Frances glanced at her husband, who smiled his reassurance. She was glad that he had returned from the hunt, though part of her wished he had remained longer in Hertfordshire. The controversy surrounding Lady Arbella’s marriage had hardly abated, and she knew that Cecil’s investigations continued. Living in constant dread of a summons was wearing her nerves to shreds.
‘Am I to miss my lessons for the whole day?’ George asked hopefully.
Frances smiled down at him. ‘Just for an hour or so. The princess is paying you a great honour but she has many more people to meet so we must not steal too much of her time.’
The truth was, she would rather have avoided the meeting altogether, but Elizabeth’s requests to have George presented to her had become increasingly insistent.
‘Are we ready?’ Thomas asked, straightening his back so that George would do the same.
Frances nodded, and he motioned for the yeomen to let them pass.
‘At last!’ the princess exclaimed as they entered. ‘I feared that you had changed your mind, Fran.’ She crossed to greet her and smiled her welcome to Thomas, who kissed her hand.
George shrank behind his mother’s skirts, but Elizabeth spied him and sank to her knees so that she could peer round at him. The boy chuckled, delighted at the game. He soon emerged from his hiding place and, remembering what his mother had taught him, gave a stiff bow. ‘It is an honour to meet you, Your Highness.’
‘And to meet you, Master Tyringham.’ Her smile faltered as she studied George’s face. ‘I heard he was very like his father,’ she said thoughtfully, glancing up at Thomas.
‘He has his mother’s eyes, Your Grace,’ Thomas said smoothly. ‘And certainly her temperament. He is as stubborn as a mule.’
The princess laughed, her doubts apparently forgotten.
‘I trust you were kept informed about the late controversy, being so far distant from court, Sir Thomas.’
Blanche had strolled from the princess’s bedchamber. Frances bit back a retort. The young woman had talked of little else these past few weeks. It was as if she could sense her rival’s discomfiture every time the subject was raised.
‘Of course, my lady,’ Thomas replied evenly. ‘The Lord Privy Seal was most assiduous with his dispatches.’
Frances gave a wry smile. She had little doubt of that.
‘The king must have been most anxious to return,’ Blanche persisted, ‘especially after the Powder Treason.’
George stopped fiddling with his shirt cuffs and looked at her with interest.
‘That was many years ago now, Blanche,’ Frances said quickly.
‘But everyone at court must still remember it as if it happened only yesterday,’ the young woman said archly, with a glance at George. ‘If those traitors had succeeded, the king would have been blown to the heavens.’
Frances saw her son’s mouth fall open.
‘Oh, do be quiet, Blanche,’ Elizabeth said irritably. ‘You will terrify the poor boy. Now, George, some sweetmeats?’
Frances felt a rush of gratitude to her mistress as she saw her son’s face brighten, all talk of treason forgotten.
‘You are leaving again so soon?’ Frances was dismayed.
‘I am afraid so,’ Thomas said, with a resigned shrug. ‘Lady Blanche’s remark was ill-judged. The king wishes to be far from court at this time. He lives in constant fear of an assassin.’
‘That is nothing new, Thomas.’
Her husband gave a rueful smile, but it soon faded. ‘I wish you could come with me. I fear for you here, Frances – George too. Every day that we were in Hertfordshire a new message arrived from Cecil, telling the king of someone else whom he suspected of aiding this late marriage.’
Frances looked at him sharply. ‘And you think I might be one of them?’
Thomas seemed to hesitate, then crossed to her and took her hands. ‘Of course not. I just hate to think of you alone in this vipers’ nest. Cecil—’ He pressed his lips together.
Frances’s heart began to thud. ‘Go on,’ she whispered.
Her husband’s eyes searched hers. Then he sighed and rubbed his hand across his brow. ‘It is probably nothing, and I should not have mentioned it. God knows you have enough to occupy you at present, with the princess and George … The king shared all of Cecil’s dispatches with those of us who attended him on the hunt. But there was one he did not read out. After looking through its contents, he summoned Carr to attend him in private and left the rest of us to wonder what it purported.’
Frances forced her breathing to slow. ‘What has this to do with me?’
Thomas stroked the back of her hand with his thumb as he studied her face closely. ‘I saw the king glance at me as he read the letter. From that day, he shared no more with us – or with me, at least. Though others of his companions seemed to know the latest news from court, I was kept in ignorance.’
Frances fell silent. Her husband was right to be concerned, but she could hardly say as much. ‘This signifies little,’ she said at last. ‘The king favours you, but you have never been one of his intimates.’
She saw doubt in her husband’s eyes.
‘That is true. I must not let myself become as consumed by fear and suspicion as the king I serve.’ He tightened his grip on her hands. ‘But you would tell me if Cecil has any reason to suspect you, Frances?’
She felt the blood drain from her face but resisted the urge to look away. ‘Of course.’
She wanted to say more – that Cecil’s suspicions were due to no more than his having been intent upon her destruction since she had evaded the charge of witchcraft six years earlier, that she had stayed true to the agreement they had struck upon their marriage. But the lies died on her lips.
Thomas studied her for a moment longer before releasing her hands. ‘I must prepare for our departure,’ he said, moving towards the bedchamber. ‘I am glad now that I did not have time to fully unpack my coffer from the last journey.’
Frances remained standing by the fire, barely aware of the noise of drawers scraping and chest lids thudding in the adjoining chamber. How much did Cecil know?
‘I think that is all,’ Thomas said, as he came back into the parlour, dragging his coffer.
Frances inwardly shook herself. ‘I wish you good hunting,’ she said brightly. ‘I hope it will restore the king’s spirits.’
‘As do I,’ her husband replied, with feeling.
He set down the coffer and came to where she was standing. ‘Take care, Frances,’ he said quietly, then kissed her cheek.
She felt her body respond to the warmth of his lips and closed her eyes so that she might summon up the familiar image of Tom, his mouth so close to hers that she could feel his breath. But it was her husband who appeared before her, his eyes alight with desire as her lips parted for his kiss.
Her eyes sprang open and a flush crept over her cheeks as she stepped quickly away from him. Thomas stared at her for a moment, then turned towards the door. As he lifted the latch, she saw his hand tremble and had a sudden impulse to run to him, encircle him in her arms and feel the warmth of his chest against her cheek. But she remained by the fire, as placid as one of the carved statues in the privy garden. Only when the door had closed behind him did she surrender herself to her grief.