“Harry’s not for you, mistress.” Mother Guildford’s sharp reproof made me jump.
“And I do not want him!” I replied. Indignant, I drew myself up straighter and thrust out my chin.
The idea of a romantic attachment between the two of us was laughable. Harry was a friend. Nothing more. Still, it annoyed me that Mother Guildford thought she could do so much better for her son. I was as gently born as he was, even if my father had been a merchant. More to the point, given what Harry’s father had been up to, Lady Guildford and her son were fortunate to still be at court.
The previous July, Sir Richard Guildford had been arrested over irregularities in the accounts he controlled as master of ordnance. He’d spent five months in Fleet prison awaiting trial. Just before Christmas, without explanation, the king had ordered his release, but everyone at court knew that he had not been cleared of wrongdoing, nor had he been pardoned. He had retreated to his country estates, where he still awaited His Grace’s pleasure.
“You worry me, Jane.”
The hint of genuine concern in Mother Guildford’s voice diffused my irritation, but then I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes heavenward. I did not need anyone to look out for me. I had been fending for myself from a very early age.
“You have grown into an attractive young woman. You have been noticed.”
“What is wrong with that, madam?” I preened just a little. “Everyone comes to court in search of advancement, if not for themselves, then for their families.”
Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “True enough. We all look to marry higher than we were born. But marriage is a business arrangement, best negotiated by one’s father.”
An all too familiar ache settled into the center of my chest at the reminder that I had neither mother nor father to look out for me. Squaring my shoulders, I stared the Lady Mary’s governess straight in the eye. “Lady Guildford, I have no desire to wed your Harry, but if I did, I do not see why we would be such an unsuitable match.”
Mother Guildford did not enlighten me. Instead she said, “You are sixteen, Jane. That is a dangerous age.”
“Dangerous to whom?”
Her eyebrows shot up at my tone. “To you, my dear. You must not wander about the palace alone. It is neither wise nor safe.”
I blinked at her in genuine surprise, unable to imagine what danger could possibly escape the notice of the king’s guards.
Mother Guildford sighed and patted my arm. “You are young in many ways, Jane, and innocent, but you are old enough to marry. That you have no one to make arrangements for you to wed concerns me deeply.”
“I am one of the king’s wards.”
“You are His Grace’s dependent. His servant.” Voice even, words blunt, Mother Guildford gave no quarter. “You inherited nothing when your mother died, because she brought nothing of value with her when she left France. This places you in an awkward position, Jane. Gentlemen seek a rich dowry when they contemplate taking a wife, and you have none save what the king decides to give you.”
Already well aware of these hard facts, I resented her all the more for reminding me of them. I preferred to concentrate on the pleasures of life at court.
“If you are to remain in the princess’s household unwed, then you must have a care for your virtue. Any man, even the most honorable, will take advantage of a woman if he’s given half a chance.”
I made a small, involuntary movement before I managed to hold myself still again. What Mother Guildford said was true enough. Master Brandon’s kisses were proof of that, and he was not the first courtier to show an interest in me.
“I am always careful of my reputation,” I lied. “And no courtier would dare accost one of the princess’s ladies.”
“You were observed kissing Master Brandon.”
For a moment I thought someone had seen us together earlier that day. Then I realized that she meant the kiss Charles Brandon had given me when we’d encountered each other in the garden the week before. I had been with several of the princess’s ladies. Brandon had been accompanied by his constant companions, Tom Knyvett and Lord Edward Howard. He had not singled me out. He’d kissed all of us in greeting, as had the other two men.
“It is the custom to exchange kisses upon meeting,” I protested. It had taken me years to adjust to this peculiarly English habit. In France, etiquette forbids kissing on the lips in public, but in England these light touches of mouth to mouth are nothing more than a symbolic gesture of welcome, not unlike bowing before royalty.
“There are degrees of kisses.” Mother Guildford’s face was set in hard, uncompromising lines and her voice vibrated with disapproval.
I had begun to suspect that the kisses given to a woman by a man who desired her were quite different from those exchanged in casual greeting. In truth, that was why I’d been so willing to let Charles Brandon kiss me in the passageway beneath the king’s lodgings. In spite of Mother Guildford’s dire predictions, opportunities were few for the Lady Mary’s attendants to meet in private with handsome men.
“Drunkenness and lechery go hand in hand,” Mother Guildford continued, “and not all the king’s courtiers are temperate men. Many of them have sired bastards, both before and since coming to court. Others are simply uncouth louts. I cannot count the number of times I have come upon some gentleman relieving himself in a corner rather than bothering to walk to the nearest garderobe. And once I saw a maidservant emerge from behind an arras, her skirts rucked up and her bosom exposed.”
I had seen such sights myself. “I would never allow myself to be treated with such disrespect.”
“Not even if it were the Prince of Wales himself who showed an interest in you?”
Taken aback, I required a moment to adjust to this notion. “Prince Henry is not yet fifteen.”
“He takes after his grandfather, King Edward the Fourth, in appearance. I warrant he shares Edward’s appetites as well. Queen Elizabeth’s father had a great many mistresses and fathered a number of bastards, starting when he was just a boy. And at fourteen, even Prince Henry’s father had—”
She broke off, appalled that she’d very nearly criticized the present king’s behavior. It was never a good idea to do that, and most particularly unwise when that same king could send your husband back to prison on a whim.
“No matter,” she said brusquely, recovering. “What you need to remember, Jane, is that you must not encourage the prince or any of his friends.”
“Prince Henry behaves toward me as he does to his sisters. When we were younger, he regularly put frogs in my bed and pulled my hair, and he still trounces me soundly at chess.” The chubby little boy I’d first met at Eltham had grown into a big, golden-haired lad. He was already taller than his father. He drew every eye the moment he strode into a room. I suppressed a smile, thinking it likely he had already seduced a willing wench or two, but the idea that his amorous interest might fix on me seemed as remote as the possibility that Harry Guildford and I would fall into each other’s arms and tumble into bed.
Mother Guildford did not look convinced. “Henceforth when you leave the princess’s lodgings, take another female with you—a maidservant or one of the other gentlewomen. I will have your promise on this, Jane. You must not take foolish chances.”
I agreed, but grudgingly. It seemed to me most unfair that she should restrict my movements solely because I was female and of marriageable age. Satisfied at last, Mother Guildford released me to return to my duties.
I’d barely had time to warm my hands at the brazier before a messenger arrived to summon the Lady Mary and her women to the king’s presence chamber. An explosion of excited whispers and titters greeted this news. We’d been confined indoors by bad weather for days and the prospect of some new entertainment delighted everyone.