them.”
“Men change when their lives are at stake.”
“Then they are not men,” Dominic said sharply.
“Enough,” William interposed. “I agree with Dominic. Surrey is to be released. He will return to Kenninghall and stay there until further ordered. Which I believe you counseled?” he said pointedly to Rochford.
“So I did.”
“See to it.”
He watched until his uncle had disappeared inside the ashlar-stone walls of Whitehall. Then he turned back to Dominic on the riverbank path. “What else?” he asked. He knew when his friend was brooding.
“I spoke to Eleanor.”
He didn’t look at Dominic, appearing to consider the bare landscape of midwinter. He knew he would not have to respond; Dominic was incapable of ignoring anything he felt was his responsibility. It was why William had sent him.
“Is she also to be released?” Dominic eventually asked.
William had made his plans long before today. “Eleanor can go to Kenninghall with Surrey. I believe her daughter is being cared for there.” Actually, William knew it for a fact. He had taken care to know. The child, Anne, was undoubtedly his; he had briefly considered acknowledging the baby girl before Eleanor’s arrest, but knowing how much Minuette disliked Eleanor had stayed his hand. Still, he would ensure the child did not lack for proper care.
“Eleanor wants to see you.”
Of course she does.
“No.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
William looked sidelong at Dominic, amused. “Surely you are not counseling me to meet with Eleanor Howard?”
“I am counseling you to take care. She is dangerous, Will. Far more so than the Earl of Surrey, if you ask me.”
“Eleanor cannot touch me.”
“What of Minuette? Eleanor hated her thoroughly when she was nothing more than your friend. If—when—she finds out that Minuette is much more to you …”
“Don’t worry about Minuette,” William said. “There is no person more important to me. I will keep her safe, Dom. You can trust me for that.”
There was a long pause, as though Dominic couldn’t decide which condescending and unnecessary warning to issue first. At last he said simply, “Just be careful.”
3 February 1555
Whitehall Palace
There are stretches of time in which I (nearly) forget about Framlingham and the lady chapel and the rivers of blood and tears I shed there … but today is not one of those times.
William has pardoned the Earl of Surrey. I take no issue with that, for Surrey was not at Framlingham at the end and I do not believe he had any personal involvement in his family’s schemes. I do not even mind too terribly that Eleanor has been released and sent to Kenninghall. She is vindictive, but not stupid. She would never have countenanced a scheme to harm William when he is the source of every favour she has ever had. And she did lose her husband at Framlingham. My guilt is enough to soften my dislike. A little.
My troubled mind arises from a message I received this morning from Stephen Howard, youngest brother of the late Duke of Norfolk and my stepfather. He has also been pardoned and asks that I pay him a visit in his London house before he returns to the country.
I shall have to slip away quietly, for both Dominic and William would protest. It is annoying to have both of them watching me so closely.
Minuette knew that she could not, of course, go completely alone to see Stephen Howard. She might be able to deceive the men, but never Carrie. Her maid was a fierce friend and even fiercer guard, and there was no slipping away from her. Minuette took Fidelis with her as well; the enormous hound reminded her of Dominic, padding quietly along next to her and turning a forbidding gaze on all around him. Fortunately, her stepfather’s town house was on the same side of the river as Whitehall. She couldn’t imagine the boat that could have carried Fidelis across the Thames.
The streets, as always, were awash in humanity and its trappings. Street
“Men change when their lives are at stake.”
“Then they are not men,” Dominic said sharply.
“Enough,” William interposed. “I agree with Dominic. Surrey is to be released. He will return to Kenninghall and stay there until further ordered. Which I believe you counseled?” he said pointedly to Rochford.
“So I did.”
“See to it.”
He watched until his uncle had disappeared inside the ashlar-stone walls of Whitehall. Then he turned back to Dominic on the riverbank path. “What else?” he asked. He knew when his friend was brooding.
“I spoke to Eleanor.”
He didn’t look at Dominic, appearing to consider the bare landscape of midwinter. He knew he would not have to respond; Dominic was incapable of ignoring anything he felt was his responsibility. It was why William had sent him.
“Is she also to be released?” Dominic eventually asked.
William had made his plans long before today. “Eleanor can go to Kenninghall with Surrey. I believe her daughter is being cared for there.” Actually, William knew it for a fact. He had taken care to know. The child, Anne, was undoubtedly his; he had briefly considered acknowledging the baby girl before Eleanor’s arrest, but knowing how much Minuette disliked Eleanor had stayed his hand. Still, he would ensure the child did not lack for proper care.
“Eleanor wants to see you.”
Of course she does.
“No.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
William looked sidelong at Dominic, amused. “Surely you are not counseling me to meet with Eleanor Howard?”
“I am counseling you to take care. She is dangerous, Will. Far more so than the Earl of Surrey, if you ask me.”
“Eleanor cannot touch me.”
“What of Minuette? Eleanor hated her thoroughly when she was nothing more than your friend. If—when—she finds out that Minuette is much more to you …”
“Don’t worry about Minuette,” William said. “There is no person more important to me. I will keep her safe, Dom. You can trust me for that.”
There was a long pause, as though Dominic couldn’t decide which condescending and unnecessary warning to issue first. At last he said simply, “Just be careful.”
3 February 1555
Whitehall Palace
There are stretches of time in which I (nearly) forget about Framlingham and the lady chapel and the rivers of blood and tears I shed there … but today is not one of those times.
William has pardoned the Earl of Surrey. I take no issue with that, for Surrey was not at Framlingham at the end and I do not believe he had any personal involvement in his family’s schemes. I do not even mind too terribly that Eleanor has been released and sent to Kenninghall. She is vindictive, but not stupid. She would never have countenanced a scheme to harm William when he is the source of every favour she has ever had. And she did lose her husband at Framlingham. My guilt is enough to soften my dislike. A little.
My troubled mind arises from a message I received this morning from Stephen Howard, youngest brother of the late Duke of Norfolk and my stepfather. He has also been pardoned and asks that I pay him a visit in his London house before he returns to the country.
I shall have to slip away quietly, for both Dominic and William would protest. It is annoying to have both of them watching me so closely.
Minuette knew that she could not, of course, go completely alone to see Stephen Howard. She might be able to deceive the men, but never Carrie. Her maid was a fierce friend and even fiercer guard, and there was no slipping away from her. Minuette took Fidelis with her as well; the enormous hound reminded her of Dominic, padding quietly along next to her and turning a forbidding gaze on all around him. Fortunately, her stepfather’s town house was on the same side of the river as Whitehall. She couldn’t imagine the boat that could have carried Fidelis across the Thames.
The streets, as always, were awash in humanity and its trappings. Street
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