‘Jane! Jane, you’ll never guess what!’ Lizzy shrieked, crashing through the door of the study.

Jane jumped, jolted from her reverie, jabbing her finger with the needle and nearly falling off the stool. ‘For goodness sake, Elizabeth!’ she snapped, righting herself, ‘what is it?’ She had been concentrating hard on an intricate piece of embroidery, making the most of the bright May morning to get through the most difficult part of the pattern.

Ignoring the cross tone, Lizzy tore across the room and dropped to a cushion at Jane’s feet, grinning up at her sister, hazel eyes shining with childish excitement.

‘You’ll never guess!’

‘Then why don’t you tell me?’

‘I’m betrothed!’

The news hit the older girl like a punch in the stomach, ‘you’re... what?’

‘I know! And before you, too!’

‘That’s not fair! Why should you be married first? You’re only thirteen!’

Lizzy shrugged, ‘maybe they’re saving you for someone else?’

‘Who is it?’

‘I don’t know much about him. Father said his name is Sir Anthony Ughtred and he lives somewhere called Kexby, in Yorkshire. Fancy that, Janey! I shall be Lady Elizabeth Seymour, married to a knight, just like Mother!’

Hiding a triumphant smirk, Jane replied, ‘yes, an old knight. I’ve heard Sir Anthony mentioned before – he is nearly as old as Father! They campaigned together in Tournai ten years ago.’

Lizzy’s smile faltered a little, but she put a brave face on it, ‘oh well, perhaps his age means he’ll be faithful after marriage!’

Jane raised a sceptical eyebrow.

‘Oh, Janey! Why can’t you just be happy for me?’ Lizzy pouted.

‘I’m sorry, Lizzy. I am happy for you, honestly. I’m just a bit shocked.’ Jane put aside her embroidery and pulled her sister into an embrace. ‘When is the wedding?’

‘Next month.’

‘So soon!’

‘I know, it’s all arranged already! Father wanted it to be a surprise.’

‘Well, it certainly is that.’

‘You will help me, won’t you? I should so love you to attend me on my wedding day.’

Yes, so you can queen it over me all day, thought Jane, but aloud she made the only reply she graciously could, ‘of course, sweeting.’

‘Great!’ Lizzy leapt up, calling ‘thanks, Jane!’ over her shoulder as she flew out of the room to search out the rest of their siblings and share the news.

Retrieving her embroidery, Jane tried to regain her tranquillity and focus. After twenty minutes of botching and unpicking stitches, she gave up and went to the stables.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It seems that the week of Lizzy’s wedding comes around before I have a chance to blink. God forgive me, I am so jealous that it’s hard to feel truly happy for her. Lizzy is a full two years younger than me! It’s so unfair that she should be married while I am left on the shelf to go stale like yesterday’s bread.

I do take some small consolation from the fact that she’s marrying such an old man! He’s more than twice my age, even. Father met him when they were campaigning with King Henry in France – they were both honoured after the campaign and I guess they have been in touch ever since. Elizabeth keeps on and on about the fact that she’ll be a Lady. I’m sure she is just trying to rouse my envy. Well, it’s working, but I’ll never show her.

I love Lizzy dearly, but she’s been the centre of everybody’s attention since the announcement – I’m barely spoken to unless Mother is asking me to fetch something for Lizzy! The one exception is my brother Tom; he makes time for me, as he ever has. We have always been close, just one year separating us in age.

I know he feels permanently second-best to Edward: the heir, the favourite, and a full-grown man of twenty-one years to Tom’s sixteen. Of course they’re both home from court for the ceremony. T he whole family is under one roof again for a short time before Edward sails for France in the duke of Suffolk’s army.

If Father doesn’t do something soon I will just have to find a husband for myself. I want one while I’m still young, and I’m fifteen already. Time is flying by and I’ll be an old maid before I know it. My youth is almost gone, and I’m beginning to think that no-one will bother to find me a husband if I don’t take it upon myself – this is my best chance, while I’m in my prime.

Father is so proud of his Lizzy. Everyone we know for twenty miles around is invited to the ceremony. There’s to be a grand feast and party afterwards – Father keeps declaring that she is the first child of his to marry, and the wedding cost is no object. None of us has ever heard him declare cost to be irrelevant before – he’s usually such a miser!

Perhaps I’m not so jealous that Lizzy is to be married – the husband is hardly a catch, even if he is a knight. I’m jealous of the fuss – she has all-new dresses for moving away, and her wedding gown is a masterpiece of red satin trimmed with faux silver thread and seed pearls, borrowed from one of Mother’s friends from her court days. Mother is clucking over her, giving tips on how to run a household, as though she hasn’t been training all her daughters since we left the cradle! How to manage the maids, how to keep a linen closet, how to handle the estate accounts when one’s husband is away... things we have been learning all our lives. I think Lizzy is as fed up with it as I am. The anticipation is wearing thin – we just want the event to get underway.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The wedding day dawned clear and bright – a good omen, their mother declared.

At 11am, the wedding party set off from Wolf Hall to ride the short distance to the church at Great Bedwyn. Jane rode at her sister’s side in a black mood, dressed in her best gown, sea-green, made over from one of her mother’s old dresses. She tried hard to stay serene. Her little mare refused to obey, frequently wandering to the side of the path to munch lumps of hedgerow or tender grass. Lizzy had been bossy and demanding all morning, and Jane had to bite back irritated retorts as her sister tutted and rolled her eyes every time the horse misbehaved.

Guests waiting in the village square cheered and blessed the bride as she passed, before falling in behind the party on the final stretch to the church.

The groom and his retinue met them at the church door at noon. Sir John helped Elizabeth from her horse and led her to her new husband, placing her hand in his friend’s and stepping back into the crowd as the priest came out to begin the ceremony.

Jane couldn’t help but feel secretly pleased. Sir Anthony looked older than his years. He was somewhat plump with a deeply lined face; the thinning hair escaping from his cap was speckled with grey. His teeth were yellowed and his nose was crooked, likely broken in some long-ago battle – Jane tried to suppress the stab of spiteful triumph, telling herself that he at least had kind eyes and a gentle smile. Despite her envy, she sincerely hoped he would be a considerate husband to her little sister.

The embroidery and beading on Lizzy’s wedding gown glittered in the midday sun as she spoke her vows in a small voice. For all her excitement and bravado, she was nervous; keeping her eyes firmly on the ground, her hand shook as she held her husband’s.

Sweat was gathering under Jane’s headdress as she stood in the June heat – she yearned for the coolness of the church.

The ceremony complete and the couple married, there was a near-imperceptible sigh of relief as the priest invited the congregation inside for the blessing and nuptial Mass. With the newlyweds leading the way, Jane took Edward’s proffered arm and fell into step behind their parents.

Kneeling on the gleaming red and yellow tiles in the dimness of the church, Jane prayed that her sister would be contented in her new life, that God would send her a husband of her own to be happy with when the time was right, and for the strength to wait for that time. The service was balm to her soul. The envy ebbed away, and by the time the celebratory wine was served at the end of the service, she was back in possession of her usual tranquillity, and determined to admit the sin of jealousy next time she saw her confessor.

The church bells pealed and clamoured as the wedding party re-emerged into the brightness of the day. Bride and groom mounted their horses, and the women and children of Great Bedwyn rained flowers and petals over the couple as they led the procession back to Wolf Hall for the feast.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The great barn, the only space large enough to hold all the wedding guests together, is decorated to the hilt with great swathes of cloth and ribbon, banners and bunting. The feast begins at around 3pm, by which time I am almost fainting of hunger, having eaten nothing since dawn. But it is worth the wait. Seated at the top table between Edward and Tom, we have the pick of the best dishes before they go around the room to the guests.

Edward is his usual self – poor company, if truth be told. His replies to my questions about his life at court and the war he’s heading out to join this summer are stilted and monosyllabic. He is distracted, watching people; one person in particular – a lovely girl, about sixteen years old with long fair hair and a carefree smile. I think she is a Filliol, from Dorset, but I can’t be sure. He is so unresponsive to my questions and attempts at conversation that I give up altogether and talk with Tom instead.

When the last of the sweetmeats and subtleties has been cleared away, people get up from their tables and begin to mingle. I find myself alone very quickly. Tom and Edward waste little time – Edward making a beeline for the pretty girl, and Tom off to flirt with anything in a skirt, from the most honoured guest to the lowliest maid. I do hope the girls guard their virtue against him. My youngest brother has grown into quite a dashing young man. I would hope he isn’t rash enough to try anything with the ladies, but I wouldn’t put it past him with the maids.

Hal and Dorothy, my shyest siblings, are sat together in a corner. Hal, my middle brother, is nineteen years old, he should be socialising and courting girls, like Edward, but as a second son he feels he has nothing to offer a lady – no titles, no lands, not even a house yet, and he lack’s Tom’s swaggering self-confidence. He prefers to look after Dorothy, our youngest sister, just ten years old. A pity he’s not interested in marriage yet – he’ll make such a wonderful father.

I would usually throw my lot in with Lizzy at gatherings; we sit and giggle, gossiping and passing comment on people’s dress and manners. That is quite obviously out of the question tonight. She sits beside Sir Anthony, looking up through her lashes and smiling sweetly at this man as old as our father.

I pick my way across the floor, searching for someone – anyone – that I know well enough to stand near and pretend interest in the discussion.

I spy my mother on the far side of the barn, deep in conversation with a woman of her own age and a younger man – I can only see them from the back, but I don’t recognise them. Still, I can stay near Mother until I find someone I know. At least I won’t feel so awkward, lurking around the room by myself like a leper.

The woman Mother is talking to is greying, portly and well-dressed. She introduces herself as Lady Dormer; I bob politely. The family name is familiar – I believe they are landowners in Buckinghamshire somewhere.

‘... this is my eldest daughter, Jane.’ Mother introduces me, ‘and Jane, this is Lady Dormer’s son, William.’

I turn to the man stood beside Lady Dormer, looking up at him with a ready smile. Our eyes meet – my stomach turns a somersault and my breath catches in my throat. A little shiver runs down my spine as he gives me a dazzling smile. I drop my gaze and curtsey. ‘I’m delighted to meet you,’ I say, meaning every word.

Trying to be attentive to the conversation after this is difficult. I am studiously not looking at William, but his image is burned into my mind. Chestnut hair, endearingly tousled, frames a handsome face with a close-clipped beard, straight nose and beautifully deep, laughing brown eyes. He’s tall and well-proportioned, and the little rumble of laughter in his chest when his mother jests makes something flutter inside me.

I’m acutely aware of him beside me, of something simmering between us. The warmth of him... I imagine that it makes the very air around us come alive. Blushing to think of it, I wonder if he feels the same.

Mother breaks off mid-sentence, looking at me with concern, ‘are you alright Jane? You look flushed.’

Embarrassed, I try to make an excuse. I smile vacantly, ‘oh yes, Mother, quite well... thank you. The wine... perhaps the heat in here... I’m a little lightheaded.’ I shrug.

‘You must get some fresh air, Mistress Seymour,’ William extends his arm, ‘may I escort you outside?’

‘Thank you,’ I give him a grateful look, and he takes my hand to tuck it in the crook of his elbow. His hand enfolding mine... I can scarcely describe it. It’s like a bolt of lightning striking my core. I draw a ragged breath, my heart pounding. His touch sets my skin alight. My knees are shaking as I allow myself to be led across and out of the barn; I am almost breathless as he seats me tenderly on a bench overlooking the forest. I’m beginning to wonder if I truly am ill!

Despite my distraction, I didn’t miss the look that our mothers exchanged as William took my hand. I’m sure that mine will have sent a servant out to spy on us.

It must be past 9 o’clock by now, but it is still light. The sun is only just beginning to set over the forest. William sits beside me. Our hands are so close on the bench – almost touching. I have to restrain myself from sliding my hand into his again. I don’t look at him; we’re so near that if I looked up, our faces would be close enough to kiss. I mustn’t turn my face up and kiss him. I must be a lady.

I have never in my life so wished that I didn’t have to be a lady.

William, for his part, is a perfect gentleman. We both fix our eyes on the horizon for a time, enjoying the sunset and the peace after the heat and chaos of the day.

‘I hope you are feeling recovered, Mistress Seymour?’ he asks, solicitously.

‘Oh yes, much better, thank you,’ I smile.

‘Would you like to go back in?’

‘I – I think I should like to stay out a while longer, if you don’t mind – it’s so beautiful and quiet out here.’

‘It certainly is beautiful.’ I can feel his eyes on me.

I don’t respond, but lead him to more innocuous topics – we talk about the day, the ceremony, the meal, the weather... about nothing at all really, but our conversation is comfortable and easy, as though we’ve known each other forever. We match wits and chat for what seems like no time at all; I am only aware of how late it is when I can no longer see my hand before my face – all I can sense is William’s vibrancy.

‘My goodness! We should go back inside now, for sure. People will talk evil of us! Though I’m sure Mother will have sent spies to protect my reputation.’

‘Nobody could speak ill of you, Mistress Seymour,’ I hear the smile in his voice as he rises to his feet and takes my arm to lead me in. ‘And I promise your reputation shall always be safe in my hands.’

The barn is nearly empty. Most of the party has headed into the house for the bedding ceremony before the groom gets too drunk to do his duty. There are just a few stragglers, some servants clearing up – and William’s parents.

‘Ah, there you are boy!’ calls his father as we enter. ‘Come on, the escort is waiting – it’s time to go.’

‘You’re not staying?’ I enquire, hoping that it sounds an innocent question.

‘I’m afraid not, dear lady,’ his father replies, ‘we have accommodation in Marlborough to get back to. We had hoped to go before dark.’ He gives William a look. ’Do thank your father for us – he put on a splendid event.’

‘I shall. Thank you for coming.’

The Dormers sweep out, leaving just William and I. He seizes my hands and whispers urgently, ‘my father is transacting business in Marlborough over the next few days – may I see you again?’

I smile and nod, whispering back ‘send me word.’

Glancing furtively around, he bends down and brushes his lips against mine before rushing after his parents. It is the briefest of kisses, but it’s like he has set a wildfire within me. God forgive me, I am succumbing to the sin of lust, another sin to add to the list! But I would give what little I own to have his arms around me and feel his lips on mine again.

I sink onto a stool before my trembling knees give way, trying to make sense of what has happened tonight. My heart pounds with the intensity of the moment.

When I feel I have myself under control again, I make my way up to the house and slip in unnoticed at the back of the roistering bedding party.

Lizzy is already prepared and in the great bed, sitting nervously under the blanket like a little doll on stage in a puppet show. Her eyes search the crowd until they meet mine, and they are filled with reproach.