by Mary Hooper
Courtiers, gentlemen and ladies-in-waiting alike applauded this notion, some of them calling, ‘Bravo!’
‘Well said, Your Grace,’ said Tomas, smiling through his false beard. ‘Shall I give the infant to your ladies to care for?’
‘Indeed,’ said the queen, basking in the approbation of those around her. ‘There are many ladies and only one babe, so ‘twill not be an onerous task.’
Tomas signalled to me and I picked up little Elizabeth and carried her over to a group of ladies. I did not, however, give her to Mistress Pryor, for I felt that would have been too direct a statement. I looked at her, however, then had to look away quickly before I began weeping at the sheer joy on her face.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Are you ready?’ Tomas offered me his hand and, taking it, I stepped down the three stone steps into the small chapel. I’d left my cloak in the ‘porch to make Miss Charity’s blue gown look the better (she would, I knew, be delighted when I told her that it was being worn for a wedding) and my hair was loose and dressed with ribbands.
The chapel was a private one attached to a manor house at Barnes, quite close to where Sir Francis Walsingham lived. Being a privately-owned place of worship, it had escaped alteration when the queen’s father had changed the religion from Catholic to Protestant, so still had the earlier faith’s stained-glass windows, elaborate carved altar rails and shiny brass candlesticks. It was not yet six of the clock on a dank January morning and very dark outside, so two torches flamed on its walls and the altar was bright with candles.
As we walked a little further down the aisle and the light from these candles fell upon me, Tomas took in my appearance and smiled. ‘So early in the morning to be dressed so grand!’
At the appreciative look in his eyes I lowered my head, feeling myself blush, for I was still unaccustomed to being with the real, true Tomas. He, too, looked very fine that morning, for he was wearing silken hose, a doublet of dark blue with silver threads woven through, and under, a gauzy lawn shirt gathered into smocking with a ruff at the neck.
‘Did you have trouble getting away from the house?’ he asked.
I shook my head. ‘My girls are still asleep – and I’ll be back before the household stirs.’
‘And not one of them will have any knowledge of the ceremony which is about to occur! But what of Mistress Midge?’
‘I told her I had an important errand to run for Mr Sylvester.’
Tomas, still holding my hand, squeezed it. ‘And so you have.’
There was a movement to the right of us and a dark-robed parson appeared from the shadows to wish me good morrow. I continued to hold Tomas’s hand tightly, partly because I was apprehensive about the occasion, and partly because I very much liked doing so.
Tomas introduced me. I made my curtsey and the parson nodded in acknowledgement. ‘And your two friends?’ he asked. ‘Are they come yet?’
Tomas answered that they would be here very shortly, and the parson moved back into the shadows where stood a table and chair. We heard the noise of a parchment being unrolled, then the scratching of a quill. ‘I had to bribe him,’ Tomas whispered to me. ‘He wasn’t keen on a marriage without the banns being called, but I persuaded him otherwise.’
‘And do you think . . .’ But before I had a chance to finish my question there was a noise at the door and Mr Sylvester and Mistress Pryor appeared. As they stepped into the light from the torches we saw that he was cheery, smiling, while she, wearing a silk gown in Tudor green, looked rather shy and demure. These attitudes were appropriate in each of them, of course, for it was their wedding day.
The marriage ceremony was soon over: the parson gabbled his words, making it as brief as possible in order to be finished before the household whose chapel it was came for morning prayers. Tomas and I stood as witnesses and signed the register, and (I’d been practising) I was proud to pen Lucy Walden with an adept hand and a flourish to each capital letter.
The parson, urging us not to tarry over-long, left the chapel. We congratulated the happy couple and the new Mistress Sylvester bent to kiss my cheek to thank me, then, turning to Tomas, voiced the question which I’d tried to ask before the ceremony.
‘Tomas. Do you really think Her Grace will forgive us?’
‘Yes, what do you say to our chances?’ said Mr Sylvester.
Tomas looked at them consideringly. ‘Having been in the royal household all my life, I believe I know a little of Her Grace’s feelings and attitudes,’ he said. ‘Certainly since having the little Frenchman for a lover, she’s become more relaxed in her outlook – there are even rumours that she is about to release Mistress George from the Tower.’
‘But how long do you think it will be before we can live together as husband and wife?’
‘And mother and father of little Elizabeth?’ added Mistress Pryor with some anxiety.
‘We must take things slowly,’ Tomas said, ‘and be prepared for a setback if the rumours about Robert Dudley turn out to be true.’
‘Indeed,’ said Mr Sylvester.
‘The first and most important thing has been to secure your child’s legitimacy by legalising your union,’ Tomas went on.
Mr Sylvester nodded and smiled, looking to his wife. ‘And we have done this today.’
‘You have,’ said Tomas. ‘And I believe the next thing will be for you, Mistress Sylvester, to withdraw from Court life as much as possible, perhaps setting up your own household. After a reasonable period, having made sure that Her Grace is in a compliant and agreeable mood – and certainly if she accepts the proposal of the French duke – I shall ask her if she might consider releasing you from her service.’
‘And if she does not?’ Mistress Pryor asked, then added quickly, ‘But I shall not think on that, for today is my wedding day and I am determined to stay hopeful and happy!’
‘That’s the way, my sweetness!’ Mr Sylvester said, putting an arm about her shoulders. He smiled at us. ‘I fear there will be no wedding breakfast, but I’ve prepared a flagon of bride-ale and I suggest we take a walk to the lych-gate and drink a toast or two there before we return to our respective lives.’
And this we did, and were all a little merry by the hour of sun-up. At this time, however, I became anxious about getting home before the Dee family rose and discovered I was missing, so Tomas walked with me back to Mortlake. It was not far, but we strode briskly and I was out of breath by the time we reached the magician’s house. By then, I was also feeling a little tearful, because the Court – and Tomas, of course – was due to move to Whitehall the following day and I felt my life would prove very dull and empty for the next few months.
We paused on the riverbank, where the river was high and a watery sun was just showing through cloud.
‘So this is farewell,’ he said.
I nodded. ‘I know I may not see you for some time.’
He shrugged. ‘Some considerable time. Who can tell? After Whitehall Her Grace usually goes to Windsor or Eltham, and then on summer progress to see some of her country-dwelling subjects.’
‘And her fool always goes too.’
‘Of course.’
‘Then . . .’ I felt a prickling at the back of my eyes and tried hard not to give way to tears, for I had no reason at all to presume that there was anything more than friendship between us. There had been no promises, no words spoken, no kiss. ‘Then I may not see you for some months, Tomas. Nigh on a year, perhaps . . .’
‘Ah,’ he said, with some weight to this word.
I looked at him, frowning slightly. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that. Ah.’
‘And what does “Ah” mean?’
He smiled broadly. ‘It means that we’ll see each other long before a year, Lucy, for I happen to know that in this month of January Dr Dee and his household are taking temporary lodgings in Whitehall in order to be near to the queen.’
I gasped. ‘Never!’
He nodded. ‘And there is alread
y a certain matter awaiting your attention.’
‘There is?’ I asked.
He smiled. ‘You may remember that we’ve never found the false Jack Frost: the varlet – or indeed the wicked young doxy – who impersonated me.’
‘Of course! Do you think, then, that he’ll be at Whitehall?’
‘For sure he’ll be wherever the Court is, spying and eavesdropping and trying to gain access to its secrets.’
‘And I shall be there too. In London!’ I stopped, fearful excited – and then had a thought. ‘This is not another of your jests, is it?’
‘It is not.’
‘Truly?’
‘By my troth, no.’ He took my hand. ‘And, Lucy, you look so lovely in your delight that I’m sorely tempted to kiss you.’
My heart gave a great leap. At last! I thought, and closed my eyes and tilted my face up towards his in readiness. Twelfth Night had come and gone and the kissing bough had been consigned to the fire, but it was never too late for kisses.
‘I say I am tempted,’ Tomas continued, ‘but of course I would not venture to kiss a maid in such a public place for fear of ruining her reputation . . .’
‘Oh!’ Quite horrified, my eyes sprang open again – in time to see Tomas’s lips coming towards my own.
‘My sweet, I am jesting,’ he murmured. And then we spoke no more until Mistress Midge rapped sharply on the kitchen window and I hurried in.
Whitehall. London. Close to Her Grace and close to Tomas. I could not ask for more . . .
Some Historical Notes from the Author
The Queen and Her Suitors
This book is set sometime during the start of the second half of Elizabeth I’s reign. At this time her ministers had not given up hope that she would marry and even, perhaps, provide the heir that England so needed. Various suitors appeared from all over Europe and the queen, while accepting their gifts and their professed love, played one off against the other, trying to gain the best deal for England and also foreign support in the event of a war. It seems she was especially fond of the French Duke of Anjou, for their courtship was an on-and-off affair which went on for months. They exchanged presents and rings, and once the queen actually announced to her ministers that they were betrothed. He was seventeen years younger, though, and her ministers were not happy that she was marrying a Frenchman and a Catholic, so eventually it came to nothing.
There was much public speculation about who might or might not be her lover, and Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester and Master of the Queen’s Horse, was a long-term favourite. His first wife died in suspicious circumstances, causing him to be hurriedly sent from Court and, eventually giving up hope that the queen would marry him, he secretly wed the Countess of Essex, one of her ladies-in-waiting.
The Real Dr Dee
Dr Dee was a mathematician, linguist and scholar – but was also very gullible. Kelly, his ‘scryer’, purported to speak to angels who gave him details of how to turn base metal into gold (by using the so-called ‘philosopher’s stone’), but unfortunately these details were in a strange angelic language which could never be properly deciphered. Dr Dee collected books from all over the world and was said to have the largest library in the country. As court astrologer he was frequently consulted by the queen – once, after a wax image of her was found lying in Lincoln’s Inn Fields with a great pin through its eyes. He was able to assure her that it had no powers to harm her and generally calmed her superstitious fears.
Court Entertainments
These were lavish and costly and usually included music and singing, dance and fireworks. When the queen went ‘on progress’ around her kingdom, staying at her richest subject’s castles and stately homes, the owners would spend an astonishing amount of money on rebuilding, refurbishing and generally providing extravagant diversions and attractions, inside and out, in order to entertain her and her Court. These ranged from plays, music, fireworks, bear-baiting and jousting, to the half-moon-shaped lake which the Earl of Hertford dug in his grounds for a lavish water pageant, during which the ‘lady of the lake’ recited poetry specially composed for the occasion, and little boats sailed between miniature islands. Sometimes as many as a thousand people would accompany the queen on her progresses, and of course catering and accommodating this great number could sometimes bankrupt even an extremely wealthy man.
Puritans
Puritans were an extreme type of Protestant who sought purity in life and in worship. They dressed plainly, usually in black and white, and disliked any ornamentation or decoration on their persons or in their churches. In this they were at the opposite end of the scale to Roman Catholics, whose churches were rich with stained-glass windows and had candles in shiny candlesticks, decorative carvings and lace altar cloths.
Mary Queen of Scots
Mary was cousin to the queen and had a good claim to the throne. She and her supporters were thorns in Elizabeth’s side for most of her reign. Various plots to unseat the Protestant Elizabeth and replace her with the Catholic Mary were hatched and discovered (sometimes by one of Sir Francis Walsingham’s team of spies) until in 1587 Elizabeth had had enough and signed her cousin’s death warrant.
Frost Fairs
The earliest recorded frost fair on the Thames was in 1309 when there were sports, dancing, a bonfire and a hare hunt on the ice. Later, frost fairs grew in content and sophistication and became much like the street fairs held in summer months. In the seventeenth century a printing press was erected on the frozen Thames, near London Bridge, and for a small fee you could take home a souvenir card printed with your name to prove you’d been there. (In the Museum of London there’s one such card recording the fact that King Charles II and his family attended a frost fair on 31 January 1684.)
The Ladies-in-Waiting
These ladies, and the more intimate maids of honour, formed an elegant and decorative backdrop to the person of the queen, providing support, entertainment, advice and good company for Her Grace. Girls from titled families sometimes entered the Court aged about twelve and, after serving the queen for a number of years, were found suitable husbands. The queen did not approve of marriage for all, however, and was known to punish her ladies by sending them to the Tower if they fell in love with someone she didn’t approve of – or someone whose attentions she wanted for herself. After she discovered that one of her ladies, the Countess of Essex, had been secretly married to Robert Dudley and was also pregnant, she banished them both and, although he later came back into favour, she never received the new Lady Leicester, whom she thereafter referred to as the ‘she-wolf’.
Mistress Midge’s Favourite Recipes
Clotted Cream
Take a gallon of new milk from the cow, two quarts of cream, and twelve spoonfuls of rose water, put these together in a large milk pan, and set it upon a fire of charcoal well kindled (be sure the fire be not too hot) and let it stand a day and a night; then take it off and remove cream with a slice or scummer (let no milk be in it). Lay it in a cream-dish, with sugar scraped there-on, and so serve it up.
Flowers of All Sorts, Pickled
Put them into a preserving jar with as much sugar as they weigh, fill this up with wine vinegar. To a pint of vinegar put a pound of sugar and a pound of flowers. Keep them to decorate salads and boiled meats.
Apple Puffs
Take a large pippin (cooking apple) and mince it small with a dozen or so raisins. Beat in two eggs, season with nutmeg, rose water, sugar and ginger. Drop them into a frying pan with a spoon, fry them like eggs, squeeze on the juice of an orange or lemon and serve them up.
Apple Cream
Take a dozen pippins, pare, slice or quarter them, put them into a skillet with some some claret wine, a piece of ginger sliced thin, a little lemon peel cut small and some sugar. Let all these stew together till they be soft, then take them off the fire and put them into a dish, and when they be cold, take a quarter of boiled cream with a little nutmeg and put in of the apple as much as will thicken it, and
so serve it up.
Glossary
booby – a foolish person
brazier – a small container for hot coals, used for cooking/heating
ceruse – a white lead pigment used as make-up
coffer – a box or chest for keeping valuables
coster – someone who sells fruit or vegetables from a barrow or stall
equerry – an officer in the royal household
ewer – a pitcher with a wide spout and handle for pouring
farthingale – a hoop or framework worn under skirts to shape and spread them
gallendine – a dark-coloured sauce made with vinegar, breadcrumbs, cinnamon, etc.
gee-gaw – decorative trinket; a bauble
Groat – English silver coin worth four old pence, used from the 14th century to the 17th century
kirtle – the skirt part of a woman’s outfit. During this time everything (skirt, bodice, sleeves, ruff) came separately and were pinned together during dressing
link-boy – a boy who carried a torch for pedestrians in dark streets
litter – a man-powered form of transport, consisting of a chair or couch enclosed by curtains and carried on a frame or poles
malmsey – a sweet wine
marchpane – the old word for marzipan
mayweed – a flowering plant with a daisy-like head, also called dog fennel
necromancer – sorcerer, black magician. One who tries to conjure up the dead
posset – a drink of hot milk curdled with ale or beer, flavoured with spices; a common recipe for treating colds
Rhenish – a dry white wine
ribband – a ribbon
samite – a heavy silken fabric, often woven with gold or silver threads
sarcenet – fine soft silk fabric used for clothing and ribbons
scry – to see or divine, especially by crystal-gazing
