Queen of the North
Page 43
‘It is a highly desirable,’ Sir Thomas continued, riding roughshod over any objections that anyone might raise. He thought that I had raised my voice because I did not like Will. Did not like him well enough to wed him. How little he knew of me, to think that I would be guided by so trivial a matter of who I liked or did not like. He did not know me at all.
Taking a cup of wine and emptying it in one gulp, my uncle was saying: ‘What could be more comfortable for you than our disposition of your future?’ He repeated the decisions, as if I had not heard them for myself. ‘You have known each other since childhood. You will both continue to live in the royal household until you are of an age to set up your own establishment. You will receive money necessary to do so. What is there not to like? I’m sure the King will settle a castle on you for your household. There can be no impediment.’
Countess Catherine looked across at her son. ‘Have you argued? Is that the problem? Arguments are soon mended.’ And then regarding me as she was want to do in the past when I was an errant child who had defied her. ‘I am sure that you have a kind nature, Joan. There will be no rift with my son.’
Yes, indeed, as if I were a child who affections could be commanded.
I was no child.
‘No, Sir Thomas, my lady, madam my mother.’ I curtsied once more. ‘I like William well enough. And I think he likes me. There has been no disagreement.’
I had to do it. If I didn’t, Will most assuredly would. He was already moving his feet as if finding secure ground to launch his accusation.
I spoke calmly, with faux assurance.
‘I cannot marry William. I am already married. I already have a husband.’
If I had ever dreamed of making an impact on a busy room, this was it. Silence fell. The only sound the priest, who, still writing, promptly dropped his pen with a soft flutter to land on the birds and flowers that adorned the painted tiles. I watched the expressions form and change. My mother astounded, then full of recrimination. My uncle expressing disbelief quickly subsumed into fury. Lady Elizabeth and her daughter-in-law both simply perplexed. The priest also full of anxious puzzlement. The servants with their silver flagons and ears pricked for any tasty morsel had been struck into immobility. And Will – William! – full of unholy joy at the debacle I had just created.
‘You should know,’ I added, ‘that I have been married for more than six months. Since April of this year.’
‘You do not know what you say.’
My mother took one long step to seize my wrist in her hand. It was not a gentle grasp.
‘But I do know, madam. And I have witnesses to my marriage.’
‘And who is this husband, of whom we know nothing?’ My uncle Wake, his brow thunderous.
I must of course tell them.
‘My husband is Thomas Holland. Sir Thomas Holland. A knight in the royal household. You all know him well.’
And in that moment a species of black anger shook me. For my husband of six months had wilfully abandoned me to face this situation alone.
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