If one were to put Hungerford House and Brighton Manor side by side and then copy them by three, one would not end up with a building as large or magnificent as the Charterhouse in Charterhouse Square. When the litter finally stopped, Lucy gasped, and I remembered just in time not to do so myself. The heart of the building was both stout and high, with turrets and towers and long arms that stretched to either side. I was awestruck and delighted to be in such fine surroundings and on such a delectable adventure! The stable was as big as my home. One of Lord Latimer’s servants was there to greet us as we arrived. He showed us to a chamber with a small servant’s room on the left arm of the building.
Lucy set about pouring a bowl of water for me to wash with and then putting my gowns and personal items in the lacquered cupboards before hanging my tapestries. She then brought her own bag to her quarters, connected by a door to mine. I washed the dust from my face and then a young woman who appeared to be of an age with me arrived at my door.
“Mistress St. John,” she said, a fine and honest smile upon her face. “I am Lady Margaret Neville, daughter of Lord Latimer. I bid you welcome to Charterhouse.”
“Thank you, Lady Neville.” I smiled back and curtseyed slightly. “I am honored to be a guest at your home.”
“You shall be expected to attend a large supper tomorrow,” she continued after nodding. “Sir Thomas had alerted us to your arrival, and Lady Latimer and her entire household are pleased that you should stay with us. If you should need anything at all, I hope you will not hesitate to seek me out.”
I opened my mouth to ask several of the most pressing questions that were on my mind, but as I did she smiled once more and took her leave, several ladies trailing behind her. I was bewildered. Was I truly to ask questions or was that a polite trifle offered all guests? She’d had an honest look about her.
I had not much time to think upon the matter because another young woman, also of an age with me, appeared in the hallway just outside of my chamber. She was about to enter the chamber directly across the hall from mine when she saw me. She stopped and came to my rooms instead.
“You must be Mistress Juliana St. John.” Her hair was the color of young ale and her bright blue eyes held my own without wavering.
I was pleased that she knew and had remembered my name, and hoped I might have found a friend. I was about to say as much when she started speaking again.
“I am Mistress Dorothy Skipwith. I’ve been in Lady Latimer’s household for some time. How do you do?”
I could not answer before she pressed on.
“Since you have, unusually, brought your own maid, ’twill be easy to send her to the laundress to bleach the country dust from your sleeves.” She smiled at me so authentically, so beautifully but for one small hooked tooth, that I was left not knowing whether she meant me good or ill.
“Thank you,” I said, and she turned and took her leave, her faded pink gown swirling about her as she left. I now understood that not all arrived at Lady Latimer’s with their own maids. I carefully inspected my sleeves for dust again and again, but found little.
Had I already misstepped?
Lucy and I looked at one another and I set about trying to decide which of my gowns would be most appropriate for the following day’s event.
The next day after church Lady Latimer sent word to call upon her within the hour. Lucy helped dress me in one of my finest gowns and I navigated my way through the maze of hallways toward the heart of the manor, whence came the sound of laughter. In my experience, laughter was a strange sound coming from the suite of a lady’s quarters, but I was to find that it was a common grace in this household and I drew toward its welcoming sound. I approached the hall tentatively but Lady Latimer, at the center of things, waved me forward, dismissing her ladies, who dispersed into various closets and chambers adjoining the hall.
“Mistress St. John,” she said to me. “I am pleased to have you join my household. Sir Thomas holds you in high esteem, and upon his word I believe you’ll make a fine addition to my household.”
“If you please, my lady, I should prefer you to call me Juliana,” I said, curtseying awkwardly as I nearly lost my balance. As I did, I heard the titter of laughter from a far corner and watched Lady Latimer suppress a smile.
“Very well then, Juliana. And I shall permit you to call me Kate, as my friends do. But only when we are close quartered with the ladies.”
The rolling tide of murmurs at the edges of the hall indicated that I had misstepped again. I wished to repent of it but was not sure if that should worsen matters. “I shall certainly endeavor to, madam. Rather, Kate.”
“Lady Neville, Lord Latimer’s daughter, will inform you of your duties and the expectations of my household. I hold discussions in my chambers often, and my ladies ride and hunt with me. We engage in dancing and dine and provide pleasant conversation for Lord Latimer’s guests, with whom we sup. And of course, we attend church daily.”
“Yes, lady,” I said, sticking with the formal for now. Then I rushed on with enthusiasm. “I am most interested in your discussions. I was a lector in Marlborough.”
She broke out in a true smile and reached out and brushed my shoulder with her hand. It felt like soft butter whispered across a slice of manchet; this was what I suspected others knew as maternal love, though Kate was only a dozen years older than I. “So I have heard. You shall make a lively addition. We will be entertaining Sir Thomas and some of his household today and he shall join the hunt tomorrow. As Lord Latimer is in Scotland, fighting for His Majesty, our gowns are somewhat subdued.” She glanced at my current choice with a motherly concern, then smiled encouragingly, and I understood. Something betwixt dusty sleeves and fine damask would do. She wanted me to be at ease.
“Thank you, my lady,” I said, already wanting to please her, desiring that affection to be visited upon me again and again.
“You may take your leave, Juliana. I will look forward to speaking together often.”
That evening Lady Margaret Neville, a year or two younger than I but already an accomplished hostess, took care to seat me near to her and introduced me to not only those in Lady Latimer’s household but some of the gentlemen who had arrived with Thomas Seymour. I’d kept a distance from Sir Thomas, after thanking him for bringing me to Charterhouse, not sure whether to trust the friendliness he portrayed or the wickedness I saw of him in my vision. Sir Thomas did have a kind word and a friendly wink for me early on in the evening, but it was clear that he was blindingly attached to Lady Latimer. She behaved with the utmost grace and fidelity, but though I may have been young, I knew the look of women and she was not indifferent to his attentions.
I spoke mainly with Dorothy, who seemed pleased to introduce me to the others. I noticed that one of the locks of her hair had escaped its netting. “May I tuck this strand of hair back into your net?” I whispered to her.
Her eyes opened widely and she nodded, but she seemed rather put out by the gesture I had intended to be friendly. After I attended to it for her, she turned to speak with another of the maids. I stood, alone and awkward for a moment, looking about the crowded room for anyone that I might join in pleasant conversation.
“Mistress St. John?” A hand touched my sleeve, and I turned to face Lady Margaret Neville as she spoke to me. “Have you been acquainted with James Hart from Ireland?”
James Hart.
His black hair charmingly tipped up at the ends like ravens’ wings; blue eyes were set in a sun-bronzed face that boasted a scruff that was undecided between a close beard and clean shaven. I must have stared a bit too long.
Lady Margaret Neville disappeared to other hostessing duties and as she did, James said, “Is there something amiss?”