Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set

22

I was back in the maidens’ tent before any of the others were stirring. Although Will left early for Woking, I was up and dressed to watch him ride away. I sent a wife’s prayer after him for his safety and success.

If the king seemed to be in a mellow mood, Will would confess what we had done right after the council meeting and ask His Grace’s blessing on our marriage. There was risk involved. There was always risk. But I had convinced myself that, at worst, Will would be made to pay a fine for marrying without the king’s permission. No matter what happened, I no longer feared I would be forced to marry someone else. It was too late for that.

Feeling smug, I turned to find Nan Bassett right behind me. “You are a fool, Bess Brooke.”

“I have no notion what you mean.” But my palms began to sweat and I could not meet her eyes.

“I mean that I was awake when you returned this morning. Did you lie with him, Bess? Have you so far lost your senses as to risk getting with child by a man who already has a wife?”

“You are mistaken. I went out to visit the privy, nothing more.”

Nan sent me a pitying look. “If you are set upon this course, at least learn how to lie convincingly.”

Certain I would have no need to deny Will, I walked away from Nan without saying more. We would be together soon, wed in the eyes of man and God. For we were married. We’d exchanged vows and I’d given myself to my husband, body and mind and soul. The pleasure he had given me in return had convinced me that we were destined to be together. Just the memory of our joining made me warm all over.

I did not permit myself to consider the possibility that the king would refuse Will’s request. To show favor to Will would please the queen. And Will had been most faithful in his service ever since his return from the Scottish border. He deserved a reward.

To pass the time, I sewed, played my lute, and watched the queen’s tumbler perform. From time to time I heard hushed whispers and saw concerned looks. Since they were not directed at me, I paid them scant attention until, at just after four of the clock on that Saturday afternoon, the queen herself came to tell us that the ailing Duke of Suffolk had died.

Will returned to Guildford Castle a few hours later, bringing His Grace’s condolences to the duchess and the duke’s daughter, Frances Grey. Then he retired to his bedchamber, where I waited.

“You should not be here, Bess,” Will said in a weary voice. He poured himself a cup of Malmsey and sank into the chair drawn up to the fire.

“Where else should your wife be, Will?” I took the cup away from him, placing it on a nearby table, and plunked myself down in his lap.

For a moment, I thought he would push me away, but he only sighed and laid his head upon my bosom. I stroked his hair, hoping to soothe him, but I was far from calm myself.

“What happened at Woking?” I asked when he did not volunteer any information. “Did you speak to the king?”

I felt him tense and knew before he spoke that he had not. “There was no opening before the council meeting, and after . . . the Privy Council was still in session when the news arrived.” Will lifted his head to run shaky fingers over his short-cropped hair. “I have never seen the king so grief stricken. Suffolk was his oldest friend. His Grace took his death hard, and it was as if a dam opened. Of a sudden, every other loss in this evil year flooded over him. Even as he praised the duke’s life, he remembered there was famine in the land, and sickness, too. He spoke of the Mary Rose and the sailors who went down with her. The king was there in Portsmouth that day, you know, watching from the ramparts of South-sea Castle when that great ship heeled over and abruptly sank. Hundreds of men drowned and there was nothing anyone could do to save them.”

“I am sorry for it, but—”

“Did you know the Mary Rose was named after the king’s sister, the one who was married to the Duke of Suffolk?”

I did not care. I wanted to wail—to howl—in frustration. We had been so close.

Will ran one hand up my arm to pull me into a kiss. I resisted. As much as I wanted to lie in his arms, in his bed, some vestige of common sense remained to me. “I will not have people think I am merely your mistress.”

“You are my wife, Bess. Never doubt that. It is only that we must bide our time. Just now the king would not react well to being told we’ve already wed. When Suffolk married His Grace’s sister, even he fell into disfavor for not waiting for permission.”

“But he was forgiven.”

“In time. And after payment of an enormous fine.”

I knew the story, but it was ancient history, so long ago that Suffolk’s daughter, Frances, had three little girls of her own—Jane, Catherine, and Mary Grey. I extricated myself from Will’s arms and stood. “I must go now.”

“I love you, Bess.” His misery tore at my heart, but it made no difference. I could not stay. The temptation was too great.

He caught my hand before I could escape and slipped a ring on my finger. “You are my wife now, Bess. There is no going back.”

The ring was in gimmal, one part set with a ruby and the other with a diamond. I did not have to take it off to know that the words “Let no man put asunder those whom God has joined together” would be inscribed beneath the bezel.

“It will not be long,” Will whispered. “I swear it. Soon we will be able to tell the world that we are wed.”

“And until then we must pretend nothing has changed.” My voice sounded as hollow as I felt.

Will loved me. I did believe that. But not as much as I loved him. Not enough to go straightaway to the king and announce that we were married. I removed the ring from my finger and tucked it into my bodice, close to my heart.