“My serving woman is with child by a scoundrel who abandoned her,” Kate told the midwife, gesturing toward Nan. “I will not have her suffer for it.”

“I’ll not kill the child for you,” Mother Gristwood said.

“Will you deliver the babe in secret and find a family to adopt it?”

Mother Gristwood peered at Nan through the gathering darkness, a calculating look on her face. Giving a curt nod, she named a price for her services. It was high, but less than Nan had feared. If she pawned one of her court gowns, she could raise the money.

“Agreed,” Kate said. “Constance will come to you on the morrow to be examined, accompanied by another maidservant.” The real Constance. Nan’s maid was willing to help her mistress in any way she could, even loaning Nan her name.

“And the delivery?” Mother Gristwood asked. “Am I to be summoned to Sussex House for that?”

“You will be summoned, but I do not yet know to what place.” Kate’s haughty tone of voice discouraged further questions.

The truth was that they had not yet contrived a way to hide the birthing. Bringing a child into the world was a long, painful, noisy process. Even if Nan bit down on a strip of leather to stifle her screams, her secret might well be discovered just when she was at her most vulnerable.

But that was a worry for another time. They had months yet to find a solution to the problem. For now all that mattered was that the midwife had agreed to keep the pregnancy secret.

ON THE FOURTH day of May, Nan was in the parlor with the other gentlewomen when Ned Corbett arrived at Sussex House. She had not seen him since mid-March. His very presence in the same room stirred her blood, but she was careful not to let anyone, least of all Ned, guess at her reaction.

John Husee was with him. As usual, he brought news of her family. “Mistress Catherine is about to leave for Belvoir with my lord and lady of Rutland,” he announced.

Only because she was watching Ned so closely did Nan see the flash of disappointment that crossed his face. She frowned. She’d always suspected that he’d courted Cat as well as herself.

“Has a match been made with Sir Edward Baynton’s son?” Lady Sussex asked.

Husee shook his head. “The Bayntons say Mistress Catherine’s dowry is not large enough.”

Again Ned’s reaction was easy to read—relief. Nan felt her temper rise. Had he taken Cat into his bed, as he had her? Had he gotten her with child? Did he plan to ask Cat to enter into a clandestine marriage? Perhaps they already had.

At her first opportunity, Nan dragged Ned into the relative privacy of a window alcove. “Leave my sister alone,” she hissed at him. “She is too innocent for the likes of you.”

In a most annoying fashion, he lifted one eyebrow. “Jealous, Nan?”

She answered with a derisive snort.

“Then why should I heed your desires?”

For one mad moment, she considered telling him about the baby. She even toyed with the idea of agreeing to marry him. But before she could make such a fatal mistake, he leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

“Let us not quarrel, Nan. I have come round to your way of thinking. We were most unwise to give in to passion.”

She frowned, but did not interrupt him.

“You are a beautiful woman, Nan, and I cannot help but desire your body. But neither of us would be happy if we were bound together forever. You belong at court, and I have my own advancement to consider. We are both best served if we refrain from repeating our mistakes.”

“So, what we shared was a … mistake?” She was proud that she kept her voice level. She did not rail at him. She did not strike him. She did not allow a single tear to fall.

“It was. As you yourself concluded.”

For a moment, she almost hated him. Then she glimpsed the deep sadness in his eyes. When Ned immediately made an excuse to leave, Nan was certain it was because he was distraught over losing her. It was strangely pleasant to know she’d had such an effect on him.

Lost in sweet memories of their time together, Nan barely listened to the exchange of news going on all around her. John Husee had to repeat her name several times before she realized that he was addressing her.

“Your pardon, Master Husee. I was woolgathering.”

“Will you walk with me to the gate? I would have a word with you in private.” Husee waited until they were out of earshot before he spoke. “Your mother was most upset to learn that you had given away the pearls she sent you.” His voice was sharper than usual.

“I am sorry to have displeased her.” Nan attempted to sound penitent, even affecting a catch in her voice.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Husee demanded.

“The giving of gifts is part of courtiership.”

“Only when such gifts advance your own interests. I cannot see how Kate Stradling can be of any help to you. She is nothing but a poor relation.”

Nan thought quickly. She could hardly tell Husee the truth. “I am certain Kate will return the pearls if I ask her to. She has them partly as a loan and partly as a gift. I wished to reward her. She has been a most loving friend, always happy to do me a kindness, always ready to help and assist me in any way she can.” For a price.

“You must be more sensible in future when you bestow your favors.” Husee spoke sternly, obviously more afraid of Lady Lisle than he was of her daughter. “After all your mother has done for you, you must not disappoint her.”

The reminder of just how reckless she had been to bestow her favors on Ned shook Nan’s self-control. She was going to have his child. The burden of keeping that secret became heavier with each passing day. The constant threat of discovery, of ruin, kept her emotions in turmoil. Without warning, tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

Appalled, Husee stared at her. “Mistress Nan! You must not carry on this way. All will be well. I will intercede with your mother on your behalf.”

Nan fought to stem the flood, grateful that Husee misunderstood the reason she was crying. He would not be so sympathetic if he knew what had happened with Ned … or its consequences. She took the handkerchief he proffered, mopped her face, and blew her nose.

“I must win back Mother’s favor, Master Husee,” she said, sniffling. “I will do anything she asks. I cannot bear to have her think ill of me.”

“There, there, child.” Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder. “I will ask Lady Lisle to write you a comforting letter. I am certain that if you amend your ways she will forgive you. But no more overgenerous gifts, eh? And you must show proper gratitude for anything else your lady mother chooses to send you.”

“I will be her obedient servant in all things, Master Husee. She will never have further cause to despair of me.” Nan put every ounce of sincerity she could muster into the pledge and silently prayed she would be able to keep her word.

The next few months would be the most difficult. The midwife had told her that her baby would be born toward the end of August. Until then, with the help of tight lacing of undergarments and loose clothing for outerwear, she had to deceive everyone into thinking she suffered from nothing more serious than a spate of debilitating megrims. She’d be spending a great deal of time alone in a darkened room, but it would be worth the effort. No one would suspect that she was with child and, in the end, she would have her life back.


As touching Mrs. Anne Basset, it is showed me that she is well amended. I will see her, by God’s grace, within this four days, and declare unto her your ladyship’s full pleasure.

—John Husee to Lady Lisle, 27 September 1538

6

On a bright mid-June morning, perfect for hunting partridge, a small party rode out of the town of Calais. When Mistress Philippa Bassett had insisted upon bringing her sister Mary along, Clement Philipott had asked Ned Corbett to come with them to keep the younger girl occupied.

Ned had agreed willingly enough. He even had a merlin perched on his forearm, ready to fly, although he did not much care for the sport. Trailing behind came two servants on mules. Their packs contained food and drink for an informal midday meal in the fields. The Pale of Calais did not encompass a huge area, but it was more than sufficient for their purposes.

Ned slanted a glance at Mary Bassett as they rode through the countryside beyond the wall. She was just sixteen, a bit more than a year younger than Nan. She was just as pretty, perhaps more so, although she was still too pale. Mary had been plagued by intermittent fevers even after being returned to her mother’s care in March, but at the moment she seemed in good health as well as high spirits.

Ned urged his horse a bit closer to her palfrey and spoke in a low voice. “Shall we endeavor to give them a bit of privacy?” He inclined his head in the direction of their two companions. “Philpott would appreciate an opportunity to speak with your sister alone.”

“As you wish.” Mary’s voice was low and well modulated and reminded him of Nan’s.

They reined in atop a grassy knoll to watch Philpott fly his merlin. Mary signaled for two servants to follow when he and Philippa rode after it. Then she turned curious eyes on Ned.

“Did you come along to distract me? It will not make any difference, you know. Philippa will not have him. She thinks Clement Philpott is a silly ass.”

Ned swallowed a laugh. “Lord Lisle must have been of another opinion or he’d not have brought Philpott here.”

“My stepfather had not met him. He relied upon the opinions of his friends in England.” She seemed confident that her sister would not be forced into marriage with someone she could not like. Ned hoped Mary’s innocent faith in Lord Lisle was not misplaced. Philpott was, if not an ass, at least a sheep, easily led and credulous.

Urging his horse onward, they rode in the direction Philpott’s bird had flown, keeping their progress at a crawl. Ned idly stroked the merlin he had borrowed from Lord Lisle’s mews. It shifted restlessly on his gauntleted fist, anxious to take wing. “All in good time,” Ned murmured.

At his side, Mary Bassett seemed lost in thought. He studied her, trying to recall the little he knew about her. She’d spent nearly four years living with the de Bours family. Madame de Bours was now a widow, Nicholas de Montmorency, seigneur de Bours, having died during the time Mary lived in his household. The de Bours lands were near Abbeville, but the family often visited Pont de Remy, a few miles farther along the river, where Nan had once lived in the household of Madame de Bours’s brother, the Sieur de Riou.

At the thought of Nan, Ned’s grip tightened on the reins and the big gelding he rode shied, startling the merlin.

“I do not want to go to England,” Mary said abruptly.

Ned stared at her in surprise. “You would be in the service of a countess, at the least. Scarcely a hardship. And if the king marries again, as they say he will, you could be a maid of honor to his new queen.” The current rumors had several French noblewomen in the running, along with Christina of Milan.

“But England is so far away.” Mary’s heartfelt sigh and the expression of deep longing on her face made the reason for her reluctance as clear as day.

“A Frenchman, I presume?”

“How did you—?” Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm.

Ned chuckled. Mary was too open and honest to be able to hide her feelings. Her vulnerability made him feel oddly protective. “You can trust me, Mistress Mary. I’ll not betray you.”

His reward was a brilliant smile. “I love him, Master Corbett. He is the other half of myself. I knew it from the moment we first met, the very day I arrived at his father’s house.”

“Gabriel de Montmorency?” The young man had become seigneur de Bours upon his father’s death.

She nodded. “When he has established himself at the French court, he will ask to marry me.”

Ned raised a skeptical eyebrow. Was Mary deluding herself? If the young man truly wished to have her for his wife, he should already have spoken to Lord Lisle.

“He sent me these sleeves.” Mary ran a hand over the soft yellow velvet. “And another pair in linen with cuffs of gold.”

“Very generous gifts.” But not necessarily those of a man interested in marriage.

“I had nothing so lovely to give in return,” she confided, “but I did send him a silk flower and he wrote to say that he looks at it hourly and thinks of me.”

“You sent a flower and he returned flowery words.”

Oblivious to his sarcasm, Mary rambled on, revealing that she kept her love letters in a box in her chamber. Her face came alive when she spoke of her suitor.