Chapter 24: You’ll Get Used To It
The possibility of securing a more permanent arrangement offered a fragile sense of escape from Beaumont’s control.
"If you impress him enough, maybe this arrangement can be more permanent, and you can get away from Beaumont." Jane added.
"I hope so," Livia sighed wistfully, her gaze drifting toward the window, searching for a future beyond her reach. Her moment of quiet reflection was interrupted by a gentle knock. Before she could respond, the door opened and two servants entered, carrying trays and linens. Livia recognized them as the maids she had worked alongside only a few days earlier when she was still responsible for scrubbing floors and laundering sheets.
One of them placed a neatly arranged breakfast on the small table near the window. Fresh bread, butter, stewed apples, and a pot of tea.
Another maid laid out a carefully selected change of clothes upon the bed. Without meeting her eyes directly, the servants moved to the back of the room, where they began filling the large copper bathing tub with steaming water.
Livia shifted uneasily. The transformation in her status was dizzying. Only days ago, she had been one of them. Now, an invisible line had been drawn between them.
Jane noticed Livia’s discomfort and leaned closer. "You’ll get used to it," she whispered gently. "In this place, fortune changes as quickly as the tide. Today it’s you; tomorrow it could be someone else."
Livia nodded. "Everything is changing too fast," she admitted. "Nicholas expects so much from me. I’m afraid I may not be able to keep up."
Jane squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Just take it one step at a time."
Livia managed a faint smile as she turned her attention to the breakfast before her. Yet, even as she reached for a cup of tea, a quiet apprehension settled in her chest. Nicholas’s enthusiasm was born of expectation. She understood all too well that her newfound comfort was conditional, dependent entirely on Henry’s continued interest.
*****
When Stephen finally returned to Whitehall Palace, exhaustion weighed heavily upon him. The night’s responsibilities had left him yearning for nothing more than a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
He made his way to his quarters beside the king’s chambers. As Stephen approached his room, he slowed to a halt. Standing just outside his door were two of the Queen Mother’s maids.
Stephen knew he was in trouble. They stood silently, their hands folded before them, their faces arranged into the blankness of servants.
His stomach dropped. He caught the sleeve of a passing footman. "Quickly," Stephen said under his breath, keeping his voice low. "Find Lord Ashcroft. Tell him there is trouble. Hurry."
The servant’s eyes widened, but he nodded and hurried off at once. Stephen drew in a slow breath, straightened his coat, and schooled his expression into calm. Panic was useless now.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. As expected, she was there waiting. The room, modest by court standards, had been transformed by her mere presence. Theodora looked as if she had not slept at all.
"Your Grace. Good morning," Stephen said, bowing.
The greeting sounded absurd the moment it left his mouth. There was nothing good about the morning, and both of them knew it.
Theodora turned fully toward him, and if her expression had been frosty before, it hardened further now. "Imagine my surprise," she said, "when I was looking for my son last night and discovered he was not in the palace." Her eyes narrowed. "And neither were you."
"Yes, Your Highness. I..."
"Think carefully, Stephen, before you lie to me," Theodora said.
"Your Grace," he said, steadying himself, "why would I lie?"
"Where was my son?" Theodora demanded.
Stephen kept his posture respectful. "I have no idea, Your Grace," he replied carefully. "But I can find out."
Theodora’s eyes narrowed. She took a slow step toward him. "Let me rephrase," she said, her tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Where were you?"
He swallowed, scrambling for a plausible explanation. "I... Uh... I have a friend along Milk Street. I... I went to visit him."
"I warned you to think carefully before lying to me." Her gaze bore into him. "Do you take me for a fool, Stephen Holt? I know you, Lord Ashcroft, are in this together," she continued, her voice rising with each word. "And I will be damned if one of you gets my son killed. The throne is a beacon for every assassin and traitor in the realm. Recklessness is not a luxury we can afford."
Stephen opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture of her hand.
"I will ask you one more time, Stephen Holt...where did you take my son to?" she yelled, the question reverberating through the chamber.
Stephen’s heart pounded, yet he forced himself to remain steady. Loyalty to the king demanded silence, even in the face of the Queen Mother’s wrath. "Your Grace, I was not with His Highness last night, I beg of you."
With decisive strides, she marched across the chamber and flung it open. The sudden movement caused the two maids stationed outside to stiffen in alarm.
"Get me two guards now!" she commanded, her voice ringing with authority.
The maids hurried away at once. Stephen stood motionless, fully aware that the situation had escalated beyond mere questioning.
"You want to do this the hard way? The hard way it is," Theodora said.
"Your Grace..." he began cautiously, unsure whether to plead or remain silent.
Before she could summon further commands, the door burst open. Instead of the guards she had sent for, the King himself stood in the doorway.
"Your Highness!" Stephen exclaimed, relief flooding his voice as he bowed deeply.
Henry stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping across the scene—the rigid posture of his valet, the flushed anger in his mother’s expression, and the two startled maids lingering just outside the threshold. "What’s the meaning of this, Mother?" he asked. "I thought I already made myself clear."
Theodora huffed, drawing herself up to her full height. "It is my duty to keep you safe," she replied. "You vanish into the city in the dead of night. Am I to sit idly by while my son courts danger?"