Mistress West sighed. ‘It does not matter now, Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn are both long dead, but by heaven it mattered then. In 1526 no one outside the court had even heard of Anne Boleyn. The King had had mistresses before, but Anne Boleyn insisted he divorce Catherine and marry her. You know the story. She promised him a son.’ Mistress West laughed bitterly. I thought, but she only gave him Elizabeth. I remembered the little girl looking keenly up at me as she questioned me about lawyers.
‘Well, in 1526 the King went on one of his hunting Progresses to the royal parks in Sussex. Queen Catherine was with him, as was Philip. Anne Boleyn was at her family home in Kent. But the King wrote to her regularly, and Philip was one of the trusted messengers he used. What those letters said, how far matters had gone by then, I do not know and nor did Philip. But Queen Catherine was worried—’
‘As early as that? I had not known—’
‘Oh, Queen Catherine always had her spies.’
Mistress West began walking restlessly around the room, her skirt swishing on the rush-strewn boards.
‘The court was at Petworth Castle in Sussex that August, over twenty miles from here. You should understand, Master Shardlake, my son’s position meant he spent much of his time in London; he could only visit Rolfswood occasionally. There were often gaps of many weeks between his visits to Ellen Fettiplace. I think now, if he had seen more of her, he would have realized how unsuitable she was for a bride.’
‘You did not like her.’
‘I did not,’ she answered vigorously. ‘Her father had allowed her too much independence, she would blow hot and cold with my son. But her impertinence just made him more lovelorn.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Just as the King was with that false, faithless Boleyn creature, and look how that ended.’ She continued sadly, ‘And there was something wild, unstable in Ellen’s nature already. She was not one to be crossed.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There are things I know.’
I frowned, remembering what Philip West had told me about setting fires.
‘Philip had written to tell us he planned to propose to Ellen Fettiplace, and had obtained leave from the Master of Hunt to visit us. Then, just before he left, the King himself called for him. He asked that after Philip came here he take a letter over to Hever. A letter with the King’s own seal.’
‘Did the King know of your son’s planned proposal?’
‘Yes. That was why he allowed Philip to come here first.’ Mistress West came over and looked at me. I wished she would sit. ‘But when Philip rode from Petworth to Hampshire, Master Shardlake, he was not alone.’ Her voice shook slightly. ‘He had a friend at the court, a young lawyer, who asked if he could come with my son for the ride and his company. He was going on to Hampshire.’
I felt a catch in my throat. So there had been two of them. They were so strong. I could not move! It was an effort to keep my voice even. ‘Who was the friend?’ I asked.
Mistress West looked at me, and now there was a sort of desperate appeal in her eyes. ‘That is the difficulty, sir. I do not know.’
‘But if Philip came to stay with you—’
‘Let me tell you how it happened. Philip’s letter came by fast messenger from Petworth, saying he would be with us the following day. Because he had to go on afterwards to deliver the King’s message – we did not know to whom, then – he could only stay here one night. He planned to ride straight to the Fettiplace house that afternoon and speak to William Fettiplace. If he agreed to the marriage, Philip would propose to Ellen that day.’ I thought, that is not quite what Philip said, he spoke of asking for Master Fettiplace’s approval and seeing Ellen later.
His mother continued, ‘If Ellen accepted he would bring her and Master Fettiplace to the Hall afterwards. He said a friend would be riding with him. So we made everything ready for his arrival. The ninth of August, a date I remember each year.’
‘The date of the fire.’
She gave me a long, considering look, then she went and sat heavily on a stool. She was starting to look very tired. She went on, ‘My late husband and I waited at home, the best wine brought out in anticipation of a celebration, though in truth we hoped Philip would arrive alone, that Ellen Fettiplace would have refused him. But the hours passed, it grew dark and still nobody came. We waited and waited. Then, towards midnight, Philip arrived. My poor boy, he had been so happy to be part of the King’s court, so full of life and energy. But it had all gone out of him, he looked crushed, bereft – ’ Mistress West paused – ‘afraid.’
So, I thought, she turned him down. ‘Had she rejected him?’ I asked.
Mistress West shook her head. ‘No. Philip had not seen Ellen: he knew nothing of the fire. Because something else had happened that had frozen his blood and froze ours when he told us. His friend, Master Shardlake, had betrayed him. During the journey, some miles from Rolfswood, they stopped for a drink at a country inn. There they had an argument. Philip can be fierce when he is provoked. It was nothing, some foolish quarrel about some horses, but the two of them ended on the ground, fighting.’