The Lady in the Tower

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  ‘Do you understand, Eleanor?’ asked Stanton at length.

  ‘I understand, my lord,’ I said. ‘And I still wish to be released.’ It almost choked me to utter the words, but I managed it. My pride required me to say them. I could not force such a scandal on any man.

  ‘There will be no breach of promise,’ Stanton assured me.

  I cleared my throat and said: ‘I understand, my lord. You are very generous.’ My voice wobbled a little, but I hoped he would not notice.

  Stanton reined in outside the front door and dismounted. As he reached up to help me down from the saddle, his face looked unusually grim. I slid down into his arms, and attempted to smile at him, and to find a lighter note for our parting:

  ‘I am persuaded your lordship never cared for an unwilling bride,’ I said brightly. There was no answering smile in his face as he looked down at me.

  ‘No, Eleanor,’ he said gently. ‘I do not wish for an unwilling bride.’

  I could feel the blood rushing to my face again. Stanton was so close to me that I could see every fleck of colour in his dark eyes and the outline of a small scar on one cheek. The thought came to me that he was near enough for me to reach up and kiss him. I wondered at myself. What had put such a thought in my head? He no longer wanted a kiss from me.

  Stanton stepped back from me, took my hand and touched it to his lips.

  ‘Farewell, Eleanor,’ he said and turned and pulled on the bell rope beside the door. I heard the familiar peal within and heard footsteps and voices approaching.

  The front door was flung open, and my aunt issued from it, crying: ‘Eleanor! Thank the Lord! Where have you been?’

  ‘I found her at Tower Hill, Ma’am,’ Stanton replied for me.

  ‘We guessed as much. Oh, Eleanor, do you not know how worried we have been? Your uncle is out searching for you, we were so afraid … How could you? Lord Stanton, I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you have brought her safely back to us! Truly, you are our good angel.’

  I remained silent, whilst my aunt hugged me and fussed over me, clicking her tongue over the state of my gown. ‘Come inside, Eleanor. You must be worn out. Lord Stanton, you will come in also? My husband will want to thank you, I know. Come and take a glass of ale or wine.’

  ‘Thank you, Madam, I have much business to attend to today,’ Stanton excused himself, bowing courteously to Lady Jane. ‘I will not intrude.’ So saying he swung himself back into the saddle and took his leave. I watched him ride away up the street. He did not look back. As he turned the corner and disappeared from view it struck me that I would never see him again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I slept uneasily for several hours and awoke feeling miserable. I told myself it was my father’s death that lay heavy upon me, but it was more than that.

  My aunt was in the garden, seated in the shade, fanning herself. It was a hot day and the stench of the city was everywhere: in the garden, but also stealing into the house. It was a smell of things rotting; of death and decay.

  I was heavy and listless, and could not concentrate on anything. Not on my stitching, not on my aunt’s conversation. Aunt Jane wanted to know everything: how I had got to Tower Hill, how the two men had died, and how Lord Stanton had found me. When she asked what had passed between Lord Stanton and myself, I fell silent. I was still pondering all that he had said to me; turning his words over in my mind. I was not ready to share them. My aunt must know, I thought, of what my father was accused. She must wonder about the truth of it. But she does not ask.

  I understood that my uncle and aunt were trying to protect me by keeping silent. It would have been a relief to talk about it. But when I thought of broaching the subject, I squirmed with shame and embarrassment.

  ‘Eleanor, you look so very sad,’ my aunt’s voice broke in.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ I asked her, focusing my eyes on her with some difficulty.

  ‘My dear girl, you have been miles away! I’ve been watching you staring into the distance. You haven’t yet set a stitch. Are you unwell?’

  ‘Just tired, Aunt,’ I assured her.

  ‘Or still shocked by what you witnessed this morning. It is hardly surprising.’ She reached forward and clasped my hand warmly. ‘I think you need to give your thoughts a new direction. How about an outing?’

  ‘Oh, Aunt Jane, please, no. I could not … ’ I uttered distractedly.

  ‘Nonsense, my dear! A little shopping always does one good when one is feeling dismal. I shall order the carriage at once.’

  I made a slight move to beg her not to, but she shook her head at me. ‘It is vital that we both go into mourning as soon as possible. There will be scandal enough surrounding your father’s death. We must take care not to add to it. So we shall go to my dressmaker and select some fabrics for her to make up. Will you not like to have a new dress? To be sure, it will have to be black, which is not what one would choose at this season, but still, it will look very handsome with your hair colour.’

  ‘You are very good to me, Aunt Jane. I am sorry to be bringing such disgrace and so much expense upon you,’ I told her.

  My aunt looked sharply at me, but waved my apology away.

  ‘Nonsense, Eleanor. You are the daughter I never had. It is a pleasure to have you here.’

  I doubted her truthfulness, but I could not doubt her kindness. I made no more objections to the outing, which took the rest of the day. I made an effort to appear interested and engaged, but it was hard work. I was drained when we returned home.

  A few days dragged by. My uncle and aunt were very kind to me. They talked about Sir Walter, about the loss of Thomas Cromwell and what that would mean to the kingdom, and about my mother and her probable marriage to Sir Thomas now that she was widowed. In fact they talked about everything and anything they thought might interest me. But none of it did. My thoughts were bleak.

  Often, I found myself dwelling on the emptiness of my future. I saw myself an unwanted member of Sir Thomas’s household, with nothing to look forward to but an endless spinsterhood. Not even the thought of being with Mother could comfort me when I contemplated it. I also wondered what she had thought when she heard the accusations against her husband. Perhaps she even believed them.

  One morning a visitor was announced. My aunt had gone out to call on an elderly friend, so I went to greet the caller alone. He turned as I entered the room.

  ‘Cousin,’ I cried in delighted surprise.

  ‘Eleanor,’ Gregory said, stepping forward and grasping my outstretched hand. ‘I can only stay a moment. I am on my way out of London. How are you?’

  ‘I am well enough,’ I told him. ‘And you?’

  ‘It has been a difficult time,’ my cousin said sombrely. ‘You have lost a father, and I an uncle.’

  ‘Thank you for taking care of … the burial and all such matters,’ I said awkwardly.

  ‘Not at all. Eleanor, there is something I must tell you. The night before the execution, I stayed with your father in the Tower. He was no longer sane. He raved and shouted. But he also had lucid spells, where he could speak rationally. I asked him about Lord Stanton. I have never believed he was involved in the plot against your mother. Sir Walter admitted that he was not. He only told you that to prevent you confiding in him. Do you see? If you believed him to be involved, you would not seek his help. It was a lie.’

  ‘That possibility had occurred to me. Do you think Sir Walter was telling the truth, Gregory?’ I asked timidly.

  Gregory took my hand again. ‘Yes, I do. He did not say this with any tone of regret. In fact I felt he was still congratulating himself on the cunning of his plan. But I believe he was telling the truth.’

  ‘I think he was too,’ I said quietly.

  Gregory stayed only a few moments more. He had urgent business on his father’s estates, he told me. I was disappointed. I would like to have spoken to him at greater length. We stood looking at each other awkwardly, and then impulsively I embraced him. Grego
ry hugged me back.

  ‘God bless you, Eleanor,’ he said, and took his leave.

  My aunt found me in my uncle’s library, staring at a book without reading it, and laid a gentle hand upon my shoulder.

  ‘What is the matter, niece?’ she asked gently. ‘We are worried about you, Edward and I. We cannot account for your lowness. You are so pale and wan. My dear, I do not think I have ever seen you cry before.’

  ‘I never cry,’ I gasped, even as the tears ran down my cheeks. My aunt drew me gently into her arms and held me. This was my undoing and I began to sob in earnest. ‘Oh, Aunt Jane, I am so unhappy!’

  ‘I can see that, my love. We cannot understand that you grieve so deeply for your father.’

  ‘It is not that,’ I said, covering my face with my hands for shame. The tears trickled through my fingers, and I sniffed hopelessly.

  ‘Can you not tell me? Here, take this.’ My aunt released me, and held out her clean handkerchief, which I accepted gratefully, dabbing at my eyes.

  ‘What then?’ she urged, as I wiped my face. ‘What else can distress you so? Was it Lord Stanton? Does he hold you to your betrothal? I confess, I had not thought he would do so.’

  ‘No indeed,’ I faltered. My throat felt constricted with sobs and my breath was short. ‘He … released me from our betrothal. And Aunt Jane … I fear he no longer wanted to marry me.’ My voice broke, and I hid my face in the damp handkerchief once more.

  ‘Well, my dear, and where’s the tragedy in that? You did not wish for the match. You made that plain enough.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘And I am not surprised he no longer wishes to marry a girl everyone believes to be spoiled goods.’

  I had brought up the dreadful subject at last.

  ‘Dear God, who told you that? Not Stanton, surely?’

  I nodded miserably. ‘No one will ever wish to marry me now, will they?’

  ‘My poor child. We tried to keep it from you … your uncle and I. I’m so sorry, we meant it for the best. It was very indelicate of Lord Stanton to discuss it with you. I never thought he … Surely he did not tell you that was his reason for breaking with you?’

  ‘No, he did not. He only asked me if it was true. He … he was very kind.’

  ‘And you said … ?’ my aunt asked tentatively.

  ‘That it was a vile invention, of course. And it is.’

  My aunt let out a sigh of relief and stroked my hair comfortingly.

  ‘It is a weight off my mind to hear you say so. I cannot tell you what we have suffered for your sake since we heard the accusation. People are saying Hungerford was quite insane, towards the end. We feared he might have been capable of any crime.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Not that one,’ I assured her. ‘But what difference does it make? Everyone will believe it to be true.’

  ‘It makes a great deal of difference to you, Eleanor. And so it is this news which has brought you so low. I can understand it, my dear, but have courage. You know it to be false, and the scandal will pass in time. As for Stanton, you did not care for him anyway, so he is no great loss.’

  Her words brought tears of despair to my eyes.

  ‘When I saw him last, I accused him of plotting to murder my mother,’ I confessed, the tears running hot down my face again. ‘You know that Sir Walter told me it was so, and I believed him. But my cousin has just been here. He told me it was all a lie.’

  ‘Your cousin?’ asked my aunt, surprised.

  I waved this detail aside.

  ‘I think, perhaps … ’ I began, hesitatingly. The awareness that had been growing in me for days became certainty as I spoke.

  ‘You think … ?’ prompted my aunt, when I paused.

  ‘I think perhaps I do care for Stanton … a little.’ I spoke in a rush, embarrassed to be contradicting everything I had said about him.

  ‘You do? Enough to marry him?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps. But it is no use. He thinks I believe dreadful things of him. And he will not want such a scandal. I will never see him again.’ I leaned my aching head against my aunt’s shoulder.

  I had not fully realized the truth till this moment. Only a part of my great sadness had been due to my public disgrace. By far the larger part was the loss of Lord Stanton just as I realized how much I cared for him.

  ‘He can be so very kind, Aunt,’ I confessed. ‘Even when I accused him of … well, of wanting to murder Mother, he did not fly into a rage. When I think that I will never see him again, I feel so sad. I miss him already. I would not even mind him teasing me now.’

  ‘My dear Eleanor. You are in love!’ exclaimed my aunt.

  I nodded miserably. It was true. I did not know when my heart had changed, but it had.

  Aunt Jane hugged me tight.

  ‘Do not despair. All may yet turn out better than you expect.’

  ‘How can it?’ I asked despairingly.

  ‘I do not know. But it may.’

  ‘I wish only that I might see him one last time. So that I might have the chance to explain how wrong I was to dislike him so. But it is not likely.’

  The following morning brought me two things. Firstly our mourning clothes, which my aunt insisted we donned at once. Both kirtle and gown were sober black, with not a single thread of colour to lighten them. A new hood had also been made for me, which my aunt begged me to wear. Usually I went bare-headed in the house.

  ‘There will be callers, Eleanor. Some will come to give their condolences, but most to gather gossip, so you must be correctly attired.’

  Obediently I clad myself in the sombre garments and descended to the hall where my aunt already sat. ‘There’s a letter for you, Eleanor!’ she told me as I joined her. ‘Sir Thomas sent it by messenger.’

  I tore open the letter, praying that all was well with Mother in Bath.

  ‘Oh, Mother is to be married! Next month.’ It surprised me to find I was happy for my mother. But I looked down at my black gown and then at my aunt. ‘Aunt Jane, should not Mother be in mourning? It cannot be proper of her to be getting married so soon?’

  ‘It is most irregular,’ agreed my aunt, with raised eyebrows. ‘But I daresay your mother feels she owes your father no proper observance after the way she was treated. I imagine it will be a private ceremony?’

  I scanned the letter. ‘Yes. And I am to be bridemaid. Oh dear, I am to go to her at once. The messenger will accompany me on the journey. He is going to hire a carriage.’

  I did not want to leave London and any prospect of seeing Lord Stanton once more.

  ‘It’s natural that your mother wants you with her,’ said my aunt, smiling at my crestfallen face. ‘And I’m sure you will learn to like Sir Thomas.’

  ‘Well, if Mother loves him, of course she must marry him,’ I sighed. My aunt chuckled.

  ‘Well, there’s someone who has changed her tune! Now, I think we need to start packing, don’t you?’

  As I folded my kirtles and gowns and laid them in my trunk, I imagined walking down the aisle as a bridemaid. I could not help thinking that had I remained at Farleigh, I would have gone to church as a bride by now. Would I have fallen in love with Stanton if I had been forced to marry him? I could not tell, but I thought I would have done sooner or later. I became quite absorbed in imagining various possible scenes, and was scolded by my aunt for packing my shoes into my hat box.

  When I descended for refreshments, my uncle and aunt were both waiting for me, with cheerful looks upon their faces.

  ‘We have a little something for you, Eleanor,’ said my uncle. ‘Please accept this as a parting gift, and as a souvenir of your time with us.’ He presented me with one of his beautiful books.

  ‘Oh, Uncle!’ I gasped. ‘How can I accept this? It’s far too precious!’

  ‘Nonsense, my dear,’ he said, accepting my embrace. ‘I would like to think that you have it, and are reading it.’

  ‘And I have a smaller gift for you, Eleanor,’ said my aunt
, holding out a second package. It was a prettily presented box of parchment, with several quills. ‘So that we can keep in touch,’ she explained, hugging me tight. ‘Your uncle will read me your letters. And I hope you will come and stay with us again sometime.’

  The manservant entered the room at that moment and made his stately way over to my aunt.

  ‘Pardon me for interrupting, my lady, but there is a servant at the front door with a message for Mistress Hungerford.’

  My aunt looked at him in surprise. ‘Well, tell him to leave his message, Cooper.’

  ‘Pardon me, but I have already done so. He insists on giving the message in person.’ The servant coughed discreetly and added, ‘Not a genteel personage, my lady, though he is dressed in livery.’

  ‘Who is it, Cooper?’ I asked, my curiosity aroused.

  ‘He won’t say, Mistress,’ replied the servant.

  ‘Well, this is most irregular!’ exclaimed my aunt.

  ‘Please do not trouble yourself, Aunt Jane,’ I begged her. ‘I’ll go to him.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing! Sit down and behave like a young lady. Cooper, you may show him in, but make sure his shoes are clean and do not let him out of your sight.’

  ‘Very good, my lady,’ he replied.

  A moment later a tall young man in vaguely familiar livery appeared in the doorway, and stood there awkwardly, hesitating. My gaze travelled upwards from his shoes, past his smart blue tunic to his face topped with unruly curls and a cap. I did not recognize him at first, and as I looked at him, he reddened under my gaze.

  ‘Mistress Eleanor,’ he said apologetically, stepping forward, and I knew his voice at once.

  ‘Tom!’ I cried, leaping to my feet. ‘Where the devil did you spring from?’

  I heard my aunt clucking a faint protest at my language, but I saw a smile in Tom’s eyes. I grasped his hand. ‘I’ve never seen you look so clean!’ I exclaimed. ‘Explain!’

  ‘I have a new place now, Mistress Eleanor,’ said Tom, blushing again, but also smiling. ‘And I’ve brought something for you.’