“He was so young when he was sent away, Nance, but I shall tell him your kind words anyway. And, as for the kissing, when last I tried it two years ago, he wiped the kisses off his mouth.”
“’Tis like a young lad I know, lady.”
“Not Stephen, I hope, Nance,” Mary teased and Nancy’s face broke into a huge grin. Mary hugged her maid from sheer excitement as they left the room and headed for the stable block. Thank heavens, Anne had not thought to inquire which grooms or guards she took, for Staff had handpicked them all and his own man Stephen was in charge of the small party.
Eden stood waiting and snorting at the excitement of a run in the chill air as Stephen helped Mary up on the mare’s back and wrapped her heavy cloak and skirts about her legs. The two other men mounted and Stephen stood awkwardly near Nancy, fingering his linen cap for a moment.
“Kiss the maid goodbye, then, Stephen. We are off for the city,” Mary urged, smiling down at the pair.
“Yes, milady,” Stephen said seriously. He mounted, Nancy waved, and they left the warm confines of red-bricked Greenwich for the snowy river road to London.
The narrow thatch-roofed inn Staff had chosen for their rendezvous was called “The Queen’s Head” and it sported a dirty sign which was evidently meant to bear a likeness of Queen Catherine’s face, which stared down into the crooked street. The Queen’s Head stood with its eaves crowded in by other two-and three-storey buildings nearly in the shadow of The Tower on Cooper’s Row. The only part of the sign that could resemble Anne if they ever had to change the face, mused Mary as she dismounted, was the staring eyes.
Her nose was so cold she covered it with her gloved hands and blew warm air into them as she had on the ride. Her cheeks burned and her toes in her boots felt numb, but nothing mattered except that tomorrow would be her wedding day—a wedding day she had chosen and so desperately desired.
“Here, milady,” Stephen said and guided her in the door under the sign. It was dark within and her eyes swept the dimness for his tall form. The room looked deserted. Stephen swung the door shut behind them and the draft of cold air ceased.
Staff jumped up from his reclining position on a bench near the glowing hearth. “Mary. Sweetheart. Thank God!” He enveloped her in the warmth of his huge arms and led her to the fire. She drank warmed ale from his cup and stripped off her gloves to stretch her fingers to the low crackling blaze. He watched her wide-eyed, his hand resting gently on the back of her waist.
“She let me go with no trouble, really, love,” she heard herself tell him in a rush. “Foolish Rochford tried to intervene, but Anne would have none of that. Once she makes a decision these days, there is a great tempest if anyone tries to cross her. You are so quiet, my lord. How did you find Wivenhoe?”
“Snug and fit and awaiting its mistress Mary Bullen should we ever get to live there. I was thinking of that on the road into town yesterday—scrapping this plan and being wed in Colchester and sending them word when we were well settled at Wivenhoe. Maybe we could tell them it is haunted and keep them all away.” He pulled her still-cold hands into his and warmed them by gently rubbing them with his fingers. “I wanted to do that so much, my sweet, but I knew I could not or all hell would come crashing in around us.” He looked down at his booted feet. “It is the first thing that has made me want to turn rebel in a long time.”
“Please, Staff, do not talk like that.”
“It is all right, lass. I do not mean it, only the desire to have you away from their prying eyes and greedy hands is enough to make me very careless sometimes. If it is not that damned Cromwell ogling you, it is your father’s veiled hints to me that he has marriage plans for you, just to keep me under his thumb.”
She turned to face him and lifted her hands to his lean, handsome face. “Staff—look at me.”
He raised his dark eyes and smiled. “That is an order I will gladly follow anytime, sweet.”
“I am serious. Listen. There is nothing we will have to fear from them anymore. They cannot separate us after tomorrow. We will be wed and no other husband would dare accept me then. If we have to face their anger, we shall do so together. And if they send us away in disgrace, so much the better, for I would love to live at Wivenhoe.”