The Lady in the Tower (8 page)

Dear Mother,

The castle is very crowded and noisy. Father has a lady called Mistress Maria to be hostess. I cannot bear her. People know you are in the tower, but Sir Walter has given out that you are very sick. Everyone is sorry for you.

My best love,

Eleanor.

I underestimated Maria. I did not expect to see her again, but she visited me in my attic several times over the next few days, always at unexpected times.

‘Such a small chamber, and so poorly furnished!’ she exclaimed in surprise, the first time the servant brought her to my room and bowed her in.

I was sitting on my shabby palliasse, with my bedclothes unmade, scribbling a note to Mother. I hastily hid it between the leaves of Sir Walter’s Bible. Scrambling hurriedly to my feet, I endured her scented embrace.

‘Ah, I understand!’ she said, as I offered no explanation as to the poverty of my room. ‘You have been moved here to make way for all the visitors. How generous of you! It must be dreadfully inconvenient?’

‘I manage,’ I said stiffly. ‘But I’m afraid I cannot offer you a seat.’

If I hoped that would make her go away, I was wrong. She was made of sterner stuff than that. She seated herself upon my mattress, arranging her skirts gracefully, and patted the place next to her invitingly.

‘I shall speak to your dear father about some more suitable furnishings. Even a temporary apartment should be comfortable, should it not?’

I remained standing, scowling. Maria appeared not to notice, and picked up my precious Bible. ‘Ah! So pious,’ she commented, laying it aside. ‘But of course you cannot actually read it?’

I snatched it up and tucked it away in my box.

‘Yes, why not? My mother taught me to read. Did yours not teach you?’

Maria shot me an unloving look and avoided my question.

‘How original! A girl scholar,’ she sneered.

‘You would be surprised how many uses I find for the skill,’ I said cordially, thinking of the secret notes exchanged with Mother.

‘Indeed? Come, Eleanor, sit by me and talk to me,’ Maria invited me once more.

‘About what?’ I asked suspiciously. I regarded her warily.

‘Oh, anything you like. You could start with what you have been doing these last two days since we saw one another last.’

Her tone was honeyed. I quickly reviewed my activities of the last two days and discarded all of them as possible topics for conversation. I remained stubbornly silent. Maria sighed.

‘I see I shall have to win your friendship, Eleanor. And indeed, you have no reason to trust me that I know of.’ She sounded wistful, and I felt almost guilty for a moment. I allowed her to take my hand and draw me down next to her.

‘Shall we begin with a gift?’ asked Maria unexpectedly. With a smile, she drew a slim box from her reticule and offered it to me. I hesitated. She sighed again and opened it. Inside lay an intricately wrought gold chain. ‘It’s for you,’ said Maria simply.

‘Why would you give me this?’

‘Because I thought you might like to wear it with your new clothes when they are ready,’ Maria explained patiently.

‘Yes, but why are
you
giving me an expensive gift?’ I asked. ‘I hardly know you.’

‘I told you already. I desire to be your friend.’ She drew the chain from the box and fastened it around my neck. ‘There, is that not charming?’

I touched it uncertainly. It felt cold and unfamiliar against my skin. I had never worn a necklace before.

‘Thank you, I suppose,’ I said. I sounded ungracious. I still did not trust her.

Maria brought other gifts over the next few days. An ivory comb, a silk scarf, an embroidered cushion. I stuffed them all in my linen chest as soon as she left.

With the gifts came gentle questions. Where did I disappear to all day? Who were my particular friends in the castle? Neither my taciturnity nor my open dislike could keep her away from me.

I took to seeking refuge in the stables even more frequently than before to escape Maria’s company. I stroked Arianna and apologized for not being able to ride her. ‘All these grand people are everywhere, Arianna, and they would stare to see a serving girl upon so fine a palfrey as you,’ I whispered.

I kept Tom company in the harness room, even helping him clean the mountains of stained leather the guests created, until the head groom caught me and sent me away.

‘Tain’t fitting, Mistress, for you to be working like a stable girl, whatever your mother’s misfortunes may be,’ he said firmly, shooing me out.

Deprived even of this pastime, I climbed up to the hayloft and buried myself in the hay, lying there for hours on end with nothing but my own thoughts for company.

One day, upon my return to my room, I entered and stopped dead, thinking I had gone into the wrong room in error. A bedstead hung with curtains stood in the place of my old palliasse and there was a washstand and two comfortable wooden chairs which had not been there before. Maria’s doing, no doubt. I ought to have been grateful to her, but I was not. A scented pomander lay upon the bed. Another gift from Maria. It reminded me of Maria’s sickly scent, and turned my stomach. That could not even be banished to my linen chest; it would make everything else stink. I went to the window and dropped it out into the moat.

No doubt Maria would be sniffing out where I had been today like a bloodhound. It seemed she had been set to spy on me. No doubt my father wanted me watched. Why else would a fashionable, grown-up lady trouble herself with me?

And indeed, Maria sent her maid for me later that afternoon to escort me to her room. It was a grand chamber, close to the great hall and had clearly been recently refurbished. I was glad not to see her in my mother’s room this time. She had no business usurping Mother’s position.

The seamstress was awaiting me, and with Maria’s sharp eye on her she fitted my new clothes and made some last-minute adjustments. Stomachers were laced and unlaced around me. I was pushed and pulled out of the various kirtles and gowns. The clothes were heavy and strange.

I looked down at myself in my new pale yellow evening gown. I thought I must look years older—quite grown-up. And very grand. Only my unruly auburn hair still felt untamed and familiar. The kirtle beneath the gown was shimmering gold and caught the afternoon sunlight when I moved. The chemise was cream with fine lace edging, and looked beautiful against my pale skin.

‘I feel quite different,’ I said nervously.

‘Indeed you do. This is the real you.’ Maria considered me, her head on one side. ‘And I do believe you will break hearts in that dress. If only I were as pale as you. My, I feel quite envious!’

I turned from her with barely concealed disgust. Her insincerity was nauseous.

‘And is that my cloak?’ I asked of the seamstress. ‘May I try it?’ She placed the black velvet cloak reverently around my shoulders and fastened it in front. I swept the heavy fabric around me and paraded a little, my excitement returning. Until I tried to turn my head.

‘Why, I cannot see a thing!’ I exclaimed. ‘This stupid stiff collar is in the way.’

I saw Maria and the seamstress exchange looks. ‘It’s the latest fashion, Mistress,’ the seamstress assured me timidly.

‘Well, it’s no good for riding,’ I argued. It would be like wearing blinkers. ‘Can you not remove it, please?’ Lady Maria shook her head decisively. ‘Certainly not! Whatever would your father say if he saw you in an outmoded cloak?’

I hunched an impatient shoulder. ‘The devil take Sir Walter,’ I retorted. Immediately I bit my lip wishing I could take my words back.

Both the women gasped. Maria shook her head at me repressively. ‘You do not know what you are saying,’ she chided. ‘Why, he has just paid for all these fine clothes for you! Your father should limit the time you spend in the stables, it seems.’ And she then turned the subject at once, picking up the shoes that had been made for me and begging me to try them.

I was as quiet and acquiescent as a doll for the rest of the fitting, understanding that I had disgraced myself. Not that I cared a jot for that, but I must think of Mother’s safety and behave myself. I even allowed them to comb the tangles out of my hair, part it and paste it down flat ready for the French hood. I hated the hood very nearly as much as the English style. It was heavy and pressed on my head, and I could not imagine how ladies could bear to wear all that black velvet hanging down their backs in the hot weather.

I looked an entirely different person when I made my first official appearance amongst the guests. The great hall had undergone as many changes as I had. Many more tables had been set up and all were full. I wondered how the king and his attendants would fit in. The hall was ablaze with candlelight and lit the colourful clothes and jewels of the many guests. There were ladies in sumptuous gowns and men scarcely less finely dressed. At each end of the hall, huge fires blazed, despite the mildness of the early summer weather.

There was a jester in brightly coloured clothes dancing around and making a nuisance of himself. I saw him trip a hapless manservant, who fell headlong onto the rushes, smashing the plate he was carrying. The men at the table nearest to him set up a shout of laughter.

Maria took my arm and led me forwards. There was a sudden hush as Sir Walter came forward to greet me before the assembled visitors. He took my hand and saluted my cheek, just as though I really were his beloved daughter who dined with him every evening. I felt a rush of anger, but I repressed it sternly. He’s acting, you fool, I told myself fiercely. Just acting, and you must act too. And so I curtseyed before him and smiled. You need not think I’ve forgiven you, you disease-infested dung beetle, I thought, as he offered me his arm in exchange for Maria’s. I placed my fingertips lightly upon it and he led me forth to be introduced to some of the guests.

Lady this and Lord that, it seemed my father had only to lift a finger and the rich and powerful flocked to his halls. The names meant little or nothing to me. I simply kept smiling and curtseying. My brother was seated at the top table, of course, drinking his wine like a miniature man. I gave him a smile as I passed him and he nodded casually. Beside him was a handsome young man with a vaguely familiar face.

‘You will remember your cousin, Gregory Hungerford,’ said my father.

I gasped.

‘Cousin Gregory? It is indeed you?’ I asked in delighted surprise, examining his face to find the boy I had known four years ago. He stood up at once and bowed gracefully over my hand.

‘Enchanted, Mistress Hungerford,’ he said formally. Then he grinned and added: ‘Goodness, Cousin Ella, how you have grown up!’

‘So have you. You were eleven years old when you left Farleigh! You were called home because your mother was ill. Did she recover?’

‘She did, thank you, Eleanor. Though her health is not strong.’

I couldn’t stop beaming at him. Sir Walter made an impatient sound in his throat. Recalled to my surroundings, I smiled at Gregory and moved on. I was delighted to see him again. It made the ordeal of meeting so many new people bearable.

The introductions were almost done now. Cromwell was present, and I curtseyed to him, haughty and unsmiling. I was introduced to a small, weedy man with a nervous twitch who I had not seen before.

‘Father Bird, vicar of Bradford,’ my father said. I wondered what he was doing here. He did not strike me as a man likely to be interested in the joust.

There was a young man beside the vicar, and when he stood up unhurriedly to bow to me, I saw with a small shock that it was the man who had asked for a kiss on the stairs. Did he recognize me too? I could not tell for sure, but as he bowed over my hand, he sent me a swift look under his lashes and I thought I saw amusement gleaming in his eyes.

‘
This,
my dear Eleanor, is Viscount Stanton,’ Sir Walter said with emphasis, as though revealing a treat. I sent him a puzzled glance as I curtseyed. What was he to me? Obviously someone important, by my father’s tone.

‘I hope you are recovered from your indisposition,’ murmured Stanton languidly. He didn’t sound as though he hoped any such thing.

‘I am quite well now, I thank you, my lord,’ I replied, and then stood awkwardly silent, realizing that if he did recognize me he must know very well I had not been ill. I wished my father would move on, but he stood frowning at us, clearly expecting more.

‘Fresh air is beneficial to the health,’ remarked Stanton blandly. ‘You should try taking a walk each day. To the village and back, perhaps.’ There was no hint of a smile as he said this, but now I was certain he had recognized me. My heart beat quickly and I threw Sir Walter a frightened glance.

‘Thank you, but I prefer to ride,’ I said, flustered. Stanton merely bowed in response and turned away.

At last my father showed me to a seat and I sank into it. I had a headache drumming at my temples where the wires of my new hood were pressing. I closed my eyes, breathing as deeply as my stomacher would allow, waiting for the giddiness to pass.

‘Are you ill, Cousin Eleanor?’ asked a solicitous voice. I looked up and found that Gregory had exchanged seats to sit by me.

‘Oh, it is only meeting so many new people.’ I smiled a little wanly. A thought struck me. ‘Cousin,’ I asked, ‘do you ride in the joust?’

‘But of course!’ he replied.

‘That is excellent,’ I told him. All at once the joust was something to be looked forward to after all. I could not ride myself, but I would be able to cheer my cousin on.