The Woman in the Shadows: Tudor England through the eyes of an influential woman

by Carol McGrath

  I hurried out with the cucumber jars, handed them to a chamber maid to take down to the kitchen, and hurriedly snatched up two small sunbonnets from one of the hall chests. When I returned, I placed them on the children’s heads and hastily tied the ribbons under their chins. Within moments, I had I dispatched our two little girls and their nursemaids into the garden.

  ‘What would Morgan think?’ I hissed at Cat. ‘Surely my garden has more appeal for you, too, than the Drapers’ Guildhall.’

  She folded her arms across her chest. ‘If Morgan did know, I doubt he would much mind. Our children will be content with their nursemaids for the day.’

  ‘Are you sure you have the energy for this, Cat?’ I said, genuine anxiety creeping into my voice. Cat had been in delicate health since the birth of little Catherine.

  ‘So people keep saying, and now you are saying it too. I do have the stamina. How are we to travel?’

  ‘By wagon with Father’s cloth. It is to be checked for blemish. He’s in Oxfordshire. We’ll bring the ells of stamped cloth back to the Cornhill premises, but since we’ll miss dinner, we’ll have to eat the pies I’ve had cook pack for me. Supper will have to become dinner tonight.’

  Cat nodded enthusiastically. ‘I like the plan well. The sooner we are on the way, the sooner we can return,’ she said brightly, snatching up her hood.

  We arrived late but, thankfully, in time for the inspection. Once inside the great hall, cool with its high-vaulted ceilings and opened windows, Smith and his apprentices laid our cloth out on the inspection table where the lengths were to be checked and the quality carefully inspected. Cat stood patiently beside me, smiling graciously at everyone who passed.

  We were greeted as if we were merchant royalty- a very changed situation to that I had found myself in after Tom Williams had died when I had to fight for recognition as a female trader, since other merchants had only accepted me grudgingly until Thomas Cromwell had championed me. Thomas still worked on legal cases, mostly disputes and land transactions for the drapers as well as selling cloth, so when I introduced Cat as Master Cromwell’s sister, cloth merchants bowed low over her dainty gloved hand respectfully.

  As we conversed with others who were, like us, waiting for inspections, a draper, acquainted with Cat’s husband, Morgan, approached, bowed with a dramatic sweep of cloak and engaged her in conversation. I glanced around at the other draperies on display. I loved the bustle of the Hall, the variety of fabrics laid out, the smell of new wool and that of cloth just dyed, the textures of the various weaves and the gleam of freshly bleached linen. It felt good to be back in the inspection hall. I was enjoying myself and felt accepted and at home amongst the great swathes of cloth.

  This building had been where Thomas asked me to plight my troth to him. Its courtyard knot garden always held a special place in my heart. My thoughts had begun to dwell on how far we had journeyed together, on how I had enjoyed many social dinners, and the plays and pageants held here in the upper rooms of the great hall, when out of the corner of my eye I observed a figure in a merchant’s gown make his way towards us, pushing others aside as he propelled himself forward.

  I looked around for Smith because I liked not the stranger’s strident haste as he came closer. Smith and the apprentices were examining cloth further along the hall, studying the competition, talking with the other merchants who were showing their fabrics to Cat. My eye returned to the approaching merchant and, as he came closer, with a thump of my heart, and in an instance of recognition, time tumbled backwards to a late autumn afternoon in Wood Street four years before. Edward Northleach, for I was sure it was he, a shadow of his former self. Thomas’ efforts to locate him had ended fruitlessly, yet now here he was in the Drapers’ Guildhall hurrying towards me.

  His dark hair, once lustrous was dull and shorter. His face was deeply lined and his skin wore a sallow hue, though his brown eyes were grown great, because his face had lost so much flesh. Gone was the fashionable tunic nipped in at the waist. Today, he wore a shabby dun-coloured, loose, stained gown. This was a man fallen on hard times, but I could manage no sympathy for him. How would he account for my father’s lost cloth and his disappearance?

  My pulse began to race faster. He was looking at me in a calculating and determined manner, his hovering smile hinting of cruelty. His mouth with those flashing teeth flew opened and his words smoothly issued forth, nay, glided at me, as if he were a slippery snake - which he was. Before any accusations could fall from my lips, he breathlessly forestalled them.

  ‘Why, Mistress Elizabeth, I had hoped to discover your whereabouts soon, and here you are, even more beautiful than you were four years ago.’

  He was as arrogant as I remembered him. My voice felt trapped in my throat and my throat was constricted. I glared at him, thought him a weed to trample upon and recovered my tongue. A moment later I said, with a calm I truly could not feel, ‘Surely, Master Northleach, it is my father whom you must see, not I. There is a matter of outstanding business. You sent us no word these past years, nor did you return with the profit due to my father, and which, sir, you still owe to him. How come you are here today?’

  He shook his head. ‘Ah, Mistress Elizabeth, mine is a sad tale. I do indeed intend seeking out your father. I had thought he would be here today.’ He opened his hands in a pleading gesture. ‘I have been imprisoned and now that I am free again and have returned, my first thought has been to find your dear father and explain my absence. Forgive me, my dear Elizabeth, but, you see, I was beset upon by enemies in the year I set sail for the Low Countries, and have spent time since imprisoned in a French dungeon, praying for rescue. I endured the greatest of misfortunes, for your father’s wool was stolen when I was robbed.’ He lowered his voice. ‘But our betrothal, dear lady- that still stands. I have returned to claim you and make amends.’ He seized my hand and raising it to his mouth he laid a damp kiss on it.

  I tugged my hand from his grasp. Northleach grinned, his teeth as large as ever except now he was thrusting his face down towards mine, and I saw that his two bottom teeth were missing, giving him a sinister, and even more piratical appearance.

  ‘Never, ever did I accept you; we were not betrothed,’ I said as firmly as I could manage. I glanced around, wondering if anyone had heard. Cat was still too busy talking to Smith to notice anything amiss. Other merchants were involved with their own conversations.

  I folded my arms, took a deep breath and said, ‘Master Northleach, I am married this three years and more. My name is Mistress Cromwell. I suggest that you speak with Father about the debt you owe him, and pay it forthwith.’ – in my confusion, I forgot that Father was in Oxfordshire. I stiffened my back and stared him through. ‘Good day, sir. Seek out my father concerning your debt.’

  The inspectors had reached the trestle closest to my own. They would be at mine within minutes. I could not believe Northleach’s audacity. If he had been a prisoner of the French, which, in truth, he may have been for some dubious reason, I felt no sympathy. I suspected he was lying.

  ‘Your father is in good health I hope, Mistress -’

  ‘Cromwell. Good day, Master Northleach. Please go.’

  Smith turned from Cat, came over to me looked at Northleach and raised his eyebrows, as surprised as I had been to see the middleman again. He growled, ‘A bad coin turned up once again. Be on your way, Master Northleach, or I’ll call on the bailiffs to remove you.’

  Northleach glared at Smith, spat onto the tiles and moved off.

  ‘Thank you, Smith,’ I said, breathing evenly again.

  The inspectors were approaching us, their servants carrying scales, a great glass that magnified and their seal. Northleach beat a hasty retreat, sweeping back through the hall towards a group of merchants I knew to be Italians.

  ‘I don’t think he wants to tussle with the inspectors. I wonder where he has appeared from,’ Smith said.

  ‘I’ll tell you later.’

  ‘Who was that?’ Cat asked.


  ‘A middleman, so he claims. He owes my father money, though I doubt he will ever pay it.’ I did not mention his alleged claim on me, though I remembered, as I looked down at our cloth, the silver cross which I had once accepted from him and which now lay in the bottom of one of my jewel coffers.

  The inspectors arrived by my table. I put on my best face, smiling a smile I did not feel.

  ‘Mistress Cromwell, it is good to see you here,’ a tall, bearded inspector said pleasantly as they set about the business of checking our wares. As I had expected, Father’s cloth was successfully measured, checked for imperfections, passed and stamped. None the less, I was relieved when they finished, passed a few words with Smith, bowed to Cat and myself and moved away. We could escape. The airy hall I had been so happy to visit felt oppressive.

  Longing for my family, I suggested that we visit Joan and eat our picnic in her garden. Joan’s little son, William, would be a year old in November. Since Joan lived in the same street as the Drapers’ Guildhall, and since I wanted to shake off the unpleasant encounter with Edward Northleach, a visit to Joan and William seemed a good idea. I asked Smith if he would mind.

  ‘Not at all, Mistress Elizabeth. Pity neither your father nor Master Thomas are here to watch over you. I do not trust that man, Northleach.’ He glanced about the hall and over at the group of Italian merchants, as did I, looking to see if he was still about, but Northleach was gone.

  Smith turned back to me, his eyes earnest. ‘Barnaby will accompany you, after we load the cloth onto the wagon, Mistress Elizabeth. It is not too far to walk, and I shall collect you on the way back to Fenchurch Street by when the church bells strike five again. You mustn’t walk the streets without protection.’

  ‘Thank you, Smith.’ I reached out and held his arm for a moment. ‘Thank God for you.’

  ‘Master Northleach may try to scare up trouble. Do not leave the house without Barnaby or Wilfrid or both.’

  I slowly nodded, reluctant to be so confined but not a little afraid of Northleach, at least until Father returned and we knew his intentions.

  After we helped Smith with the stamped cloth, I gave him a reed basket with a flagon of ale and a pie for himself and Wilfrid. Taking the larger basket with us, we set off for Joan’s house, Barnaby trailing behind us, saying he was hopeful of a cool cup of buttermilk when we arrived.

  ‘We all need a drink, Barnaby,’ I said snappily. ‘Today it is, indeed, hot, but if we must wait so can you.’

  Barnaby, usually good-natured, scowled but remained silent.

  Joan was pleased to see us. She ushered us through her small hall and out into the fragrant cool garden that lay behind the new kitchen and parlour and sent Marigold to bring us cool beer.

  That afternoon, seated on stools under an apple tree, we whiled a pleasant hour away with Joan and William. Her garden was shaded and sweetly scented, filled to its edges with herb beds and fruit bushes. We shared our pies and we gossiped, my anxious thoughts retreating now that I was safely in the company of women. Joan jumped up, hurried off and a little later returned with dishes of cream and cold stewed quinces sweetened with honey.

  ‘Ah, if only every day could be as pleasant as today.’ Cat sighed and leaned back against the tree trunk, her linen bonnet loosened and her curling hair escaping from its pins.

  ‘Joan, you have made this a peaceful home. You can forget the world here,’ I said. ‘I can hardly hear the street, just the hum of bees and the rustling of leaves.’

  ‘You do love gardens, Lizzy.’ She nodded towards a flower patch. ‘My purple daisies are out in time for Michelmas, and the apples are ripened already.’ She stretched contented as a purring puss and smiled, ‘Ah yes, we all must do this more often.’

  A year and a quarter of marriage had made my sister content. Motherhood had enriched and ripened her. It filled Joan with pride that Thomas had left her John to look after the stewardship of York Place during his absence in Rome. My once awkward sister was glowing with happiness.

  Smith collected us from Joan’s small courtyard. He never spoke the whole way back to Fenchurch Street. I think he was concerned about Master Northleach’s appearance though he never referred to it again that day. Barnaby, however, chattered on to Wilfrid about how he admired Marigold, Joan’s maidservant. She had the prettiest blue eyes he had ever beheld. She had shared buttermilk and seed cakes with him in the cool of the small buttery behind Joan’s kitchen. Suspiciously, I wondered if that was all they had shared that afternoon.

  Barnaby’s apprenticeship would soon end; he was restless but he had a few years left before he could graduate to journeyman. I made a mental note to ask Smith to lay a close eye on him. We had had one near-scandal in our household already, though it ended well enough.

  Smith was soon to marry himself. At long last, it had been agreed that before Christmas this year he would wed Meg and this was an event we all looked forward to. Not wishing to lose either of them, we had already offered them two rooms at the top of our busy house. Without hesitation they accepted. I sensed that soon more changes lay ahead of us all. The last thing we needed as this year drew in was trouble from Edward Northleach.

  Cat and I enjoyed a further week together. The stinging encounter with Master Northleach faded a little as we sewed and attended services at St Gabriel with a male servant accompanying us. I prayed to St Elizabeth for protection, falling to my knees, trying hard to hide sudden attacks of anxiety, I found that I was nervously telling my beads as I recited my prayers over and over. We made sure never to be alone. If we went to the Cheape to shop for spices, a servant accompanied us and carried our parcels home for us.

  We visited Joan again and she came to us to help us gather my modest fruit harvest. The apples and pears were ripening on my two trees. My bramble hedge was lush with ripe blackberries which we gathered and had made into a blackberry and apple pie.

  We had finished every crumb and had dabbed our mouths with our napkins when there was a diffident rapping on parlour door. I opened it to discover Smith standing awkwardly in the passage reluctant to disturb us though his countenance reflected his anxiety.

  ‘Mistress, I must speak privately with you.’

  Cat politely offered to see to the children. She had promised them ginger bread before they went to bed.

  ‘Whatever this interruption is about, Smith, it is clearly urgent.’

  ‘Mistress Elizabeth, I am sorry to interrupt you on Mistress Catherine’s last evening together, but it is important.’

  ‘Northleach?’

  He nodded. ‘It is.’

  I bade Smith follow me to the closet off the hall, struck a flint we kept by the door leading into the office and lit a large candle and a wall sconce. The candle flickered, spat and, despite my nervous hands, took fire. I firmly closed the door.

  We moved to the window looking over the courtyard, away from the hall door and the ears of passing servants. Church bells rang out the ninth evening hour. A dog barked, then another and another. A full moon was rising through the foggy darkness.

  ‘Gerard, what is it?’

  Smith stood by the casement watching the shadowy guards who moved about our gates. Silence hung between us for a moment and I knew whatever it was, it was unpleasant. At last, he said quietly, ‘It is as well we have those lads out there.’ In the candle’s glow his pale eyes appeared thoughtful. He looked down at me. ‘Northleach, Mistress Elizabeth, means trouble.’

  ‘You have seen him again?’

  ‘He was lying in wait this morning at the Cornhill shop, looking for Master Wykes. When I told him that the master was away in the country and I knew not when he was returning, he insisted that he must speak with him.’

  ‘Perhaps he means to pay his debt?’ I said hopefully, though I feared it was not so. Smith was too anxious for that to be so.

  ‘When I asked him his business, he laughed in that arrogant way he has and said that his visit was to do with a marriage pre-contract that existed between
yourself and himself, Mistress Elizabeth. He spoke it loudly, as if he wanted all the world to know the lie. The man is out of mind and I fear that he is dangerous too.’

  ‘Was Father’s assistant and the two guards there?’

  ‘No, they were all inside readying wool for sale.’

  I took an intake of breath and steadied myself by holding on to the table edge before replying. I tried to keep calm.

  ‘What a lie. I am a married woman with a child and, Smith, there’s another child on the way.’

  ‘I reminded him that you are wed to Master Cromwell. I spoke to him of his debt to Master Wykes. First, he said that he did not care who you were married to. You were pre-contracted to him. He shouted that the courts would give him satisfaction and he claimed that he did not owe any money since it was his right to claim a dowry. The profit from that cloth was to be your dowry, Mistress.’

  ‘But, Gerard, I never signed any pre-contract, nor did I ever agree to marry that man.’

  ‘Mistress Elizabeth, I know it, but, could it be possible that your father had given him the notion that he agreed to a pre-contract on your behalf?’ Smith looked down at his feet. He looked up again. ‘It is not my business, Mistress Elizabeth, but I feel I must repeat his words. He said that a pre-contract existed between you both. He insisted that you had accepted a token from him, and that you had pledged your troth to him. He says he has two witnesses to prove it.’

  I sank down onto Thomas’ chair, fearful, as Northleach was mad and God only knew what he intended now.

  ‘Well, I am sorry he has involved you, Gerard. He wants to stir trouble for us.’ I felt angry at the thought of our servants witnessing such lies. ‘How can he have witnesses? If there was a marriage agreement between him and Father, it would be void without my agreement. I was a widow when Master Northleach came to visit and in total control of my own destiny.’

  I sat still. The air around me chilled. Gerald Smith looked uncomfortable. I closed my eyes, feeling a migraine coming on. I pressed my fingers to my temple. At last I looked up. ‘Who could these witnesses be? Did he say?’