"I have been thinking, Mistress Rose."
"Yes, Milord." I curtsied, eyes low, and waited.
"I wish you to remove to St. Martin Le Grand."
If he'd struck me with his fist, I couldn't have been more surprised. I was being banished, sent from his house—and, worse, sent to a place where a woman could disappear beneath a nun's black robes—forever!
"Your Grace?"
"You will stay there until such time as you may be of service to your mistress."
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I tried to hide my feelings in another curtsy, but my knees failed. I remained a sorry, quivering heap upon the floor.
I suppose he waived the others out of earshot. At last, when I finally managed to look up at him, we were alone.
"Rose, this is best. You know why."
"Because—because—there is talk, my Lord."
"Yes." Contempt sounded thickly. His privacy had been breached; he violently resented it. "But when I find Lady Anne," he continued in a gentler tone, "she must be placed in the protection of the church. It would not be proper to bring her here, for that would place her under an unseemly obligation."
"Yes. It is as you say, My Lord." He was right. Yes, he was, but I knew Richard was equivocating. I must be sent away, out of reach.
A further suspicion grew, like a poisoned mushroom. I feared that Anne would never be served by a living soul who knew what had happened at Crosby Place.
"You will allow me to tend her, My Lord? As I have always done? Oh, your Grace, you know she is my heart." I was a raven trapped in a tower, wings beating upon stone!
He nodded, but he did not speak. I knew he was holding back, something I would not be told until later.
"Up now, Rose." He offered me a gloved hand and assumed a faint smile, one intended to be encouraging. "Pack your medicines. My Lady Abbess expects to welcome you before the bells of Compline."
I left his presence shaking. No one spoke to me, just drew back as I passed, as if I bore the mark of leprosy. I was to be sent away, into a nunnery, where, for a modest price, troublesome women may be cast forever….
On my way to gather my medicines as he directed, I knew I could not enter the kitchen, now in the after-supper lull, and face all who would be there. To collect myself, I passed into the garden, intending to circle amid the green for a few minutes.
Pick a sprig of lavender, I thought. Calm yourself.
No sooner had I begun my perambulation, bruised herbs to my nose, then a brawny hand reached from a hedge to catch me, then slam my body against the smooth daub surface of a wall.
"I hear you played handmaid to the Duke of Gloucester, you miserable, ungrateful bitch!"
It was Hugh, not only drunk, but straight to the point. We were hidden, but not out of earshot of the usual traffic about the house.
"Let me go, Hugh Fletcher. I am not yours to command."
He obeyed, after a fashion, slamming me against the wall once more, this time so hard I saw stars.
"Slut!" The expression on his face made me wonder if he had a knife, if he intended to assuage his anger with my blood.
"As you say." I loosed a helpless shower of tears. He couldn't have caught me at a worse moment. After the interview with Richard, I was weak as a kitten.
"Christ!" His gray eyes bulged in a mad and terrifying way, his face blotchy red. "You assent?"
"Why sin again by lying?" I clutched my medals. This accursed life, I thought, backed against that wall, will soon be done.
"S'Blood!" Hugh roared it. Spittle flew into my face.
I cowered before his great, clenched fists, but he only smashed one into the wall, cracking plaster before bolting away across the garden. Heedless, he crashed over bushes and crushed cabbages and herbs alike, a perfect madman.