The House Of Allerbrook. Valerie Anand

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СКАЧАТЬ herself. Fortunately, he never seemed to expect any kind of response from her, which was just as well, for she couldn’t imagine giving it.

      Francis had arranged it, as she had feared he would, but all the same, Francis was not the only one to blame. Her crime was no crime in most people’s eyes, and at heart he knew it. He might never have gone through with this had it not been for Dorothy. Jane was not cruel by nature, but if Dorothy were ever arrested and taken into the depths of the Tower of London and racked, and Jane had the power to rescue her, she didn’t think she’d use it. Dorothy had blocked her way of escape. Dorothy, as much as—or perhaps more than—Francis, was responsible for this.

      The shock of Dorothy’s behaviour had been all the worse because at first Francis, angry as he was, had refrained from criticizing Jane in front of other members of the household, and she had begun to think that after all, life might settle down.

      She tried to be useful. She missed Eleanor badly, but at least Lisa was allowed to stay as her maid and companion, and otherwise the household was almost as it had been before she left for court. Susie, now married to the groom Tim Snowe and expecting a child, was rearing poultry at his cottage, and had been replaced by Letty, from Clicket. Letty was thin, wiry, hardworking and unlikely to marry. She had had an understanding with a lad in Clicket but he had backed out after smallpox marked her face.

      “I’m the same girl now as I was afore I got pockmarked, but he were too daft to know it. I’ll never give another man the time of day as long as I live,” Letty had said when she first came to Allerbrook. Pockmarked or not, she was a good cook and as handy with a hoe or a pitchfork as any man. Jane and Letty liked each other and worked well together.

      Dr. Spenlove, who had always been Jane’s friend, was still there. Spenlove openly congratulated her on her good sense in fleeing the king’s advances. Spenlove, more than anyone, might have helped to reconcile Francis to his sister’s return home.

      But then Thomas and Mary Stone, who had been away in Kent, reappeared, opened Clicket Hall, announced that Dorothy was coming home from court to be formally betrothed to Ralph Palmer and issued invitations to a celebration dinner in June.

      That betrothal dinner also featured from time to time in Jane’s dreams, or rather nightmares. With the Stones as with his own household, Francis kept up the pretence that all was well between himself and his sister, and when they both received invitations, he accepted them. Jane set off for the party in good spirits.

      They found a houseful of guests at Clicket Hall. Thomas, the host, was well dressed and genial; Mary, though fatter than ever and bulging out of her silk dress, glowed with pride at her daughter’s catch. It promised to be a most happy occasion.

      Except that this time Luke Palmer had been well enough to accompany his son Ralph. Ralph, dark and debonair, was very much the dutiful son, helping his elderly father out of the saddle and offering him an arm into the house. Not that Luke Palmer seemed to need help. He had taken a physician’s advice, adopted a rigorous diet and overcome his gout. He had ridden all the way from Bideford. He clearly approved of Dorothy. But it was Luke Palmer who caused the atmosphere to deteriorate, when he rose to his feet halfway through the feast and made a startling speech.

      In it, he expressed conventional good wishes to the couple, but then declared roundly that if Ralph were ever unfaithful to his charming bride he, Luke, would spread the news of this behaviour from one side of the country to the other and right through the royal court.

      “And that won’t be all, either,” he had added, looking as grimly at his son as though Ralph had already assembled a harem and declared that he meant to install it under his marital roof. “I’ve driven the old Adam out of him before and I will again if I have to. Mistress Dorothy, if you ever need a champion, come to me.”

      Ralph turned beetroot and Dorothy’s face almost matched the crimson damask in which she was once more most unsuitably dressed. Everyone else took refuge in a shattered silence. Such remarks, people commented afterward, were in extremely bad taste and typical of Luke Palmer.

      The normal atmosphere of a betrothal feast did presently show signs of recovery, with Dorothy, now smiling again, as the centre of attention, but there was more embarrassment to come. Triumphant at being betrothed to so handsome a fellow as Ralph, and full of her recent sojourn at court, Dorothy, who had once had so little to say for herself, became talkative.

      There had been plague in London, she said. Her tirewoman Madge had fallen victim to it, though fortunately while she was off duty for a few days, visiting relatives in London. “The outbreak was mainly in the town,” Dorothy said. “But I was glad to come home, though in fact, King Henry has sent the queen and her women to Richmond Palace. To be out of harm’s way, he said,” she added with a knowing smile. “But it’s really to get her out of his way. He’s courting Kate Howard nowadays.”

      “You were privy to what the king was thinking, then?” Ralph said, amused, and winked wickedly at Jane. “Didn’t have his eye on you, did he?”

      Luke didn’t see the wink, but Dorothy did and shot a resentful glance at Jane. Jane, at that moment, felt sorry for her and could almost understand Luke Palmer’s anxiety on his future daughter-in-law’s behalf. To Ralph, clearly, she was no more than the accompaniment to a valuable dowry, which he would sequester for his own use.

      And then Thomas Stone said, “It’s natural for a king to flirt a little. It may not be serious. He tried to flirt with your sister, didn’t he, Francis, which is why she’s with us now. She ran away from him.”

      “Oh, Jane,” said Dorothy, and laughed in that carefully modulated way that court ladies used for putting each other down. Jane felt herself bristling.

      “What do you mean, Dorothy?” her mother asked.

      “I’m sorry. I won’t say any more,” Dorothy replied, holding out her goblet for some more wine.

      “No, come along,” said Francis. “What’s in your mind, Dorothy?”

      Dorothy shook her head, but her eyes gleamed with malice, and Mary Stone, with maddening obtuseness, chose to be persistent. “Dorothy, you can’t say just a little and then stop. You must tell us what you mean.”

      Dorothy looked at Jane. “Well, the king did dance with you once or twice, but he danced with most of the ladies at times. That wasn’t really why you left the court, was it?”

      “Yes, it was,” said Jane, and heard the defensiveness in her own voice. It was she, not Dorothy, who sounded unconvincing.

      “Oh, Jane! You know you kept losing things, and arriving late for this or that occasion and you often said how homesick you were. In the end, Queen Anna decided you’d never be a successful maid of honour and kindly arranged for you to go home. I understood, though,” said Dorothy with spurious sympathy. “I missed my home, too. No one blames you. But it wasn’t anything to do with the king.”

      “I’m afraid it was,” said Jane, as coolly as she could. “I did indeed miss my home but I came back, of my own choice, for the reason I have given. My maid Lisa will bear me out.”

      “Oh, no doubt. I’m sure Lisa is loyal to you, and so she should be. No one would criticize her for that,” said Dorothy sweetly.

      It was clever, Jane thought bitterly. It was fiendishly clever, couched in terms that sounded kind, even though the intention behind it was as unkind as it could possibly get.

      “Well, СКАЧАТЬ