Page 17 of The Favourite

Jane’s heart sank. Clearly, Estrilda was acting as the spokesperson here. Everyone else had fallen silent and was listening avidly. “Not at all,” she responded after a moment too long. “Is there some matter, I can help you with?”

“Well, as a matter of fact,” Estrilda started importantly but was cut off by the loud ringing of approaching footsteps. She turned her head, as indeed did everyone to see who it was. To Jane’s surprise, it was none other than Lord Bardulf, whom she had never thought of as particularly heavy-footed before, but this morning, his every step was echoing off the walls.

Jane’s mouth practically fell open on watching him saunter into the room. He was dressed this morning in a close-fitting maroon tunic, with a large hawk embroidered elaborately on both shoulders. There were long strategic slits to his pearl-encrusted sleeves which revealed an undershirt made of cloth of gold. Slung about his hips was a jeweled belt that glittered with gold and flashed with precious gemstones.

What was it her sister had said? she wondered dazedly. That she must provide her baby with “a father who would outshine even a king.” Viscount Bardulf certainly did that. Who would even spare the likes of Wymer a glance when this vision was in the vicinity? In the privacy of her own thoughts, Jane could admit he cut a striking, even dazzling figure. Of course, he should look ridiculous, she told herself hastily. The fact he did not must have more to do with the sheer assurance with which he carried himself. The man was monstrously arrogant.

Quite unabashed by the staring courtiers, Bardulf’s progress continued at a leisurely, if noisy pace, until Jane started to get anxious that she might be his intended quarry. Surely not. Her mouth turned dry. He would not address her in front of everyone, would he? Not about …

“My dear,” he said, coming to a halt smartly before her. “The Queen wishes to speak to us both about that little matter of ours.”

To her chagrin, Jane found herself flushing up to her roots. “Now?” she asked, shooting out of her seat with unbecoming speed. She wanted to forestall any further indiscretion, if at all possible.

He inclined his head, then appeared to finally notice Estrilda stood there. He looked her up and down with surprise as though she had only just appeared. “Does this little bird desire speech with you?” he asked Jane off-handedly.

Estrilda gave a choked splutter and beat a hasty retreat, to where her sistren awaited her with wide eyes and small cries of sympathy. Belatedly, it occurred to Jane that perhaps she was not the only one who feared his mocking slights. Bardulf turned back to Jane with a shrug. “Her flock awaits, it seems.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?” Jane took his arm.

They found Queen Armenal in a strange mood within her private chambers. On their entrance, she whirled about from where she was contemplating her reflection, crying out, “There you are at last!” Which seemed a strange thing to say, when Jane had received no summons.

Mercifully, the Queen gave her no chance to reply, seizing her hands and holding them out to her sides. “Well Jane, is this to be your wedding gown?” she asked critically. “I prefer you in your houppelande, but I daresay it is of no very great matter.”

Jane caught her breath and turned her head to cast a panicked look at Lord Bardulf. Were they to be wed this very day? She could not catch his eye, however, for he had replaced the Queen at the looking glass and appeared to be examining the cut of his sleeves.

“I am not sure they should not be a little fuller,” he murmured to himself.

Jane turned back to the Queen. “The King has agreed to—?”

“He has!” Armenal interrupted her swiftly and something about the look in her eye urged Jane to drop the subject. She needed to obtain clarification about her niece though. She could not leave that to chance. She drew a fortifying breath. “And the child?” she asked boldly.

Mistress Bartree, who was lurking in the background, gave a hiss of disapproval as the Queen’s eyes flashed with momentary ire. “Did I not say that I had arranged it all, Jane?” she asked testily.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, but if you did, then I too must have missed that part,” Lord Bardulf said finally turning away from the mirror. “When can we expect to receive the … er … bundle of joy?”

The Queen gave a tight laugh. “The two of you will journey to Kinnerton directly after the ceremony today to collect your daughter and acquaint yourselves with your new estate. There! Satisfied?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Jane answered abashed.

“On your return, you will have it known far and wide that your union has been blessed with a daughter and henceforth she will be known as such.”

Jane nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. She did not care what the courtiers would make of that turn of events. The truth would trickle out, but she doubted any would dare to speak of it to her face. Helen’s child would be safe in her keeping. That was all that mattered.

The next hour passed in a blur. The Queen made the announcement of the marriage in her Presence Chamber to great excitement and consternation. “Rally around, ladies,” she announced, clapping her hands, “this wedding is to take place within the hour in the palace chapel!”

Jane was surprised to find herself immediately surrounded by a flurry of ladies, vying to chafe her cold hands or pinch her pale cheeks.

“Has he a ring, I wonder?” Lady Millicent whispered excitedly. “If so, I am sure it must be a very elaborate affair!” Jane was relieved to find the question was not aimed at her but rather at Frances Lessimore, who agreed breathlessly that Lord Bardulf’s jewels were always a sight to behold.

Feeling the hem of her brocade gown being lifted, Jane looked down in alarm. “Your pardon, Jane,” Emma Thackeray said peering at her ankles. “Will you take one stocking off now?” Jane gazed down at her blankly. “To gift your bridegroom,” Emma explained patiently. “Or mayhap you just give him your garter?”

Jane opened her mouth to deny the need, but Estrilda interrupted them at this point. “Oh, Emma,” she said with a superior air. “No one bothers with the giving of such trifles these days.”

“Really?” frowned Emma who had not long come to court. “What about chasing the bride afterwards to tear off a scrap of lucky cloth from her gown?”

“Goodness, what backwater province do you hail from, Emma?” Lucy Melvin snorted, and a chorus of giggles greeted her words. Poor Emma dropped Jane’s hem looking quite crushed.

“Where is Osanna?” Jane asked on impulse. “And Patience?”

“Shall I run and fetch them?” offered Frances. “I believe they are in the East Wing working on a tapestry.”