Page 32 of Love, Remember Me

The Duke of Norfolk was furious. For all his faults, he was a fair man. When he had impregnated his cousin Bess, he had stood by her, although he could not marry her, being betrothed to another. His son had not shown the same strength of character. But then his grandson had agreed to take the blame to protect his younger uncle. No one considered that Varian de Winter had been home on his estates the summer the farmer's daughter had been seduced. Instead they remembered that the Earl of March's mother had been the duke's bastard daughter. They spoke of his saturnine handsomeness, and the ladies secretly imagined what it would be like to be his lover. Several found out, and not only relished the experience, but whispered about it among themselves. Marriageable maidens were kept away from him. He was believed to be an unsuitable and a dangerous man.

He had wanted a wife for some time now. Being the last of his line was a responsibility he did not enjoy bearing. He wanted sons and daughters, but the damned scandal would not die. No family of good lineage would discuss giving a daughter in marriage to a man who so callously had dismissed his obligations to a lover and their child.

It was only in retrospect that the Earl of March realized that he should not have taken the blame for what his fifteen-year-old uncle had done. Henry Howard's youth would have earned him forgiveness within their social strata, but Varian de Winter had been past twenty-one. It was believed a man of his years should have known better, particularly given his mother's history. Even his grandfather agreed now that they had made an error. But it was too late. Well, by the morrow he would have a wife, but he could not help feeling his method in obtaining that wife a shabby one.

Entering his bedchamber, he called to his body servant, who came from the dressing room where his clothing was kept. "When did we last change the sheets on this bed, Toby?" he demanded of the man.

"Entertaining tonight, are we, my lord?" Toby said with a chuckle. "Well, them sheets ain't been changed in two weeks or more. 'Tis past time, and if the lady is special, we should. I'll go to the duke's housekeeper and fetch some nice clean linens for ye."

"And I'll want a tub, Toby," the earl told his man.

"Aye, this one must be special." Toby chortled.

Toby, the earl thought, was fortunate to be a simple man. He had no idea how complicated life could be when one was not only a courtier, but the Duke of Norfolk's grandson.Special. Aye, Nyssa Wyndham was special. Even she, poor lass, could not even begin to imagine how special she was considered to be. God's blood! Varian grimaced. I hope Henry Tudor does not lop off both our poor heads.

No matter what his grandfather had said, the earl knew the king to be a volatile man. If Nyssa Wyndham was the woman the king really wanted for his next queen, there was going to be merry hell to pay. Even his pretty cousin Catherine would not be able to soothe the king's ire.

Why had he agreed to help Thomas Howard? Why had he not attempted to talk him out of this scheme? Had the debacle of his cousin Anne Boleyn not taught the duke anything? Nay, it had not. He had managed to keep his position as Lord Treasurer while the other men involved had lost everything, even their lives. The Duke of Norfolk loved power. It was both his weakness and his strength.

Varian de Winter knew why he had promised to help his grandfather. It was Nyssa Wyndham. The thought of her in another man's bed had shaken him greatly.Why? He didn't even know the wench, yet she had haunted his dreams since the first time he had seen her. He was in love with her. He shook his head in wonderment. How could he love a girl he barely knew? Yet he did, and somehow, some way, he was going to make her love him!

NYSSA,unaware of the consternation she was causing in the heart and mind of the Earl of March, dined with her aunt and uncle that day. Although she was due back at court by nightfall, she had spent her entire day with them. The lease on their Greenwich house would be up at the end of the month, and they discussed renewing it.

"I do not think you should," Nyssa said. "It is no secret any longer. Even the queen knows, though she pretends not to, that her marriage to the king will soon be a thing of the past. There will be an annulment, or divorce, whichever is decided. I will no longer be needed here at court. Go home, Aunt Bliss. I shall soon follow."

"Not if the king decides he wants you for his wife," Bliss said seriously. "His favor toward you is most marked. I believe that we should stay on so that you may have the counsel of your family."

"For once I am in agreement," Owen FitzHugh said.

"He favors Catherine Howard too," Nyssa said, "and her family is far, far more important than mine is. Besides, remember my mother's place in the king's life. He would never seek me out for such an exalted position because of the consanguinity involved, Aunt."

"Mary Boleyn was his mistress, and yet he married her sister," Bliss reminded her niece. "The Princess of Aragon was his brother's widow, and yet he had to have her for his wife. He is a man who seems to make the same mistake over and over again. Henry Tudor's relationship with your mother will not stop him if he desires you, Nyssa."

"Ohh, Aunt, I pray that you are wrong," Nyssa said. "I should rather die than be married to that old man! And how would my mother feel about such a thing? It would kill her, and my father too! Ah, did good Queen Anne not need me, I should ask her permission to go home this very day, but I cannot desert her, poor lady."

"I shall tell the landlord tomorrow that we wish to have the house through the end of June," Owen FitzHugh said. "You will not desert your mistress, Nyssa, and we will not desert you, my child."

Nyssa returned to court just as the sun was setting. There were no entertainments scheduled for that evening, and so she joined her friends in the Maidens' Chamber. The queen had retired early, the strain of her situation weighing upon her. The girls gossiped while playing cards.

"She is very sad that old Cromwell's fate should be so bleak because of her," Bessie FitzGerald said. "Her heart is very good."

"He would have fallen eventually," Kate Carey remarked with wisdom beyond her years. "Both he and Wolsey were of comparatively humble birth. Each climbed high, and gave their loyalty to no man save the king. Both incurred the jealous wrath of men like the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk. Such men, men without friends, have their fates sealed. Who is there to speak for them?"

"You would think the king would be loyal to those who are loyal to him," Nyssa said. "How can one expect loyalty when one does not give loyalty in return? Cromwell is a reptilian little man, but he has spent most of his life trying to make the king's life a happy one. This is his only failure. I feel sorry for him."

"It is too big an error in judgment for the king to forgive," Cat Howard said. "The king does not like those he trusts to make mistakes."

"I think I shall be glad to go home when this matter is finally settled," Nyssa said softly. "I miss my family, and my home. I want to see my parents. Like my mother, I am a country girl at heart."

"Perhaps you will not be allowed to go," Kate Carey said.

"Ohh, do not say it!" Nyssa cried, paling.

"Wouldn't you like to be a queen?" Cat Howard said slyly. "I know that I would! Imagine having everything you ever wanted, and the very least of your whims indulged at your demand, and the very people who have ignored you for months striving for your favor! The thought is very exciting. I should adore it!"

"Not I!" Nyssa said. "I would have a man to love me, and a home among the green hills of England, and a houseful of children! That is a dream far more to my taste than yours, Cat."

"But you haven't found a husband yet," Bessie FitzGerald said.

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