swiftly dismounted. He swept a deep bow. His long boots were spattered with mud, and his neatly cropped hair was dark with sweat at the temples. ‘Lady Frances,’ he said, with apparent good humour. But though his mouth lifted into a smile, his eyes were grave as he studied her.
‘Sir Thomas,’ she replied. ‘I am surprised to see you.’
‘Forgive me. I did not have time to send word of my arrival.’ He looked momentarily shamefaced. ‘I trust you are well? I heard a report of some sickness.’
She watched his eyes flick over her body, and thought she saw them linger a moment too long on her belly. Folding her arms across it, she said brightly: ‘I am afraid my brother is not at home, but do come inside for some refreshment. I will send for someone to tend your horse.’
Not pausing for an answer, she walked briskly towards the house. Her thoughts kept time with her steps as she crossed the hallway, calling for the stable boy and housekeeper.
Sir Thomas had been one of several suitors whom her uncle had tried to foist upon her. She had thought of their first meeting many times, at the dinner he had hosted in his apartments at Whitehall Palace. But the vividness of the memory was not because of Sir Thomas. It had been the first time she had spoken to Tom. She could remember almost every word of their conversation as he had escorted her to her chamber afterwards. Sir Thomas gave a small cough, bringing her back to the present.
Why was he here? Had her uncle encouraged him to renew his suit, now that Tom was dead? He would hardly have done so if he had known of her condition, she reflected bitterly.
As they entered the hall, Frances gestured for Sir Thomas to take a seat next to the fire. She sat opposite, in her father’s chair. Mrs Lamport broke the brief, awkward silence that followed as she bustled in bearing a tray of wine and sweetmeats, set it down and left, closing the door behind her.
Frances poured wine for her guest, then sat back and waited. She had no patience for pleasantries.
Sir Thomas took a slow sip, then put the glass down. ‘I am sorry for the loss you have suffered, my lady,’ he said, eyeing her intently.
For a moment, Frances did not know what to say. It could hardly have escaped Sir Thomas’s notice that she and his protégé had become close companions by the time he left court. But did he know that they had been much more than that? The earnestness of his tone – of his gaze now – suggested so. Not trusting herself to speak, she inclined her head and shifted her focus to the fire.
‘Tom’s death was a loss to me too,’ he continued. ‘I loved him as a brother and would have done anything for him – as he would for me, God rest his soul.’
He took another sip of wine, and Frances noticed that his hand trembled slightly.
‘You know that I furthered his legal endeavours, putting him in the way of some influential clients?’
Frances nodded, still mute. Where was this leading?
‘The queen was among them,’ he continued. ‘I initiated the introduction at Tom’s request. He and his … friends were eager to make her acquaintance, as I think you know.’
Frances’s pulse quickened.
‘She proved a powerful supporter of their cause.’ He leaned forward, his gaze intensifying. ‘As did I, my lady. It was my connections – at court and abroad – that swelled their ranks, my gold that paid for the house in Westminster, the weapons with which they fought at Holbeach …’ he took a breath ‘… and the gunpowder.’
Frances’s heart was now thudding painfully as she stared at him. Was this a trap? Had Cecil sent him to secure a confession? No. The Earl of Salisbury had greater subtlety than that. Did Sir Thomas speak truth, then? She could not understand why else he would make such treacherous claims, and to a woman he hardly knew.
‘You know, I think, that I secured the king’s consent to leave court for a time last summer, so that I might resolve an issue that had arisen at my estates.’
She nodded again, and he continued, ‘I was not in Buckinghamshire all those months, but in Flanders. Tom and his companions had already gathered a considerable body there – armed men, ready to do battle. I was to lead them across the Channel, as soon as I received word that the plot had succeeded. But, of course, that word never came.’
By now his breathing was rapid and his eyes blazing as he stared at Frances, searching for reassurance – forgiveness, even.
‘I know that I should not have encouraged their schemes,’ he went on, his voice steadier. ‘That it was madness to imagine they could destroy a king and his entire regime. I should have made them see reason – made Tom see reason – but I was too caught up in their fervour, in the blindness of my faith.’
He could no longer look at Frances, but her eyes never left him. As she watched him now, his gaze fixed upon the fire and his lips pressed tightly together, she pictured him as a rebellious traitor. She had remembered him as a mild-mannered, affable man, whose breeding and discretion made him an ideal courtier. How well he had concealed his true beliefs, his true nature.
It was not the first time she had been fooled by a man of the court. Tom’s revelations had been strikingly similar, yet they had shaken her to the core. There was a time when she had believed Tom’s dishonesty had been more than just concealment: it had been a betrayal of everything they had had together – their intimacy, their trust, their love. She knew later that he had kept the truth from her simply to protect her.
‘Why are you here?’
Sir Thomas looked up at her. Frances knew her abruptness surprised him but cared little for that. He sipped his wine, then set the glass on the table. ‘I know what you and Tom were to each other,’ he said quietly.
Frances held back the tears that threatened to betray her. His eyes softened as he looked at her. I do not want your pity, she thought.
‘I know, too, that a part of him has stayed with you.’ His voice was barely a whisper. ‘The queen sent for me upon my return to court, I thought, to warn me that her husband knew me for a traitor, though I had remained in Flanders until I could be sure my name was not among those he still seeks.’ Another pause. ‘But it was of you that Her Majesty wished to speak.’
Frances’s head jerked up.
‘She told me you are with child,’ Sir Thomas said bluntly.
Instinctively, Frances’s hands flew to her belly. How could Anne betray her secret so readily? Had she told others too?
‘You must not be angry, my lady,’ Sir Thomas said soothingly. ‘She wished only to help you.’
‘By betraying me to a man I hardly know?’ Frances retorted.
‘Her Majesty is aware that, even here, you are in danger. Though I am sure your servants can be trusted, it would take only an idle slip to ruin your reputation, and that of your family.’
‘Do you think I do not know that, Sir Thomas?’ Frances demanded, her face now pale with fury. ‘My parents have taken great care in this. None of us is as thoughtless as you suppose.’
‘Please – let me continue. Though nobody but the queen and I knows that the child is Tom’s, if your pregnancy
