A Love Most Dangerous (3 page)

'Of course,' said Rich, 'I had not thought.'

He removed the ring and placed it on my index finger.

'I must protest,' I said, hurriedly pulling the ring
off again.

'But no,' he said. 'It is my gift to you.'

'It is his gift to you,' Philippa said in a tone which
took the warmth from the day. 'You must keep it, Alice dear. It is, no doubt, a
ring once worn by a dead Abbot and therefore full of potency.'

She turned and hurried off without another word.

Susan took the ring from me, forced it back into
Rich's hand and steered me away into the crowd.

I looked back towards Philippa.

'She is upset with me,' I said. 'I should go and speak
with her.'

'Don't be so foolish,' Susan said. 'I would not go
near Philippa Wicks for a long while now.'

'But she is my friend,' I said.

Susan and Mary exchanged glances. Their look said more
than words could tell. I bit my lip in sudden anxiety.

'You are so naive,' Mary said. 'That ring was intended
as a gift for Philippa and she knew it.'

'And the ruby is a symbol of love,' Susan said.
'Philippa Wicks will not lightly forget or forgive this.'

My eyes went to where Philippa and Dorothy were
disappearing into the crowd. I felt a chill swirl round my insides.

A loud fanfare sounded from the direction of the Palace.

We turned and saw the King and Queen, hand in hand,
making a slow progress towards the Maypole. We also saw Richard Rich pushing
his way through the crowd towards us.

'The festivities commence,' he said. He offered me his
arm. 'Alice.'

I gave a little curtsy. 'Thank you for the offer,' I
said. 'I am hale and hearty enough to make my own way to see the King.'

He gave a tight little smile in response before
turning and looking towards the approaching King. Susan pulled a face showing
her disquiet at what had happened.

'We'd best stay with him,' Mary whispered. 'He's a
powerful man and not the sort to anger.'

'But how dare he look at me like that?' I said. 'And
how dare he try to foist his tawdry gift upon me so?'

Mary shrugged. 'You are right to be annoyed, Alice. But he is a powerful man.'

'And a cunning one,' Susan said. 'He could easily say
that his offer of a gift was a generous and a natural one, considering it is
your birthday.'

'Nevertheless,' I said, 'I will not go anywhere near
him.'

A line had formed all the way from the palace to the
Maypole and, at my insistence we joined it a dozen yards from Sir Richard Rich,
closer to the Maypole. But we were no sooner settled than I found to my
consternation that Rich left where he had been standing and pushed his way next
to me. I did not acknowledge him but craned my neck to watch the approach of
the King.

A ripple of applause ran down the line and I joined it
with more enthusiasm than I felt. My mind was still raging about Sir Richard
Rich and the reaction it had caused in Philippa. I glanced at the line opposite
but she was no where to be seen. She must have been distraught indeed to absent
herself from the presence of the King.

At this point I felt a nudge in my ribs from Susan.
The King and Queen were only a few yards away. We joined the rest of the line
in bowing or curtsying. We straightened up as they passed but then they
stopped, right in front of us.

'Dear Mary,' I heard Jane Seymour say. 'I have been
talking with His Majesty about your wonderful skills at playing music. I would
have you play for us later today.'

'I am honoured, Majesty,' Mary said, blushing red and
doing another curtsy.

'I compose music,' the King said. 'Perhaps you have
played some of my works.'

'I have indeed, Your Majesty,' Mary said. 'And loved
them.'

I marvelled at how easily the lie came to her lips.
She had played them right enough but said she found them tedious and mannered.
I bit my the inside of my lips to prevent myself from smiling.

'Something amuses you?' the King said, glancing at me.

'No indeed, Your Majesty,' I answered, shocked that he
had noticed what I thought I had covered up.

'But you smiled.'

My heart missed a beat. 'I smiled at the memory of
Mary playing your compositions. She is a wonderful musician.'

'And my songs?' said the King. 'Are they not wonderful
as well?'

'They are indeed, Your Majesty. They are truly
wonderful.'

I saw a look of doubt cross his face but then he hid
it. At that moment, to my relief, Sir Richard Rich moved and the King's gaze
turned to him.

'Ah Rich,' he said. 'You embody your name today.' His
voice sounded cool and distant.

'Your Majesty?'

'You are rich in the company you keep. You are
surrounded by beautiful maidens.'

He spoke the words to Rich but as he did so I felt his
eyes stray back to me. He gazed upon me a moment longer then turned to Jane
Seymour and said, 'What a beautiful Mayday.'

She smiled and did not answer. Perhaps the King's
words were proving too difficult for her to comprehend.

The King and Queen resumed their walk towards the
Maypole. I turned to Mary to see how she fared after her discussion with the
King. She looked even more pale than normal.

And just beside her I saw Richard Rich staring at me,
a thoughtful, mocking smile upon his face.

CHAPTER THREE

Pursued

From that day onward Philippa Wicks turned against me.
I was distraught and did not know how to respond. I tried to talk to her as I
did of old but she merely turned her head and pretended I was not there.
Oftentimes she would get up and walk away. I felt so humiliated I could have
wept.

Her accomplice Dorothy Bray was equally cutting but I
did not mind that as much. I had never liked her much, merely tolerating her as
a friend of Philippa. Besides she was as ugly as a toad and who wants to have
acquaintance of a toad?

But the loss of my friendship with Philippa hit me
hard. I could not understand what I had done. In fact, in giving the proffered
ring back to Sir Richard Rich I deemed I had done all I could to prove my love
of Philippa. I might just as well have stuck it on my finger and flaunted it in
front of her face.

'I don't know why you react like this,' Susan said to
me one morning. She had witnessed Philippa Wicks ignore me and saw how upset I
was at her behaviour.

'Wouldn't you be?' I answered. 'Philippa was my friend
and now she treats me vilely.'

'She was never your friend,' Susan said. 'You were her
plaything, a little toy with which to entertain herself.'

'How dare you say that?'

'I dare say it because it's the truth.'

She took my hands in hers and stared into her eyes.
'Philippa Wicks is a capricious woman who delights to win the hearts of the
younger maids and add them to her entourage. But if any cross her or seem to
prefer others she turns on them savagely. You are not the first to suffer her
spleen, Alice. Nor will you be the last.'

I pulled my hands free of hers.

'I am not such a dupe,' I said coldly.

'Indeed you're not. But that doesn't mean that you
haven't be duped. Don't underestimate Philippa Wicks. And in the future,
whatever she does, don't trust her.'

I was stung by her words, got to my feet and walked
out of the room, marching along the corridor to seek fresh air. But as I did so
I realised that I was doing to Susan what Philippa had done to me. My steps
faltered. I turned and hurried back to the room. Susan was still sitting there,
gazing into space. I sat beside her and took her hand.

'Thank you,' I said. 'You are a good friend, Susan.'

I did not like Sir Richard Rich but I liked his lover
Philippa Wicks even less now that she had turned against me so violently. I
resolved to teach her a lesson.

Whenever Rich came near I pretended to be totally
disinterested in him. But when he turned away I would give a quick glance, a
glance which I intended he saw. Whenever he did he would become confused and
flustered. I enjoyed this. It left him uncertain and at a loss. It left me very
much in control. And it had the added effect of fuelling Philippa Wick's
jealousy.

Unfortunately, it had another effect and one which I
don't believe I fully realised. Richard Rich, despite having a wife at home and
Wicks as his mistress, was becoming infatuated with me.

Wherever I went I saw him. It was only gradually that
it dawned on me this was because he was following me. In the Great Hall, in the
corridors, in the gardens and even in the chapel. He haunted my steps.

I began to get unnerved by this and ceased my pretence
of interest in him, hoping this would make him lose interest in me. It made
things worse. It seemed to quite turn his head. He was more than interested in
me now, more than fascinated. He had become besotted, violently and
uncontrollably besotted. I began to fear the worst.

The next three months became a nightmare for me. Susan
and Mary were right. Philippa Wicks and Dorothy Bray had turned against me with
a venom I could not comprehend. They also changed their tactics. They no longer
slighted me; that would have been a blessing. On the contrary, they sought me
out. But only to make my life a misery.

They started a whispering campaign against me,
questioning my upbringing, wondering why I had no parents, debating my moral
behaviour. I was snubbed by many of the other maids although I noticed that
some were friendly enough to me when Wicks and Bray were not around. Few dared
to be friendly to me in their presence.

Except for Susan and Mary. If anything, they became
even more my friends. Mary was just as much a favourite of Queen Jane's as
Philippa was and did not worry about what others thought of her. Susan, it
seemed to me, was nobody's favourite and cared not a jot. Because of this she
became my closest friend.

But it was not Wick and Bray's campaign of
vilification which so distressed me. It was that Sir Richard Rich continued to
haunt my every step.

He was a married man with a house near the Temple in London. But he was chief assistant to Thomas Cromwell, the Lord Privy Seal, and because of
this he was often a visitor to the court.

I swear I got to sense his presence even as he
descended from a boat at the palace landing stage. He was like the blackest of
clouds squatting on the edge of summer skies. Wherever I turned I would bump
into him. He was always polite, always attentive. He made me shudder as much as
if a plague rat had scurried up my arm.

It was the last week of August that it happened.

The weather was hot and sultry and thick clouds were
building in the sky. It promised a thunder-storm and I hoped it would come for
this would clear the air. We had eaten lunch in the part of the Great Hall
reserved for the maids of honour. It was Friday so we had dined on fish, river
perch which tasted unusually dull and muddy. I could not finish my meal, partly
because it was unappetising, chiefly because I had no appetite. The air was hot
and close and it seemed enough of a struggle to breath let alone to eat.

'I think I'll go to my room' I said. 'I'm sure
there'll be a storm and I'll be able to watch it from my window.'

Most of the maids shared a room. I was fortunate in
that only one room was available when I first came to Hampton Court. It was very little bigger than a closet and had been shoe-horned into a space above a
turn in the stairs leading up from the Great Hall. Its little door was hidden
by a pillar and if you did not know it was there you would never have found it.

My chamber was less than half the size of most of the
maid's chambers. A tiny bed had been jammed between two walls, without an inch
to spare. The only other furniture were a wobbly table, a squat little chair
and a chest consisting of three small drawers which could not possibly take
even my few clothes. I had to hang my dresses upon hangers dangling from hooks
in the walls. If I brushed past them too quickly I would knock them to the
floor.

It was a tiny room and most people who came into it
were quick to leave, feeling too hemmed in, I suppose. But I loved that room
more than I can say.

I hurried from the table and made my way to my
chamber. A small window above my bed gave a wonderful view across the
country-side to the north of the palace. I had left the casement open and a
little breeze blew gently about the chamber. It was still hot, however, and I
closed the door and slipped out of my top-gown, hanging it from a hook. I
climbed onto the bed and rested my arms upon the window-sill. I had been right.
Huge storm-clouds were piling up in the sky and already I could see the
occasional flash of lightning. The air felt charged with excitement. I rested
my chin on my arms, gasped at a huge flash of lightning and turned my ear to
catch the boom of thunder.