The Lady and the Duke

Part II

Mary was serene the next morning. The scented rushes covering the floorboards crunched under her velvet slippers as she made her way down the dark wood-panelled corridor to the breakfast room. The portraits of her ancestors stared down at her imposingly, judgementally. She kept her eyes on the floor.

The room was silent as she broke her fast with her parents and sister. Frivolity and chatter was not permitted during meals.

She sat with a straight back on the beautifully-carved stool, her feet arranged neatly, eyes downcast, left hand in her lap. Demure, feminine, sombre. She knew her parents would approve, though maintaining the masque took a great deal of effort.

Mary ate little, she had had no appetite recently. She dipped her fingers in the water bowl provided and wiped them delicately on an embroidered linen napkin. She waited for the rest of the family to finish. She sat with an air of patience, but discreetly twisted her wedding ring beneath the table as she wondered which dull activities would fill yet another excruciatingly long day.

At length, her sister and mother finished; they all waited for Sir John. Mary waited to be excused. Her heart sank as he cleared his throat, his sign that he had something to discuss with his family. All three ladies turned their eyes up to him expectantly.

“Mary, do you recall your encounter with the Duke of Lincoln last year?”

She cast her mind back, it must have been at the King’s wedding festivities, it was the only time she had been in the presence of other noblemen besides her husband. It had been a glittering occasion to mark the King’s latest marriage, this time to the Lady Katherine Parr. All the ladies and gentlemen of the court had turned out in their finery for pageantry, jousts and feasting. Bluff King Hal had always known how to celebrate in spectacular style.

She had met so many noblemen and ladies over the few days of festivities she had attended; the only one who really stood out in her mind was the stern and glamorous Duke of Norfolk.

“No, father,” she was forced to answer, “but I am sure I should recognise him if I saw him.”

“Well you shall be seeing him very shortly. I have secured a place for you in his household as wet nurse to the Duchess’s newborn son. He was quite taken with you at your introduction.”

Mary’s heart ached at the thought that other women were happily married and having sons. She started to reply, but the words strangled in her throat. Her modesty wouldn’t permit her to point out the fundamental flaw in this appointment to her father.

She tried again, “father, I... um... my...” Mary took a deep breath and tried one more time, “there is no longer much...”

“Milk. Yes I am aware of this; it has been a week since your loss. Your mother assures me that there are women’s tricks for such a problem. Massage, and such.”

Her mother hastily cut in, “Mary, I am sure you wish you thank your father for securing such an advantageous position for you.

“Of course,” she tried to suppress her desire to argue, “thank you, father, for acting in your great wisdom and my best interests.”

He grunted in acknowledgement, “and of course, when he no longer requires your services, he will be instrumental in finding a new husband for you.”

She had a sudden impulse to rage at her father, which she barely restrained. She didn’t want a new husband – no man could ever come close to Edward. Mary inclined her head in seemingly grateful thanks to her father, keeping her eyes fixed on the table lest they should betray her inner tempest.

“He is sending a carriage to take you to his London residence in three days, your mother assures me that that should be sufficient time for you to prepare.”

“As you will, father.”

“Good, you are all excused.” Sir John stood abruptly, tossed his napkin to the table and stalked out of the room to prepare his horses for the day’s hunt.