“Will you ask her? I beg you, Nan. Intercede for me. She can help Will. Perhaps if I . . . if I assure her that I will not . . . oh, Nan, just find a way for us to meet!” I dashed unwanted tears away, embarrassed and humiliated by them but willing to humble myself further if it won Will’s freedom.

Nan sighed and turned back toward the palace. We walked in silence until we reached the water gate. “Come by boat tomorrow afternoon,” she said, “and ask for the sergeant porter. His name is Keyes and his private rooms are situated on the upper floors of the gatehouse. If she is willing to meet you, she will be there.”

THE NEXT DAY, I met Will’s other wife face-to-face for the first time. He had once described her as a bone-thin, whey-faced girl. I’d pictured her as a slovenly whore. She was neither. Anne Bourchier was a tiny, delicate woman with a long narrow face, a slightly pointed chin, and chestnut-colored hair. She was older than I by nearly a decade, but if age, poverty, or disgrace had marked her, it did not show. Her features were as smooth as a child’s. She was also in full court dress, resplendent in dark, wine-colored velvet sparkling with jewels. I recognized some of them as baubles I’d left behind in Winchester House.

“So, Mistress Brooke, we meet at last.” She had a soft, tinkling voice, like fairy bells. I could not imagine what fault Will had found with her.

“Lady Parr.” I choked out the name and pasted a neutral expression on my face.

“I am styled Viscountess Bourchier.” She circled me as if I were a horse offered for sale at a fair. “I have been curious about you.”

I was well aware of the contrast we made. In plain, unadorned garments, I looked drab and unimportant, but I’d had no finery to wear. That, too, had been left behind when we fled.

When I’d borne her scrutiny as long as I could stand, I blurted out what was on my mind. “I will never trouble you again if you will but promise to plead for my . . . for your husband’s freedom with the queen.”

“Why should I care what happens to Will Parr? He treated me most cruelly.”

“You betrayed him.” The words were out before I could stop them. I began again, more diplomatically this time. “I do beg your pardon, my lady. But it does seem to me that there was fault on both sides.”

“We are quite alone here.” A wry smile twisted her lips. “You may feel free to speak your mind.”

“I have no wish to insult you, my lady.”

She laughed softly. It was a surprisingly deep sound, considering the timbre of her speaking voice. “Let us begin again, then. What is it you think I can do?”

“Convince the queen to pardon Will.”

“So that he can return to you?”

My chest tightened. The next words were physically painful to force out, but I was determined to save the man I loved. “Whatever Will has done, he does not deserve to die for it. It is in your power to help him, my lady. It is also to your advantage to do so.”

“Why? I do not want him back.”

“If he is executed for treason, all you claim as your inheritance will be lost, along with everything else Will owned.” When I’d conceived of the idea of asking her for help, it had seemed logical to me that she would want the security of such a large and prosperous estate.

“The queen can grant those properties to me in any case,” Viscountess Bourchier said.

“But will she?”

She walked to the window to look out over the Thames. She had a clear view of Norfolk House from where she stood. Tears blurred my vision, thinking how happy Will and I had been when we lived there.

Without turning, she said, “I am told you have no children.”

“We were not blessed.” I heard the tremor in my voice but could not control it.

“Be glad of it. They would be a curse upon you now. My children were disinherited, thanks to Will Parr. That ruling has not been reversed.”

I bit back a reminder that her children were not her husband’s, but rather bastards borne to a lover. Her bitterness alarmed me. If she wanted revenge more than she wanted her inheritance, she would never help Will. I said nothing, too afraid that the words I chose would be the wrong ones.

Lady Anne’s hands gripped the sill as she stared out at the late-afternoon sky. A few flakes of snow drifted down, although the sun still shone brightly. In spite of the brazier heating the room, I shivered.

“I am told he weeps continuously,” she said.

“Will?”

“Who else have we been speaking of?” She swung around to face me, her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I have made it my business to know everything about him, and about you, as well.” She drew in a deep, steadying breath and slowly unclenched her fingers. “However, it is to my advantage to do as you ask. I will petition the queen. I have friends and kinswomen here at court who will join me in asking for a pardon.” She gave a wry laugh. “But be warned. It will come with conditions. To the queen, I am Will’s only wife. She wants us to be reconciled. He will be required to give up his illicit alliance with you if he wants to go free.”

She took a step closer to me, forcing me to meet eyes that were cold and calculating, without a shred of softer feelings.

“If you care for him,” she said softly, “you must abandon him. The queen will not tolerate any further infidelity.”

I held her gaze. “I will do whatever I must in exchange for a full pardon.”

44

Will was freed on the last day of December. Griggs stationed himself outside the Lion Gate to bring his master to Edward Warner’s house in Carter Lane, where I was waiting for him. I was shocked by Will’s appearance. He’d lost so much weight that he seemed but a shadow of himself. His face was haggard. He’d been imprisoned for only five months, but he’d aged five years.

His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he stumbled forward to take me in his arms. I returned the embrace, weeping when I felt the way his bones seemed to protrude from his skin. We clung to each other, kissing, not wanting to let go, but even as we embraced I could not help but think that he did not even smell the same. The miasma of the Tower clung to his clothes, his hair, and his beard.

When we stepped apart, I realized that he was favoring his right leg. I made a small sound of distress.

“It’s the damp,” he said, trying to make light of it. “Nothing to worry about.”

“But you’re limping.”

He laughed off my concern. “A pity, though, that I don’t still have that sturdy staff King Henry gave me.”

It had been left behind in Winchester House. I supposed it was in some royal storeroom by this time, unless Bishop Gardiner had claimed it. Our old enemy had risen to the top again and was now Queen Mary’s lord chancellor.

In spite of my promise to Anne Bourchier, I had never intended to abandon Will. Since the court had gone to Richmond Palace for Christmas, I did not think anyone would notice if we spent a few days together before I had to leave him again to keep him safe. I said nothing of what I meant to do. I concentrated on restoring my husband to health.

All Mother’s training in the stillroom served me well. I made Will drink strengthening possets and evil-tasting herbal brews. By Twelfth Night he was much improved and I could no longer put off telling him about my meeting with Anne Bourchier. I chose my moment carefully, not in private, where he could woo me into changing my mind, but at supper with Aunt Elizabeth and Sir Edward there to support my arguments.

At court the end of Yuletide meant feasts and banquets and a last burst of merriment from the Lord of Misrule. There would be masques and dancing and an abundance of rich food. Aunt Elizabeth, Sir Edward, Will, and I took our meal together in Carter Lane as we always did, but in honor of the day had several more dishes than usual and sweet wafers and a doucet—spiced custard pie—to follow.

I told my tale while we consumed boiled capons, roast chine of beef, pies made with minced meat, and a kid with pudding in its belly. “And so,” I said when I’d recounted the entire conversation, “under the law, our marriage never existed and you are still married to her. We risk the queen’s wrath if we stay together.”

“No power on earth can make me take Anne back,” Will vowed.

“It sounds to me as if she does not want you, either,” Aunt Elizabeth said.

Will scowled at her.

“I believe we can still be together,” I said, “but we must make sure the queen does not find out. I have given this matter much thought and have devised a plan.”

“She has always been a resourceful woman,” Will said to Sir Edward. The pride in his voice warmed me more than the fire crackling in the hearth.

“In a few days, I will leave London and go to Cowling Castle to ask Father for the use of one of his more remote manor houses. If you wait a few weeks to steal away and meet me there, we should be able to live out the rest of our lives in peace and seclusion, far from those who would keep us apart.”

Will looked dubious. “Is that what you truly want?”

“Have you a better suggestion?” I took a bite of capon, but the savory sauce it had been doused in seemed to have lost its flavor.

“We could go into exile in France,” Will said. “I have friends among the French nobility who would take us in.” He polished off the beef on his plate and reached for his wine goblet. As I’d expected, he was not taking my decision seriously. He did not want to be parted, even for a short time, any more than I did, but I knew we had no choice.

“To live on their charity?” I asked.

“Your father would be supporting us if we lived on one of his estates.” He sopped up the last of the gravy with a piece of manchet bread and continued to eat.

Before I could counter this objection, Aunt Elizabeth sent her husband a pointed look. “Tell them, Edward.”

“Eliza—”

“Tell them, or I will. You brought my son into it. Why not Will Parr?”

“Will has no tenants left to call to arms.”

Sir Edward’s blunt assessment confused me, but a gleam of anticipation came into Will’s eyes. “You’ve said too much already not to go on.”

“We’ve been meeting at Suffolk Place,” Sir Edward said. “Suffolk and his brothers and others. Tom Wyatt’s with us.” He named more men, several of whom I recognized as evangelicals, and explained that they planned an uprising on four fronts. One of them would be Kent, where my cousin Tom was to raise the county against the queen.

They were talking about a conspiracy. My stomach clenched in dread. There would be no question about this rebellion being treason. I wanted to clap my hands over my ears so I would hear no more, but it was already too late.

“To what end?” Will asked. “You will not find much support to restore Queen Jane.”

Sir Edward shook his head. “Not Jane. The rightful heir—Elizabeth Tudor. Two things happened while you were in the Tower, Will. Queen Mary’s first Parliament once again declared King Henry’s marriage to Anne Boleyn null and void, thus confirming Princess Elizabeth as a bastard.”

“That is hardly surprising,” Will said mildly. “And such an act has the force of law. If there had been time for Parliament to ratify King Edward’s device for the succession, no one would have questioned Jane’s right to succeed.”

I held my tongue rather than contradict my husband, but I did not believe that, even with such a law, Queen Mary could have been stopped. Then she’d have ordered the next Parliament to repeal Edward’s plan for the succession, as she’d had them revoke the private act Will had secured to free him to marry me.

“A pity, that.” Something in the dryness of my aunt’s voice made me think she agreed with me.

“You said that two things happened while I was a prisoner, Warner. What was the other?”

“The queen agreed to marry Philip of Spain.”

Will came to his feet in a rush. His chair tumbled over backward with a resounding crash.

“It has not yet been announced,” Sir Edward continued, “but there is no doubt the proclamation will come soon. You know what that means, Will. A foreigner will be king of England, and this particular foreigner will not hesitate to unleash the Inquisition. Pretending to convert to the Church of Rome will not suffice. Priests will search out every hint of heresy, and if they look, they will find it. None of us will be safe.”

I hoped Sir Edward exaggerated the danger, but I could see that both he and Will believed what he was saying. It frightened them. The more I thought about it, the more afraid I became, too.

“Queen Mary already has reason to dislike Will,” I said. “She’ll send him back to the Tower in a heartbeat if she has any excuse. He must have nothing to do with the uprising.”