Once done, hand shaking, I blew on it till ’twere dry and then raced back to my rooms and finally, in the dead of night, allowed myself to sob aloud and collapse into fevered sleep.
When I awoke, it was not Edmund come to collect me.
“Thomas!” I leapt up and hugged him. “You are freed!”
He smiled at me. “I am freed. Father had written to Cromwell and Cromwell had me let go. The king is too distracted with Mistress Seymour of a moment to have a care for those he’d worried had once dallied with Anne.”
I let the tears slide again. “I know not what to do.” I gulped back my sobs. “Am I to remain with Edmund, who may not have me? Or burden Alice on her widow’s portion? Or you?”
He sent his manservant to take my case. “I have not always been the brother you needed, but as your appointed guardian, I believe that I can be of assistance now.”
He led me to the litter and I, still in a fever and exhausted, stumbled along behind him. Once in the litter I let it jostle me to sleep till Thomas put his hand on my leg. “Meg. We arrive.”
I woke myself and looked out the window.
“’Tis not Allington,” I said.
He smiled broadly. “No indeed, Mistress Wyatt, ’tis not.”
I watched in wonder as Will Ogilvy came forth from the door of the great hunting lodge and strode toward the litter and I stepped out into his arms. My legs, still weak from the events just passed as well as from the ride, buckled and he scooped me up into his arms and carried me into the lodge. He set me down on a long seat and when I made as if to speak he put his finger on my lips.
“Hush, it will be time for talking later. You are safe now, and you must eat and sleep and become well.”
He leaned over and kissed my brow. When I next awoke I found Edithe standing over me.
“You were right, lady, Master Will found employment for me and for my Roger. Come now”—she helped me to my feet—“I will take you into your chamber and I will help you bathe and bring you some broth and meat.”
I slept on and off for a day or two, and when my fever abated I let Edithe dress me in one of the fine dresses Anne had given me and pull back my still-thick hair into a twist, and then I joined Will for dinner. My brother Thomas had ridden off to hunt nearby, cleansing himself of memories, I supposed, and would shortly rejoin us.
I sat across from Will at a small wooden table. “Thank you for bringing me here, and allowing me to regain my senses and health,” I said after we’d eaten.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he said.
I nodded and told the whole story—with the exception of my writing in His Grace’s copy of Holy Writ. That secret would remain with me as it would risk the hearer as well as myself should it become known. “You will have to thank your wife for your kind hospitality,” I said. He moved his chair uncomfortably close to me for a married man.
“You shall thank her yourself,” he said.
“Is she here?” I looked about me and caught a smile on Edithe’s face afore she disappeared into the kitchens.
“A man can hope, for certes,” he said. “My father was required to call off my engagement with Lady Jamison. I am not a married man. Mayhap you can remedy that.”
I let my look express my shock, certain I had misheard in my fever. “Call it off? Upon what grounds?”
He reached out and took my hand and then laced his fingers through mine. “Precontract.”
“Precontract? With…. oh…,” I said. “You told him you and I were precontracted.”
“Yes,” Will said. “Because, Meg Wyatt, in my heart, in every other way, and near in word itself, I have been promised and pledged to you forever.”
“Was he angry?”
Will nodded. “He sent me from him for a time, here. I have not yet been recalled.”
“Will your father then approve of our marriage?”
“I care not,” he said. “In spite of your misguided judgments I do not always heed his hark.”
I blushed deeply at the memory of that accusation and he laughed aloud and kissed my hand.
In order to regain my dignity I said, “Well, you must care some because we can hardly wander from town to town and beg our bread.”
“Leave those details to me, mistress,” he said. “If my father will not see to keep me as his heir after we are married then we shall go to Antwerp and I will work with printers I know. Printing Scriptures and other works is what I am called to. I know it now. I can put my family’s fortune to good use, if I remain heir.”
“And will you so remain if you have me? I have no dowry.” I hung my head. “I know ’tis a shameful thing.”
He took my face in his hands. “I will gladly take your shame upon me when I let him know what we have done. And now, my lady, you have not yet answered me.”
I looked up at Will, for the first time in many years, feeling hope, and the love of my man, and the love of my God, all at once.
I leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. “Yes, Will Ogilvy, I shall be your wife.”
Oh blessed Lord Jesus. Thank You.
The next night Will invited a friend, a priest of Reform persuasion, as well as my brother Thomas, who had not yet returned to his wife, and two members of the nearby nobility to witness our vows. As I dressed in my gown, I took the portrait of my mother out of my chest and looked at it, tracing my finger over her face.
“I have not let you down, lady mother,” I said afore returning it to its wraps.
I took Anne’s prayer book in my hand and closed my eyes. “You will always be a part of me, my dearest friend. You wished this for me, I know. Be at peace.”
After the short service all took their leave. It was just Edithe and I in Will’s chamber.
“I have never had a more joyful occasion in serving you, lady.” She helped me into a loose, lovely white dressing gown. She brushed my long hair, which hung halfway down my back and around my shoulders.
“And I am ever thankful to have you here,” I said. She curtseyed politely, made sure the wafers and cheese and wine were set, and took her leave. Shortly thereafter Will came in. He stood looking at me, and I at him, for a full minute. The years of our lives, the many years I thought all was lost, and indeed it was, had been reclaimed and returned to us.
“You are beautiful, My Lady,” he said quietly. He drew me to him and then drew us both to the foot of the bed, where we sat side by side. He opened my palm and in it put a small silk bag which I recognized as having once been my own.
“I had this made long ago. Open it,” he urged me.
I undid the strings and poured the contents into my open hand. A hammered gold necklace, a daisy chain. “There is no gift that could mean more,” I said softly.
“May I?”
I nodded and he took the chain into his hand and then fastened it about my neck. When he was finished, he leaned in to kiss me once, twice more, the sweet and then urgent kisses I’d waited for all my life. The kisses of my husband.
“Te amo,” he whispered to me later as we lay together and watched the moon rise outside the window.
“Te amo,” I whispered back.
It was good to speak Latin again.
Five months hence, before the Christmas celebrations began, Will’s father recalled him. Will insisted that I accompany him. “Do not worry,” he said. “My father cannot abide Rose’s husband, and though he should like young Philip, he does not, and does not care to suffer him to be the heir to two fortunes. Including his own.” He squeezed my hand for comfort.
I was shown to my rooms, and later that night, after dinner, his father called me forward in his study. “Well, Mistress Wyatt,” he said. “We meet again.”
I held my tongue and did not correct my title. “Yes, sir. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“I understand that my son has married you, rather than the great heiress I had chosen for him. You have no remaining dowry and no fortune. Do you bring anything at all to this union, My Lady?”