If they talk to Margaret Morton she will tell them that I had words with her when she tried the door of my bedroom and found it locked. I had Thomas, darling Thomas, in bed with me, and I had to fly across the room and shout at her to show more respect, with the door half-closed to keep him hidden. She laughed in my face, she knew that someone was inside. Oh, God, if only I had not quarrelled with them all so often. If I had kept them sweet with bribes and dresses then perhaps now they would be lying for me.

And, now I think of it, Margaret was outside in the presence chamber when Thomas was with me in my privy chamber, one day at Hampton Court. We spent the whole afternoon by the fire, kissing and touching, laughing at the courtiers just outside the door. I was excited by our daring then; now I pinch my own palms till my skin is red and swollen at the thought of what a fool I was. But even now, I can’t regret it. Even if I were to die for that afternoon, I would not regret having had his mouth on mine and his touch on me. Thank God we had that time, at least. I won’t wish it away.

They will bring me another tray of food in a moment. I shan’t touch it. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t do anything but walk around these two rooms and think that Lady Margaret Douglas walked here too, missing the man she loved. She didn’t have half her friends telling the world about her. She didn’t have every enemy of the Howards turning the king against her. She is the most unfortunate woman I know and she is lucky compared to me.

I know Lady Rochford will stay my friend, I know she will. She knows what Thomas is to me, and I to him. She will keep her head, she’s been in danger before, she knows how to answer questions. She is an older woman, a person of experience. Before we parted she said to me, ‘Deny everything’, and I shall. She knows what should be done. I know she will keep herself safe, and me with her.

She knows everything, of course, that’s the worst of it. She knows when I fell in love with Thomas and she managed all the secret meetings and the letters and the times we could steal together. She hid him for me behind wall hangings, and once in the shadows on the stairs at York. She smuggled me to him down winding corridors in strange houses. He had a room of his own at Pontefract and we met there after hunting one afternoon. She told me where we might meet and one night when the king himself tried the outer door, thinking he would come to my bed, she kept her nerve and called out that I was ill and was asleep and sent him away. She did that! She sent the King of England away and her voice did not quaver for one second. She has such courage, she will not be crying and confessing. I daresay even if they rack her she will just look at them with her cold face and say nothing. I am not afraid of her betraying me. I can trust her to deny everything they ask. I know I can trust her to defend me.