Alicia did not expect to fall asleep on the eve of her wedding, but sometime after the midwatch she did. The muffled sounds of horses stomping on the cobbles, and their drivers swearing woke her in the predawn. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she got out of her great bed, and padded over to the window. At first she thought that the noise must be some of the guests, who had arrived very early for the festivities. Then she heard Isabel’s shrill voice above the general din.
“Take care, you shambling bear! ‘Tis a piece of Venetian glass that you carry—not a load of firewood.”
Alicia peeked out the window. Several of the castle’s lackeys loaded a large wagon with boxes, trunks and even some pieces of furniture. Standing on the bottom step of the entranceway, Meg held aloft a lighted torch. Beside her, Isabel alternately chided and cajoled the men as they carried her enormous amount of baggage out of Wolf Hall.
I wonder if Thomas knows what she is taking. Alicia decided not to worry if a few pieces of the silver turned up missing. What did a cup or a spoon matter if it meant that she would never see Thomas’s sister-in-law again?
“Make haste! You are nothing but slugs and worms! I wish to be gone before daylight.”
Alicia breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heavens Isabel did not intend to stay for the wedding. The ceremony would be trying enough without her angry face and wasp’s tongue to curdle the festivities. Over the rim of the horizon, the sun’s rays painted the sky with a wash of pink and peach colors. Not a cloud in sight. It would be a beautiful morning to start a marriage.
Sounds of heightened activity in the hallway seeped under the bedchamber door, scattering Alicia’s serenity. When someone knocked, she clutched her nightshift tighter around her body. It couldn’t already be time to dress?
“Come in!” Her voice caught in her throat.
Wreathed in smiles, Audrey stepped inside. “God give you a blessed morning, mistress. I have brought your bath.”
Alicia blinked with surprise. She did not recall asking for a bath, and certainly not one this early in the morning before the day’s work had begun.
The maid giggled. “Did you forget ‘tis your wedding day?”
Alicia shook her head. “Nay, ‘tis been on my mind all night, but—” Then she remembered that Katherine had explained the ritual bath to her. She blushed. The maid must think that she was reared by gypsies. “Your pardon, good Audrey. My mind has gone quite giddy this morning.”
The girl giggled again as she opened the door wider. In the hall, Alicia saw Stokes at the head of a long procession of maids and men from the kitchens. Each one bore two steaming pails of water. Stokes himself staggered in with a large wooden tub.
Alicia grabbed her night robe, and held it in front of her as the servants invaded her chambers. The steward put the tub before the fireplace, then he knelt to stir up the embers, and to add fresh wood to the new flames.
“Stokes?”
He looked over his shoulder at her with a friendly grin. “Aye, Mistress Alicia?”
“Methinks the tub is wet.”
Still smiling, he nodded. “My lord just finished with it.”
“Oh.”
Alicia turned away so that the steward would not see her blush. Through the curtain of her unbound hair, she watched the servants slosh the bathwater into the tub. How on earth had Thomas fit into such a small container? She pictured him wedged in it, with his knees almost touching his chin. She imagined the water flowing down his broad shoulders, and across the wide expanse of his chest—his naked shoulders and chest.
Wanton! she scolded herself. He will behave in a proper manner toward you—no more, no less. He will give you his body, as Katherine had described the marriage act, but he will not give you his heart.
Alicia shook herself. She would make the best of it, and be grateful. In a few hours Sir Thomas Cavendish would marry her as his father had promised her guardian many years ago. What more could she expect?
Once the tub had been filled to almost overflowing, Audrey shooed everyone out of the chamber, then shut the door behind the last grinning pot boy. She turned to Alicia. “Now, Mistress, jump in quick afore it turns cold.”
Alicia slipped out of her shift, then stepped into the warm water. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the pleasure of having her back scrubbed by the enthusiastic maid.
Without the preamble of a knock, the door opened again, and Mary skipped inside. She carried a wealth of flowers and greenery in her arms.
“Good day! Good day!” The girl danced about the chamber like a fairy sprite. “’Tis the best day in all the year!”
Alicia could not help smiling at the child’s infectious spirits. “How now, morning lark? You have been gamboling in the gardens, I see. Take care your governess does not spy the mud on your hem.”
“Pooh!” Mary dismissed the threat of Mistress Vive’s ire with a roll of her eyes. She spread her floral gleanings across the window seat. “I have brought you roses for your bridal wreath, and more for you to carry.” She sniffed a branch of an herb before holding it up for approval. “See? Here is a sprig of rosemary for you to wear.”
Alicia tried to remember if her foster mother had mentioned rosemary as part of the nuptials.
Catching her puzzled expression, Mary laughed. “Ha! Have I cudgeled your brain? No matter! Rosemary is for remembrance. We will tie it on your sleeve, so that you will remember the joy of your girlhood home, and will bring that joy here to Wolf Hall.” She grew a little wistful. “We need joy around our hearth, Alicia, and I cannot fashion it all by myself. I am so glad you will soon be my new sister.” She gave Alicia a quick hug, then laughed as she flicked away the clinging soapsuds.
A small lump formed in Alicia’s throat when she remembered the Bramptons. She wished they could be here with her. She owed them more than she could ever repay. “I will bring joy into this house, Mary. ‘Tis my most solemn vow.”
The girl pranced about the tub, nearly slipping in the puddles that dotted the floor. “You cannot be solemn on this day, Alicia. ‘Tis all gladness and frolic—and food! Mmm! I passed by the kitchens on my way from the gardens.” Her voice sank into an excited whisper. “Did you know that there are gingerbread and sugared almonds? Oh, joy and rapture!”
The news took Alicia by surprise. “We had no almonds two days ago.”
The girl tossed one of the pillows up in the air, then caught it on the way down. “Tom sent one of the lads to York with a shopping list as long as your arm. We never have gingerbread except on Twelfth Night. Huzzah! Three cheers for good old Tom!”
Audrey poured rinse water over Alicia’s long hair. “‘Tis true, mistress. My lord has ordered up a feast fit for a king. You have ne’re seen the like before.”
Alicia’s heart rose within her breast like a bubble. Quelling her excitement, she told herself that the lavish preparations were not for her, but for Thomas’s noble guests. “I am glad. ‘Tis proper for the Earl of Thornbury to offer his friends the best he can afford.”
Mary paused in midcaper. “Tom does not care a pin what our neighbors think. In fact, they consider him muddled in his head, and have only come to his wedding out of idle curiosity. You silly goose! Tom has done it all for you!”
She wanted to believe the child’s words. Despite her best intentions to protect her heart, she still craved his love. She opened her mouth to object, but Audrey dropped a thick piece of toweling over her head, and began to rub her hair with great vigor.
Take what is offered, and do not look behind the gift. You will be happier that way.
The trumpets on the battlements above the courtyard blew cheerful notes, announcing the wedding procession. In her chamber, Alicia fidgeted under Audrey’s and Mary’s last-minute adjustments. Her blue brocade gown shimmered and crinkled with the newness of the material. Katherine had made it in the spring for Alicia, not suspecting that it would be first worn on her fosterling’s wedding day. While they had sewed the tiny seed pearls on the long, pointed sleeves, Katherine had instructed Alicia in all her wifely duties, beginning in the bedroom. The physical activities sounded indecent. Alicia pushed them out of her mind. She would think about them later, when she could not avoid it.
She smoothed her hand over the bodice, then remembered what she had planned to wear there. Alicia went to the bed, fumbled under the mattress, and drew out the blue velvet pouch. Mary and Audrey emitted gasps of surprise when she displayed Edward IV’s ruby brooch.
“‘Tis a princely jewel!” Mary touched the dangling pearl. “‘Tis a good thing that Isabel did not spy this, or I would not wager you a farthing that you would have kept it past midnight.”
Though she agreed with Mary’s assessment, Alicia gave her a look of disapproval. “‘Tis wrong to accuse someone of covetousness.”
The girl made a face. “‘Tis wrong to covet, and that Isabel did in extreme. Why, she left this morning with much that was not hers. When Tom finds out, he will—”
A knock on the door interrupted her.
Alicia pinned the brooch to the neckline of her gown so that the pearl hung between her breasts. “Come in,” she called when the ruby was in place.
Stokes, resplendent in a flowing black cloak with wide sleeves ornamented in gold thread, bowed his head in courtesy. When he looked fully at Alicia, his jaw dropped. “Mistress…my lady, I…I have the honor—the supreme honor—to escort you to the chapel.” His dark brown eyes shone with pride.
Grinning, Alicia returned his bow with a curtsy. He started to object, but she shook her head. “Nay, good Stokes, I am not yet the lady of anything, but only the poor daughter of a merchant. You do me the honor to lend me your support, for, in truth, my legs are shaking.”
He patted his black velvet cap as if to make sure it had not flown somewhere else. “‘Tis natural for a bride to quake a little on her wedding day, my lady, but poor you will never be.”
The trumpets, sounding more insistent this time, cut off her rebuttal. Stokes held out his arm to her.
Mary snatched up a length of pale blue ribbon from the window seat. “Wait! I have not yet tied on the rosemary.” As she spoke, she made a quick love knot around Alicia’s upper arm. She tucked the sweet-smelling herb under the ribbon. “For luck,” she whispered to Alicia. Then she kissed the bride’s cheeks.
Touched by Mary’s open affection, Alicia tried to frame her thanks, but Mistress Vive bustled into the already crowded chamber, and whisked out her charge with barely a nod to the bride. While Stokes led her down the corridor to the stairs, Alicia promised herself to replace Mary’s governess at the first opportunity.
The steward cast a quick smile at her as they crossed the great hall where the kitchen servants paused in their preparations for the wedding breakfast, and bowed to the bride. “You look right comely, my lady,” he told her in an undertone. “Smile for everyone. Do not let them see that your lips tremble.”
“My lips are not trembling.” Alicia moistened them with her tongue. “In sooth, they are numb.”
She had not expected to be this nervous. After all, she was going to marry the man she had dreamed about for almost ten years. Yet the grown-up Thomas Cavendish with his handsome face and the body of a Viking warrior had surpassed all the idle fancies of her girlhood. That he made her heart flutter every time he came close to her was an added surprise, and one that intrigued her. If only he loved her as much as she had grown to love him! She curled her fingers into the broadcloth of Stokes’s sleeve. He patted her hand. They stepped out into the brilliant sunlight of a perfect August morn.
She blinked as her eyes grew accustomed to the brightness. Then she beheld the huge gathering of smiling folk, all dressed in jewel-colored silks, velvets, brocades and damask. She had never before seen so many noble personages in one place. She nearly tripped on the cobblestones of the yard, but Stokes steadied her in time. By the ill-concealed tones of envy that she overheard as she passed by, Alicia knew that many of the guests gazed, not on the bride, but upon the fabulous jewel that she wore.
“Is that real?”
“Look how the ruby catches the light!”
“How could Thornbury afford so costly a bride gift?”
“I am amazed that the simpleton even thought of one at all.”
Alicia’s ears flamed. How dare they make such disparaging remarks about her husband-to-be? She lifted her chin a notch higher.
“Smile!” Stokes whispered again as they neared the chapel door.
Alicia could only manage a wobbly grin when she first laid eyes on her waiting bridegroom. Thomas Cavendish, the ninth Earl of Thornbury, completely captured her attention with his arresting good looks. He had doffed his usual black-and-gray garb. Instead, a surcoat of bloodred satin encased his powerful shoulders. The Cavendish emblem of a snarling wolf’s head was embroidered across his chest. Alicia barely noticed that Andrew wore a tabard in matching colors and motif. For once, the knight outshone his peacock squire. The young man smiled broadly at her, then winked.
Alicia ignored the boy completely. She had eyes only for her bridegroom. He drew himself up to his fullest height, towering over the castle chaplain at his side. His stance emphasized the strength of his hard-muscled thighs and the slimness of his hips encased in goldcolored hose. Alicia felt her blood surge from her fingertips to her toes. She gripped the stems of her bouquet of white roses that Mary had arranged for her. She took no heed of the sharp thorns that pressed into her palms. Her gaze drank in Thomas with greedy pleasure.
Stokes disengaged his arm from her fingers. With a bow to his lord, he withdrew into the crowd around the bridal couple. Trying to remember everything Katherine had told her, Alicia sank into a deep curtsy before her groom. She thanked her guardian angel that she rose without mishap. She could not possibly embarrass Thomas in front of all of his friends. How serious he looks! Mayhap he is as nervous as I am.
Without moving a facial muscle, Thomas bowed to his bride. Instead of a simple bend from the waist that was customary, he swept her a deep court bow as if they were at Westminster Palace. The crowd murmured at this apparent odd behavior, but Alicia guessed the reason. He is honoring my Plantagenet blood. Her cheeks colored under the intense heat of his gaze when he again looked at her. A delicious shudder heated her body. Please smile at me, Thomas.
At her feet, Taverstock uttered a few sharp barks. Tearing her gaze away from her bridegroom, she looked down at the little terrier. She could not stifle her surprised laughter.
The three dogs wore beautiful collars around their necks.
Thomas cleared his throat. “Had to dress them up,” he explained in a gruff tone. “For their new mistress.”
Alicia smiled at him. “They are the handsomest trio here,” she whispered, hoping none of the onlookers could hear her.
A faint smile hovered around his lips. Then the chaplain coughed. Thomas’s smile vanished, much to Alicia’s regret They turned to face the priest.
He launched into rapid Latin, as if he was afraid that the couple might change their minds before the ceremony was completed. The ritual blurred out of Alicia’s focus. She responded automatically when asked if she willingly took Thomas as her husband. As she listened to her groom’s responses, she thought of the Bramptons in faraway Flanders, and wished that they could have witnessed the completion of all their hopes for their beloved ward. Closing her eyes, she prayed for sweet Dickon, the only sibling she had ever known, now a prisoner inside the thick, rough walls of the fearsome Tower. That could have been my fate as well, if it was not for the man who stands at my side.
She returned to reality when Thomas took her left hand in his. He held a circlet of gold between his thumb and forefinger. Echoing the priest’s words, he blessed each of Alicia’s fingers with the ring, before sliding it firmly onto her fourth. The ring was too big. He slipped it back to her third.
“Must fix that later,” he muttered in her ear. He enfolded her hand within his, taking her with gentle authority, but he did not look at her when the priest uttered the final amen.
Silence wrapped the courtyard, as if everyone held their breath. Alicia flashed a quick glance at Thomas out of the corner of her eye. She realized that the guests were waiting for the husband to kiss his new wife. Clearing his throat, the chaplain gave the groom a meaningful stare. Alicia shifted her feet. She wondered if she should make the first move, but decided that it would be too bold of her.
“For God’s sake, kiss her, my lord,” Andrew hissed out of the side of his mouth.
Thomas gripped Alicia’s hand. With a low rumble in his throat, he turned to her. Before Alicia could catch her breath, his lips brushed against hers for an instant, then were gone before she could even return his salute. The guests applauded, though some snickered. She buried her nose deep into her bouquet lest anyone see that she blushed with shame.
The priest threw open the chapel doors, and escorted the newly wedded couple into the house of God. Thomas held her hand in a death grip, as if he feared she would run away from him. Alicia didn’t know exactly how she felt toward her new husband at this moment, but flight was the last thing on her mind. The guests filed in behind them for the nuptial mass. All during the service, Thomas stared straight ahead at the altar, not once looking at his bride. However, he never let go of her hand.
Afterward, the Earl and new Countess of Thornbury were congratulated on all sides by friends, neighbors and castle inhabitants. The throng escorted the bridal couple up the outside stairs, and into the hall for the sumptuous feast that Master Konrad and his minions had prepared. Pulling Alicia behind him, Thomas mumbled his thanks to well-wishers as he worked a passage to the head table.
As he helped her into a large armchair next to his, he whispered, “Tavie would not have liked it.”
Alicia stared at him, a small frown knotted her brows. “What, my lord?”
Thomas did not reply until after he had seated himself. Filling her goblet with wine, he muttered, “Kissing you out there. Jealous, you know.”
She glanced under the table at the little dog. Taverstock stared back at her. The hair on his neck bristled around his ornate collar.
She gave Thomas as bright a smile as she could muster under the circumstances. “What do you think we should do about him…Thomas?” she asked.
His eyes turned bluer. He tapped his finger on the table for several minutes. “Have to fix that, too.” He took a long drink of wine.
Mary popped up behind them. Like a friendly angel, she hugged them both, kissing her brother first.
“You dear old thing, Tom! Thank you, thank you, a million times over!”
He bestowed a precious smile on his little sister. “How now? What mischief have you devised?”
Mary laughed. “None—yet. But the day is not over.” Then she turned to Alicia. “My thanks is for giving me the most wonderful sister in the world—and for sending the sour one away. Welcome to the family, Alicia Cavendish!” She kissed her on the cheek.
Stunned by the girl’s loving acceptance, Alicia stuttered her thanks. If only Thomas would treat her as warmly as his sister did. Mary flitted away to greet other guests at the high table.
One of the lords, a bearlike man with a black patch over one eye, pounded on the board, raised his goblet, and roared a toast. “To your bride, Thornbury. May she keep you busy—and out of the forest!”
The company stamped their feet, and cheered with mounting good humor. Thomas gripped his eating knife. A small muscle twitched in his jaw.
Alicia touched his arm. “Thomas, what ails you?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Sir Roger Ormond yonder turns my stomach.” His anger unleashed his tongue. “His jest was rude, and an open taunt. My fingers itch to flay his mottled hide.”
“Mayhap he has already drunk too much wine.” She massaged the tense muscles under his silken sleeve.
“Aye, the villain is a preposterous ass, and no mistake. He wants you to keep me occupied in the marriage bed, so that he can poach my deer without fear of my retribution.”
Alicia bit her lip. “Oh.” For a moment, she had hoped his anger was for her sake and not his own honor. She should have known better.
Ormond slammed his fist on the table, again calling for attention. He jerked his thumb at the little whey-faced woman seated next to him. “My lady wife admires your bride gift, Cavendish. Where did you steal the bauble?”
The hall erupted with more laughter. Thomas half rose out of his chair. Alicia held tight to his arm. She could not permit a brawl on their wedding day.
“Nay, Thomas, he is nothing but an annoying fly. He is not worth your ire.”
Her new husband ground his teeth, then eased himself back into his seat. When Andrew offered the first course, a veal omelette, Thomas stabbed the food with venom. The squire almost dropped the platter.
“More wine,” Thomas growled.
As the long meal progressed, Alicia watched him sink deeper and deeper into a foul mood. She plastered a wan smile across her face so that their guests would not see how upset she was. He cannot stand me. He wishes I were dead, but now that I am a Cavendish, there is nothing he can do.
At the end of the feast, Master Konrad entered the hall carrying his masterpiece—a spun-sugar subtlety depicting a golden wolf surrounded by white roses. As the cook paraded down the aisle to the high table, much applause followed his artful confection. He presented it to Thomas.
“Felicitations, and long life to the bride and groom,” Konrad said. He smiled broadly.
Thomas’s black humor lifted a little. He turned to Alicia, and cocked an eyebrow. “Does it please you, my lady?”
Tears of happiness pricked her eyelids. “Aye, my lord.” He had remembered that the white rose of York was her royal father’s family badge.
Thomas leaned closer to her so that only she could hear his next words. “Which piece do you choose?”
His warm breath tickled her ear. She fought her overwhelming desire to kiss him in front of the entire shire. “The wolf. I will always choose the wolf.”
A faint light twinkled in the indigo depths of his eyes. Using the point of his eating knife, he pried the sugar creature loose from its base. He presented it to her as if the figure were made of pure gold. “Take good care of him, my lady.” A faint tremor in his voice indicated that some strong emotion boiled within him.
“Always, my lord.” Their fingers touched. Her skin prickled pleasurably.
He broke off the largest of the roses, and put it on his trencher. “I am partial to these,” he murmured, then he raised his voice and addressed his cook. “Outdone yourself, Konrad.”
The man basked in his lord’s appreciation.
Alicia opened her mouth to add her thanks, but Mary called out, “Do not take all the flowers for yourself, Tom! Please let me have one—or two. I have never seen such a treat. I utterly long to eat one!”
Her brother chuckled. “Serve the young minx her fill, Konrad. She will plague me otherwise.”
The cook bowed, and took his platter down the table. Thomas turned in his chair, and gazed at Alicia. He studied her face as if he would divine her most secret thoughts. She grew warm under his scrutiny.
“When will you eat your wolf?” he asked, his expression a mask.
“When you eat your rose, my lord.” She held her breath.
Again he leaned closer to her, his face almost touching hers. He smelled of wine, leather and some exotic scent that surely must have been imported from the mysterious east. His nearness kindled a burning deep within her.
“Feed me.” His command was a caress.
Alicia’s toes curled inside her slippers.
Thomas put the sugar rose in her hand. She could barely contain her trembling. Without another word, she touched his lips with the sweet. He opened his mouth. She placed the flower on his tongue. His closed his lips over her fingers before she could withdraw them. He laved each one with his tongue. She wanted to yield to the burning sweetness that had captured her. Their gazes locked as their breathing came in unison. A hot ache rose in her throat.
Her mouth went dry. “Thomas, please, people are watching.”
Slowly he pulled away, releasing her. The air felt very cold on her wet fingers. She experienced a sudden sense of loss, and wished she had not spoken.
He picked up the wolf. A mischievous look flashed in his eyes. “Open, my lady.”
Alicia eyed the figure. “He is three times the size of the rose, Thomas. I fear he will not fit.” she whispered.
His left eyebrow lifted a fraction. “Take the head for now.”
A spark of desire spiraled through her. Her reason counseled restraint, but her heart paid no attention. She parted her teeth, and bit off the wolf’s head with a wanton hunger. The sugar melted in the heat of her mouth, filling her with sweetness. Her lips quivered with her unspoken passion.
Please, say it now, Thomas. Tell me that you love me.
He sat back against the cushions of the chair. His gaze dropped from her mouth to her shoulders, then settled on the brooch between her breasts. Within a heartbeat, his demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed, and his back became straight as an arrow’s shaft. He knotted his fist, then banged it on the table several times. The hall froze into silence.
He rose, and bellowed, “I am going hunting!”
His words cut Alicia. Her eyes widened. “Now? This minute?”
Thomas ignored her question. “Any man who wishes to accompany me, meet at the stables in ten minutes,” he told the company.
Applause and cheers greeted the host’s unusual announcement. Alicia felt faint. What had she done wrong?
Sir Roger Ormond slammed down his goblet. His wine slopped over his hand. “I wager I will kill more deer than you, neighbor!”
Thomas hooded his eyes like a hawk. He clenched his fist behind his back. “You will ride on my nearside, Ormond, so that I can keep my eye on you.”
Sir Roger merely laughed at the steely tone in Thomas’s voice.
Alicia took his hand in hers, and attempted to soften his tense grip with her touch. “I had thought there would be dancing anon,” she suggested. Her new husband felt like a man made of marble.
He glanced down at her. “You ladies can dance. We will hunt.”
She blinked back her tears. This was not how she had envisioned her wedding day. “But why now?”
His blazing stare bored into her like a dagger. “Because I must Trust me,” he whispered.
Then he was gone from her side. Thomas marched down the hall with lengthening strides. Barking, baying and yipping, his three boon companions scampered out from under the high table. Andrew tossed his serving cloth to a nearby wench, and hurried after his master and the excited dogs. He cast a sympathetic look over his shoulder to Alicia.
I must not cry or whine or scream like a fishwife. I will pretend that this shock was planned as part of the day’s festivities. I will smile to all these noble ladies whom I do not know—but later, Thomas Cavendish, I will give you a wedding night you will never forget!