Love, Remember Me

by Bertrice Small

  “No, she ain’t,” Toby said low, struggling to keep his voice down. “She is in my master’s bedchamber wrapped in a coverlet. She can’t come out without her clothes, and says you are to fetch them to her. If you don’t believe me, go and see for yourself, miss. I ain’t much for jesting, as anyone who knows Toby Smythe will tell you. Look in the Maidens’ Chamber if you will. Your lady ain’t there.”

  Tillie did just that, and not seeing Nyssa about anywhere, ran to the little storage room where the maids of honor were allowed to keep their clothing. Quickly she gathered the garments needed, and also snatched up a hairbrush and shoes. “All right,” she said to Toby. “Where do we go? And if I find you’ve made a fool of me, laddie, I’ll see your master punishes you, and I’ll get in a few smacks myself.”

  “You’re a feisty one,” he replied with a grin. “Follow me.”

  Tillie’s eyes widened as they entered the Duke of Norfolk’s apartments, but she said nothing. Toby knocked at a paneled door, and when it was opened, he waved Tillie through. She hurried past him, relief suffusing her features as she saw Nyssa. “Oh, m’lady! What has happened? Why are you here instead of in the Maidens’ Chamber?”

  “I am a married woman, Tillie,” Nyssa said quietly. “Put down my clothing and send Toby to fetch some water for my bath. I will tell you everything, but I must reach the queen before the gossip does, if possible.”

  When Tillie had sent Toby off to do her bidding, she sat, at her mistress’s insistence, upon the bed, listening while Nyssa told her the truth of what had transpired. A simple country woman, Tillie was shocked by the scheme fostered by the Duke of Norfolk, but she was relieved that Nyssa had told her of it. It would be easier to deal with the gossip knowing the real facts of the matter. She agreed to keep secret what Nyssa had said, fully understanding the necessity of it, for she was not a stupid girl.

  “Yer mama and papa are going to be very angry,” she noted when her mistress had finally concluded her tale. “They won’t like it one bit that you’ve been forced into this marriage. I know they always promised you that you could make your own choice of a husband. I don’t see how you can get out of it, though, the archbishop himself having performed the ceremony.” She sighed, but then asked, “What is yer bridegroom like, m’lady? Is he handsome? They say he’s a real devil with the ladies. At least,” she amended, “that’s the talk amongst the upper servants, but most of what they say is so much tittle-tattle, I find.”

  Nyssa thought a moment, and then said, “I do not know. Much about him is wrapped in gossip and dark innuendo. He has been kind to me, but I am not certain yet that I can trust him. Time will tell us that.”

  “Where are we going to live?” the practical servant asked.

  “We will remain at court for the present,” her lady said, “but you will be happy to learn that the earl’s home is just across the river from my house at Riverside. We’ll still be near our families and friends, Tillie. I think we will depart court in just a few more weeks. Lord de Winter prefers the country, he tells me.”

  “Well,” Tillie pronounced, “he can’t be too bad then, no matter what the others say about him.”

  Toby entered, struggling beneath the weight of a wooden tub. “Where do you want it, then?” he demanded of Tillie.

  “By the fire, you dolt,” she snapped at him. “Where else would I want it? Is my lady to catch her death of cold?”

  “Yer pretty as a summer’s day, miss,” he told her, “but yer as mean as they come, I’m thinking.” He plunked the tub down with a thump. “I’ll be fetching the water now.”

  “You’d better have help,” Tillie told him, not in the least discomfited by his backhanded compliment, “or it will take all morning.”

  With aid from several of the duke’s footmen, the tub was quickly filled. Tillie shooed Toby from the room and locked the door behind him. Then she helped Nyssa bathe. The girl blushed silently at the sight of the dried blood on her thighs. Tillie said nothing until, toweling her mistress dry, she asked, “Where is yer husband, m’lady?”

  “He has already dressed and gone,” Nyssa said, although to be honest, she did not know where. He had not volunteered the information, and she had not asked him. Her main duty was to the queen. She grew silent again as Tillie dressed her. The rose-pink silk gown with its silver-embroidered underskirt was one of her favorites. Tillie brushed her hair, but instead of leaving it loose, befitting a maiden, she fashioned Nyssa’s hair into a chignon set low on her neck. Over it she affixed a silver caul. Then she held up a looking glass, that Nyssa might see how the new fashion looked.

  “I look so old suddenly,” Nyssa told her servant.

  “ ’Tis a flattering style, m’lady,” Tillie reassured her.

  “I must go to the queen now,” Nyssa said.

  “Are we to live here for now, m’lady?” Tillie asked her. “What am I to do with your possessions now that you are no longer a maid of honor?”

  “I will not stay here under the duke’s rule while we are at court,” Nyssa said. “Take my clothing and my other effects to the house my FitzHugh relations have rented. Toby can help you.”

  “What of yer husband, m’lady?” Tillie wondered.

  “He may come, or he may stay,” Nyssa replied. Then, unlocking the door, she hurried off to the queen’s apartments.

  Anne of Cleves was already awake. When Nyssa entered her apartments, the chatter was instantly silenced, and the queen’s ladies stared hard at her. Her friends looked frightened. Lady Rochford had a distinctly smug air about her. So, Nyssa thought, they already know, or think they know, what has happened. She refused to lower her eyes.

  Lady Browne hurried forward. “You can no longer serve the queen as a maid of honor, Lady Wyndham, er, Lady de Winter. The king has sent word.” She looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  “The king has promised me that I might remain in the queen’s service, as she will need her friends in the days to come,” Nyssa answered her quietly. “A married woman can hardly be a maid, madame, can she?”

  Lady Browne flushed. “No, of course not,” she murmured.

  “I wish to see the queen now,” Nyssa said firmly.

  “Brazen hussy!” she heard someone say.

  “I will tell her you are here,” Cat Howard said loudly. None of the other women dared to stop her as she bustled off.

  Nyssa swallowed back her laughter. So, not only did they know of her disgrace, they also knew in which direction the wind was blowing. It was amusing for the moment, but she did not really think she would like to live her life like this. It would be good to finally leave court.

  Cat was back, her cerulean-blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “Her Grace will see you immediately, my lady de Winter,” she said sweetly, and curtsied politely to her friend, giving her a mischievous wink.

  “Thank you, Mistress Howard,” Nyssa replied loudly, moving past her into the lady Anne’s privy chamber. She curtsied low before the queen. They were alone, much to Nyssa’s relief.

  “Ach, my friend, I am so sorry for your troubles,” the queen said to her. “I vas no sooner awake than Lady Rochford told me.” There were tears in her soft blue eyes.

  Nyssa moved next to the queen’s bed and said low, “ ’Twas a plot by the Duke of Norfolk, madame, in order to discredit me in the king’s eyes. I am certain you know the reason why. And I think you should know that Lady Rochford is in the duke’s service. She spies for him.”

  Anne nodded. “I suspected it.” Then she said. “But for the duke to haf his grandson rape you, my friend. ’Tis criminal!”

  “I was not raped, madame. Lady Rochford drugged my bedtime drink.” Nyssa quickly explained the facts behind her hasty marriage.

  “Such plotting, and planning, and all for the privilege of vedding and bedding Hendrick,” the queen said incredulously. “I do not know if I am sorry for Mistress Howard or not. Surely she must know vhat is in store for her, yet she seems a happy young maid.”

  “Her he
art is good, madame, but she does have the Howard ambition. It seems to run hot and fierce in the veins of that family.”

  “And your bridegroom, Nyssa. Does he haf the Howard ambition too?” the queen asked her. “Vill you be happy with him?”

  “My husband is a de Winter, Your Grace. From now on I intend that he remember it. As for my happiness, Varian seems a good man, but I do not really know him. I hope we will like each other.”

  “You sound to me as if you might already like this man, Nyssa,” the queen observed. “Had you ever met him before last night?”

  “Once,” Nyssa told her mistress. “We danced at your wedding, madame.”

  “Perhaps under the circumstances the archbishop vill gif you an annulment after the matter of my marriage is settled, and the king has taken himself a young and pretty English rose to vife.”

  “There are no grounds for annulment, madame,” Nyssa said honestly. “The king was most insistent that the marriage be consummated, and demanded proof of such by this morning. The duke took him the proof.”

  Anne shook her head in wonderment. “Once,” she said, “you told me that the king could be ruthless. I vas not certain you vere entirely correct, for Hendrick and I haf come so easily to our secret agreement; but his behavior in this matter is indeed heartless.”

  “He was very disturbed, madame; he had promised my mother he would keep me safe. Remember, the king is not privy to the duke’s scheming. He felt my reputation had been compromised. So he took the only action he believed would restore my good name. He saw to my immediate marriage. He insisted upon the consummation, I realize now, to protect me from an annulment, or divorce later on. Remember that I am a considerable heiress in my own right.”

  “And the Howards are ambitious.” The queen smiled.

  “Aye, madame.” Nyssa smiled in return.

  “Vhen vill you leave the court, my friend?” Anne asked.

  “Not until Your Grace is happily resettled. I have the king’s permission to serve you until then in whatever capacity Your Grace wishes,” Nyssa told the queen. “I could not leave you while you need me, dear madame. You have been so kind to me.” She took up the queen’s hand and kissed it.

  Royalty did not cry, but Anne felt the tears welling up in her blue eyes. Since her arrival in England, she had met with great kindness from the common people, and from many here at court, but from young Nyssa Wyndham in particular. She squeezed the girl’s hand. “Ya,” she said huskily. “You vill stay vith me until everything is settled.” She brushed her hand across her eyes. “I had best arise now, Nyssa. Call my ladies to come to me. I shall appoint you to personally oversee my jewelry until such time as I am no longer qveen.”

  Nyssa backed away from the queen’s bed and curtsied to her. Then she went to fetch the queen’s ladies-in-waiting to help their mistress get up and get dressed. When the women had hurried past her into the queen’s bedchamber, the maids of honor crowded about her, all talking at once, demanding an explanation of her marriage.

  “You have heard the official account, I am certain,” Nyssa told them. “I can say nothing more, but you will be kind to the Earl of March. I think he may not be the man some would have you believe.” The girls nodded, relieved.

  “Is he a good lover, Nyssa?” Cat Howard demanded saucily of her.

  “He says he is,” came the serious reply.

  The other girls giggled.

  “But what do you think?” Cat persisted wickedly. “Did your toes curl up, and did you swoon with delight?”

  “I have never had a lover before, Cat. I cannot make comparisons. I can only take the gentleman’s word for it,” Nyssa told her friend.

  “I think he has been in love with you for some time,” Elizabeth FitzGerald noted astutely. “He was always staring at you when he thought no one was looking.”

  “You Irish are incurable romantics, Bessie,” Nyssa told her. “Besides, how could you know he was staring at me? Were you staring at him?” she teased her friend.

  “Aye,” Bessie admitted, blushing. “Handsome men with dangerous reputations are always far more interesting than just ordinary handsome men, and we Irish are known to be reckless where such men are concerned.”

  “Will you leave us now?” little Kate Carey inquired.

  “Nay, I have the king’s permission to remain in the queen’s service until such time as I am no longer needed. I will oversee the queen’s jewelry,” Nyssa told them.

  “Then the remainder of your stay will be a relatively short one, I suspect,” said Kate Carey wryly. “It will be back to the country for you, Nyssa. Why do I think you will not be sorry to go?”

  Nyssa smiled at her young friend. “Because I won’t. I have loved serving the queen, and making friends with all of you, but like my mother before me, I am a country girl in my heart. Varian’s lands are across the river Wye from my own estate of Riverside. I will not be far from my parents, and we will be surrounded by my family.”

  “Will you learn to love the earl, I wonder?” Bessie mused.

  “Whether I love him or not, we are bound together in matrimony,” Nyssa replied seriously. “I think I can learn to like him.” She smiled at them. “Do not fear for me, my young friends. You should save your pity for others less fortunate than I.”

  “I want to speak to Nyssa alone,” Cat Howard said meaningfully. “Go in to the queen before the other ladies wonder where we are and come spying on us.”

  Bessie and Kate obeyed her without question.

  “What do you want of me?” Nyssa said quietly. “I think I have already done enough for you, Cat Howard, don’t you?”

  Catherine Howard had the grace to blush at Nyssa’s gentle rebuke. Then she said, “You have met Duke Thomas, have you not? Would you defy him? He is a formidable opponent. I have not the strength to oppose him, Nyssa. You know in your heart that he would not have allowed it. He wants another Howard on the throne, and I am that Howard.”

  “You could have told him no, Cat, but you did not because you like the idea of being queen. Henry Tudor is a dangerous man to wives—Queen Catherine divorced; your own cousin Anne, beheaded; Queen Jane dead of childbed fever; this Queen Anne to be annulled. What will happen when he tires of you, Cat? How will he rid himself of the next wife he takes when he grows bored with her, or another pretty face takes his fancy? You are putting your head in the lion’s mouth!”

  “Are you jealous?” Cat Howard asked her, curious.

  The look Nyssa gave her was incredulous. “Jealous? God’s blood, Cat! If the king had had a romantic interest in me, I would have died of fright! But he did not. Your uncle, the duke, made a miscalculation there in his eagerness to be a queen-maker. His grace favors me for my sweet mother’s sake, and no more. She petitioned him for my place at court, and he promised her he would look after me as if I were his own, for my stepfather did not want me to come. Your uncle’s overweening ambition has cost me the chance of marrying for love, as my parents promised me I could. I think little of him for that, and for other reasons as well. But nay, dear friend, I am not jealous of you. I have grown to love you as a sister. I fear for you, Cat.”

  “The king is in love with me,” Cat Howard said softly. “He has told me so. I know he is old enough to be my father, but I think I can really love him. I have learned not to be repulsed by his bad leg when it swells and runs with pus. I can even dress it. He says my touch is healing. I know I can be a good wife to him, Nyssa. He will have no reason to cast me off. You need not fear for me. I will be all right.”

  “I pray it so, Cat, but what of your cousin, Thomas Culpeper, who professes his love for you? You have flirted with him for months now. Will he not be heartbroken by your match with the king?”

  “Tom Culpeper is a fool,” Cat said angrily. “He did not want to marry me, Nyssa. He wanted to seduce me, the rogue! Why, last Christmas he tried to bribe his way into my affections with some cloth for a gown with which he gifted me. In exchange he expected a romp in my bed. I quickl
y set him straight. Let his fickle heart be broken! I care not a whit for him. He will quickly find another gullible maid upon which to affix his affections.”

  Nyssa thought her friend’s denial a bit too vehement to be believable. She thought perhaps Cat cared for Tom Culpeper, but Catherine Howard claimed she had what she wanted: a man who would love her, and make her a queen. And what have I got? Nyssa wondered. Who is this man I have been married to so precipitously? When good Queen Anne shortly ends her brief reign, I am going to have a lifetime to find out, she realized.

  Part II

  THE BRIDE OF

  WINTERHAVEN

  SPRING 1540–SPRING 1541

  Chapter 7

  “I would not be as brave as you in such circumstances,” Anne Bassett said to Nyssa that afternoon. “I should want to hide myself away.”

  Nyssa, conscientious in her new duties, was carefully cleaning a diamond and gold necklace belonging to the queen. “What on earth do you mean, Mistress Anne?” she inquired sweetly.

  Indeed she had some idea, having been subject all day to the stares, some hostile, some simply curious, of the queen’s ladies. What hypocrites they were. They thought little of their secret meetings with their own lovers—most of which were not secret. Oh well, eventually something else would capture their fertile imaginations. She would be ignored again. Nyssa had no intention, however, of allowing the Bassett sisters to prolong her discomfort. She must bear the mild insults of the king’s daughter-in-law and his niece, and the others of higher rank than she, but not of her former fellow maids.

  “Ohh, come now, Nyssa Wyndham,” Anne Bassett began with a knowing smirk upon her pretty face.

  “De Winter,” Nyssa corrected her. “Nyssa de Winter. Her ladyship, the Countess of March, Mistress Anne.” She rubbed with exaggerated diligence at the necklace.

  “You undoubtedly invited your fate,” Anne Bassett said waspishly. “No gentleman, even one with as unsavory a reputation as Lord de Winter, would rape a woman without a certain amount of provocation. That is a very well-known fact.”