The King's Mistress (3 page)

With a tug at his clothes and a twist of his neck, as if to ease it, Father affected calm as he joined us.

“Your mother took offense at Master Janyn Perrers’s behavior. She did not realize he had saved you from a nasty tumble, Alice, and chided him for being so rude as to touch you, a young girl. It is most unfortunate, for he is to dine with us today and your mother is now too shamed by her discourtesy to join us. She believes we will all be more at ease with you presiding over the table as mistress of the house.”

Though I felt uneasy about his lie I could think of nothing to say but, “Yes, Father.”

It was a strange and most uncomfortable afternoon. In celebration of the lovely weather, Cook and Nan had set up a trestle table by the door to our small courtyard. The flowers were all spent, but as the sun warmed the plants their fragrances mingled with the delicious smells on the table. It would have been delightful—but Mother loomed large in her absence. I did not feel prepared to play hostess in her place. I was not the only one discomfited. Father was too loud and jovial. Janyn’s parents, Master Martin and Dame Tommasa Perrers, were plainly ill at ease.

But not Master Janyn. He was as charming as he had always been in our home.

Will and Mary had been bustled off to the kitchen with Nan, and a part of me yearned to be in there with them, at ease and at peace. I felt as if all that was familiar and reassuring had been packed in a cart that was pulling away too fast, much too fast, and I wanted to protest that I must have it all back at once, all in place, all as usual.

But Master Janyn made certain that I did not feel that way for
long. While the other adults talked in stilted courtesy to one another, he entertained John and me with stories of his travels to Lombardy, Naples, Calais, Bruges. I found myself doubting Mother’s suspicion that he meant to wed me, for he knew so much of the world, he was about twenty years my senior and so grand he could not possibly want a child like me to be hostess in his home.

And yet … from time to time he would look at me with a curious expression, as if wondering about me, perhaps trying me out in different settings or different clothes. He inquired as to my preferences—colors, foods, even feast days—and listened with such concentration that he several times echoed my exact words to himself, as if determined to remember them. After an account of a journey or some other event he would glance at me as if gauging whether or not it had been to my liking. He did not treat John in such wise. I believed it to be the behavior of a man paying court.

At some point the dinner was over, and I was at last at the door of the hall bidding our guests farewell. Dame Tommasa touched my cheek and said that she hoped to see me again very soon. Master Martin was deep in discussion with Father about reports of a mutual friend’s ship lost in the Channel. Master Janyn took both my hands in his and looked deep into my eyes. He was much taller than I was, but in that moment I felt as if our eyes were so close I might feel his lashes if he blinked. His skin was warm to the touch, and he smelled very pleasant. But he seemed too much a man, too knowing and strong, too able to bend me to his will. If we were to wed my life would be swallowed up by his. Alice would be no more. I wanted to tell him to go away and not return, and at the same time wanted him to lean closer and kiss me on the lips. As the thought occurred I felt myself blush.

Janyn smiled, and for a moment looked quite mischievous, which suited his face. “I believe you have stolen my heart, Mistress Alice. I pray you be gentle with it.” He kissed my hands, each in turn, and then bowed and let go of me.

I was terrified and thrilled. After our guests had departed, Father asked me how I liked Master Janyn.

I hesitated. “He is so much grander than I am. Such a man of the world,” I began.

“Ah, so he did not please you.” He shook his head at the sound of Mother moving about up in the solar. “Has she poisoned you against him? Did she say aught to you before he arrived?”

“I
do
like him,” I protested.

But he did not seem to be listening. In spirit he was already continuing his argument with Mother. I had been depleted by the effort of playing hostess without preparation, and felt like a pawn in a chess game, unimportant, simple to move, easy to lose.

“She said nothing to me after church,” I added, and, muttering some excuse, fled to the kitchen, seeking Nan.

I lay in bed that night comparing my previous night’s fantasy about my morning at Mass with the actual experience, and thought with a sinking heart that I had just tasted the true flavor of adulthood and found it sour where I had expected it to be sweet.

T
HE HOUSEHOLD
was subdued for days, Mother in her room, Father and my brother John avoiding any mention of Sunday’s events, and on the next Sunday Master Janyn was not at St. Antonin’s. Again after Mass families with unmarried sons and a few widowers approached us for introductions. Father was friendly, Mother brusque, and they invited no guests to dinner that day.

Over the next few weeks Mother behaved for the most part as if I’d ceased to exist, casting a powerful spell over me. What was worse, I had been withdrawn from school just as she’d said, which deprived me of absorbing occupation. I lost all appetite and kept to myself more and more. I had no place, being neither a child nor a bride-to-be, caught in the void in between.

Then at last one spring day Father asked me to join him in the undercroft after dinner. He said he would be entertaining some important customers and would like me to look my best. I felt as if someone had lit a candle inside me, the warmth and light filling me and inviting me back to life. I had been weeding the kitchen garden and was suddenly acutely aware of how soiled were my hands and even my face. I asked my little brother, Will, to look after Mary for a while so that Nan might help me clean myself and put on my azure gown and green surcoat.

My old nurse shook her head over how loosely the gown now fit, and how pale I looked despite the sunny weather we had been enjoying.

“You are too much in church, child.”

“Or I have finally spent enough time there, Nan, for my prayers have been answered. Father has forgiven me.”

“For what?”

I shrugged. “It no longer matters.”

By her muttering and jerky movements I understood that it still mattered to her, a great deal. She had been quietly fuming about my parents’ treatment of me for a long while.

I
T WAS
cool in the undercroft, and I held my cupped hands close to an oil lamp as I waited for Father to finish instructing his clerk about how to display the cloth and ornaments he wished to show the customers. I had offered to arrange for wine and a little food for the guests, but the clerk had told me that he would see to that, as he always did.

“You will be surprised, I think,” Father said to me as the clerk greeted the customers, “and I very much hope delighted to see who is here.” His face was bright with anticipation.

There were stacks of barrels between the doorway and the area in which Father showed his merchandise, so I recognized his voice before I saw him. My heartbeat quickened, and I had an urge to flee, though not to avoid him, but rather because I felt as if I were being swept up into a great wave that would carry me far from the familiar earth, an inexorable wave over which I had no control.

“Father, is it Master Janyn Perrers?”

“So you remember his voice. That is a good sign, I think. You did say you liked him.”

He
had
heard me that day.

“Are
you pleased?”

“I do not know what to think,” I admitted. This was no way to win Mother’s affection, I thought.

But it was too late to say more. The small space was suddenly filled by Master Janyn and his father. I was glad of the shadows the men cast in the lamp-lit chamber, because I could take advantage of my familiarity with the room and feel less exposed, less readable. I did not want Master Janyn to see how I blushed beneath his direct gaze, nor how difficult I found it to look away from him.

In truth, I was his even before he asked for my hand.

Janyn’s father, Master Martin, bowed to Father and me and asked after my health.

Again I felt myself blush as I replied that I was very well. His question embarrassed me. I assumed he had noticed how my clothes hung on my diminished frame. I wished I did not look so gaunt that it was
the first thing on which he commented. It would not recommend me as a future wife to his son.

“I thank God that you have fully recovered,” he said. “Dame Tommasa will also be gladdened by this news.”

I must have looked as confused as I felt, for Father coughed and shook his head at me, a sign for me to let it pass. He then drew both men over to the display of cloth.

I did not join them right away, trying to think why Master Martin thought that I had been ill if it were not for my present appearance—for he implied that his wife had also been worried for my health. I could find nothing that made more sense than that Father had lied to them about my health, easily done since they were not in our parish and, in truth, I did look as if I’d been ill. The only reason I could think he would do that was as an excuse for having avoided them and in such wise appeasing Mother, who so disliked Master Janyn.

Yet here they were today, in our undercroft, invited by Father. I prayed this meant that Mother had agreed to look on Master Janyn with charity. It was hardly something she would confide to me. My spirits lifted once more as I considered the possibility of being betrothed to Janyn Perrers. I would want for nothing and have the most handsome, elegant husband. Noticing Father glancing my way I joined him and his guests. They were discussing the cloth Father had displayed, and some others that the clerk had fetched. One fabric looked as if it had been painted, gold stars and silver crescent moons against a dark color, almost black.

I ran my hand over it to feel whether the gold-and-silver pattern stood out, but it seemed part of the fabric.

“Is this not a fantastical cloth?” Father said to me.

I nodded. No more fantastical than the thought of my being Janyn Perrers’s wife, I thought.

“I do not know why I purchased this,” Father said, “for it is so strange. But I found it beautiful, and willfully ignored my misgivings.”

Master Martin brushed beringed fingers across the fabric, then lifted it, feeling its weight. As he set it back down he said, “It is very fine, John. My wife would tell me to buy it.”

Janyn chuckled. “Yes, she would.”

Father shook his head. “Where might she wear such cloth without censure from all in the parish?”

“Here in London she would wear it only in our home,” said Master
Martin with a little shrug, tapping the cloth lightly with one finger. “But in Lombardy she might wear a gown of such stuff at market, at feasts. Or line a cloak with it.”

I lifted a corner of the cloth and gently rubbed it between my fingers. It was silky and had a rich heft. I could imagine it as a surcoat over a dark, or perhaps a gold, gown. “Dame Tommasa must miss her homeland very much then,” I said. “I should like to see a city where one could wear such a beautiful robe to market.”

Master Martin grinned broadly. “Perhaps you
shall
see such a city, Mistress Alice. What do you think—shall I buy enough for the lining of a cloak? Or a gown?”

“Or a surcoat,” I said, feeling quite bold in revealing that I had considered what use I would make of it.

“Ah.” He nodded. “With what color gown beneath?”

I hesitated, looking to Father for permission to continue. He nodded his encouragement. Indeed, he appeared pleased with me.

“A dark gold?” I suggested. “Or something even darker.”

“You have a talent for this,” said Master Martin. “That is good. Very good.” I was grateful for the thorough education Father had provided me in the cloth trade.

Master Martin glanced at his son, who was watching me with his usual intensity.

“Which of these would you choose for my mother?” he asked me. He held up two gold cloths, one a much deeper shade than the other, almost a brown yet with the whisper of gold, the promise of light.

I pointed to that one. He turned to Father. “Mistress Alice has inspired me to make a gift of her choices to Mother. Let us discuss the measures later.”

“Perhaps it is time that we sat and discussed the true purpose of your visit,” said Father. “Alice,” he took my arm, “come sit beside me.” He gave me a little tug and at last I looked away from Master Janyn.

My heart raced as we took our seats, and I felt a new sensation along my skin as if my body were awakening from a deep slumber. If this was love, I had never loved Geoffrey.

“Alice, Master Janyn Perrers has approached me about taking you to be his wife,” Father began, though it felt as if it were the end of his speech.

So here it was, the moment I’d dreamed of. Yet now that it was
here I was frightened. I was not ready. Why was Mother not here? I did not dare ask, though the question burned in my throat.

“He is a good man with everything to recommend him, but a betrothal is not blessed by the Church unless both the man and woman agree to it. What say you, Alice? Would you be the wife of this man?”

I felt ill prepared. Though they had made much of finding me a good husband they had said little of what marriage entailed, and my still-unanswered questions as well as freshly inspired ones crowded my mind.
Might I have time to think about this, Father? Will loving someone in the way I believe I love him rob me of my soul? Has he said that he loves me? What happens between a man and a woman?

“Daughter, I am owed an answer.” Father’s voice held a note of irritation, though he forced a smile, patting my hand. “Were you not aware that Master Janyn was honoring you with his interest?”

I looked at each man in turn. Janyn’s eyes were quiet now, not drawing me in, but observing. He did not seem overly concerned about the outcome. Master Martin looked puzzled. Father looked worried and annoyed. I had no counsel, no confidant in the chamber. And it was clear that I was expected to choose now. I fell back on my obedience as a daughter.