Love, Remember Me (8 page)

Nyssa was startled by his frankness, but she managed another smile. He was really very sweet, and she felt safe with him. "Aye, we can be friends, and I will introduce you to my brothers. Perhaps you can teach them some of your language as well, so they may be of true help to the princess, ah, the queen. She is to be the queen, and we must think of her that way, Hans von Grafsteen."

"Come," he said, and he offered her his arm. "I vill escort you back into the palace. It is becoming vindy, and you must not get sick, or another vill leap forvard to steal your place."

"Indeed she will," Nyssa agreed, taking his arm. "Lady Browne tried to frighten me off when I reported to her this morning, but I have come to serve the queen, and serve her I shall, as loyally and as dutifully as I know how."

When they reentered the palace, Nyssa found her aunt and Lady Marlowe still engaged in conversation. She had not even been missed. She introduced the ambassador's page to them, but Adela Marlowe, it seemed, already knew of Hans, and gently corrected Nyssa.

"
Baron
von Grafsteen, my lady Wyndham," she said with an arch smile. "Am I not correct, sir?" She beamed at him.

He nodded, annoyed. He did not like being a baron, but his father had died two years before, and he was the eldest son. There was no help for it. He wished that automatic wealth had at least come with the title.

"Hans is to teach me High Dutch. The lady Anne speaks no other language," Nyssa informed them. "I must have lessons with him every day until the queen arrives. I will be more of a help to her if I can at least communicate with her. Do you not think so, Aunt?"

"Indeed," Bliss said, pleased with Nyssa for her quick thinking. She would wager none of the other girls appointed maids of honor would bother to learn the queen's tongue. She patted her niece's hand approvingly.

The Earl of Marwood returned with Lord Marlowe and the young gentlemen. They were introduced to Hans von Grafsteen, and immediately the youngsters became friends. Nyssa felt very much out of place. Her brothers and cousins seemed already at ease in their new surroundings; and her aunt had settled in as comfortably as if she had never left the court at all. Perhaps when the queen came, and she was able to do something other than just stand about, she would feel better. Then suddenly she felt eyes upon her. Looking up, she saw she was being stared at from across the room by a richly clad gentleman. He made her most uncomfortable, and she felt her cheeks grow pink with the heat of embarrassment. She tugged at Lady Marlowe's sleeve.

"Who is that gentleman staring at me?" she asked her.

Adela Marlowe looked quickly across the chamber, and then she too blushed. "God's bones! 'Tis the Earl of March. He's one of Norfolk's grandsons, though born on the wrong side of the blanket, I'm told. He's notorious, my child! A dreadful womanizer! Do not look back lest he believe you to be encouraging him. No maiden of good reputation wants to be seen with Varian de Winter, and a girl seen alone in his company is ruined!"

"He is very handsome," Nyssa said softly, and she didn't think he looked like a villain.

"Indeed he is," Lady Marlowe admitted, "but he is a dangerous man. Why, I'm told most reliably that. . ." She lowered her voice and whispered to Bliss so that Nyssa could not hear them.

Bliss paled. "Holy Mother!" she exclaimed.

"I do not suppose you want to tell me," Nyssa said with some humor.

"You are too young," her aunt said emphatically.

"I'm old enough to find a husband," Nyssa teased her.

"There are some things a woman is always too young to know," Bliss said firmly, "and this is one of those things."

The two women went back to their gossiping, and Nyssa snuck another look at Varian de Winter. He was now speaking with a distinguished gentleman, and fortunately did not notice her. He had a hawklike face with strong features. His hair was very black, and she wondered what color his eyes were. Unexpectedly, he turned his head and looked directly at her. Placing his fingertips to his lips, he blew her a kiss, his smile wicked. Nyssa gasped and quickly turned away, her cheeks burning. Ohh, he was bold! She did not dare to gaze back again, to see if he was still looking at her, but the hair on the back of her neck felt all prickly.

D
URING
the next few days she came to Hampton Court each morning after mass and reported to Lady Browne. Nyssa was introduced to the senior ladies-in-waiting chosen for the queen's household. Two, Lady Margaret Douglas and the Marchioness of Dorset, were the king's nieces. The Duchess of Richmond was his daughter-in-law, being married to Henry, Duke of Richmond, the king's bastard son by Elizabeth Blount. There were two countesses, of Hertford and of Rutland; and Ladies Audley, Rochford, and Edgecombe, plus sixty-five other women of lesser rank. Nyssa was presented to the Earl of Rutland, who had been appointed Lord Chamberlain of the new queen's household. The management of that household would be his responsibility. She met Sir Thomas Denny, to be the queen's chancellor, or chief secretary, and Dr. Kaye, the kindly cleric appointed the queen's almoner, or chaplain.

There would be a dozen maids of honor, of which only the Bassett sisters—Katherine and Anne, who were the daughters of Lord Lisle, Governor of Calais—and Nyssa Wyndham could be certain of their appointments. There was a list from which the other girls would be chosen, and of course, the new queen would have maidens with her. Most of them would eventually return to Cleves, making places for other English girls, but certainly one or two would remain with Anne. As the available places were so scarce, there was some grumbling about the appointment of a girl unknown to the court.

The king silenced the carping by greeting Nyssa effusively her second day at court. Spying the girl with Lady Browne, Henry called to her, and Nyssa dutifully came forward to make her curtsey to the king. Henry raised her up himself, kissing her on both cheeks.

"So, my young lady Wyndham, you have arrived safely. What think you of this court of ours? Is it unlike anything you have ever seen?"

"Indeed, Your Grace, it is! I have never been anywhere as grand. Lady Browne is working hard to teach me all I must know to be of true use to our gracious queen. I am even learning High Dutch!"

The king beamed with obvious pleasure. "Is she not every bit as sweet as her dear mother, my friends?" he demanded of his companions. "You remember Blaze Wyndham, my little country girl? This is her daughter, Lady Nyssa Catherine Wyndham. She is my personal choice to serve my new queen. I have promised her mother that I would keep her safe here among us, for Blaze was most reluctant to let her go." He patted Nyssa's slim hand. "Run along now, my sweet child, back to Lady Browne."

Nyssa curtsied once again beneath the king's approving gaze.

"
Well
," murmured Lady Rochford to Lady Edgecombe, "that's one place that is well-secured.
He
has made it quite plain to us all, has he not?"

"Assuredly," Lady Edgecombe agreed. "I fear it shall quite pique Lady Browne. Twelve places to fill, and at least half will be from Cleves. Margaret had hoped to benefit from the other six, and here the king has filled three of them with girls who cannot be overruled."

"I can see places for the Bassett girls," Lady Rochford said. "After all, Anne served in Queen Jane's household, and Katherine with the Duchess of Suffolk, but this Wyndham chit is a nobody. Just because her mother was the king's plaything all those years ago . . . " Lady Rochford's dark eyes grew round with speculation. "You don't think the king is interested in the daughter now, do you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," replied Lady Edgecombe. "He's about to be a bridegroom again, and is already enamoured with the new queen's portrait. He has no time right now for another woman. Besides, the chit is young enough to be his daughter."

"The new queen is also young enough to be his daughter," Lady Rochford noted meanly. "She is but five months older than Princess Mary."

Lady Edgecombe looked horrified. "You are mad to voice such a thing aloud!" she said. "Are you not satisfied to have been restored to favor despite your unfortunate connections?"

"Connections by marriage only, and I am widowed now," Jane, Lady Rochford said. "Remember that I am related to the king himself on my mother's side, although being related to Henry Tudor is certainly no guarantee of personal safety."

Winifred Edgecombe paled. "You will end up without your head one day, Jane," she warned. "As for Lady Nyssa Wyndham, the king has remained friends with her mother. And the girl, I am told by Lady Marlowe, is an heiress."

"So, the chit has something to recommend her besides her beauty," Lady Rochford noted. "Still, only the highest born should serve the queen. It was that way in Queen Jane's time . . .
and before
. "

She was referring to her late sister-in-law, Anne Boleyn. Jane Rochford had had an unhappy marriage to Anne's brother, George; but Anne, who adored her sibling, could see no wrong in George. In the end, Jane had had her revenge on them both. They were dead, and she was in favor again. Lady Rochford smiled coldly. She gazed across the room at Nyssa Wyndham. She was young, and beautiful, and rich; but it took a great deal more than just those attributes to survive at court. You will have to be clever, little one, she thought. If you are not clever, you will not survive. Yes, you will have to be most clever, I think.

CHAPTER 3

T
HE
six English maids of honor had finally all been chosen. They included the Bassett sisters, Anne and Katherine; Katherine Carey, the daughter of William Carey, and his wife, Mary Boleyn; Catherine Howard, the niece of Thomas, Duke of Norfolk; Elizabeth FitzGerald, called the Orphan of Kildare, the late Earl of Kildare's child; and Nyssa Wyndham. To Lady Browne's pleasure, the king had ordered her to fill the other six places.

"We will send the maidens from Cleves packing in short order," he told her. "If my bride is to be Queen of England, then she should be served by English women, should she not, Lady Margaret?"

"Yes, Your Grace," the smiling lady replied, her good humor restored. Lady Browne no longer minded that the king had chosen the first six maids. She would profit handsomely from the other appointments.

Nyssa and the Bassetts were the eldest of the maids chosen, but the sisters were clannish, and enormously proud of the fact that their father was the royal governor of Calais. Anne, the elder of the two, had been the cause of gossip when the king had presented her with a horse and saddle in early summer. There was nothing to the chatter, but the talk had erupted anyway. The sisters, however, had always been a part of court life in one way or another, and Nyssa found their superior airs very annoying.

"Pay no attention to them," little Catherine Howard said, and she laughed. "They're naught but a pair of babbling magpies."

"It's easy for you," Nyssa told her. "You're a Howard. I'm just a Wyndham of Langford, and am yet ignorant of court ways."

"Fiddlesticks!" Elizabeth FitzGerald said. "I've been practically raised here at court, and your manners are impeccable, Nyssa."

"Indeed they are," Katherine Carey agreed. "No one would guess you are newly come to court. Honestly!"

They were friendly girls, fifteen and sixteen years of age, and each of them prettier than the other. Catherine Howard had auburn curls and beautiful cerulean-blue eyes. Katherine Carey was a black-eyed blond. Elizabeth FitzGerald was black-haired and blue-eyed. They were also, Nyssa discovered, mischievous and full of high spirits. The gentlemen of the court were eager to be with them. Lady Browne had her hands full keeping her charges in order.

The Princess of Cleves finally arrived in Calais on the eleventh of December, but could come no farther. The weather simply refused to cooperate. The Channel was ferociously stormy for the next two weeks. It was soon apparent that there would be no gala Christmas wedding. The court, however, was at a fever pitch of excitement. Each day, more and more of the nobility arrived at Hampton Court, summoned by their king to pay their respects to the new queen, who remained stranded in Calais.

Then on December twenty-sixth the weather lifted briefly, and the Lord Admiral decided that if he did not sail immediately, another winter storm would roar down the Channel, making a crossing impossible until spring. They sailed at midnight. The crossing was fair and pleasant. At five o'clock in the morning the ships carrying the wedding party disembarked at Deal, where the Duchess of Suffolk, the Bishop of Chicester, and others were waiting to meet the new queen. Anne was lodged at Dover Castle, and almost immediately the weather turned foul once more. It began as sleet and quickly turned into a late December snowstorm. The winds were icy and blew without ceasing. It was colder than most remembered a winter being in many years.

Anne, however, insisted on pressing forward to London. On Monday the twenty-ninth she arrived at Canterbury, where Archbishop Cranmer greeted her, escorted by three hundred men in scarlet silks and cloth-of-gold. There Anne was housed in the guest house of St. Augustine's Monastery. On Tuesday the thirtieth of December, Anne departed Canterbury and rode as far as Sittingbourne. On New Year's Eve day she pressed on to Rochester. She was met on Reynham Down by the Duke of Norfolk and a hundred horsemen in green velvet coats decorated with gold chains. They escorted her to the Bishop's Palace, where she would remain for the next two nights.

It was there that Lady Margaret Browne and fifty of the new queen's ladies, including the six maids of honor, awaited Anne. Brought before the bride-to-be, Lady Browne attempted to conceal her astonishment and dismay. The woman before her was but barely recognizable as the woman in the Holbein painting that the king so admired. Lady Browne curtsied low, remembering as she did the scurrilous rhyme that had recently been making the rounds at court.

If that be your picture, then shall we
Soon see how you and your picture agree!

The gentle-visaged lady in the painting appeared to be one of medium stature, but the original was a tall woman with extremely sharp features. Why, she would be able to look the king directly in the eye! Her complexion was not pale, but rather sallow-hued. Her eyes were her best feature, Lady Browne decided; a bright blue, nicely shaped, and well-spaced. As Lady Browne arose from her curtsey, the lady Anne smiled. It was a kindly, sweet smile, but the Englishwoman knew in her heart that this woman would absolutely hold no appeal for the king. She was not at all the sort of woman Henry Tudor favored.