had not yet been churched, she remained in her chamber. Once again, Kate accompanied Nan to greet their guests, but this time Isabel and Jane also joined them in the ground-floor parlor.

Master Husee’s companions were Tom Warley, another of Lord Lisle’s gentleman servitors, and two men Nan had never met. Husee introduced the first as Master Clement Philpott and the second as Sir Gregory Botolph, who was slated to become Lord Lisle’s new domestic chaplain at Calais.

That meant the “sir” was only honorary. Sir Gregory was a priest. A pity the English church did not allow clergy to wed, Nan thought. She found herself intrigued by Sir Gregory’s air of confidence. He appealed to her in a way she found hard to define and seemed to have the same effect on the other gentlewomen. Frowning, Nan tried to determine what it was that drew her. Sir Gregory was not as tall or as well built as Ned, nor was his face as pleasing to look at.

“In what part of England were you born?” Jane Arundell asked him. “I cannot place your accent.”

“The Botolphs are an old Suffolk family, but I left home many years ago. Most recently I served as a canon in Canterbury.”

“At the cathedral?” There was a hint of awe in Jane’s voice.

Affecting modesty, Sir Gregory shook his head. “At St. Gregory’s. Do you not find it apt that I served in a church that bears my own Christian name?”

Everyone agreed that they did, and Kate, Jane, and Isabel began to pepper him with questions about Canterbury, long a popular spot for pilgrimages. Nan listened to his answers as much to hear his voice—low, mellow, and persuasive—as for what he said. This priest’s voice could probably convert heathens with its timbre alone.

“Is the shrine of St. Thomas à Becket truly encrusted with magnificent jewels?” Kate’s question caught Nan’s attention. She had a particular interest these days in precious stones.

“Great, huge gems of astonishing brilliance,” Sir Gregory assured her. “Sufficiently gaudy to make any man covetous.”

“Or woman,” Kate said with a laugh.

But Botolph had stopped smiling. “For hundreds of years, pilgrims visited Canterbury to kiss the martyr’s silver-encased skull and make offerings at his gilded coffin.” His intense gaze raked over the company, as if he were weighing each one’s worthiness. “There will be a great outcry if the king allows the tomb to be stripped, the shrine demolished, and the relics burnt. It is sacrilege even to consider despoiling such a holy place.”

A hush fell over the company. Sir Gregory’s words came perilously close to criticizing His Majesty. King Henry had been closing religious houses ever since his break with Rome. That was no secret. Monastery churches in London had been put to secular uses, everything from storage rooms to stables. Others were being torn down to provide building materials for noblemen’s houses. But the tomb of Thomas à Becket was the holiest shrine in Christendom. So far, King Henry had spared it.

“Who will care for the poor when they are sick or give them alms when they have no food?” the priest demanded. “Where will they go to be educated? In city and country alike, abbeys and monasteries are being dissolved, and with them their chantries. Nothing that has been so generously provided by religious houses will remain.”

The gleam of religious fervor in Sir Gregory’s eyes alarmed Nan and shattered whatever spell he’d cast over her. He seemed poised to deliver a sermon on the evils of King Henry’s decision to break with the pope. Although many people would agree with him, Nan’s own mother included, it was not safe to speak of such things. A few words more, and Sir Gregory would be guilty of treason.

Husee saw the danger, too. There was a hint of panic in his voice as he produced a small casket from his pack and thrust it at Nan. “Here are the pearls you asked for, mistress.”

Eagerly, Nan took the small wooden box and opened it. She stared at the contents, unable at first to believe what she was seeing. The pearls were ill matched and inferior and there were too few of them. Bad enough that she had to wait so long to return to court. The least her mother could do was to provide her with the proper accessories.

Nan saw Husee’s anxious expression through a red haze, felt her temper spike, surging beyond her control. Furious words erupted before she could stop them, shrill and imperious. “How dare you deliver such a paltry offering! I need pearls fit to wear in the queen’s service.” She slammed the offending container down on a table.

“Surely there are sufficient to make a decorative border at the front of a French hood.” Husee held both hands in front of him, palms out, as if to ward off a physical attack. “The casket contains six score.”

“There are not enough, I tell you. And these are of poor quality.” Nan could hear herself screeching at him but could not seem to stop.

“Calm yourself, mistress, I beg you. I will write to your mother for more.” Husee began to back away. Isabel and Jane also retreated, slipping out through a side door.

Nan fixed her victim with a withering stare. “See that you do. I am to be a maid of honor to the next queen. I must be prepared for her coming.”

Signaling for the other gentlemen to follow him, Husee bolted, leaving Nan alone save for Kate Stradling.

Nan closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. What had come over her? For a few minutes, for no good reason, she’d been as irrational as a madwoman.

She opened her eyes to find Kate examining the contents of the casket. Her face wore the look of a contented cat. Dark eyes alight with pleasure, she scooped up a handful of the pearls. “Inferior, without a doubt, Nan, but if you do not want them, I will gladly take them off your hands.”

“They are not entirely without value to me!” Nan’s control over her own voice was still uncertain. She willed herself to be calm. It was not like her to behave in this way. She often wanted to scream at those around her, but she did not do so. Annoyed at herself, she kicked a nearby stool, sending it bouncing across the rush-strewn floor.

“I will have at least some of them,” Kate said.

Nan whirled around to stare at her. Her cousin’s expression was cold enough to chill Nan’s bones.

Kate stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You will share, Nan, because if you do not, I will tell the Earl and Countess of Sussex that you are with child by Ned Corbett.”

Nan gaped at her, shocked. “That … that … I am not! I cannot be!”

Kate burst into laughter. “You really did not know? Think back, Nan. When did you last have your courses?”

Nan felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Dizzy, she collapsed on Cousin Mary’s chair. It was not possible. Was it? She had never considered that pregnancy might be the explanation for her moodiness, her lack of energy … her uncontrollable outbursts.

The horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach convinced Nan that Kate was right. She counted. She’d last shared Ned’s bed at the end of November—over four months ago.

“You could tell Corbett,” Kate said. “He’ll marry you for certain.”

In Nan’s state of mind, her cousin seemed the very devil, offering temptation. Kate was right. Ned would. But they’d be poor. She shuddered. She’d seen too many women worn down by poverty and constant childbearing. Even spending the rest of her life dependent on one of her more affluent relatives would be better than that!

Nan watched her hand move, seemingly of its own volition, and come to rest on her belly. There was as yet little outward sign that a child grew within her. Could she conceal her pregnancy for five more months? It might be possible, if the new queen did not arrive before the child did.

Nan drew in a deep, steadying breath and stood. She walked to the table, picked up the casket of pearls, and handed it to Kate, catching and holding her cousin’s gaze. “Will you help me hide my condition?”

Cradling the small box to her bosom, a smile of satisfaction on her lips, Kate promised that she would.

THE PALE OF Calais included all the territory from the downs of Wissant on the west to the fields overlooked by Gravelines on the east—the towns of Calais and Guisnes and some twenty-five neighboring parishes. This small piece carved out of the continent of Europe between France and Flanders was all that was left of England’s possessions on the French side of the Narrow Seas.

Arthur Plantagenet, Viscount Lisle, maintained order in Calais as King Henry’s lord deputy. His household resembled nothing so much as a miniature court. On a cold April morning, he sent Ned Corbett to the docks to meet his new chaplain and the latest addition to the gentleman servitors.

Ned studied the two men as they were rowed ashore. They were both brown haired and of medium build, both about Ned’s own age, but one—the priest—caught his attention even from a distance. There was an aura of command about him that was almost military in nature. Ned was certain he’d have no trouble holding the attention of his congregation.

“I am to escort you back to the lord deputy’s house and see you settled in your new quarters,” Ned told the newcomers after he’d introduced himself. “My man will collect your belongings.” John Browne had already begun loading trunks and boxes into a cart.

“It is only a short walk to Lord Lisle’s house,” Ned continued, leading the way. “Nothing is very far away from anything else in Calais.”

“The town is more crowded than I expected,” Sir Gregory Botolph remarked as they made their way through the marketplace. His voice was the sort that captivated listeners. Ned grinned, pleased by the prospect of sermons more interesting than those preached by old Sir Oliver.

“Much more crowded.” Clement Philpott twisted his head this way and that, looking for all the world like a country bumpkin on his first visit to a big city. Botolph was equally interested in his surroundings, but he was more subtle about it.

“There are some twelve thousands souls of various nationalities living in the Pale, about half of them English. All are protected by an English garrison a thousand men strong. In addition, there are twenty-four royal spears. They hold most of the administrative posts in the town.”

The royal spears were men of good family and the elite of the outpost. Like most of the gentlemen in Lord Lisle’s service, Ned aspired to be named to their ranks one day. A Calais spear was not a prestigious post when compared to maid of honor to a queen, but there were advantages to standing on the top rung of a small ladder.

“Up ahead,” he said, “is the residence of Lord and Lady Lisle, the finest building in the Pale.” Three stories high and built around a large courtyard, it stood just inside the south wall of the town. Ned led his charges through the massive north gateway and straight up to the Great Chamber where Lord and Lady Lisle awaited them.

Botolph studied his new employers with cynical eyes before they went in. “They look like a king and queen giving an audience,” he observed.

Ned suppressed a smile. The priest was right. Surrounded by members of the household, the couple sat in matching Glastonbury chairs on a dais. All they lacked was a royal canopy over their heads.

Honor Lisle was resplendent in a crimson velvet gown and wore such an abundance of jewelry that she glittered in the sunbeams that fell on her through the oriel window. She was a small, plump woman in her midforties, more than thirty years younger than her husband.

Arthur, Lord Lisle, was less pretentiously dressed. The deep lines inscribed in his face and the stoop of his shoulders betrayed the weight of his responsibilities at Calais.

Ned glanced at the two portraits hung against the tapestry that covered the wall behind the chairs. One showed King Henry VIII. The other was of Henry’s grandfather King Edward IV. Only a blind man could miss the resemblance between the painted likenesses and the lord deputy of Calais. Although Lord Lisle’s hair was now losing its color, it had clearly once been the same burnished golden red shown in King Henry’s portrait. The similarities between Lisle and his father, King Edward, were even more remarkable. The taint of bastardy had done nothing to dilute the most distinctive royal features.

Lisle stood, revealing himself to be a head taller than most men—another inheritance from the Plantagenet line. “Welcome to Calais, gentlemen. Sir Gregory, you will be joining these gentlemen as my domestic chaplains.” He indicated two somberly clad individuals hovering behind his chair. “Sir Oliver and Sir Richard.”

Ned noted with mild amusement how warily old Sir Oliver behaved toward Botolph. Fearful he might lose his post as senior chaplain, no doubt.

Lord Lisle addressed Clement Philpott next, informing him that he would meet Mistress Philippa Bassett at supper. Apparently the rumor that Philpott was being considered as a husband for the oldest of Lady Lisle’s daughters was true.

Ned took a closer look at Philpott. The fellow was unremarkable in appearance. Brown eyes matched the brown hair in a long, thin face that was vaguely horselike.

“Be in my lady’s dining chamber in good time,” Lisle instructed. “Corbett will show you the way.”

He was about to dismiss them when Lady Lisle spoke up. “Have you brought letters?” Her voice was pleasant, well modulated and low pitched, but it carried easily to every corner of the chamber.

“We have, my lady.” Botolph motioned for Philpott to produce them. That gentleman’s fingers trembled as he handed them over to one of Lady Lisle’s waiting women to give to her mistress, making Ned wonder just what was contained in the latest missives from England.

Dismissed by Lord Lisle with orders to show the newcomers to the chamber they would share, Ned took them first on a tour of the residence.

“All the chief rooms are hung with fine tapestries,” Botolph noted with pleasure. For a priest, he seemed to have a deep appreciation of creature comforts.

“There are little chambers opening off my lord’s room and my lady’s dining chamber,” Ned said. “Two gentlewomen’s chambers and a maidens’ chamber and a chamber reserved for noble guests. At any given time there are about seventy persons living here. Fifty menservants, not including the chaplains and members of Lord Lisle’s personal retinue.”

“And the women?” Botolph asked.

“Two of Lady Lisle’s daughters live with their mother and stepfather, the eldest and the youngest, and also Lord Lisle’s daughter, Frances, who was recently married to Lady Lisle’s oldest son. Young Bassett is in England, studying law at Lincoln’s Inn. Lady Lisle also has several waiting gentlewomen, and a number of chamberers and laundresses.”

As was usual in most noble households, male servants far outnumbered the females.

Ned showed them the chapel, with its fine altar cloth of gold paned with crimson velvet, and the armory, and pointed out the stables, the stilling-house, the bakehouse, and the laundry. After a quick tour of the kitchen and other domestic offices, including the countinghouse, he delivered his charges to a small chamber furnished with a field bed, a Flanders chair, a cupboard, and a closestool. The boxes and trunks Botolph and Philpott had brought with them from England were stacked in a corner.

“I vow, Corbett, I am parched,” Botolph said. “Where might a man find a drink in this place?”

“Parched,” Philpott echoed.

“I could do with a cup of beer myself,” Ned allowed.

The route to the grooms’ chamber, where Lord Lisle’s men took their ease when not on duty, led past Lady Lisle’s parlor. The soft murmur of feminine voices drifted out. Just as they were about to descend the stairs, a shriek of outrage suddenly rent the air.

“Ungrateful child!” Lady Lisle screeched. “How dare she belittle my gift?”

“It would be unwise to linger,” Ned warned, all too familiar with Honor Lisle’s temper. “Anyone in the wrong place at the wrong time is likely to find my lady’s venom aimed at him.”

Botolph did not argue, and Philpott followed his lead like an obedient puppy. A few minutes later they were safe in the grooms’ chamber. They had the room to themselves. Ned filled three cups with beer and they settled in on stools around a sturdy table.

“What do you think of Lady Lisle?” Ned asked.

“A virtuous woman,” Botolph said. “Sound in her beliefs.”

Meaning she clung to the old ways in religion. Ned himself was content to go along with whatever observances his betters required of him.

“I see now where her daughter got her temper,” Botolph remarked after a few swigs of beer.

Ned lifted a questioning eyebrow. “Which daughter?”

“The one who lives with the Countess of Sussex. Anne, is it?”

“Nan,” Ned murmured.

“A pretty girl, but of somewhat sour disposition.”

“I shall be much distressed if her sister has the same temperament,” Philpott said. “Philippa, that is.”

Poor Mistress Philippa, Ned thought. About to be courted by a man who did not look as if he’d ever had an original thought in his head. The fellow could not have met Sir Gregory Botolph more than a few days earlier and already he deferred to the priest in everything. “Philippa is the quiet one,” he said aloud.

“Cowed into silence by her mother, no doubt,” said Botolph.

“Quiet would suit me.” Philpott’s head bobbed up and down to emphasize the claim. “Biddable.”

Ned smiled to himself. Biddable was something Nan would never be, although seducing her had not been difficult. He was certain he could tempt her into his bed again if he tried. Mayhap get her with child and force the issue of marriage. But what if they did wed? She’d never forgive him for the loss of her dream. She wanted a husband with wealth and a title. He’d never be a nobleman, and to be rich he’d have to marry money. What Nan did not understand was that, to him, she was well to do.

Philpott was still rambling on about courting Philippa. Ned was content to let him have her. There were two more Bassett girls. He pictured Mary, beautiful but sickly. She had suffered several relapses since her return to Calais from France. Such a wife might soon make him a widower, free to marry again and obtain yet another dowry. But Lady Lisle guarded her youngest chick like a mother hen. He’d have better luck turning himself into a fox and raiding the coop. Amused by his own wit, Ned refilled his cup.

So, Cat Bassett it must be, and her courtship would have to wait until the next time Ned crossed the Narrow Seas.

It was a pity about Nan, though. He liked Nan. They had much in common, both being determined to better themselves. He supposed that was why they’d never make a match of it.

And yet he was unable to stop himself from asking about her. “What makes you say Mistress Nan Bassett has a sour disposition? Did something untoward occur in the Sussex household?”

Botolph obliged him with a tale Ned found hard to believe. “And so,” he concluded, “Husee retreated in haste while Mistress Nan railed at him like the proverbial fishwife.”

“All that fuss over pearls?”

“Indeed.” Philpott’s head bobbed up and down to confirm it. “It was just as Sir Gregory says. She is a termagant, that one. A virago.”

“There will be more trouble here over the matter, too, for I’ve no doubt that was the cause of Lady Lisle’s distress.” Botolph’s mouth quirked. “Husee wrote to her ladyship of the incident, couching the story in careful words so as not to offend. But Master Warley also sent an account, and he is a fellow who does not know how to be subtle. His letter quoted the exact words Mistress Nan used to disparage the pearls her mother sent.”

Ned set his cup on the table with exaggerated care. “You read the letters?”

Botolph’s expression blossomed into a conspiratorial grin. “How else are humble servants such as ourselves to make our way in the world? Never tell me you do not do the same yourself.”

Ned did not deny it, but neither did he admit to the practice. “You are right about one thing,” he conceded. “The furor over those pearls is not likely to die down for weeks.” Ned had never met a woman more concerned with her own reputation than Honor Lisle. She would not tolerate criticism, especially from members of her own family.

Nan was just as stubborn.

In the course of the next hour, Ned consumed a considerable amount of beer and learned a great deal about the secret lives of priests. Sir Gregory Botolph liked to listen at keyholes and had no qualms about repeating scandal. He’d regaled his companions with a half dozen bawdy tales before Ned realized that all the priests he ridiculed were staunch supporters of religious reform.

A NEW MOTHER’S churching was the celebration of the end of the month of rest she was entitled to after giving birth. It was also a signal that she could once more participate in the sacraments and could resume her conjugal duties.

Nan’s cousin Mary wore a white veil and carried a lighted candle. She approached the church door accompanied by two other married women. There she knelt, waiting for the priest to sprinkle her with holy water. Thus purified, she was permitted to enter the church for the service in her honor.

Throughout the psalms and the sermon of thanksgiving for the Countess of Sussex’s safe delivery, Nan watched Mother Gristwood, the midwife who had delivered young Henry. Both she and the month-old baby were honored guests. The Earl of Sussex was also present, but on this occasion he effaced himself. His countess was the center of attention.

After the service, everyone returned to Sussex House for a feast. The company, Mary’s friends and relations, consisted almost entirely of women. There was eating and drinking and entertainment by minstrels and jugglers. Several hours passed before anyone thought of leaving.

Mother Gristwood was a strapping woman in the prime of life who enjoyed the celebrations as much as anyone else. At last, however, she departed. Accompanied by Cousin Kate, Nan hurried out by way of the lych-gate. They caught the midwife before she’d gone more than a few yards beyond the gatehouse.

Nan, walking a little behind Kate, was careful to keep her cloak wrapped around her to hide her fine clothing. She let her cousin do the talking. They had worked everything out in advance. Nan was certain she could carry off the deception, but she was so nervous she was shaking. Everything depended upon how convincing Kate could be.

Kate had promised to help, so long as she continued to share in the gifts Lady Lisle sent from Calais. Nan did not fully trust her cousin, but Kate was all she had.

“My serving woman is with child by a scoundrel who abandoned her,” Kate told the midwife, gesturing toward Nan. “I will not have her suffer for it.”

“I’ll not kill the child for you,” Mother Gristwood said.

“Will you deliver the babe in secret and find a family to adopt it?”

Mother Gristwood peered at Nan through the gathering darkness, a calculating look on her face. Giving a curt nod, she named a price for her services. It was high, but less than Nan had feared. If she pawned one of her court gowns, she could raise the money.

“Agreed,” Kate said. “Constance will come to you on the morrow to be examined, accompanied by another maidservant.” The real Constance. Nan’s maid was willing to help her mistress in any way she could, even loaning Nan her name.

“And the delivery?” Mother Gristwood asked. “Am I to be summoned to Sussex House for that?”

“You will be summoned, but I do not yet know to what place.” Kate’s haughty tone of voice discouraged further questions.

The truth was that they had not yet contrived a way to hide the birthing. Bringing a child into the world was a long, painful, noisy process. Even if Nan bit down on a strip of leather to stifle her screams, her secret might well be discovered just when she was at her most vulnerable.

But that was a worry for another time. They had months yet to find a solution to the problem. For now all that mattered was that the midwife had agreed to keep the pregnancy secret.

ON THE FOURTH day of May, Nan was in the parlor with the other gentlewomen when Ned Corbett arrived at Sussex House. She had not seen him since mid-March. His very presence in the same room stirred her blood, but she was careful not to let anyone, least of all Ned, guess at her reaction.

John Husee was with him. As usual, he brought news of her family. “Mistress Catherine is about to leave for Belvoir with my lord and lady of Rutland,” he announced.

Only because she was watching Ned so closely did Nan see the flash of disappointment that crossed his face. She frowned. She’d always suspected that he’d courted Cat as well as herself.

“Has a match been made with Sir Edward Baynton’s son?” Lady Sussex asked.

Husee shook his head. “The Bayntons say Mistress Catherine’s dowry is not large enough.”

Again Ned’s reaction was easy to read—relief. Nan felt her temper rise. Had he taken Cat into his bed, as he had her? Had he gotten her with child? Did he plan to ask Cat to enter into a clandestine marriage? Perhaps they already had.

At her first opportunity, Nan dragged Ned into the relative privacy of a window alcove. “Leave my sister alone,” she hissed at him. “She is too innocent for the likes of you.”

In a most annoying fashion, he lifted one eyebrow. “Jealous, Nan?”

She answered with a derisive snort.

“Then why should I heed your desires?”

For one mad moment, she considered telling him about the baby. She even toyed with the idea of agreeing to marry him. But before she could make such a fatal mistake, he leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

“Let us not quarrel, Nan. I have come round to your way of thinking. We were most unwise to give in to passion.”

She frowned, but did not interrupt him.

“You are a beautiful woman, Nan, and I cannot help but desire your body. But neither of us would be happy if we were bound together forever. You belong at court, and I have my own advancement to consider. We are both best served if we refrain from repeating our mistakes.”

“So, what we shared was a … mistake?” She was proud that she kept her voice level. She did not rail at him. She did not strike him. She did not allow a single tear to fall.

“It was. As you yourself concluded.”

For a moment, she almost hated him. Then she glimpsed the deep sadness in his eyes. When Ned immediately made an excuse to leave, Nan was certain it was because he was distraught over losing her. It was strangely pleasant to know she’d had such an effect on him.

Lost in sweet memories of their time together, Nan barely listened to the exchange of news going on all around her. John Husee had to repeat her name several times before she realized that he was addressing her.

“Your pardon, Master Husee. I was woolgathering.”

“Will you walk with me to the gate? I would have a word with you in private.” Husee waited until they were out of earshot before he spoke. “Your mother was most upset to learn that you had given away the pearls she sent you.” His voice was sharper than usual.

“I am sorry to have displeased her.” Nan attempted to sound penitent, even affecting a catch in her voice.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Husee demanded.

“The giving of gifts is part of courtiership.”

“Only when such gifts advance your own interests. I cannot see how Kate Stradling can be of any help to you. She is nothing but a poor relation.”

Nan thought quickly. She could hardly tell Husee the truth. “I am certain Kate will return the pearls if I ask her to. She has them partly as a loan and partly as a gift. I wished to reward her. She has been a most loving friend, always happy to do me a kindness, always ready to help and assist me in any way she can.” For a price.

“You must be more sensible in future when you bestow your favors.” Husee spoke sternly, obviously more afraid of Lady Lisle than he was of her daughter. “After all your mother has done for you, you must not disappoint her.”

The reminder of just how reckless she had been to bestow her favors on Ned shook Nan’s self-control. She was going to have his child. The burden of keeping that secret became heavier with each passing day. The constant threat of discovery, of ruin, kept her emotions in turmoil. Without warning, tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

Appalled, Husee stared at her. “Mistress Nan! You must not carry on this way. All will be well. I will intercede with your mother on your behalf.”

Nan fought to stem the flood, grateful that Husee misunderstood the reason she was crying. He would not be so sympathetic if he knew what had happened with Ned … or its consequences. She took the handkerchief he proffered, mopped her face, and blew her nose.

“I must win back Mother’s favor, Master Husee,” she said, sniffling. “I will do anything she asks. I cannot bear to have her think ill of me.”

“There, there, child.” Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder. “I will ask Lady Lisle to write you a comforting letter. I am certain that if you amend your ways she will forgive you. But no more overgenerous gifts, eh? And you must show proper gratitude for anything else your lady mother chooses to send you.”

“I will be her obedient servant in all things, Master Husee. She will never have further cause to despair of me.” Nan put every ounce of sincerity she could muster into the pledge and silently prayed she would be able to keep her word.

The next few months would be the most difficult. The midwife had told her that her baby would be born toward the end of August. Until then, with the help of tight lacing of undergarments and loose clothing for outerwear, she had to deceive everyone into thinking she suffered from nothing more serious than a spate of debilitating megrims. She’d be spending a great deal of time alone in a darkened room, but it would be worth the effort. No one would suspect that she was with child and, in the end, she would have her life back.