‘So fine,’ she says approvingly, smoothing the white-on-white embroidery on my shifts.

I slip on the shift and sit before the mirror so that Katherine can brush my hair. Her touch is gentle as she twists my hair up into a gold-encrusted net, and we only disagree when she puts my hood far back on my head. I put it right and she laughs at me. I see our faces side by side in the mirror, and her eyes meet mine, as innocent as a child, without any shadow of deceit. I turn and speak to the other girls. ‘Leave us,’ I say.

From the glances they exchange as they go, I see that her new riches are common knowledge and everyone knows where those pearls come from, and they are expecting a jealous storm to break on Kitty Howard’s little head.

‘The king likes you,’ I say to her bluntly.

The smile has faded from her eyes. She shifts from one little pink-slippered foot to another. ‘Your Grace . . .’ she whispers.

‘He does not like me,’ I say. I know I am too blunt but I have not the words to dress this up like a lying Englishwoman.

Her colour rises up from her low-cut neckline to burn in her cheeks. ‘Your Grace . . .’

‘Do you desire him?’ I ask. I don’t have the words to disguise the question in a lengthy conversation.

‘No!’ she says instantly, but then she bows her head. ‘He is the king . . . and my uncle says, indeed, my uncle orders me . . .’

‘You are not free?’ I suggest.

Her grey eyes meet mine. ‘I am a girl,’ she says. ‘I am only a young girl, I am not free.’

‘Can you refuse to do what they want?’

‘No.’

There is a silence between us, as we both come to realise the simple truth that is being spoken. We are two women who have recognised that we cannot control the world. We are players in this game but we do not choose our own moves. The men will play us for their own desires. All we can do is try to survive whatever happens next.

‘What will happen to me, if the king wants you for his wife?’ I know, as the words come awkwardly into my mouth, that this is the central, unsayable question.

She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think anyone knows that.’

‘Would he have me killed?’ I whisper.

To my horror she does not start back in terror and exclaim a denial. She looks at me very steadily. ‘I don’t know what he will do,’ she says again. ‘Your Grace, I don’t know what he wants nor what he can do. I don’t know the law. I don’t know what he is able to do.’

‘He will command you to his side,’ I say through cold lips. ‘I see that. Wife or whore. But will he send me to the Tower? Will he have me killed?’