Ned realized he could not leave now, no matter what.
With an effort he controlled the shaking of his hands enough to pour wine into a goblet. ‘And the kitchen has kindly sent some cakes. You must be hungry after your journey.’
Elizabeth said: ‘Let go of my arm, Swithin.’ She tugged, but even though he was holding her with his mutilated hand, the one that had lost two and a half fingers, she could not free herself.
Swithin put his hand on the dagger at his belt. ‘Leave the room instantly, young Willard, or by God I’ll slit your throat.’
Ned knew he was capable of it. At New Castle, in his rages, he had injured servants in several incidents that had been smoothed over, later, with a combination of threats and compensation. And if Ned defended himself, he could be hanged for wounding an earl.
But he could not leave Elizabeth now.
The mention of a knife inspired him. ‘There’s been a fight in the stables,’ he said, extemporizing. ‘Two of your companions got into an argument. The grooms managed to pull them apart, but one seems badly injured – a knife wound.’
‘Bloody liar,’ said Swithin, but clearly he was not sure, and the indecision cooled his ardour.
Behind Ned, Nell and Tom at last came hesitantly into the room. Nell knelt down and started to pick up pieces of the broken fruit bowl. Tom cottoned on to Ned’s story and said: ‘Your man is bleeding quite badly, Earl Swithin.’
Common sense began to prevail. Swithin seemed to realize that he could not stab three of Elizabeth’s servants without getting into trouble. And his plan of seduction had collapsed. He looked furious, but let go of Elizabeth. She immediately moved away from him, rubbing her wrist.
With a grunt of frustration, Swithin strode from the room.
Ned almost collapsed with relief. Nell began to cry. Tom Parry took a gulp of sherry directly from the jug.
Ned said: ‘My lady, you should go to your private chamber with Nell and bar the door. Tom, you and I should vanish too.’
‘I agree,’ said Elizabeth, but she did not leave immediately. She moved closer to Ned and said quietly: ‘There was no fight in the stables, was there?’
‘No. It was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment.’
She smiled. ‘How old are you, Ned?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘You risked your life for me.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips briefly but tenderly. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
Then she left the room.
*
MOST PEOPLE BATHEDtwice a year, in spring and autumn, but princesses were fastidious, and Elizabeth bathed more often. It was a major operation, with maidservants carrying big two-handled laundry tubs of hot water from the kitchen fire to her bedchamber, hurrying up the stairs before the water cooled.
She took a bath the day after Swithin’s visit, as if to wash away her disgust. She had said no more about Swithin, after kissing Ned, but Ned thought he had won her trust.
Ned knew he had made an enemy of a powerful earl, but he hoped it would not last: Swithin was quick-tempered and vengeful but, Ned thought, he had a short attention span. With luck he would nurse his grudge against Ned only until a better one came along.
Sir William Cecil had arrived shortly after Swithin left, and next morning he got down to work with Ned. Cecil’s office was in the same wing as Elizabeth’s private suite. He sent Ned to Tom Parry’s office to fetch a ledger of expenditure for another house Elizabeth owned. Coming back with the heavy book in his hand, Ned walked along Elizabeth’s corridor, where the floorboards were puddled with water spilled by the maids. As he passed her suite, he saw that the door was open, and – stupidly – he glanced in.
Elizabeth had just got out of her bath. The tub itself was screened off, but she had stepped across the room to pick up a large white linen sheet with which to dry herself. There should have been a maid waiting beside the tub holding the towel, and of course the door should have been shut; but someone had been dilatory, and Elizabeth was impatient with dozy servants.
Ned had never seen a woman naked. He had no sisters, he had never gone that far with a girlfriend, and he had not visited a brothel.
He froze, staring. The hot bathwater, steaming faintly, ran from her dainty shoulders down her small breasts to her rounded hips and her strong thighs, muscular from riding. Her skin was creamy white and her pubic hair was a wonderful red-gold. Ned knew he should look away instantly, but he was enchanted, and could not move.
She caught his eye and was startled, but only for a moment. She reached out and grabbed the edge of the door.
Then she smiled.
A moment later she slammed the door.
