A chill descended about me during the rest of those summer months. Thomas was in Parliament daily. After that day, despite my cold response to him, he behaved towards me as if there was nothing amiss between us.
Ralph, who had accompanied him to Greenwich, returned with tales of court. He had watched events unfold from the side where he had helped with scenery for the Cardinal’s play. The Boleyn sisters are the most popular ladies at court, especially Lady Anne who has recently arrived from France. Her sister, Mary, is married but she is not.
‘Is Lady Anne pretty?’ Bessie asked one evening after supper as we sewed in the hall and the servants cleared the tables. Thomas had not come home from Westminster and Ralph was our only male companion that evening.
‘She is striking and speaks with an affected French accent. She is petite and charming. The courtiers like to dance with her best. Even King Henry chooses Lady Anne to partner. He likes her best.’
‘What does the Queen think of this?’ I say. ‘Can you tell?’
‘Can anyone tell? She sits and smiles at him. I think she loves the King. She dotes on him as if he were an indulged child.’
I snorted. ‘Sooner Lady Anne is married and away from court the better.’
‘And her sister who is married should be gone too,’ Bessie said firmly and held the purse she was stitching up for us to admire. ‘Do you think Toby will like it? I made it for his birthday?’
I left the sample book I was working on and examined her needle-work. ‘Very good, so neat, but how do you know his name day?’
‘He told me when he came to see the master last week. It is in July.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I had forgotten it.’ I wondered if Toby had been recruited as one of Thomas’ spies but I knew better than to ask.
Ralph headed for the hall door. He threw a parting comment over his shoulder. ‘It is better if the Queen’s ladies are married. They are less trouble married.’
I thought of the book again and the mysterious Jeanette. Was she married?
Thomas arrived home late one evening, his gown sweeping the parlour’s turkey carpet and his chest puffed out with confidence. He came over to my chair where I sat stitching a cushion covering, yellow celandines with golden hearts. He kissed my head. I did not look up.
‘How calm you look,’ he remarked, looking at my work.
I glanced up at his praise but did not smile. ‘My final speech on the war was a success. I spoke against it. I think they listened at last.’
‘I should hope they would,’ I said in a non-committal way and slipped my needle into the fabric again. ‘The Cardinal has used you as his tongue. He has used you to say what he will not say. You will become a courtier yet, Thomas.’
‘How could I become a courtier? I am a commoner. It is the Duke of Norfolk who manages the King. They are his own kind.’
‘The Cardinal was once a commoner and look at how he has risen.’ I said crossly.
‘The Cardinal rose through the Church to become the King’s chancellor. That is different.’Why are you always so angry these days, Elizabeth?’
I shrugged my petulance and bowed my head further over my embroidery, childishly refusing to answer.
‘When you are ready, Elizabeth, tell me for this will not do.’
He rose to his feet again and hurried off to his closet, calling for Ralph to come and scribe for him.
A late summer day arrived when, at last, Thomas was free of Parliament. He said it had gone around in circles and had ended as it had begun.
‘The King’s grandsire was paid off by the French by over a thousand a year. Think of all that extra silver filling the royal coffers- an income from the French.’ We were in the closet where Thomas was sorting his papers into neat piles and labelling them. I had come in to ask him if he would remain here for dinner.
‘Yes, Lizzy. Today, finally, I am free of that endless Parliament and can dine at home.’ He shook his head. ‘Kings are expensive and this one is very costly. Let us hope we have dissuaded him from all thoughts of a French war. Glory indeed. No glory when England is beggared and might not win the fight.’ He paused and swiped as a buzzing fly, killing it with a roll of parchment before continuing. I hovered by the door. ‘Our King Henry dwells in the lands of imagined military success - a romantic, a reader of romances, of knights in armour, of tourneys made real. There is no time for such misplaced romance in this world, no money for a war we cannot win. Save the battling to keep the Scots from our borders.’
‘Then, I am glad you are done with all of this.’ I softly shut the closet door.
Chapter Thirty-seven
1523–1524
‘WE SHOULD MOVE TO a larger property, Elizabeth,’ Thomas would say that September.
The thought of moving from Fenchurch Street lifted me out of my melancholy. I never did find out more about Jeanette that summer. Moving house would make me forget that small book of flowers.
We were taking a rare late summer evening moment together to enjoy the garden. I sat on the bench and Thomas walked about looking at his flowers. I tried not to think about that book.
‘Now that Parliament is over, I am looking at properties.’ He plucked a rose and gave it to me.
I found I was smiling at him. ‘Yes, we keep saying it, but you are always working too hard’
‘Ah, a smile at last today,’ Thomas teased, frowning a little. ‘We must move and we must give Smith his rein. I think he can afford to buy the business. What do you think, Elizabeth?’
‘They will be delighted to take the cloth on. Barnaby has been a journeyman for almost a year. He can move to Cornhill, take over Smith’s old role and perhaps, one day, he will marry.’
I felt a sense of loss but I realised I would have to let the business I had once cherished go. ‘If it means we can afford a lease on a new property then I am happy that we sell the cloth business to Gerard Smith.’
‘Good, I shall arrange it.’ He sat down beside me and took my hand in his. ‘It is a beautiful evening. I think, Lizzy, we can afford a country property as well.’
I looked into his eyes. ‘One property at a time, please. Let us see if Smith can afford the business first.’
I had the children and I hoped that I still had Tom and so I agreed to lose the cloth business.
Smith settled with our cloth business by October. We were free to concentrate on moving house.
One chilly evening when I came to the study to find him, Thomas pushed back a sheaf of papers and said, ‘There you are, Lizzy, I was thinking of looking for you.’
‘It is time for supper. The children are waiting. They are hungry.’
‘I have found us a new property. Austin Friars has a large house available close to the Church. I think we might move there. What do you think?’
How could I not be pleased? I loved the Friary and Smith still supplied cloth for the friars.
‘Thomas, it is a good choice. I shall enjoy the peace of Austin Friars away from the bustle here, away from the river with its foul airs. Now come for supper. The fire is lit in the parlour. It is warmer there than here.’
He stood up. ‘It is a good address. I shall see what I can do when I return from the Cardinal’s business in the north.’
Thomas had not travelled north for years. I leaned against the closet’s door and breathed deeply. ‘When do you set out?’
‘On Friday next.’
Not waiting for him, I swept from the closet, annoyed. I could not forget that perhaps Thomas had a lady called Jeanette hidden away in some northern county, but I could not ask him because I feared I would not get the answer I desired, if, indeed, there was any answer at all to be gained. Just as it had been with Edward Northleach those years before, Thomas kept many things close to his heart.
Thomas returned from the north in time for my birthday on November the fifth, the day dedicated to St Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist..
‘Elizabeth,’ he said, gently drawing me into the parlour and closing
the door, ‘sit down please.’
I sat on the edge of my chair.
‘Lizzy, there is something I need to confess.’
This was it. He was going to tell me about Jeanette. I clasped my hands tensely in my lap. ‘Confess then, Thomas.’
He sat on the bench facing me. ‘Things have not been right with us and I want them to be as they were, my love. I want you to forgive me for the harsh words I spoke on the day you asked me about the book of flowers.’
I sat uneasily, wondering what he would tell me. I was prepared for news I would neither like nor forgive.
‘Elizabeth,’ he said quietly, so quietly that I knew he was about to tell me at last. I held his eyes with my own apprehensive gaze. He said the words I had needed to hear. ‘I want to tell you about Jeanette.’
I found my hands could not remain. I fidgeted with my gown, gently rubbing a tiny fold of material by my side over and over between finger and thumb. It was an old habit.
The parlour fire spat. He inhaled and exhaled. His countenance betrayed his concern. This confession, if it was to be such, was painful for him.
He said quietly, ‘Jeanette was a woman of Chester, a merchant’s widow, and I was dealing with her estate. Unfortunately, her husband had left terrible debts when he died. Worse still, Jeanette and her husband were French. The Merchant Adventurers claimed his profits.’
‘You said were, Thomas. Why?’
‘She is no more either. She died a long time ago.’ He sighed. ‘Jeanette was a beautiful woman, a clever, educated woman, and had not deserved such a husband. He was as great a rogue as Master Northleach and he had dealings with the same Italian merchant.’
‘Why did you not tell me? Why did you have the flower book?’ So many questions tumbled from my lips all at once. I had worried about this for months and months had remained angry with Thomas. I could not help myself.
‘Jeanette was with child and died some weeks after giving birth. She was close to me. I stood godfather for her child and arranged for the child to be fostered into a good family. I see the child regularly. She thrives. She, of course, will be as beautiful as was her mother. We called her Jane.’
‘We called her Jane,’ I repeated. ‘Is Jane your child, Thomas?’
He looked away and back again. His eyes were steady. ‘No, but I am supporting the child, and I do intend seeing her from time to time. I expect you to understand.’
‘When was she born?’
‘Four years ago.’
I could never prove it, and I knew I had best not try to prove it, but I could not be sure if Thomas was speaking the entire truth. Why would he tell me any of this? My silent question was answered a few moments later.
‘I don’t like your silence with me, Elizabeth. It’s unworthy of you. I am telling you this because Jeanette was as fond of me as I was her. She gave me the book as a gift because I promised to support her daughter. I lament her death and am sorrowful because of it. Yet, had she lived, I might have been more than fond of Jeanette. I shall not deny it.’ He took my hands in his. ‘But, Elizabeth, I shall always love you and our children as I love life itself. Trust me and forgive me the feelings I once had for another. God forgive me, I am human.’
I considered this. We are all human. It is human to feel jealous of a woman who once sought your husband’s heart, even if she no longer is a threat. Although he had not betrayed me other than in thought, I wondered what would have happened had Jeanette lived. ‘Carefully,’ I said, for I did, despite all, love Thomas with all my heart, and though angry, would forgive him as Christ forgave us our sins. I might not excuse him, but I would grant my pardon graciously. ‘I forgive you this, Thomas. I hope God can.’
He bowed his head. ‘I’ve made an offering to the Church of St Gabriel. I have given the church a relic from a small monastery we closed, a relic which needs a home. I have also arranged a pension for the widow Watt.’ He looked up, his eyes twinkling.
‘Mistress Watt will be delighted, Thomas. But what is the relic?’
‘A splinter of the True Cross. They are somewhat prolific, though the reliquary, itself, is valuable - gold, silver and crystal. Very handsome. No doubt it will join the Easter procession and appear on Ascension Days. It is pretty enough to be displayed on All Souls Day. The candles will reflect well off the gold and silver decoration.’
How could I not smile at his wicked sense of humour? He so disliked relics, though we now had one on display on the cupboard in the parlour beside a clock. I forgave him, but later, and I begged God’s forgiveness for my jealous heart, I could not entirely believe his story. He had loved Jeanette and he still loved her memory. Despite his precious name day gift and his declaration that our love endured, I found it difficult to understand my husband’s love for Jeanette and this daughter whose upbringing he was supporting. I found it hard to understand that he may have been with her when I was in Putney and he had begun travelling north.
Let it rest, I told myself. Let it rest and hope it never happens again.
Thomas presented me with an opal in a filigreed setting hanging on silvered chain, and on that day we attended service together to give thanks to St Elizabeth. That night as I dropped my name day gift into my jewel casket, I knew that I would always associate the opal with a small book that contained an elaborate signature, and which my husband had kept secretly in his cloak pocket.
I eventually forgave my husband because I am still very much in love with this burly man who favours dull colours for his garb, who possesses a brilliant memory, always has good conversation and who loves his family. As the year turned again, Thomas was only interested in working for the Cardinal. He was to oversee the furnishing of the Cardinal’s new colleges, a task that would keep him far away from court, its nobles and the King.
That winter I prepared for the move to Austin Friars. I liked the fine neighbourhood and the large stone property we would lease on Broad Street, nestled safely behind its walls beside the Friary church. The archway into the courtyard was larger and grander than our small entrance that was squashed in so tightly, only the width of one cart could pass through. At Austin Friars, two could pass comfortably through that archway set into the property’s front wall.
Thomas would not trust the carters we were employing to move our more personal and valuable items such as books, jewels and clocks. It took us two days to pack up the contents of his study into leather coffers. All was ordered carefully and precisely and inventoried by Tom and myself.
‘Where shall I put this?’ We had risen early to pack up the books and objects in Thomas’ closet. I lifted a small clock from the desk.
‘On top of the books,’ he replied. ‘Hold it carefully, Lizzy.’
A row of small oak chests was lined up neatly on his desk ready for transportation to our new home. I carried books from the shelves, put them in a linen lined trunk and placed my cloth sample books lovingly next to them.
Wiping my forehead with my apron, I said looking up at Tom, ‘I am sad to lose what I once worked hard for. I can’t even find time to make sample books. Though, if Smith wants, I can continue with them after we move.’
‘You don’t have to, Lizzy. Only make them if you really want to.’
I lifted two more books down off the shelves. ‘Did you know that Meg’s ribbons and trims are making a small fortune? She is helping him attract trade from courtiers. They are rising in the world of merchants.’
Thomas paused with another book half way into a chest. Standing up, he smiled. ‘It’s good to see her business aptitude. You taught her well, Lizzy.’ He reached up and affectionately tugged the ribbon that tied my linen coif. ‘And you will never lack ribbons.’ He bent down again and placed the book in the chest, on top of Herodotus.
‘I shall continue with the pattern books,’ I said, kissing the top of his bent head with affection. ‘When the girls go away and Gregory is sent into another household, I’ll be glad to occupy my thoughts with things other than caring for our house besi
de the Friary.’
I was, in truth, sorrowful to see my cloth business finally sold off, but the changes in our lives had left us with no choice. I was busy supervising the household, entertaining our friends, and teaching the children. Gregory, a solemn boy, had joined my morning lessons now that he was fast approaching his fourth birthday. I had to start all over again with him and that made the girls a little impatient and Gregory frustrated. He was always striving to catch them up. They were, all three, more than compensation for the loss of our cloth business. Now, I would have an enormous house to care for and a new garden to fill with plants as well as teaching the children.
My children would not always remain with me, since it was the tradition to place children from great homes in other’s homes. As ever, this was about forging important helpful connections for their future.
‘We shall keep the girls with us,’ he said, closing the closet door on our conversation. The maids were up at last and were moving and setting the trestles for our morning meal.
‘I am glad of it,’ I said. ‘Because I think they will learn as much from me as from others. Perhaps we can find a tutor for our daughters.’
He looked thoughtful. ‘They should be educated like their mother,’ He reminded me of how Thomas More had his girls educated in his own house at Chelsea.
‘A wise man,’ I remarked. ‘I think we can stop to break our fast now.’ I stretched my back and pushed back my escaping locks under my coif.
‘I shall be with you in a moment.’
He was placing his papers in a chest ready for transportation, as I hurried out to supervise the household breakfast.
We had arrived in Fenchurch Street with little, and after ten years, during which Thomas had collected a library of books and many valuable objects from abroad, we would leave with much. Our goods were inventoried and sent daily to Austin Friars where we had guards watch over the vacant property. Meg gave up her valuable time to establish the kitchen, the many bedrooms, the hall, parlour, still room, and quarters for the servants in the attics.
The Woman in the Shadows: Tudor England through the eyes of an influential woman Page 30
