I nodded quietly and she took her leave.
There was no way to lie down that did not bring pain. I did not sleep for hours, speaking harsh and hot words in tear-stained prayer as to why a prophetic dream could not have been given me or anyone else to forestall this attack when dreams had been sent to help others. I lay chilled, wishing for the comfort of my own home, the laughter of my brother, the security of my childhood, the arms of someone I could trust, all of which had now been thieved from me forever by John Temple.
God rot him.
Is this why I have been brought to court? I next accused our Lord, though I knew one must not. Is it?
My sobs slowed to choking, then to panting, then to breaths before I fell into a restless sleep.
Dorothy did not appear at my chamber the next morning, leaving me to privacy and peace, which I felt certain she viewed as a kindness. We’d all been well trained to turn a blind eye to misdeeds at court and if one wanted to survive one continued to do so. Her silence only reinforced my conclusion that the situation would be viewed as my shame and that pretending it had never happened was the only sure path to retain my dignity. I did not want to be on the receiving end of pointed fingers, the recipient of pitying stares by others gladdened not to be me, nor the topic of conversation transpiring behind mouths shielded by hands. John Temple may have robbed much from me, but he would not steal my dignity nor my pride.
I got myself dressed and painfully made my way to Kate’s chambers. She was still being gowned.
“Your Grace,” I spoke carefully. “I have received news of illness. And injury. May I return to Marlborough and my mother rather sooner than I had planned?”
She turned toward me and I longed to fling myself into her arms and cry out with pain and sorrow, to have her reassure me that all would be well. But I was there to serve, not to bring misfortune or gossip upon her. If I were to seek unlikely justice, I should have to publicly reveal that Elisabeth had left me alone in my chamber most nights; this would bring shame to the queen, because Brooke’s married paramour was the queen’s brother. Sir John would certainly speak his lies. They would then spread like contagion to harm Kate, stirring up her enemies even more against her through her family, her ladies, and her religious belief.
There was also my unspoken shame, which had been whispered to me continuously in the night, endeavoring to take root. Had I, by seeking out Sir John, by sharing his wine, by keeping his company when Jamie had eschewed mine, by wearing a becomingly cut dress, and by my intemperate speech, brought this upon myself in some manner? I had no one to ask. Kate might perhaps no longer see me as the daughter I’d become to her, but as unchaste, and if not that, then perhaps pitiable. I could not abide her thinking of me thusly.
“You may take your leave.” She drew me in for a quick embrace and I took the sip of affection offered, though I greatly desired to beg for a goblet full. “Just return to me shortly after the New Year. I shall miss you terribly.”
I nodded, but it was a lie. I did not intend to return at all.
EIGHT
Yuletide: Year of Our Lord 1545
Winter: Year of Our Lord 1546
Brighton House, Marlborough
Hungerford Manor, Marlborough
I’d quickly written a letter to my mother and sent it with a swift messenger, to alert her to my early arrival. The queen sent me home in a fine litter at her own expense. When I had last made this journey, in reverse, my heart had been filled with girlish joy and the delightful expectations of a life of glitter and promise and escape. Now it was shot full of the lead of the court and the heavy weight of adulthood. The hours passed, snow-topped tree by snow-topped tree, as the landscape relaxed from city to clearing and then home. I breathed London out as a mist that dissipated in the cold air. I looked upon my return home with fondness and urged the driver not to tarry.
I alighted from the litter and Hugh ran from the house, a man now, though he still leapt into the air at the sight of me, as a child is wont to do. I fell into his embrace; he was large enough now to encompass me. “Dear Juliana,” he said, “how I’ve missed you. Even our mother has missed you. We are glad you have returned for a stay.”
He drew near to me and lowered his voice. “And please do share the welcome news that you’ll be taking me back with you to court upon your return.”
I choked back the sobs that wanted to be loosed, not wanting to scare him. Instead I buried myself in his embrace for a moment and let myself revel in the thought that I was safe, boringly, welcomingly safe. I hadn’t the heart to tell Hugh that I had no plans to return with or without him, and then our dog Brise came running from the stables to greet me. I pulled away, bent down, my garments already well dusted from travel, and allowed her to put her paws on my shoulders whilst she licked my face and my ears. Before long a litter of puppies came yelping, streaming out behind her. She nuzzled on them and looked upon me for my approval, which I readily gave.
I reached down and patted each in turn, so she’d know how proud I was of her brood, especially one overbold male who made it his cause to draw as close to me as Brise. By the time I left her to romp with her litter I had regained my composure.
“They’ll be good for the hunt,” Hugh said as he took my hand and lifted me up. My lower body was still sore and achy from John Temple’s attack, but Hugh mistook it for weariness from my journey. A welcome mistake.
My mother waited at the door for me. When I looked upon her countenance I was shocked, though I did my best to hide it. She looked old and weary, though still fashionable. In my mind’s eye she had only ever appeared powerful and disapproving, but I pitied her somehow and promised myself I would endeavor to be kind.
“Welcome.” She took me into her arms, though rather stiffly, and kissed both of my cheeks. “You’ll want to change afore we sup. Lucy is upstairs waiting for you.”
Hugh had one of the men of my mother’s household deliver my trunks to my chambers and, indeed, Lucy was waiting for me.
“Mistress, what be wrong?” After greeting me with delight and affection, she took my cloak from me and looked into my eyes. Of course Lucy would know right away that all was not well with me. Though it had been nearly three years since we’d parted company, she still knew me better than anyone else did.
“’Tis only the journey and the demands of the court,” I said, and softly warned her with a look not to ask more. She was glowing and happy to have me back and I did not intend to demean the festivities.
She eyed me warily but accepted my explanation. “Let me help ye wash,” she said. “And I shall bring out one a yer fine gowns for the meal.”
After the meal that night, my mother sat with me whilst Hugh directed the man who’d brought me to a warm corner in the stable whence he could return to London on the morn.
“You’re different, Juliana,” she said plainly, but not unkindly.
“’Tis the sheen of the court, Sir Thomas says,” I answered.
“I would rather say it’s womanhood. And perhaps the need to rest. How does Sir Thomas?” She nodded for one of the men-servants to stir up the sea coal heating our home. My father never allowed wood to be used; he’d preferred the costly coal. “I have sent him letters inquiring of placement for Hugh, but he has not deemed it necessary to respond to my correspondence.”
“I do not see Sir Thomas often, Mother, but when I do, he seems well.”
“Word has it that he is in love with the queen.” My mother sipped from her goblet.