Page 42 of The King's Man
‘I am sure Mistress Granville will do her very best for you, my dear. We are agreed, Mistress Granville, that you will come on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday at ten in the morning and spend two hours in the instruction of Mistress Skippon.’
He named, as Thurloe had said he would, a comfortable fee.
‘If Mistress Skippon wishes, we could start instruction immediately,’ Thamsine said.
‘Excellente!’ Bordeaux smiled. He had a charming smile beneath the moustache. He picked up Mary Skippon’s hand and kissed it. ‘Until this evening,cherie.’
She giggled and watched as the door closed behind him. ‘You are not shocked, Mistress Granville?’
‘Why should I be shocked? You are fortunate to have so attentive a man.’
‘His wife does not agree,’ Mary said with a smile. ‘She will be even less than enamoured when she discovers that I am with child.’
As she spoke she placed a hand protectively on her still-flat stomach, her lips curling in a small, tight smile of triumph. An ugly look on the plain face, Thamsine thought.
Thamsine retrieved a piece of music from her folio. ‘Now, Mistress Skippon, shall we commence with the lute?’
Mary Skippon had no ear for music. After half an hour, Thamsine tried not to grimace as the girl hit yet another wrong note in the simple air that she was attempting. She wondered, as she gazed out of the window at the wintry sunshine, whether she should have accepted Thurloe’s offer with quite such alacrity.
Both women looked up as the door opened to admit a man dressed in what Thamsine could only hazard was the most outrageous of Paris fashion, a red velvet suit covered in silver lace and bows. He gave them both a deep, florid, all-encompassing bow.
‘Pardonez-moi,’ he said, as he straightened. ‘I heard the voice of an angel and just had to see for myself. Mademoiselle Skippon … ’
He crossed to the virginals, where Mary had risen to her feet, her plain face colouring as he took her hand and kissed it.
‘Oh, Baron,’ she giggled.
‘And who is this exquisite creature?’ The Baron spoke in English as he turned to Thamsine.
No one had ever described Thamsine as an “exquisite creature” before. She bit her lip and lowered her head as she curtsied to hide the smile.
‘Mistress Granville is my new music teacher, Baron,’ Mary Skippon said.
The Baron minced towards Thamsine and took her hand, pressing it to his lips.
‘Baron de Baas, my dear lady. Why have I not seen you before?’ This time he spoke in French.
Thamsine looked blankly at him.
‘Mistress Granville does not speak French, Baron,’ Mary Skippon explained, speaking French with an appalling accent. She addressed Thamsine in English. ‘He asked why he has not seen you before.’
‘I am sorry Baron, but I have been in London but a short time,’ Thamsine responded in English.
‘Ah, an English country rose … perhaps you will allow me to sing a little duet with dear Mistress Skippon here.’ De Baas returned to his heavily accented English.
‘Please.’ Thamsine held herself in rigid control, resisting the urge to laugh at this absurd creature. What was it about him that so intrigued John Thurloe?
‘When did you arrive back in London, Baron?’ Mary asked in French.
‘Yesterday evening,’ he replied, also in French.
Thamsine had to school her face not to display any interest in the conversation. This, she supposed, was the sort of intelligence that Thurloe wanted.
‘How was Paris?’ Mary continued, ignoring Thamsine.
The Baron rolled his eyes. ‘An oasis of civilization compared to this dank country. How I suffer!’ He pressed a kerchief to his lips as he raised his eyes heavenwards.
Mary Skippon’s lips tightened. ‘England is not that bad, surely?’ she continued in her atrocious French.
