20

I FELT PROUD WHEN the queen’s personal barge came to the Tower Wharf to collect me, with one of her household squires in his royal livery there to supervise the loading of my baggage. The children had all come out to wave me off and the hustle and bustle had attracted a good deal of attention among the porters and mariners on the quayside, especially when the queen’s crack team of oarsmen made nothing of tackling one of the narrow tunnel arches under London Bridge just as the tide turned.

It was the first time I had made the journey upstream alone and although it was February and the wind was cold, it was a bright winter’s day and I wrapped myself in my fur-lined cloak and sat outside the cabin. Without company to distract me I was able to observe the passing scene change from the tightly packed houses and busy wharves of the City, dominated by the looming presence of St Paul’s Cathedral on Ludgate Hill, onwards to the high crenellated towers of Baynard’s Castle where the town wall ended, then outside it the parade of bishops’ inns and gardens along the Strand, which gave way to the vast complex of Westminster Abbey and the sprawl of buildings that formed Westminster Palace.

I noticed that the royal standard was flying over the palace, indicating that King Henry was in residence, which made me wonder whether the Privy Council was in session without Richard, who was still in Kent, dealing with the problem at his shipyard. I had written to tell him of my departure for Sheen and he had replied that he would be delayed for another week and would then attend on the king, wherever his grace was staying at the time. If he was with the queen at Sheen, Richard would see me there; if not he would come to me as soon as he could. There had been no mention made about the incident with Wyatt and the raven, so I assumed no word of it had reached him.

When the barge docked in the rural tranquillity of Sheen Palace, I left my baggage to the porters and followed my escorting squire through the wintery orchards and gardens. How exciting it was to be shown to my new lady-in-waiting’s quarters, the luxury of a chamber to myself containing a curtained bed and a hearth with a fire already lit. When I had warmed my icy hands, I spent my first few minutes examining every detail with proprietorial delight. A washstand stood in one corner and a close-stool in a wall-cupboard beside it. A casement window overlooked the orchards through which I had just walked, with a cushioned seat set in the recess beneath the sill. Several clothes poles marched like soldiers along the inner wall beside a space for my travelling chest, when the servants brought it in. I had hardly removed my cloak and rearranged my windblown headdress before the queen’s page arrived with a royal summons. My arrival had been reported and no time had been wasted in calling me back to duty.

A guarded entrance connected her ladies’ quarters to the queen’s Privy Chamber – her bedchamber, her dressing chamber, her solar and, most importantly, her Great Chamber with its elegant oriel window, which gave a view across a formal garden with hedged flowerbeds and heraldic statues and over a shrubbery leading down to a wide, lazily flowing stretch of the river. I was admitted to it by one of her grace’s yeomen guards, resplendent in his tawny working livery. He recognised me and even acknowledged my new status as he saluted with his halberd and threw the door open.

‘Welcome back, my Lady Guildford,’ he said with the smallest hint of a smile.

A large number of ladies and gentlewomen were gathered in the long room, around the queen seated on her raised and canopied throne. As I rose from my curtsy, Elizabeth drew me close and kissed my cheek. ‘I am so very glad to see you back, Joan. You have come at a time of sadness and celebration. My cousin Margaret is leaving us, which is sad, but it is for the happiest of reasons. She expects her first child in late spring.’ She stood up and waited while one of her maids of honour gathered up her train. ‘Her friends and yours are celebrating her joyful event, so let us go and join them.’

The former Margaret Plantagenet, now Lady Pole, would never be considered beautiful but she had grown taller and the lines of her face had softened, although she showed little outward sign that she was within four months of giving birth. I pitied her the ordeal of carrying a child and bringing it into the world while so young. To my mind it was a dangerous and daunting prospect at any age but to face it at fifteen seemed cruel. The queen left us together and went to converse with other guests.

‘I am so glad you have come back, Lady Guildford,’ Margaret said when I had wished her well. ‘The queen has missed you sorely. She says no one reads to her like you do.’

As I prided myself on my ability to bring the written word alive, I was absurdly pleased to hear this but brushed it off with a return compliment. ‘Ah, but she will miss her games of tennis with you,’ I said. ‘You were always the sporty one among us. I wonder who will challenge her with racket and ball now?’

She made a face. ‘I fear my sporting days are over. I grow large and clumsy.’

‘Far from it!’ I protested. ‘Are you sure you are with child? I can see little sign of it yet.’

‘Ah, you flatter me, my lady. These court gowns hide a great deal, do they not? But you are just arrived and have no refreshment. Come, let me help you to some meats and cakes.’

As I followed her to a cloth-covered trestle spread with treats, I reflected that this very young woman bore her ill luck in life with laudable grace. Sir Richard Pole was a lucky man indeed.

Having done my duty by queen and hostess, drunk some wine and eaten a little, I made my way through the crowd to seek out my mother and found her talking with Lady Mary Rivers. After we had all embraced, they naturally wanted news of my wedding leave and my impressions of married life but I think they did not greatly like what I had to say.

‘Having met Sir Richard’s offspring, I find myself envying you both your single status,’ I informed them with a wry smile. ‘How you put up with my brother and I for the years that you reared us, Mamma, I will never know. I now believe that a governess is a wonderful creature and much to be desired.’

‘As long as you have enough funds and lack of heart to employ one,’ retorted my mother. ‘Wait until you have a child of your own, Gigi. You will change your opinion then.’

Mary Rivers did not condemn me quite so roundly. ‘If I could have had a child with my Lord Rivers I’m sure I would have adored it, but alas it was not to be. Instead I have only his young grandchildren to visit in Gloucestershire; the offspring of his daughter Meg. Children you know well, Joan, and, despite what you just said, I seem to remember you taking a particular shine to one of them.’

It was true. After Lady Margaret had been put under house arrest for her conspiracy in the failed Buckingham rebellion, the usurper’s agents had ejected all her household companions and servants and I had taken refuge with Meg and Sir Robert Poyntz at their Gloucestershire manor. They had three young children then and I had taken particular interest in the eldest boy, a bright and entertaining lad of four called Anthony after his grandfather, Mary’s cruelly executed husband and brother of the Dowager Queen, who at that time had been languishing in sanctuary with her daughters, for fear of the usurper’s further retribution. This young Anthony had been a precocious learner and in the twenty months I had spent with them I had taught him to read and write English to a remarkably high standard. He was nearly six when I left and had already grasped the rudiments of Latin.

‘You mean Anthony Poyntz, don’t you, Mary? You are right, he was a clever child – still is, I imagine. Have you seen him lately?’

‘I spent Christmas with them. He is nearly ten now and attends a grammar school in Bristol. His father wants him to follow his own path to the law schools in London and I have said I will help find him a court post to assist with the fees but he is a bit young yet. Perhaps when the time comes you might have a word with Sir Richard? I’m sure Anthony would benefit from the patronage of a Privy Councillor.’

‘I certainly will. How many children do the Poyntzes have now?’

Mary laughed ruefully. ‘Five; three boys and two girls. Their latest babe is a girl named after both queens. There must be thousands of Elizabeths baptised in England now!’

My mother commented at this point. ‘It would be good if the queen could produce another child herself, whether it be boy or girl. She pines to breed again but it does not happen. And while we’re on the subject, although I love your brother’s two little girls, Gigi, Nicholas’s wife shows no sign yet of giving him a boy. I would hate to see your father’s Harrowden estates fall back to the crown again for lack of an heir.’

Knowing my shiny piece of jet was safely tucked away in my purse, I scratched my nose to hide a nervous smile behind my hand. ‘I’m sure Nicholas is doing his best, Mamma,’ I said.

‘Well, if he isn’t, it will be up to you. The Vaux estates can come down through the female line, you know. It only needs one male in the immediate family to inherit.’

Hurriedly changing the subject I turned back to Mary. ‘I have a beautiful chamber now, overlooking the orchard. Are we accommodated close together, I wonder?’

‘I think not. The married ladies and the widows are housed on different floors. The Lord Chamberlain doesn’t want any husbands creeping into the wrong rooms by mistake.’ She giggled. ‘Although at Holy Innocents it has been known for the Lord of the Revels to swap door-labels as a prank.’

At this point Princess Anne approached our group. ‘Welcome back to court, Lady Guildford,’ she said. ‘I have not yet had an opportunity to congratulate you on your marriage. I hope it will be a happy one.’

I made her a curtsy. ‘Thank you, my lady.’ I had not forgotten her remark about my advanced years at the time of my marriage dilemma. Now that she had attained the ripe age of thirteen, I hoped she had developed a little more tact. She had not.

‘I have responsibility for the attendance lists now and since you fortunately obeyed the queen by accepting the king’s recommendation for your husband, you are on the list of disrobing ladies. She will be pleased to see you this evening when she retires.’

I doubted if Elizabeth would have dismissed me from her intimate attendance just because I had not married the man of the king’s choice but of course I did not say so. Anyway we were called to attention by the duty vice-chamberlain, who rapped on the trestle with his white staff of office. I was quite surprised that the princess had not acquired one of these sought-after wands herself but perhaps she considered it too servile an accessory.

‘Ladies, the royal barge bearing his grace King Henry and My Lady the King’s Mother has just docked, and word has been sent that they will sup with the queen and her household this evening. Please attend their graces here in the queen’s Great Chamber after Vespers. And now her minstrels will play for dancing.’

Since I had yet to impress the queen’s dancing master with my talent, I decided I could save myself for supper and leave the dancing to the maids of honour, most of whom were of a similar age to Princess Anne and made a prettier sight skipping down a set. Lady Mary and my mother also decided to bow out, choosing instead to come and inspect my new quarters in the ‘married ladies’ passage.

My mother was shocked that I had returned alone. ‘Have you brought no maid with you, Gigi? How are you going to keep your smocks and coifs laundered, your gowns brushed, your room cleaned and tidied, your close-stool emptied and your bedding changed? We have to pack for the queen every time we move from one place to the next, supervise the making of her bed and the emptying of her close-stool, accompany her to Mass, fetch her drinks and comfits, read to her, sew with her, eat with her, attend court functions with her, dress her, undress her, ride out with her and hunt with her. The duties of a lady-in-waiting leave very little time for tending to your own needs. I have Jess with me, as you know, and you must arrange for a personal servant of your own as soon as possible. The Lord Chamberlain’s office will arrange for her accommodation with the other retainers.’

I was startled. ‘I confess it never occurred to me, Mamma. I was not permitted a servant as a gentlewoman. I should have consulted you before.’

‘And you are entitled to stabling for your horses and an allowance for clothes,’ added Lady Mary. ‘Do you have enough gowns? Have you a gown for tonight’s supper with the king, for instance? And who will help you to dress?’

Despite my mother being a lady-in-waiting and having served the queen for three years as a gentlewoman myself, I had failed to consider any of this. ‘Perhaps I had better not attend the queen’s supper,’ I said.

My mother was appalled. ‘Oh, but you must, Gigi. You are expected. The queen will notice if you aren’t there. We can surely find what you need between us. Show us your gowns and jewel box and we will sort something out.’

My mother was generous enough to lend me her second-best gown that evening but not without provisos. ‘Just remember that it’s only to be worn when the king is present and I need it back as soon as you’ve acquired some suitable gowns of your own,’ she warned me. ‘It cost me nearly two pounds.’

‘I thank you for this, Mamma. It is truly beautiful and it will go perfectly with the pearl pendant the queen gave me.’

It was fashioned from wine-red Italian brocade, which complemented a pair of embroidered pink satin sleeves I had brought with me and laced on myself before I donned the gown. I dressed my own hair into plaits and wound them into a coronet to support the fashionable black lappet-hood headdress my friend Rosie and her silkwomen had made for my wedding.

I walked with Mary Rivers as we lined up to follow the royal couple from Vespers in the palace chapel to the queen’s supper.

‘I believe I recognise one of Lady Vaux’s gowns, Lady Guildford.’ Princess Anne’s appraisal of my attire was less than subtle as she approached her place behind her sister, making the implication that I could not afford such luxurious apparel myself.

Skilfully side-stepping the sin of mendacity, Mary Rivers was quick to my defence. ‘And I believe it is not unusual for a mother and daughter to use the services of the same tailor, my lady. Such beautiful fabric certainly bears repetition, I’m sure you agree.’

‘It is the only gown that comes out of a travelling chest looking the way its maker intended,’ I added. ‘That is what a costly fabric can do for you, is it not, my lady?’

The queen’s sister passed on by with a loud sniff but no further comment. Mary watched her hurry to catch up with the king and queen and dropped her voice. ‘If you ask me, the sooner that young lady becomes a Howard the better; then we might be rid of her sour tongue.’

‘Is that marriage still on the cards?’ I asked. ‘I thought it was another of those cancelled by King Henry as being too Yorkist.’

‘Had you not heard? Thomas Howard won a knighthood at the Battle of Stoke and his father has been reinstated as Earl of Surrey. But marriage to a mere knight is not nearly good enough for a princess. She doesn’t want to lose precedence, so until the queen can convince the king to restore the Howard family to the dukedom of Norfolk, she remains chief lady-in-waiting. Meanwhile Surrey’s heir is holding her to their betrothal; but it could be some time before he gets her to the altar, if ever.’

I grimaced. ‘In that case I’d better start ingratiating myself with the Lady Anne by obtaining the right class of gown. Not too dull and not too splendid – one mustn’t outshine the queen’s sister!’

Mary gave me a lopsided smile. ‘I think you’re getting the idea, Joan.’