True to his word, William sends to me just two days after our meeting in the forest, asking me to meet him in that same clearing. The early flame between us does not wane and die, but burns brightly the whole summer long. We manage to see each other at least three times a week, often more frequently when we can get away with it, and I have never been happier.

This is a charmed summer. I’ve bribed my maid to tell Mother that I’m doing charity work in the village. Safe under the cover of the trees, William and I walk, talk, debate, exchange opinions... I think he has been surprised to discover that a lady can have a lively mind, that my head is not just full of embroidery patterns. Not entirely. For my part, I have been delighted to find a man interested in my thoughts – Heaven knows that is a rarity at home. What began as a rebellious walk has ended in me really falling for William. Maybe I even love him. My heart leaps every time our hands brush.

We swap love tokens – William gives me a beautiful little wooden horse, carved by his own hand; in return, I make a gift of my favourite thimble – a pretty brass thing engraved to look like a bell.

We spend lazy summer days picnicking, wandering through the forest, or just lounging in the shade of the trees. William turns his horse loose to graze, and we lie there – he with his head on his saddle, me with my head on his stomach. He reads to me and tells me stories, and sometimes composes scraps of appalling poetry to make me laugh.

I don’t know what I shall do when he has to return home. The thought fills me with despair and pricks my eyes with tears. I push it back, burying the inevitability under our present happiness.

Perhaps William is tormented by the same thoughts – we’ve been meeting like this for two months, but there’s something different about him today. He’s filled with a kind of charged, restrained energy, like a hunted stag, poised and ready to flee. He takes my hand in his as we walk, but I cannot draw him into conversation, despite my best attempts.

I fall silent, chewing my lip anxiously. What have I done to offend him? He’s working up to tell me something, and his demeanour doesn’t bode well.

We come to our clearing. He stops – gazing off into the distance, taking deep breaths. My heart hammers – I’m sure he can hear it pounding in the silence between us.

‘William?’ I touch his arm, ‘what’s wrong?’

He looks me straight in the eyes, and asks abruptly, ‘Jane, will you marry me?’

I inhale sharply. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that.

There’s a surge of joy at my very core as his question sinks in – he wants to marry me! At last, a man sees a future with me. And a man that I am attracted to, body and soul.

He is not quite the grand match that I thought I wanted as a child. He is certainly no duke. He will never whisk me away to a life of luxury in a palace. But, looking into his earnest, honest brown eyes, I can suddenly imagine nothing better than to be the country wife of this man. Mother left all the grandeur of court behind to be with Father, so love must be preferable to glamour.

I’ve looked into his genealogy – yes, I admit I have made discreet enquiries wherever possible this summer – and he is descended from the royal house of Luxembourg through Jacquetta Rivers, Edward IV’s mother-in-law, and grandmother to Edward V. He is not such a low match, and certainly the best I could ever hope for with my poor dowry. I’m certain my parents could not object.

A life of security, safe with a man who loves me... how could a girl like me ever ask for more?

‘Yes.’ I answer simply, a smile lighting me from the inside.

William seizes me by the shoulders and kisses me hungrily. Desire floods me, lust gripping at my stomach and loins. He has never kissed me like this before, with such passion and longing!

His tongue grazes mine, teasing at my lips and tongue, drawing my breath until I feel faint. He pauses a moment, slips an arm around my back as I stagger, moves me to lean against a tree. Kissing me just as deeply again, his hand travels my body, caressing as he murmurs that he loves me. My body rises in response, pressing against the length of his, my arms around him, one hand entangled in the hair under his cap, pulling him closer, keeping his mouth against mine.

I let out a little moan of longing as he breaks away too soon, his breathing ragged, chest heaving, fists clenched as he fights to bring himself under control.

‘Sorry – so sorry,’ he pants. ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I hardly know what to do with myself.’ He looks at me helplessly.

Stepping towards him, I give a gentle kiss, full of promise. ‘I can scarcely wait to be your wife,’ I smile.

We sink down, sitting together on the grass, hands touching, just enjoying each other’s presence, being so close.

After a time of silence, I nervously voice the one doubt nagging at the back of my mind: ‘what about your parents?’

‘I’m a grown man,’ he answers without hesitation. ‘I am perfectly capable of choosing my own wife.’

He lies back, pulling me down to rest my head in the crook of his arm. ‘Would you like to hear a poem, sweeting?’

I laugh, ‘another of your comic creations? Is this really the time?’

‘No, no. Not of my own composition, I promise you. It describes you perfectly, though.’

‘Alright,’ I smile, ‘let’s hear it.’

He begins:

With margerain gentle,
The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
Is of your maidenhead.

Plainly I cannot glose;
Ye be, as I devine,
The pretty primrose,
The goodly columbine.

With margerain gentle,
The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
Is of your maidenhead.

Benign, courteous, and meek,
With words well devised;
In you, who list to seek,
Be virtues well comprised.

With margerain gentle,
The flower of goodlihead,
Embroidered the mantle
Is of your maidenhead.

‘That’s lovely,’ I say, ‘do you really think it describes me?’

‘Absolutely. They do say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’

I twist to look up at him, confused.

He laughs, ‘it was written by John Skelton, about your mother.’

Leaning back against him, I take his hand in mine, touched by the gesture and the trouble he must have taken to find and learn the poem before proposing.

We both sigh with contentment. The afternoon is pleasantly warm and peaceful. Birds chirrup in the leafy canopy that shades us; I watch the bees dance from flower to flower through half-closed eyes, and flick a spider away as it ambles lazily across my bodice. The soft fingers of a cool breeze stroke my face; my breathing slows and deepens with William’s as we drift into sleep.

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Weak late-summer sunlight glinted off the man’s black satin doublet as he leaned over the sweating horse, urging it on. Clods of damp earth thrown up by heavy hooves littered the fields behind them as they cantered the final mile to Wolf Hall. Sir John Seymour’s body ached. He had been in the saddle for two days. Now as his manor house came into view, nestled amongst the trees of the forest, he thought with pleasure of seeing his wife and children for the first time in months.

No matter how much authority and position he acquired at court, he would always be a rustic at heart.

The horse clattered into the courtyard, the sudden din surprising a stable hand flirting with one of the maids, who scuttled away red-faced at the appearance of the master. The boy looked sheepish as he took the reins for Sir John to dismount.

‘See to the horse, would you lad?’ He winked, ‘you can woo the girls on your own time.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the boy grinned and bowed in return, relieved to have got off so lightly, before leading the exhausted creature away.

Sir John strode up the front steps and into the entrance hall. His steward hurried forward to greet him, looking flustered and straightening his jerkin.

‘My lord! We were not expecting you back so soon. I trust all is well?’

‘As well as could be, and better, Nicholas! Where is my family?’

‘In the gardens, sir. Shall I fetch them for you?’

‘No, no, I’ll go to them. Have hot water and food brought to my chamber. I’ll be up shortly.’

‘Of course,’ the liveried man made a little bow and disappeared through a side door.

Walking through the house toward the gardens, Sir John felt that the saints had truly blessed Wolf Hall and its inhabitants. This latest triumph would pave the way for another of his offspring to build a prosperous career at court; it was vital that his surviving children be able to make their own way in the world and advance the interests of the family.

He reached the door to the rear courtyard and paused on the threshold, taking in the little tableau before him.

His wife sat on a stool below an oak tree; a piece of embroidery lay idle in her lap and a smile teased the corners of her mouth as she watched her children playing some energetic game. She had once been renowned as one of the greatest young beauties in England; now, time and travail had refined her features, lending her an air of dignity. The amber sunlight seemed to shimmer around her, creating an otherworldly halo.

Hal and Tom chased after little Dorothy, tickling her mercilessly amidst much shrieking and giggling. Sir John watched and smiled, feeling a pang of bitter loss for his first and favourite son. It had been nigh on fourteen years since the sweating sickness had taken his namesake – he had now been dead longer than he had been alive – but his absence was still felt in family moments like this. He was buried at nearby Easton Priory, along with a sister and twin brothers who didn’t survive the perils of infancy.

The stiffness in his limbs reminded him why he had ridden for two days. He recalled himself and went down the garden towards his wife.

Margery looked up at the sound of his heavy gait; her face radiant with joy at the unexpected sight of him.

She stood up and offered him her hand, ‘John,’ she smiled, ‘what brings you from court?’

‘Great news,’ he pressed her fingers to his lips. ‘A place for Hal in the service of Sir Thomas More.’

‘How wonderful!’ she gasped.

‘Are the children all here? I want to make an announcement. Hal is so shy, it will be good for him to have this news in front of them all. Might boost his confidence,’

‘All except Jane – she’s been doing charity work all summer. She leads a sewing circle at the church, making garments for the poor with the other village girls.’

Sir John’s face twisted in a frown, ‘she is most assuredly not at the village church. I stopped in there to make an offering in thanks for a safe journey not two hours ago.’

‘Are you sure?’ concern creased Margery’s brow, ‘Jane has never given me reason to distrust her before.’

‘I am absolutely certain. Summon whoever told you that bare-faced lie to my office – we’ll soon get the truth.’ He clenched his fists and strode off towards the house, fury trailing in his wake.

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A shadow falls across William and I, waking us gently. The light is fading – it must be nearly dusk. I open my eyes, trying to focus on the shape above us.

My heart plunges as the bulk takes form: feet apart, hands on hips, face livid and nostrils flared in anger, Father is rigid with wrath.

I scramble to my feet, shaking out my skirts and smoothing dishevelled red-gold hair from my face, still mussed from the passionate embraces of this afternoon. William leaps up behind me; I yearn to pull closer to him for protection.

Father does not look at me, instead focusing the full heat of his rage on my poor betrothed. He gives him a look of utter contempt, one white-knuckled hand gripping the hilt of his dagger. I risk a glance at William – he looks terrified.

‘Boy, if you have dishonoured my daughter, I will see you both dead at my feet.’ Father growls. ‘A ruined daughter can bring no advantage to her family, so what point in letting her live?’

‘Sir, on my life, nothing –’

‘On your life is right!’ Father roars, ‘get out of my sight before I make good on that oath!’

With a last, frightened look at me, William runs off in the direction of his horse. I collapse in shock, my knees buckling beneath me – I can’t believe that he has scampered away like a startled rabbit, abandoning me to Father’s temper without explaining our engagement.

Father still doesn’t look at me, but calls over his shoulder to his steward to lead me back to Wolf Hall.

With difficulty, I mount the horse that is brought for me. My legs are shaking so much that I fear I will fall off. It is the longest ride of my life. My stomach writhes – I have always been Father’s darling, he has never been cross with me before. I have no idea what to expect when we return home.

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Jane was confined to her room.

Her mother came to her, uncharacteristically distant, to help her bathe, brush her hair and dress in something clean and simple. Jane dared not ask what had become of her maid.

‘You are a very foolish girl.’ Margery’s voice was icy. ‘I’m taking you to your father. You would do well to say nothing at all, and to accept your punishment like a lady.’

Jane felt physically sick with fear as she followed her mother through the house to the study, like a condemned woman going to the gallows. And, quite aside from terrified anticipation of what lay ahead, she struggled to choke back a sob as she thought of how William had deserted her there in the forest.

Margery knocked on the heavy oak door.

‘Enter,’ grunted a voice from within.

Ushering Jane inside, Margery remained on the threshold, closing the door behind her daughter with a dull thud, like a coffin nail being driven home.

Alone with her father, Jane stood before his desk.

‘A woman’s reputation is her most important possession, Jane.’ He began, ‘today, you threw yours away.’

She looked at him in miserable silence.

‘You are my favourite daughter, but far too like me to be a good wife to any man. Godliness, piety, chastity, submission, docility, obedience – these are the counters by which we weigh a woman’s worth. They are all virtues sought by decent men. If you do not make them plain for all to see, no man will have you.’ His voice was matter-of-fact.

‘I have not been unchaste, Father.’

‘What actually happened is irrelevant!’ He bellowed, ‘can you not see that, you stupid, stupid girl? One word from that boy and your maidenhead is as good as gone, whether you’re intact or not! I had such high hopes of making a good match for you, and now you have spoilt your entire future with one summer of indiscretion.’

‘But he proposed – he wants to marry me!’

‘You think I can afford a dowry to satisfy that rapacious mother of his? Even if I could, his parents would never agree to the marriage. You are unbelievably blind. The Dormers are climbers – they will want to ally themselves with another rich, landowning family in the area. They will not allow their only heir to marry the headstrong daughter of an impoverished knight, however much the boy pleads love! Your mother warned you of all this weeks ago!’

‘But, my lord – ’

‘But nothing! You dare to say “but” to me? To contradict me? Your mother has clearly failed to instil proper Christian virtues in you in my absence.’

Jane bowed her head as if ashamed of her conduct, biting back the words that longed to be said to the man pacing the floor in front of her like a bear before a baiting.

‘Well, has she?’

‘No, sir.’ She answered through gritted teeth.

‘Then you would do well to remember that you are my daughter, and that God commands your obedience to me.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Jane carefully kept her eyes on the floor. Her father sighed and resumed his seat behind the desk that dominated the room.

‘I just don’t know where we went wrong with you, Jane. Your sisters know that I will make a match for them when the best option presents itself.  Elizabeth waited, and it paid off; she is now happily married. She and Dorothy are dutiful and virtuous – they would never dream of defying me so.’

‘No, sir.’

‘You will adjust your attitude appropriately, and govern your conduct as befits your status as my daughter. You will marry where you are bid, when it is to this family’s best advantage. Is that understood?’

‘Yes.’

‘Look at me.’

Jane reluctantly raised her eyes from the richly woven rug beneath her feet to the ambitious face of the man she called father. ‘Why are you making this so difficult, daughter?’

‘I want to choose my own husband.’ she said. ‘I want love, and some small control over my own life.’

‘Well you cannot have it.’ came the flat reply. ‘You are a woman, Jane, nay, yet a girl by your foolish ideals. Love has no place in your affairs. It is to be earned, not demanded. Few marriages begin in it. Now, you are to be confined to this house until I say otherwise. No social visits, not even to church. No riding out. Nothing, unless you are accompanied by your mother.’

‘But – ’ she began, furiously. A savage look from her father silenced her.

‘I never thought to have to do this with you, of all my children. But a wayward child, particularly a daughter, must be corrected.’

Jane’s stomach clenched in fear.

'Margery!’ he barked, standing suddenly.

Her mother entered and began to unfasten Jane’s gown at the back.

‘Father, please!’ she begged, ‘I’m sorry – I’ll be good!’

He ignored her, withdrawing a birch from a chest at the back of the room.

Margery tugged her daughter’s dress down to the waist before slipping out as silently as she had come in, leaving Jane shivering in her shift, despite the warmth of the room.

She fell to the floor at her sire’s feet, ‘don’t, Father! I swear by everything holy, I’ll obey in all things.’

‘By God, you will,’ he growled. ‘Kneel up and grasp onto that chair.’

Jane’s screams tore the air as the birch tore her skin. Outside the door, the tears streamed down her mother’s cheeks.

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Darkness had fallen by the time Margery finished soothing Jane’s broken heart and salving her wounded back. Sir John had allowed her to keep her shift on, and had not beaten her so very harshly, considering the transgression; but she had never been whipped before, and the shift would require a good deal of washing to get the blood out.

Jane had sobbed herself to sleep.

Lamp in hand, Margery tapped politely on the door of her bedchamber before entering.

Her husband was not in bed, but in his chair before a generous fire, finishing an apple and staring vacantly into the flames. The strains of being constantly at court were telling on him. The flickering light of the fire seemed to deepen the lines in his face, making him look every one of his fifty years. He had changed out of his travelling clothes – the green velvet doublet he now wore was somewhat old-fashioned, and beginning to look thin in places. With so many children to provide for, he would insist on wearing holes through his clothes before replacing them, and then only if mending was an impossibility.

Despite the strains of the day, he smiled as she came in. It had been too long since he had last been home, and he was pleased to have this chance to see his family again before Christmas. Somehow, he was always surprised when he saw his wife after a period of absence – her beauty faded in his mind during the long months of separation. The forgetfulness was convenient; it eased his conscience whenever his eye chanced to wander, and his body chanced to follow.

He stood and opened his arms; she went to him at once and he enfolded her in an embrace.

They stood for a time in each other’s arms amidst flickering shadows that brought the tapestries to life; her face buried in his chest, he running his fingers through the soft hair under the veil of her hood.

At length, Sir John broke away; she took up a stool beside him as he returned to his chair.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she said.

‘And I you,’ he smiled down at her.

There was a brief silence.

‘What – what shall we do about Jane?’ Margery ventured.

He dropped his head into his hands, ‘I don’t know,’ he sighed, ‘but we must do something. It breaks my heart to punish her. Though I’ll not hesitate to do it again if she defies me the way she did you. At least she was aiming above her station, and I believe the boy genuinely cares for her.’

‘Perhaps he cares enough to fight for her?’

‘Perhaps.’

He was quiet a moment.

‘But?’ she prompted.

‘But honestly, no matter how hard he fights for her, we cannot satisfy that avaricious mother of his. It’s just not within our means.’

‘What if... he had some help?’ she voiced the beginnings of the plan that had been forming in her mind as she bathed Jane’s back.

‘I’ve been wondering the same,’ he mused. ‘If she had a well-connected champion, there might be some hope. I’ve been going through the candidates in my head, and I think I might have finally struck upon one who could help.’

‘Who?’

‘Francis Bryan.’

She laughed, ‘be serious, my love.’

‘I am deadly serious.’

'Why would Bryan possibly want to help us? The man never does anything unless he sees advantage in it for himself.’

‘He is our cousin...’

‘He has any number of cousins. Why would he help Jane particularly?’

‘Well, listen: William Dormer is soon going into the service of Thomas Cromwell.’

Margery nodded, ‘I believe I’ve heard Edward mentioned the name Cromwell.’

‘By all accounts, the man has a bright future ahead of him. Cromwell works for Cardinal Wolsey.’

He waited for Margery to understand, before shaking his head and continuing, ‘the Cardinal is no friend to Bryan – he has already had him removed from the Privy Chamber once – and Wolsey is the de facto King, missing only the crown and sceptre. He does all the legwork of running the kingdom, while His Majesty sees to his own pleasures. Wolsey runs the show, but he delegates a lot of work to his more able staff.’

Margery nodded again, thoughtfully this time. ‘I believe I see where you’re going. A marriage to Dormer would bring Jane within earshot of Wolsey’s business, through Cromwell. Helping her could be to Bryan’s advantage, if she were in his debt.’

Sir John gave a wry smile, ‘shall we invite him to dinner?’

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‘We’re delighted to have you, Sir Francis,’ Margery smiled over her cup.

‘It’s a joy to see you again, dear lady, and I’m so pleased to have the chance to commend you in person – your eldest son is already turning out to be a fine statesman. You’ve raised a clever boy there.’

Margery inclined her head in thanks.

‘Though I must admit, I was surprised to get the invitation.’ Bryan swirled the dregs of his wine as he regarded her.

The Seymours exchanged glances. Sir John cleared his throat, ‘well, we must confess an ulterior motive for inviting you here – besides the obvious pleasure of your company.’

‘I thought as much,’ Bryan grinned. ‘There is always a motive – I was curious as to what it would be. It wasn’t just the beauty of your wife, the delights of your company, and the thought of your much-vaunted venison that drove me to ride halfway across the south for this visit.’

‘Well, our eldest daughter…’

‘She’s usually such a good girl.’ Margery interjected.

Sir John ignored the interruption, ‘… has managed to get herself into a bit of a situation, and needs a more influential champion than I to resolve the matter.’

‘Good Lord, she’s not with child is she?’ Bryan cocked an eyebrow.

‘No! No, thankfully nothing so serious.’ Sir John replied. ‘But she has formed an attachment to a lad she met at her sister’s wedding, some months back.’

‘I see, and does he reciprocate?’

‘I believe so. He proposed marriage to her just last week.’

‘Excellent news! Then why does she need a champion?’

‘It seems we’re not good enough for his parents – the Dormers. The mother in particular is a greedy mare – she’d want more in a dowry than I earn in a year, to have such a poorly-connected daughter as Jane.’

‘And you hope that my presence in the debate will convince her that Jane has connections?’

‘We do. Being the skilled and favoured diplomat that you are, and so recently knighted, we rather hoped that the Dormers would see that the Seymours are not such friendless country bumpkins as they might think.’

Bryan held out his cup absentmindedly; Nicholas the steward stepped forward to fill it.

‘Of course, you realise that this would involve some investment of time on my part. Indeed, I’ve already lost half a week in this visit.’

‘We understand,’ smiled Margery. ‘It is not within our means to reward you financially, but we hoped you might see the benefit in having a pair of ears indebted to you so near to Master Cromwell.’

‘Cromwell? What’s he to do with this?’

Sir John cut in smoothly, ‘the Dormer boy is going into his service shortly. I’m sure you appreciate how close that will bring him to the daily activities of His Eminence, the good Cardinal.’

Bryan scowled, ‘ah yes. My dear friend, Wolsey. My greatest supporter.’ He took a long drink as he weighed up the benefits of the task. ‘And this girl – Jane – she’s obedient?’

‘As Griselda.’

‘And discreet?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Hmm. I could agree – it would be no hardship for me to have an ally in Cromwell’s service. But I believe I should meet your Griselda first – I must assess her for myself before promoting her.’

‘Of course – Nicholas, fetch Jane for us.’

They talked of inconsequential things until Jane arrived. Her parents silently rejoiced at her appearance. There was no hint of the tears that had stained and swollen her cheeks this last week – her hair, freshly washed, tumbled in unbound golden waves about her face. She wore an apple-green gown – plain in style, but elaborately and beautifully embroidered by her own hand. Eyes on the floor, she entered and curtseyed respectfully, waiting to be spoken to.

She had carefully painted the picture he would see – she would show her gentlest, most tranquil side to her cousin, her last hope. She felt that her heart would beat out of her chest as he appraised her.

‘Yes,’ he said, finally, ‘she’s a pretty one. But has she a tongue?’

‘I do, sir,’ she smiled shyly.

‘Good – and you love this Dormer?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘And you believe he loves you?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘You think he will make you content? Keep you comfortable?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘And have you any other words, besides “yes, my lord”?’

‘I could find some, sir. What would you have me say?’

‘Nothing,’ he laughed, waving his hand, ‘thank you for coming down to greet me, cousin. Will you join us for dinner?’

‘I should dearly love to, but promised my youngest sister that I would take dinner in the nursery with her. I couldn’t bear to disappoint her, unless you absolutely insist.’

‘Of course not, child – I’d not have her let down on my account. Good day to you.’

‘And to you,’ Jane curtseyed again and backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Bryan waited a few moments until Jane’s footsteps had receded. ‘I can see why the boy likes her,’ he admitted, unaware that Jane had crept back and now lingered outside the door to hear his verdict. ‘She’s quiet, polite, docile… clearly maternal and skilled at women’s work. Any family should be pleased to welcome her as a daughter. If I were a marrying sort of man, I’d look twice at her myself.’

Sir John smiled, ‘I am so pleased you see her virtues as we do – will you consider helping her?’

‘I’ll try,’ Bryan confirmed. ‘Give me a few days – I can’t imagine what objection there could be to this charming girl.’

I’ve done all I can now – I came to meet this mysterious cousin Francis, I looked my finest and was on my best behaviour. I know I impressed him, I heard him pronounce his opinion. All my hopes – my entire future… everything rests in his hands. I only hope he’s as skilled and persuasive as Father claims.

The days pass so slowly – a full three days before Sir Francis returns from his visit to Buckinghamshire. When I hear his horse clatter into the courtyard, I know I should wait like a gracious and patient lady to be called, but my stomach is full of butterflies and I feel sick with the anticipation – I cannot wait to be summoned. I must go and hear the news first-hand.

I sneak downstairs and conceal myself in the room adjoining Father’s study until Sir Francis enters and I can reposition myself at the door.

Sir John rubbed the thinning hair at his crown, head bent over the accounts in his office.

A knock at the door broke his concentration, and his steward’s head appeared: ‘Sir Francis Bryan for you, my Lord.’

‘Show him in.’ Sir John stood and smoothed the creases from his doublet. ‘Ah, Bryan,’ he extended his hand in greeting. ‘What news?

‘I did all I could,’ Bryan gave an apologetic shrug, ‘but Lady Dormer will simply not have Jane as a daughter. She could not fault the girl’s personal qualities, but is “more concerned about securing an advantageous marriage than mending the sore hearts of two lovesick pups”, in her own words.’

Outside the door, Jane pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob as her last hopes smashed like pottery on the flagstones. Her stomach lurched with disappointment, her heart breaking all over again.

Sir John sighed heavily as he lowered himself back into his chair. ‘I thought that would be the case. I cannot criticise her for it – if I had but one son, I would want to marry him above his station too. Lord knows, we have more to gain from a Dormer marriage than they do.’

‘Will you tell her?’ Bryan asked.

‘Oh, no. If I know my daughter, there will be no need. Come in, Jane.’

Her stomach dropped like a stone – how was she so transparent that her father expected her to be eavesdropping? But she raised her chin and walked straight-backed into the room, eyes shining with unshed tears.

‘I suppose you heard all that?’ her father asked briskly.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak and risk shattering her fragile composure.

‘I am sorry, cousin,’ said Bryan, more gently. ‘I hope you will believe me when I say I tried wholeheartedly to bring the marriage about. The lad’s affection for you is undeniable, but short of kidnapping him and depositing you both at the church door, there’s little more I can do.’

Jane managed a watery smile.

‘But don’t lose heart,’ Bryan continued. ‘You are a sweet girl with much to recommend you. Be sure that I shall do what I can for you, and I’ll keep an eye out for any suitable opportunity that arises.’

‘Thank you,’ she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

‘William asked me to bid you farewell from him, and to give you this.’ Bryan held out a small parcel, clumsily wrapped in a scrap of paper.

Jane took it and unfurled the paper – into the palm of her hand dropped the pretty bell-engraved thimble she had given as a love token.

She glanced at the paper; there, in William’s neat hand, were the words: You will always be my first love.

Her self-control cracked. Without waiting to be dismissed, she dropped both objects and fled from the room, her face in her hands, the paper dancing in her wake.

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Mother sits on the bed, resting my head in her lap. I let the tears flow freely as she strokes my hair. ‘Now, my dear,’ she says soothingly, ‘the worth of a woman is measured by her godliness. Chastity, obedience and piety are more valuable assets to a woman than all the jewels and wealth on earth. One day, we shall find a man who deserves you. A man who appreciates your usual gentle honesty and loving obedience, and considers a perfect wife to be more valuable than any title or estate you might bring him.’

I sob harder as I consider that William deserves me in all ways - it is only his overbearing parents who consider me beneath him. This is such heartbreak, the kind that the bards sing of - my dreams of making a life in the country with William, of bearing him children and running a household... all gone.

I’ll never find another man like him, who values me for myself – I’m destined to be a spinster, gathering dust here at Wolf Hall for the rest of my life. Or worse, sentenced to life with an ex-soldier, like Lizzy – someone with no passion for life, while the man I love makes an ‘advantageous marriage’. I’m sure he won’t have to run from her father.

I cannot blame him for that; I think Satan himself would flee before my father in a rage. But I am angry all the same – if William loves me as he professed, why did he not fight for me? Was I not worth it? The abandonment and betrayal are almost unbearable.

For months now I have had hope, have seen the beginnings of a new life glinting through a door half-ajar at the end of a long passageway. Now that door has been slammed shut, and the passage stretches dark and endless before me. That is the worst part, the slaying of hope, and the loss of my future.

I’m confined to Wolf Hall still, Father made that perfectly clear, so even if there were another such as William, I’d never meet him. Father will take no notice of my romantic ideas, have no compunction about marrying me to a man thrice my age if I can be married for a minimal dowry, like Lizzy. So I shall be sent to an old man to give him an heir and a spare, to nurse him in his dotage, and be an old woman before I’m twenty.

‘There, darling,’ Mother rests her hand on my shoulder. ‘A first love rarely lasts forever. It can be a brutal business. But we’ll find someone for you – someone who will stand and fight for you when confronted by trouble. You’ll see – God has a way of working things out.’

She means well, but no words can ease my hurt. This is something that only time will heal – if only there was some poultice for the heart, an instant cure!

I sob and sob until I exhaust myself into dreamless sleep.

When I awake the next morning, Wolf Hall resumes its stately, uneventful normality, and I slip back into interminable routines of embroidery, riding, charity and prayer. What was once all I knew in life now seems thoroughly dull – my penance for daring to try to secure my own future.