When the service was concluded my father swept me up into his embrace, kissing me exuberantly on both cheeks. He was pleased with me and very proud, and that warmed me. My mother too; finally, she had relented and given us her blessing although I sensed that beneath the good wishes, she had not changed her opinion of Robert and his reckless ambition. I did not ask her though. I did not want to know the truth and damage the bond between us.

I was surrounded by friends and family congratulating me; the faces spun about me like a whirling top and in the mêlée I lost sight of Robert. It was odd how even at my own wedding I seemed to get lost in the crowd, overlooked amongst the peacocking crowd of courtiers, and without my husband I felt inconsequential and vulnerable. The King and his attendants swept out to attend the feast. My new father-in-law strode away without a glance in my direction whilst the Seymour girls looked down their aristocratic noses and whispered behind their hands.

My mother was tugging on my arm. “Where is Robert?”

I did not know. “I’ll find him,” I said.

She matched my steps back down the empty aisle of the chapel. I wished she would not accompany me but did not feel I could dismiss her. Now that the church was no longer crammed with guests it looked huge and grand, a whispering gallery of all the moments in time and history the place had witnessed. Yet the whispering was real. I could hear it, soft but persistent.

“I will not fail you. I’ll never fail you. I swear it.”

I found them behind a pillar on the south side of the transept where the sunlight fell through the window glass to make distorted puddles of light on the stone. The light was also on her upturned face, for Robert was taller than she. Once again, I was struck by her pallor and delicacy, so much at odds with the fierce will that showed in her eyes. They were standing very close together and their hands were clasped. I saw a strand of her red gold hair brush against his cheek.

My mother gave a sharp gasp beside me. Robert straightened; turned. I could not understand the expression I saw on his face. It was too complex, too far from anything in my experience. There was love and protectiveness, but not the lust I had expected. Nor did he look guilty or ashamed. He let go of her hands so slowly and then he bowed to her with elaborate charm.

“I am sorry that you do not feel well enough to attend the wedding feast, madam,” he said. “I will see you are escorted to your rooms.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you.” Her golden-brown gaze dwelt on my face for a moment, mercilessly devoid of warmth. “I wish you joy on your marriage, Mistress Dudley,” she said, then slipped past me and disappeared into the shadows of the church.