In The Midst of Madness: Tudor Chronicles Book Two Page 4

  ‘Good morning, little Mistress.’ A silken purr.

  Meg turned her head and saw Tom Seymour lounging at her side, his long legs spread in front of him as the seat was too low for his comfort. Meg could smell last night’s wine on his breath and see evidence of it on his clothes, which were rumpled and stained.

  ‘Good morning, my Lord.’ She gathered her skirts and prepared to stand and leave.

  ‘No, little Mistress, don’t leave on my account.’ He smiled his winning smile at her. ‘Why are you here so early, lovely lady?’

  ‘I didn’t want to interrupt any of the ladies or gentlemen later in the day while I take my walk. And I will have my duties when everyone wakes,’ Meg’s voice was low. She couldn’t understand why Sir Thomas Seymour would be passing time with her. He obviously didn’t even know her name.

  ‘Ah, yes. Your duties. You work for that old witch Jane Rochford, yes?’ he said nastily. Meg looked at him and replied evenly.

  ‘I work for Lady Mary Stafford, looking after her daughter Catherine. It is Lady Catherine who is under the charge of Lady Rochford, my Lord.’ Again she started to stand, and his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down to sit beside him with a rough jerk of his hand.

  ‘I didn’t say you could leave!’ His head came forward and he bent as if to kiss her. Meg turned her face away quickly, and heard him give a low chuckle.

  ‘Ah, little Mistress. You should know whose kisses you refuse. You do know who I am?’ His voice was soft, velvety but with a hint of iron, of threat.

  ‘Yes, my Lord Seymour. I know who you are. But I am not in your service, so I am not yours to command.’ Meg tried to keep her voice even, although she was beginning to fear what his intentions were.

  ‘I am the brother-in-law of the King. The uncle to the next King. I can command whomever I choose.’ Tom Seymour’s tone was openly threatening now, and he twisted Meg’s arm round so it was bent up her back, forcing her closer to him. His other hand started to move up her bodice and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to turn her whole body away.

  Suddenly Meg heard her bodice tear and then felt Tom Seymour’s body being yanked away from hers, as he let go of her wrist. She turned and saw Ralph Sadler pulling Tom to his feet, hand firmly grasping Tom’s bicep and tugging him up from the bench.

  ‘My Lord Seymour, your brother is looking for you. Some important matter of the King’s he wishes to discuss.’

  Tom looked at Ralph, not knowing if he was telling the truth, but also not daring to ignore a summons from his brother, who had the ear of the King more and more lately. Tom glanced down at Meg’s bent head, shrugged and strode away without another word. Ralph sat down beside Meg, who was clutching the sides of her torn bodice together and slowly, so as not to startle her, he took her other hand.

  ‘Are you well, Mistress Meg?’ his soft voice soothed her fright, ‘he didn’t hurt you?’

  ‘No, he didn’t, Master Sadler.’ Meg’s voice was trembling. ‘You came along before he could. He only tore my gown.’

  Ralph stood and gently brought Meg up with him, and then still holding her hand, he led her back into the palace to Cromwell’s suite of offices. He took her through into Cromwell’s inner sanctum and settled her on a seat by the fire, then poured her a cup of wine and brought it to her, pressing it into her cold fingers. He sat on a footstool and looked up into her hazel eyes, which filled with tears at his kindness.

  ‘Don’t cry, Mistress Meg. You are quite safe. The Seymours would never dare to come in here. Their Catholic souls might be imperilled by these Lutheran walls!’ He laughed at his own joke, to try and alleviate some of her tension.

  ‘I was frightened that he would try and ….. hurt me.’ Meg’s voice was small, but steady. ‘He has a reputation amongst some of the maids for disregarding their protests in the pursuit of his …..pleasure.’ Her hand began to shake, so she clasped her other round the cup, lest she should drop it in the fire. Her bodice fell apart, but she was still well covered by her shift. Ralph put his large, warm hand over hers.

  ‘I was watching you from the window, walking by the river. But when I saw Tom Seymour creep up and sit beside you, I thought to come out and make sure you weren’t hurt.’ He pressed her hand, and said softly, ‘I wouldn’t want you hurt.’

  Meg looked at him in wonder, eyes wide. ‘Master Sadler! I…..I….’

  Suddenly Cromwell entered his office, stopping in surprise at the tableau in front of his fire. He looked at Ralph and raised his brows in question. Ralph stood up and smiled at his master.

  ‘Mistress Meg had an…… encounter… with Tom Seymour in the garden, my Lord.’ His eyes said far more to Cromwell than his words.

  ‘Indeed?’

  A question. Cromwell’s sharp eyes took in Meg’s torn bodice and trembling hands.

  ‘I brought her here to make sure she was calm before she returned to Lady Rochford, my Lord.’

  ‘Indeed!’

  A statement. Cromwell moved behind his desk and sat down heavily. He looked across at Meg, who was finishing her wine, and smiled kindly.

  ‘And are you calm, Mistress Barre?’

  ‘I am now, my Lord.’ Meg stood, gathering her bodice together and bobbed a curtsey to Cromwell, then replaced the wine cup on the side table.

  ‘Do the ladies maids have a lot of trouble with Tom Seymour?’ Cromwell’s voice was smooth, concern in the tone. Nevertheless, Meg felt her answer was somehow very important to him.

  ‘Not really the ladies maids, my Lord. He can be a nuisance to the younger ladies of the court, but is usually easily dissuaded,’ she shot a sharp glance at Cromwell before continuing, ‘but the laundry maids would tell a different story, my Lord. When I was in Queen Anne’s service, I mean Lady Anne, my Lord,’ Meg’s eyes lowered, then she took a deep breath and continued, ‘I was in charge of Lady Anne’s linens, and the maids then had many unpleasant encounters with my Lord Seymour. But now ….,’ she stopped, wondering if she was saying too much.

  Cromwell sat at his desk, his hands folded quietly in front of him, but Ralph had picked up a pen and paper and was making notes. Meg gave him a startled glance.

  ‘My Lord? Have I been indiscreet?’ Meg was anxious now, as Cromwell’s reputation for using information was well known.

  ‘Not at all, my dear,’ Cromwell’s silky tone was reassuring, ‘we are grateful for any information about members of the court, and we make sure that our sources,’ Cromwell chose his words carefully, ‘our valued sources are kept quite anonymous.’

  Meg felt slightly reassured, and the fact that she didn’t like the Seymour family made it easier for her to tell Cromwell what she knew.

  ‘Well, my Lord, Sir Thomas has been paying court to Lady Brough. But since she was widowed she isn’t at court so often.’

  Cromwell thought carefully about what he knew of Lady Brough, newly widowed and still quite young. ‘I had heard she had returned to her family,’ he said, ‘so they can find her another husband. I doubt that the husband Lord Parr has in mind for his daughter will be Tom Seymour.’

  ‘No, my Lord. I don’t think Sir Tom wishes to go so far as to actually marry Lady Brough. But she is better bred than a laundry maid.’ Meg swept a curtsey to Cromwell and moved towards the door.

  ‘Ralph, take Mistress Barre back to her apartment,’ instructed Cromwell, smiling his thanks at Meg for supplying new information.

  Ralph hurried to do his bidding, taking Meg’s arm in a gentlemanly fashion and escorting her out of the offices. He delivered her to the door of the room where she slept on the little trundle bed.

  ‘Your apartment, Mistress Meg,’ he whispered, then bending his long frame ov
er her tiny one, he kissed her very gently on her lips, just a brush of his mouth across hers, then bowed and left her. Meg touched her lips with her fingers and looked at his retreating figure, breathless with astonishment.

  Chapter 7 - 1538

  other! Mother! We are home!’ Cat’s excited voice echoed from the brick walls surrounding the stable yard. ‘Mother!’

  Mary came laughing out of the still-room door, enveloped in a huge white apron that covered her gown from neck to heels, wiping her hands on a cloth and pushing her hair from her hot face. Her wrist left a trail of flour across her forehead.

  ‘Yes, my lovely. I can hear you. The whole county knows you’re home.’

  Cat ran and flung her arms round her mother, hugging and kissing and crying with happiness to be home, even if it was only for a short time.

  ‘And Meg is with me,’ Cat prattled on excitedly, ‘and we have brought Kitty too. We knew you wouldn’t mind and she had no-where to go home to.’ Cat paused for breath, still not letting go of her mother’s waist.

  ‘We are happy to have her, my lovely. Now, catch your breath and make a proper introduction.’ Mary smiled at her daughter, already grown almost to her own height, then nodded and smiled at Meg, clambering down as she was from the cart containing the clothes chests. Then Mary turned her gaze to the other occupant of the carriage, and smiled another welcome.

  Kitty jumped down, a tiny figure swamped in a flurry of burgundy velvet, and made a deep curtsey. Cat adopted her most solemn voice, ‘My Lady Mother, may I present to you Lady Catherine Howard. Lady Catherine, this is my mother, Lady Mary Stafford,’ then she collapsed against her mother in a gale of laughter.

  Mary looked at Kitty in astonishment as she rose and then flung her own arms round Mary, kissing her cheek and hugging her neck. Mary laughed, then took hold of Kitty’s hands. ‘Welcome, Kitty. We are pleased to have you with us.’

  ‘Oh, thank you Lady Mary. I am so pleased to be here and meet some more of my lovely family and I promise to be no trouble while I’m here.’ Kitty smiled at Mary breathlessly and looked round the yard.

  ‘Come on, Kitty. I’ll show you where our room is,’ and Cat grabbed hold of Kitty’s hand and they raced off into the great castle.

  Mary’s brows rose in surprise as she looked at Meg.

  ‘I think you and I need to have a conversation, Meg. I shall ask Geoffrey to bring us some ale and sweetmeats to my solar. Go and change your dusty gown and meet me there.’ Meg bobbed a curtsey and found her clothes-chest as Mary walked back into the kitchen, unfastening her voluminous apron as she walked.

  ***

  ‘Lice, Meg? Real lice?’ Mary was scandalised.

  ‘Yes my Lady. Lady Rochford was so beside herself she sent for Monseigneur.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘That we should get Kitty whatever she needed and send the bill to Master Cromwell. So that’s what we did. I quickly made her some shifts and night gowns, and we had the seamstresses make her petticoats and gowns, and the cobbler made her some shoes. Until we could get them all made, she borrowed Mistress Cat’s things. But it has been quite difficult.’

  ‘Difficult? To get things to fit her, you mean? She is so tiny, she looks like a ten year old child.’ Mary took a sip of ale and chose another sweetmeat from the platter. Her spreading waist attested to her love of sweet things. Mary offered the plate to Meg, who took one and closed her eyes as she bit into such honeyed luxury.

  ‘To keep her covered, my Lady.’ Meg chewed and swallowed, showing on her face that she loved how the honeyed sweetness coated her tongue. ‘She has no natural modesty. She walks about our room quite naked, her hair loose past her hips, and she prefers to sleep that way too, unless we make her wear her nightgown. Lady Rochford often has to make her remove her gown again and put on a shift and petticoat underneath before she goes to serve Lady Margaret.’

  ‘I’ll hazard Jane is beside herself about that, too.’ Mary smiled, thinking of her prim sister in law in a battle of wills with their wayward cousin.

  ‘Yes, my Lady. But I think Lady Rochford is more worried about Kitty than scandalised by her.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘She is very trusting, my Lady. Not only has she no modesty, but she seems to have no sense of danger, of simple common sense. She believes everything people tell her, especially the King’s gentlemen. And they see her guilelessness and tease her mercilessly! They try and tempt her into mischief, but she just laughs, as if she doesn’t really understand.’ Meg’s brows drew into a worried frown as if she had just realised, in the telling of it to Mary, just how vulnerable Kitty was.

  ‘Do you think she’s…..,’ Mary stopped, ‘simple, Meg? Soft in the head?’ Her eyes filled with tears at that thought.

  ‘Sometimes, my Lady, I do! But I also think that her upbringing with the Dowager Duchess has made it easy for people to prey on her naturally kind and sunny nature. She has been allowed to do exactly as she pleases, and so finds it difficult to take other people’s wishes into account. I’m sure being here with you will help.’ Meg smiled at Mary to try and lessen the dread that had crept into her tone.

  ‘So, Meg, tell me about the King, and Cromwell and the intrigues of the court,’ smiled Mary, helping herself to another sweetmeat and settling back comfortably. She passed Meg the plate, and Meg took another.

  ‘The King has gone on a progress, my Lady, and Princess Mary has gone to a religious retreat, which is why we are able to come home for two weeks. Ralph says that….’

  ‘Ralph? Who is Ralph?’ Mary couldn’t help her smile as Meg blushed to the roots of the light brown curls escaping her embroidered cotton lawn cap.

  ‘Ralph Sadler. He is Master Cromwell’s clerk, my Lady. He helped me when Sir Tom Seymour tried to…. tried to….!’ Mary put her hands over Meg’s and squeezed.

  ‘Only “tried”, Meg?’ Meg nodded, keeping her head down. ‘Good. I like Ralph already.’

  ‘Well, my Lady, Ralph says that Lord Cromwell is trying to persuade the King into another marriage.’ Meg looked at the disgusted expression on Mary’s face. ‘He says Prince Edward needs a brother.’

  ‘Hmph!’ Mary bit into another sweetmeat savagely. ‘He was lucky to get one on the milk-sop. I doubt he would be so fortunate again.’ Mary chewed silently, and Meg didn’t want to interrupt whatever thoughts were in her mistress’s mind.

  ‘Does Cromwell have anyone in mind?’ asked Mary, guilelessly.

  ‘A foreign princess, as far as I can tell, my Lady. But I don’t know who. Someone young enough to bear children.’

  ‘And innocent enough not to worry about marrying a much older man, even if he is the King of England. Best of luck to Cromwell, finding someone that fits all that!’ Mary got to her feet and brushed the sweetmeat crumbs from her blue damask gown.

  ‘I’ll let you unpack the rest of your things, and rest before supper, Meg. I’m sure we’ll have chance to speak again while you’re here. And thank you for looking after my little Cat for me, although she’s not so little any more, is she?’

  Meg stood and bobbed a curtsey before she left the room. She hadn’t betrayed any of Ralph’s secrets to Mary. She had told her nothing more than Mary could work out for herself upon hearing the King was looking for another wife. Meg knew that the Howard family, the staunchest Catholic family in the land, would be unhappy if they learnt that Cromwell was negotiating for a Protestant bride for the King.

  Chapter 8 - 1540

  y God, Mary! Hell’s teeth, she’s a Lutheran. A Lutheran!’ Norfolk was beside himself with anger. ‘And Cromwell has been scheming behind my back and smiling to my face. It is not to be borne, Mary. It will not be borne!’

 
Mary regarded her uncle calmly from her seat at the hearth, watching him pace up and down in front of the mullioned window, almost spitting with fury. She wondered how she had suddenly become his confidant at Hever. He would usually only discuss things with her father, but since Anne and George, her father wasn’t the man he had been, she thought. Thomas Boleyn spent a lot of time at prayer, and in comforting his wife Elizabeth, and no longer evinced much of an interest in court politics.

  Mary was grateful that her husband Will Stafford devoted himself to the running of the estate, farming crops, raising the sheep and pigs that went to market, and the breeding of horses that were becoming much prized by the nobility. He had no interest in court life either, but her daughter was at court, so Mary made sure she took an interest.

  ‘I’m surprised the Seymour snakes are allowing him to marry a Lutheran, Monseigneur. They are very much of the old ways.’ Mary poured another cup of wine for Norfolk, hoping he wouldn’t fling this one into the fire. The smith was always busy hammering out bent cups after a visit from Norfolk.

  ‘Edward Seymour is too busy making sure he is Prince Edward’s favourite uncle,’ Norfolk replied with a curl to his lip. He took the wine Mary offered and drank deeply. ‘And Tom Seymour is busy lifting the skirt of anyone that doesn’t get out of his way quickly enough! He was trying to dip into Kate Brough, but her father swept her home and started to arrange another marriage for her before the ink had dried on old Brough’s death certificate.’

  ‘Isn’t Kate a Lutheran, Monseigneur?’ Mary said absently, wrinkling her brow as she tried to remember Kate from her time at court. ‘I’m still surprised at the Seymours. But they’ll get their chance, when anything happens to Henry.’

  ‘Careful, Mary. Even thinking of the King’s death is treason, you know that.’

  ‘And it’s ludicrous. Arrangements have to be made, surely? And Henry’s not getting any younger. From what I’ve heard, he can barely walk with that ulcer on his leg so he just sits and eats. And drinks!’