His sardonic bark of laughter warns me that he agrees with my grandmother’s verdict.

‘Well, not my advice, exactly, sir; but she is pleased with me, and so is the king, for he sent me a gold brooch. Oh, please, uncle, if you let me stay I will never speak out again, I won’t even breathe! Please, I beg of you. I am utterly innocent of everything!’

He laughs again.

‘I am,’ I say. ‘Please, uncle, don’t turn your face from me, please trust me. I shall be a good girl, I shall make you proud of me, I shall try to be a perfect . . .’

‘Oh, hush, I am pleased with you,’ he says.

‘I will do anything . . .’

‘I said, I am pleased with you.’

I look up. ‘You are?’

‘You seem to have behaved delightfully. The king danced with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And talked with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And seemed much taken with you?’

I have to think for a minute. I would not have called him exactly ‘taken’. He was not like a young man whose eyes drift down from my face to peek at my breasts while he is talking to me, or who blushes when I smile at him. And besides, the king almost fell back into me when Lady Anne rebuffed him. He was still shocked. He would have spoken to anyone to hide his hurt and embarrassment.

‘He did talk to me,’ I repeat helplessly.

‘I am very pleased that he honoured you with his attention,’ my uncle says. He is speaking slowly as if he is a schoolmaster, and I should be understanding something.

‘Oh.’

‘Very pleased.’

I glance across at Lady Rochford to see if this is making any sense for her. She gives me a slight smile and a nod.

‘He sent me a brooch,’ I remind him.

He looks at me sharply. ‘Valuable?’

I make a little face. ‘Nothing to the sables that he sent Lady Anne.’

‘I should hope not. But it was of gold?’

‘Yes, and pretty.’

He turns to Lady Rochford. ‘Is it?’

‘Yes,’ she says. They exchange a small smile, as if they understand each other well.

‘Should His Majesty honour you by speaking with you again, you will endeavour to be very charming and pleasing.’

‘Yes, my lord uncle.’

‘From such little attentions do great favours flow. The king is not pleased with the Lady Anne.’

‘He sent her sables,’ I remind him. ‘Very good ones.’

‘I know. But that is not the point.’

It seems the point to me, but very cleverly I don’t correct him but stand still and wait.

‘He will see you daily,’ my uncle says. ‘And you may continue to please him. Then perhaps he will send you sables. Do you understand?’

This, about the sables, I do understand. ‘Yes.’

‘So if you want presents, and my approval, you will do your best to behave charmingly and pleasantly to the king. Lady Rochford here will advise you.’