Taming The Tempestuous Tudor

‘And you had the audacity, my lord, to flirt with me at only our second meeting? Because you thought you were on safe ground? I find that behaviour disgraceful. Does my father know you went so far?’

‘What, that I might have stolen a kiss, had I tried?’

‘Enough!’ she yelped. ‘You are a knave and I neither desire you nor do I wish to marry you. I want nothing you can offer me. Nothing!’ She would have dodged round him to walk away, but the pathway was narrow between hedges of box and, with one sidestep, he barred her way. Goaded beyond endurance by his trickery and his unyielding bulk, she pummelled his chest with her fists as she had not done since childhood fights with her brothers. ‘Nothing!’ she yelled. ‘Nothing!’

Easily, he caught her wrists and held them together on his chest, obliging her to stand close to him. ‘Yes, you do,’ he said, softly. ‘Oh, yes, you do, mistress, though I know you’ll not admit it. If you’d truly not liked the look of me, even a mere mercer, you’d not have returned for a second look, would you? You came to see me, not the fabrics, little schemer. And I have quite a lot to offer you. Now calm down, or do you want me to kiss you here, where we’re being watched from the house?’

‘No, I do not. Neither here nor anywhere else.’

Smiling, he let her go, retaining one of her hands in his. ‘Good. Now walk with me up the path and show me the rest of the gardens, if you please.’

Like her royal half-sister, Etta had a pragmatic streak strong enough to influence those decisions and emotions that might have looked to the uninitiated like the perversity of an indulged and beautiful woman. Being aware of this, her step-parents intended to overrule their wayward daughter in the matter of marriage to Lord Somerville, once the peacock feather had signalled her interest. But for Etta, even through the humiliation of defeat, the bitter pill was made easier to swallow by knowing that this handsome creature was not to be compared to other young noblemen she had met, neither in manner, ability, intelligence or success in business. Nor would he easily be deterred from having his way, once he had decided on it. And in this particular, Etta was determined to test him to the limit, for he had deceived her, whatever excuse he gave, and he would not be allowed to forget. As for making love in the future, she was angry enough to hold out against him for as long as she could, for they had spoken neither of affection nor love and, as far as she was concerned, he had forfeited any right to expect it.

Her body, however, told her a different story, now she had tasted his kiss and felt the hard power of his arms. The man was despicable, unprincipled and arrogant, yet her conscience told her that, as his wife, she would have to call on all her reserves of will-power not to let him dent her armour. Or was it already too late for that?

* * *

With her parents and Aphra, Baron Somerville was totally at ease, showing no signs of the opposition that would have daunted men of lesser confidence. But as she sat in dignified silence, Etta was able to discover, through their interest in him, how much of the world he had seen. As a man of Flemish origin, a ship-owning merchant, he had travelled far and wide, even up to the ice-cold northern lands where waterfalls fell from the sky, animals swam beneath the sea, where lights danced in the night and jets of hot water spurted from the ground. In any other circumstances, she would have asked questions and shown an interest in the man she was to marry, but pride forbade this now and her eyes found other answers in their surreptitious examination of his thick, silky hair, his eloquent hands and the zest for life that shone from his eyes. As she watched, it became clear why he had packed so much into his thirty years, why he had won the admiration of his guild and why his business ventures had flourished on the back of his ambition. It came as no surprise to her to learn that an aimless life at court was to him a waste of time unless he could contact those men he needed. Perhaps, she thought, he saw her as a useful acquisition with her resemblance to the Queen, a way to attract attention to himself and to make contacts that might otherwise have taken longer. Everything about him added to her impression of drive and capability, even the way he had conducted this speedy claim to her hand, efficient even by her father’s standards. Asking herself if she might have preferred a longer, slower wooing, she had to concede that her interest in him had been immediate, but that she had made some serious errors by her pique and overreactions. What this predicted for the next phase in their relationship Etta hardly dared to think, in the light of his considerable energies.

* * *

Nicolaus was not a man to be easily daunted by opposition, however, though opposition from a woman was something unfamiliar to him. But then, he had known that this one was different—as a successful merchant, he had taught himself to look out for rarities and Mistress Henrietta Raemon was about as rare as one could get, with her looks and breeding.

The breeding, of course, was something of which she was intensely aware and proud, and which, he thought, must be why she wished to make contact with her half-sister Elizabeth. Presumably, then, she had set her heart on acquiring a courtier husband, and although not exactly disappointed by this stance, Nicolaus believed it was unrealistic and rather naïve of her to set such an unnecessary target, especially when her father had alerted him at the beginning to his daughter’s dream of finding a potential for love in her future husband. Taking this hope seriously, Nicolaus had suggested a way of finding out what was more important to her, girlish romance or a courtier husband. For him to conceal his new title and any mention of his wealth and status from her at a trial meeting had been his suggestion, meant to discover any sign of attraction upon which they could base a relationship that would suit them both. Had he not been reasonably sure of the success of this plan, he would not have suggested it.

His friendship with Lady Raemon’s brother-in-law, Sir George Betterton at the Royal Wardrobe, had been the link by which he could make himself known to her without any of the resistance her parents had warned him about. She was, they said, fascinated by fabrics and fashion, as most women with her connections were. What better, then, than an innocent invitation from Sir George to see the Queen’s coronation robes? From the first meeting, his experience with women had assured him of her interest, not only in the materials of his trade but in himself, as a man. Suspecting that she would return for a second look, he had arranged with Sir George for a little privacy and, because he was trusted, his precious moments with her had proved to him that she found him attractive. Her refusal to allow a kiss was no great matter and her aversion to a mercer as a suitable husband had not deterred him either, thinking that her attitude would surely be softened when she learned what else he had to commend him. Perhaps he had underestimated what a complicated character she was. Perhaps his little deceit had been a step too far? Or was it not only that she was a complicated lady, but also an insecure one, too?

Her stepfather had made him aware of Henrietta’s parentage, which would account for her resemblance to the new Queen, but since neither of her parents had been known to Nicolaus, this information had not concerned him. It was only when he had met Lady Raemon at a later date, when she had mentioned Etta’s wish to attend court, that he had been made aware of their concerns, wanting only to protect her from what they saw as the inevitable malicious gossip of those who had known that particular mistress of the late king. Having been exposed to such wounding jealousies themselves, they knew what could happen to Henrietta if she was ever, as a young and innocent woman, brought into contact with court life. The fact that he, Nicolaus, had assured them of his lack of interest in this direction had been an added bonus to his suitability as a husband, though with Henrietta, it had been exactly the opposite. He was not only a mercer, of all things, with a home above a shop, but a most unlikely source of access to the Queen’s presence, too.

Etta had not had the chance to explain to him exactly what lay behind this urge to make contact with her half-sister, but her reason of a mere relationship did not seem to him to justify a rejection of everything else he had to offer. If that was not a sign of insecurity, then he did not know what was. What did she want, apart from to see her sibling? What had that outburst been all about? More to do with a thwarting of her hopes, he thought, than with being the wife of a mercer.

Settling down into the warm feather bed that night, Nicolaus wondered if her lovely cousin Aphra would be of any help to him in explaining the deeper reasons for her unexpectedly violent aversion. He had felt Etta’s body soften under his kiss, the way it had in his dreams. He had desired her from his first glance and knew he would have to make her his wife. Now, he saw that he would have to tame her to come to his hand, for she was of a wilder and more passionate breed than any he’d had dealings with so far. So much for her royal parentage. His last disjointed thoughts were of the peacock feathers. Such a boyish thing to do. No wonder she had not thought it funny.

* * *

The gardens at Tyburn House were not only extensive but also beautifully designed and kept in pristine condition throughout all the seasons. Few of Lord and Lady Raemon’s guests were allowed to leave without first taking a look at the knot gardens and borders, the fountains, water courses, and Lady Raemon’s delight, the large topiary hedges cut into the most fantastic shapes, lining the pathway to the orchard. Hoping to escape Lord Somerville’s company before he returned home, Etta walked with her cousin along the path where a tall pudding-shaped tree would surely have hidden them from sight if they’d not first been seen by the tall figure of the mercer. For some reason which she could not name, Etta felt the thrill of excitement at his approach, for not even she could have faulted his appearance, the virile masculinity of his walk, the assurance of his bow as he swept off his hat, the proud reach of his arms as he replaced it. Etta knew she would not be allowed to get away with any more of her incivility, yesterday’s furious objections having been dealt with quite pitilessly. A night of broken sleep and long periods of contemplation had told her that, this time, she would be obliged to accept, though perhaps not with the good grace her mother had commanded.

At his approach, Aphra disappeared with a diplomacy Etta did not appreciate. Even so, she retained a grain of satisfaction from knowing that, since supper last evening, she now knew much more about him than he had so far discovered about her. And she would have kept it so, had he not insisted on trying to redress the balance. ‘Tell me about yourself, mistress,’ he said, walking beside her.

She looked away into the distance where high shaped hedges enclosed them. ‘I don’t talk about myself to order,’ she said, ‘as some do.’

‘Not even to the man you’ll wed?’

‘If the man I’m being obliged to wed could not bestir himself to find out more before he offered for me, then I’ll be damned if I’ll spell out my life story for his pleasure. Most men would have shown some interest before they made an offer.’

‘I showed an interest, mistress,’ he said, laughing. ‘Ask your parents.’

‘Then you know all you need to know, my lord. There is no more.’

‘I see. Then you are content for me to find out for myself?’

‘No, I am far from content. I thought you knew that, too.’

‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘Most intriguing. Your parents told me you were fluent in French, Italian and Spanish. Is that what you mean by no more?’

‘Don’t patronise me, if you please. I’m not a child to recite what I have learnt for the benefit of my elders. Women seldom receive any credit for their learning, at the best of times, and it was not at my father’s request that I joined my brothers in the schoolroom. It was my wish to find out if I could match the Princess Elizabeth’s abilities. But so far I have not. I don’t have her Latin and Greek yet, nor her Welsh. And I don’t suppose I play on the virginal as well as she does, or dance. I doubt if I shall ever know now, shall I, my lord?’

He refused to rise to the bait. ‘I find that quite remarkable,’ he said. ‘It’s a pity, in a way, that you never had the chance to meet Lady Jane Grey. She was a scholar, too. Unlike her two sisters. They’re feather-brained to a degree. Jane didn’t dance well, though, and I’m sure you do.’

‘Again, I’m hardly likely to dance before the court unless I can...’

‘Go there, yes, Henrietta, I think I have the message now, I thank you. I can see we may be plucking on that one string until it breaks.’

‘Yes,’ she said, stonily. ‘I intend to.’

‘So how many children shall we have, mistress? Have you thought about that yet?’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ she cried, turning her head to avoid seeing his grin. They walked on in silence until Etta slowed and stopped, realising that her coldness was not going to help matters, yet it was the only defence she had.

‘Etta?’ he said. ‘Look at me. Can we be friends now as we once were? Just as a start? It will make things easier for both of us if we can talk about this.’

Turning to face him, she tried hard to find the same sincerity he had shown before he’d revealed his conspiracy to influence her decision. Her long silence signified the mental conflict still raging in her mind until finally she sighed with a slight shake of her head. ‘As for being friends, my lord...that counts for little, doesn’t it, when my future has been decided for me? I thought at one time that we could be friends, but you have lost ground since then and I shall need some persuading that your integrity is what I thought it was. Don’t ask from me any more than I can give, if you please. I have little choice, it seems, about becoming your wife, but you can hardly lay the blame at my door if you find you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. I am my father’s daughter and I am being forced into this situation.’

‘It was never my intent to forfeit your trust, Henrietta. Perhaps my determination to have you for my own, before anyone else, blinded me to the way it might be seen as underhand. But nor do I believe for one moment that I’ve taken on more than I can handle.’

Etta slid a hand to her cheek to cool it, knowing that he referred to her incivility. ‘I have not been used to having a man other than my father telling me what I must do, sir. It will go hard with me. And you, too.’

‘I think I know that, mistress, without you telling me.’

‘But you’ve had women, I suppose? All of them compliant?’

‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve had women, but you are the first I’ve ever offered marriage to.’ His hand moved through the shadows to touch her brow, then to trace a line down her cheek, his thumb brushing against her lips, feeling her tremble.

They parted slightly as something told her to stand firm, not to relent against this tender invasion, but the coldness she tried to summon was slow in coming and now the messages she was sending were the wrong ones. Etta knew how well he would be able to decode them. Placing a warning hand on his shoulder, she tried to hold him away, but it was too late and, before any words would come to her aid, she was being held against him with her face slanted across his.

The warmth of his mouth blanked her mind to everything except the thrilling sensation, and no matter that he’d had women before her, she believed in that moment that she was indeed the only one he had ever wished to marry. For those unfettered moments of honesty between them, each revealed to the other that desire would rise above all other conflicts, with or without their permission, for his kiss was persuasive. Had she not retained that indignation and hurt about being manipulated, she might have given in to the moment, the thrill, the newness of surrender. But she pulled away, moving back into the shadow of the hedge to hide her confusion, one hand covering her mouth. ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘this is not...’

‘Listen to me, Etta,’ he said, easing her back to him. ‘This is what we want. It’s what we wanted from that first meeting. We both know it. But it doesn’t mean your surrender if you don’t want it to. You can fight me until you tire of fighting, but from time to time, sweetheart, we can indulge in a truce without shame to either of us. We shall be married within the week and think what a waste that would be if we were to spend our wedding night in useless animosities. That would be pointless. Is that what you intended?’

‘It’s my only weapon,’ she said, looking away into the dimness.

‘What? How can you say so, woman? You of the thousand pinpricks.’

‘That’s an admission, coming from you,’ she said.

‘Do your worst, Etta. I can handle you, but don’t stifle what could be an endless capacity for loving, just to try to hurt me. Our new Queen may do as she pleases about marrying, but you don’t have to emulate her in that, too. Be yourself.’

‘Is this meant to...?’

‘Oh, I know what you’re thinking, that I want a submissive wife in all things. But, no, that’s not what we’re talking about, is it? I’m talking about you denying yourself to get back at me. You were made for love, Etta. Not just that kind of love, but compassion, empathy, kindness, generosity. I cannot believe that this recent resentment will last for ever. That’s not the Tudor nature, is it?’

‘How do you know that, my lord?’

‘I’m learning every day. I think you could keep most men guessing as to which was the real Henrietta, just as the Queen does with her courtiers. But I’m getting to know you, sweetheart, and I’m better placed to discover every single facet.’

‘Bad, as well as not so bad?’

‘Yes, you need a strong hand. I can protect you. I can share all I have with you. Will you not do the same for me?’

Materially, she had little to offer him except what her father had decided she was worth in wealth and estate, but if he meant to know about all her vices as well as the virtues, she would show him exactly what he was taking on before she succumbed completely to his charms. ‘What I have, my lord, is what you see and what you will eventually find out about. I am prepared to share with you my deep humiliation and anger, that’s all. You think you can change me. Taming is what you call it. But I do not intend to change at any time in the near future, not until I have achieved something of what I have set out to do. Uncompromising that may sound, but it was you who wanted the connection, not me. I suppose my father will have warned you about what you’re taking on,’ she said, allowing him to hold her hand against his chest, ‘and I’d be a fool to add anything more to his list. In fact, I dare say he’s quite relieved for you to take responsibility for me. As for the rest, it’s no more than you deserve, is it?’

Even in the dim light of that winter morning, she could see the dark slits of his eyes twinkle with a mischievous laugh. ‘As you say, my beauty,’ he whispered, bending his head close to hers, ‘it will be no more than I deserve.’ He touched her lips with his own before she could move away, then released her hand. ‘Now, I must catch the next tide if I want to reach my home by midday. I want you and your parents to visit me at Cheapside, just to satisfy you that a mere mercer can reach your high standards. Bring your cousin Aphra with you, too. She might help to convince you of my suitability.’

‘Please, don’t say any more about that. My intention was not to insult you, or the mercers in general.’

‘What was it, then? Is it that I’m not a courtier? Is that it?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I am no nearer to the royal court than I was before and I find that hard to accept, my lord.’

‘Then let’s shelve the problem for the moment, shall we? You may find that, eventually, there will be other things to occupy your time and energy, mistress.’

She would have been a dullard indeed not to have known what he alluded to, but she did not think that, in the circumstances, the prospect was very enticing. Nor, if she could help it, was it even feasible.

Chapter Three

‘He kissed you, didn’t he?’ Aphra said.

‘You can tell?’

Aphra chuckled. ‘Well, there’s nothing to see, exactly, but...’

‘But what?’ Etta peered into the mirror, touching her lips with the tip of a finger, feeling not only the firm pressure of his mouth on hers but also the hardness of his thighs, even through her farthingale. His arm had pressed into her shoulders, bending her into him. Not a tender kiss by any means. She ought not to have allowed it, but Baron Somerville was not a man against whom she was likely to win any argument, as her time in the garden had proved. He would hear her side of things but, in the end, he would retain the upper hand.

‘You look as if you might be seeing eye to eye at last,’ Aphra said. ‘Are you?’

Etta scowled. ‘Indeed not,’ she said. ‘Not as long as I’m expected to live over a shop. He wants us to go and see it. As if that will make any difference.’

‘Just think of all those exotic fabrics and feathers, straight from the Orient and the Indies.’

‘Aphie! You’re not taking this seriously, are you? And anyway, where are the Indies?’

‘I don’t know, love. Sounds good, though.’

Etta was glad of her cousin’s company at a time like this when her deepest thoughts had begun to conflict with the impression she was trying to give of being resolute, strong-willed and still deeply frustrated by recent events. If the truth be told, her first experience of being held so forcibly, of being overruled, kissed without her permission and made to listen, had dealt a serious blow to her attempt at a frosty and implacable manner, and now she felt confused by a riot of new feelings brought on, she knew, by the man’s powerful and shocking closeness. Naturally, with his experience, he must have known how it would affect her, an innocent. He had been places, met people, done things, had women. That thought in particular made her frown. ‘He’s had women, Aphie,’ she said.

But Aphra was looking out of the window, her lovely face suddenly lit by an excitement she tried hard to control. ‘It’s Ben!’ she said, breathlessly. ‘I can see it is. He has someone with him. I must go down, Ettie. Come!’

Instantly switched to a different channel, Aphra dismissed Etta’s potentially interesting snippet of information to focus on their newest guest, their uncle, Dr Ben Spenney—Dr Ben, as he was known to the family—was the half-brother of Aphra’s mother and Etta’s stepmother, and was now an eminent apothecary whose home at Sandrock Priory had been left to him by his father, Sir Walter D’Arvall. Sir Walter and his long-suffering wife had been allowed to buy the priory after the closure of the monasteries over twenty years ago, spending a vast amount of money and effort on remodelling it for domestic use. Now, it was occupied by Dr Ben and his household, amongst whom were several young students of medicine from various parts of Europe come to study in England. He was a gentle and scholarly man, not unlike the monks with whom he’d been raised, and his family doubted he would ever find time to marry. In spite of the disparity in their ages, Ben and his niece Aphra had always held an extraordinarily deep affection for each other, though this had never been actively encouraged because of their close relationship. It was no secret to the family, but nor was it a subject ever singled out for comment, even by Aphra’s younger brother Edwin or the twin cousins with whom he worked. Now, as Etta saw the sparkle in her cousin’s eyes and the quick flush of colour to her cheeks, her heart ached for Aphra, whose special affection for Ben could never be allowed to flourish.

Downstairs, by the roaring log fire, the delight at seeing Dr Ben after an interval of several months was truly genuine, Sandrock Priory being miles away in the Wiltshire countryside within visiting distance of other second homes belonging to the D’Arvalls and Bettertons. Far enough away from London for the air to be sweet and pure. Dr Ben’s companion was quickly made welcome. ‘Master Leon of Padua,’ said Ben. ‘One of my very brightest students. I’m taking him with me to lecture at the Apothecaries’ Hall. For the experience,’ he added.