Page 63 of The King's Man
‘A note to Thurloe. Sign yourself John Grey.’ He looked at her. ‘Thamsine, will you be all right?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘By yourself?’
‘I have been by myself before. I can manage perfectly well without your help.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Yes, I remember!’ he commented with an ironic tone. He laid a hand on her arm. ‘If there is any trouble, Jem – ’
‘I’m so sorry … ’ Lucy’s breathless voice came from the doorway.
Kit abruptly removed his hand as Lucy set her armful of parcels down on the table and selected one, which she held out to Kit.
‘For you,’
Kit flushed. ‘Lucy, I – ’
‘It’s nothing exciting, just a new shirt. I am sure your aunt would not wish to see you in such a disreputable state.’
Kit looked at the frayed cuffs of his shirt and took the parcel.
‘You’re too kind, Lucy.’ He bowed. ‘Now if you will excuse me, ladies, I have some matters to attend to.’ He planted a kiss on Lucy’s forehead. ‘Now, Mouse, I shall see you this evening before I leave.’
Both women watched as the door closed behind him. Shortly afterwards, they heard Kit’s boots on the stairs and the front door slam. Lucy crossed to the window. Her blue satin dress shimmered in the light, setting off the fair ringlets and neat figure to perfection. Thamsine, in her gown of dark green wool, felt like a dour crow beside a brightly plumaged bird. Little wonder Kit had taken her for a mistress. She would have proved quite irresistible.
‘Well, there he goes! Forsaking me for some tedious old aunt in Norfolk.’ Lucy sighed melodramatically and turned to face Thamsine, a bright smile on her face. ‘Mistress Granville, I am so delighted you could come. This is something I have been meaning to do for so long.’
Thamsine curtsied. ‘I have no other appointments at this time. This is a lovely room,’ she blurted out.
Lucy looked pleased. ‘Oh, do you like it? I couldn’t abide all that dark wood, so after Martin died I had these hangings made in Antwerp. It’s the biblical story of Rachel. Martin traded extensively in his line of business, so the carpets I’ve had some time. You’ve found the lute, I see.’
Thamsine picked up the fine, inlaid instrument from where Kit had set it down and handed it to Lucy, who held it awkwardly, like a man with a baby. ‘Martin gave me this but I’ve never really mastered it. What is your charge?’ Lucy said.
Thamsine named the sum Bordeaux paid and saw Lucy’s eyebrow lift slightly, but she shrugged.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Can we start with the lute?’
‘Captain Lovell saw to the tuning,’ Thamsine said.
‘Oh yes, he was playing it the other night. A man of many hidden talents is my Kit.’
Thamsine heard the possessive “my” and wondered if Kit understood this woman at all.
‘Shall we begin?’ Thamsine suggested, changing the subject.
But Lucy seemed in no hurry to commence instruction. She summoned Mag for refreshment. The disagreeable servant Thamsine had met at the front door appeared with small ale and sweetmeats.
Lucy nibbled daintily with fine, even, white teeth. Thamsine declined when Lucy offered her the tray.
‘Will you miss him while he’s gone?’ Thamsine enquired.
‘Kit?’ Lucy shrugged and reached for another sweetmeat. ‘I have other visitors. They will see I’m not left bereft for long.’ She laughed. ‘I’ve shocked you, Mistress Granville?’
‘I am not easily shocked,’ Thamsine said. ‘I’m here to teach you music, not pass judgment on you. Although I’m curious how you manage such arrangements in the current political climate.’
Lucy shrugged. ‘I pay no heed to politics. Let people judge me as they will. I try to be discreet.’
There was nothing discreet about Lucy. From the top of her carefully curled blonde head to the tip of her embroidered slipper, she would turn the head of the most ardent Puritan. In the short time Thamsine had spent with her, she had come to the rapid conclusion that Lucy was one of those fortunate womenwho lived for the moment, with sufficient income to ensure that she hadn’t a care in the world. If Lucy was prepared to pay Thamsine to listen to her prattle, then Thamsine would oblige.
