resolve an issue that had arisen at my estates.’
She nodded again, and he continued, ‘I was not in Buckinghamshire all those months, but in Flanders. Tom and his companions had already gathered a considerable body there – armed men, ready to do battle. I was to lead them across the Channel, as soon as I received word that the plot had succeeded. But, of course, that word never came.’
By now his breathing was rapid and his eyes blazing as he stared at Frances, searching for reassurance – forgiveness, even.
‘I know that I should not have encouraged their schemes,’ he went on, his voice steadier. ‘That it was madness to imagine they could destroy a king and his entire regime. I should have made them see reason – made Tom see reason – but I was too caught up in their fervour, in the blindness of my faith.’
He could no longer look at Frances, but her eyes never left him. As she watched him now, his gaze fixed upon the fire and his lips pressed tightly together, she pictured him as a rebellious traitor. She had remembered him as a mild-mannered, affable man, whose breeding and discretion made him an ideal courtier. How well he had concealed his true beliefs, his true nature.
It was not the first time she had been fooled by a man of the court. Tom’s revelations had been strikingly similar, yet they had shaken her to the core. There was a time when she had believed Tom’s dishonesty had been more than just concealment: it had been a betrayal of everything they had had together – their intimacy, their trust, their love. She knew later that he had kept the truth from her simply to protect her.
‘Why are you here?’
Sir Thomas looked up at her. Frances knew her abruptness surprised him but cared little for that. He sipped his wine, then set the glass on the table. ‘I know what you and Tom were to each other,’ he said quietly.
Frances held back the tears that threatened to betray her. His eyes softened as he looked at her. I do not want your pity, she thought.
‘I know, too, that a part of him has stayed with you.’ His voice was barely a whisper. ‘The queen sent for me upon my return to court, I thought, to warn me that her husband knew me for a traitor, though I had remained in Flanders until I could be sure my name was not among those he still seeks.’ Another pause. ‘But it was of you that Her Majesty wished to speak.’
Frances’s head jerked up.
‘She told me you are with child,’ Sir Thomas said bluntly.
Instinctively, Frances’s hands flew to her belly. How could Anne betray her secret so readily? Had she told others too?
‘You must not be angry, my lady,’ Sir Thomas said soothingly. ‘She wished only to help you.’
‘By betraying me to a man I hardly know?’ Frances retorted.
‘Her Majesty is aware that, even here, you are in danger. Though I am sure your servants can be trusted, it would take only an idle slip to ruin your reputation, and that of your family.’
‘Do you think I do not know that, Sir Thomas?’ Frances demanded, her face now pale with fury. ‘My parents have taken great care in this. None of us is as thoughtless as you suppose.’
‘Please – let me continue. Though nobody but the queen and I knows that the child is Tom’s, if your pregnancy were to be discovered beyond the confines of this estate, it would not take long for Cecil to hear of it. And he would use it as proof that you conspired with a notorious traitor to destroy the king and his entire parliament. You would be put to death – the child too.’
The truth of his words smote her. Though she had known the dangers of her situation, she had been so consumed by grief for Tom that they had lurked at the edge of her vision. In truth she would care little for what might happen to her, should her part in the plot be discovered. She had stood ready to deliver the Princess Elizabeth to the plotters once they had blown up the king and his Parliament, so that they might set her upon the throne and marry her to a Catholic prince. That was high treason. Yet, on some days, she felt she would welcome death as a release from her wretchedness at losing Tom. Her desire to protect the child always proved stronger, though. It was the only part of him that she had left.
‘Then what do you propose, Sir Thomas?’ she asked.
He leaned forward and took her hands in his. ‘To marry you,’ he said simply.
Frances recoiled. ‘You think I am a chattel to be bought? That I could transfer my affections to you now that the man I loved more than my own soul – the man you claim was a dear friend – lies cold in his grave?’
She made to snatch away her hands, but his grip was stronger.
‘You are in great danger, Lady Frances.’ His eyes bored into hers as he spoke. ‘I promised Tom that if he were to perish, I would do everything in my power to protect you. When the queen told me of your condition, I knew what I must do – as, I think, did she. If you accept, I will raise the child as my own and tell my household we married last year, shortly after I took my leave of absence. They will not think to question it – I have been a virtual stranger to them these past few months.’
Frances struggled to order her thoughts. Though her anger had abated at the mention of the vow Tom had obliged his friend to make, the idea of marrying a virtual stranger was abhorrent, even if it brought her his protection. She had surely lived long enough on her own wits to safeguard herself and her child.
Sir Thomas continued, ‘I expect nothing from you. I do not ask for your love,’ Frances flinched at the word, ‘or even your esteem. It would be a marriage in name only. But I make this offer on one condition: you must vow never to make contact with any of Tom’s family or associates, or with any of those who seek to finish what he and Catesby started. You must utterly relinquish any allegiance to the Catholic cause.’
Frances shot him a scornful look. ‘You would so easily abandon the cause for which you have fought all these years? For which Tom and his friends died?’ She stopped abruptly, trying to control her rising fury. ‘Well, if your principles are so malleable, then mine are not. I will abide by the true faith and support those who seek to destroy this heretic king.’
Sir Thomas stared back at her, his chest rising and falling. ‘We would live as the king’s faithful subjects,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Though we may believe differently in our hearts, the days of plotting are over. There are many others of our faith who have chosen to conceal their true beliefs and conform to the king’s so that they may live in peace. Only those too blind to see still cling to the hope that the Catholics will prevail. You must open your eyes, Frances, as I have done. If you do otherwise, you will destroy yourself and your child.’
He stood, and the sound of the heavy oak chair scraping on the flagstones echoed around the hall. ‘I do not expect an answer now,’ he said. ‘I have lodgings in Salisbury and will return the day after tomorrow. If you accept my offer, we will leave for Buckinghamshire the same day.’
Frances sat quite still, long after the echo of the front door slamming had faded into silence.
‘Sister, calm yourself,’ Edward said irritably.
Frances turned from the window. ‘I wish you would let me go and look for her. It is almost dark now, so nobody would see me. I know those woods better than anyone. She might have fallen and be lying hurt. She did not even have a cloak with her. She will surely freeze.’
‘She will have stayed gossiping with one of the women in the village and lost track of time. I wonder you should trouble yourself so much about her.’
‘Ellen raised us!’