Silence And Shadows Collection

Chapter 3-1

Frances awaited me in her Richmond House drawing room, after sending word my visit would be convenient, though she expressed some surprise I had decided upon it. The weather had been so especially cold over the weeks since I last called on her, with February no improvement, I had remained in the workshop glad of the heat from the bellows-furnace needed to work our precious metals. Though there was little snow, the bitter wind had proved too much for me. When at last it dropped a little, I had made it to the palace with the help of several fur rugs and well wrapped hot bricks, to deliver the many pieces I had by then completed for her.

‘Raphael, my dear. How brave of you to venture out on my account. She patted the couch where she sat close to the fire, indicating I should join her there.

I lifted her hand to my lips. ‘Frances, I’ve had more than enough of my own four walls, so much so even my work for you became tiresome. I needed to see a vista other than Cheapside, if only that of sky and winter-trees from my carriage window.’

I stood and moved behind the couch to remove the pieces from my belt. I had already decided I would do this out of her gaze, shamed by its effect the last time. She did not move but I felt certain she smiled. As I peeled back my layers to extract the pouch held against my skin, I saw her straw-coloured hair, pinned up with jewelled brights, had many threads of copper woven through it. Dio aiutami, I wanted to take out those pins and watch it cascade around her. I handed the pouch to her over her shoulder. ‘I hope they’re to your liking.’

Dio aiutamiShe turned to look up at me. ‘I have no concerns on that account.’

With the sun now shining on her face, I marvelled once again at her eyes, the true violet of amethysts. It was only later, I again realised I had not noticed her skin at all.

She shook the emeralds out onto the sofa beside her, holding the ring, two bracelets and broach up to the light in turn. ‘Raphael, it really is a kind of alchemy you do here, turning the old and ugly into something so vibrant and fresh.’

I bowed. ‘They are extraordinary stones. I think … hope I’ve done them justice.’

She placed them back inside the velvet pouch. ‘Now they can hold light inside them just as they should. ‘Pull the bell-rope for me, would you. I think refreshments to set you up for your journey home.’

I did as she asked before returning to sit beside her.

‘Susannah has begun her portrait of the King. There was some slight delay as Penelope has been unwell.’ She looked away. ‘She has been mother to her these last three years.’

We were interrupted then by the arrival of a footman to take her instructions. The sun was fully into the room on this visit, and I was able to appreciate its beauty. Gilded sofas and chairs upholstered in green and gold. Black statuary around the black and gold marble fireplace. Black panels framed in gold with mirrors at their centre to reflect light from tall candelabra placed in front of them. ‘I’m glad her sister is well enough for her to begin. I’ve never seen any of her work, though I hear it’s very much sought after.’

She stood. ‘I have one she did of me some years ago. Though it is watercolour on ivory not the enamel as she does now. I’ll show it to you.’

While she was gone, a footman arrived with a laden tray holding far more than just the coffee and brandy I had heard her request. Some prior instructions must have been given for there was buttered toast, eggs and bacon, and, incongruously, a large and elaborately iced cake. I admit I had helped myself to toast liberally covered with eggs and bacon rashers, all consumed by the time she returned.

I placed my plate down on the table and stood guiltily wiping my mouth on a linen napkin. ‘Forgive me.’ I managed to articulate from behind the cloth.

She laughed, gesturing for me to sit. ‘It is there to be eaten not admired. I had a feeling you might be hungry on such a cold day.’ She sat down beside me again and handed me the miniature portrait. ‘I had some little difficulty locating it.’

I examined it whilst she made a plate for herself. The portrait was exquisitely done. I found it hard to believe Susannah could have been but fifteen or sixteen at the time. And Frances was radiantly beautiful, her violet gaze direct, sure of her power. I looked at her now, eating heartily from her loaded plate, and hoped that seeing her past self had not distressed her. If so, she did not show it and nor had it stolen her appetite. ‘Exquisite. The work and the sitter.’

When she had finished, she set down her empty plate beside mine and took the little painting from my hands, smiling as she looked at it. ‘Her new technique is even better. Somehow she is able to get still more luminosity.’ She stroked the glass gently with her fingertips, her expression wistful.

‘Frances, I–’

She held up her hand. ‘I’ve already told you, it matters little to me. I lived when so many did not, and I thank God for it every day.’ She smiled, wryly. ‘Both the King and Castlemaine had it but are unmarked.’ She sighed. ‘Yet the King’s brother and sister were ones who died.’

I touched her cheek. ‘You haven’t lost your beauty, it’s just changed a little like a jewel in a new setting.’

She tilted her head, studying me. ‘I think you’re a rather sweet man, Raphael.’

‘I’m an honest one.’

When she leaned towards me to kiss my cheek, it was impossible not to find her lips. How, then, could my hands not find her body? And how could I not lose myself in her fierce response to me? Though she would not permit me to have her fully, she allowed me to pleasure her, abandoning herself to me without inhibition until I had her whimpering – near silent – knowing servants were never far away.

After we were mutually gratified, for she attended to my own needs just as wholeheartedly as she had enjoyed mine whilst I looked down at her golden hair loose from its pins and buried my fingers there, its lengths cloaking my thighs. Then, with our clothing back to rights, we helped ourselves to slices of cake and large glasses of brandy. I touched my glass to hers, ‘Saluti, cara mia.’

Saluti, cara miaShe smiled, wryly. ‘You’re a man of many talents, Raphael.’

I nodded a bow. ‘At your service, Duchessa.’ She was rather skilled herself, but I did not feel it quite appropriate to tell her so.

DuchessaShe caressed my face lightly with her fingertips. ‘This cannot happen again. Not here. If the King called and found me behind locked doors with another man, he might send me from court. Favourites are allowed to stray because he does so himself, frequently, but I’m no longer one of those. He doesn’t call on me often, only when he needs some respite from the others who want too much from him. He comes to me for peace and I’m dependant on him even though I never ask anything more from him. I cannot risk displeasing him. And you should be pursuing Susannah, anyway, not dallying with me.’

I stood and began pinning up her hair again. ‘But it is such delightful dallying. And Susannah is yet to show any interest in me.’

‘Well then, I shall visit you at Cheapside. I’ll let you know when.’ She touched her hair. ‘Many talents, indeed. How do you know this?

‘Sisters.’

Susannah: Diary: February 5, 1676

I have not written here for some time, mostly because I wished to be able to say all is well.

I did not after all speak with Papa as I had intended. He was busy with patrons and then gone each night to the gaming tables with the King or to Dorset Gardens for a new production at the Duke’s Theatre. So, what with one thing and another – otherwise known as cowardice – it was some weeks before I found him alone in the drawing room, having returned early from Whitehall. He smiled and stood to hug me. This time I would not balk.

‘How are you, my sweeting?’

With my mouth dry as August straw, I expected to say, ‘I am well, dearest Papa.’ My lips moved but no sound came from me. I tried once more to say, ‘Papa.’ Nothing. No sound. Not the merest croak. I began to tremble, quite unable to make sense of it.

He held me away to look at my face. ‘Why, what’s wrong? Why do you shake, child?’

With my mind spinning, I lifted my pad and wrote, ‘It’s nothing. Just a sudden chill.’ I moved away from him and close to the fire, feeling his eyes upon me, still. I stared into the flames and tried again to speak. Nothing happened. I fought to compose myself and turned back to him, only to catch a look of such sorrow upon his face that I rushed to him and flung my arms around his neck, hoping my kisses would be sufficient to convey my love.

He held me close, stroking my hair. ‘All shall be well, Sukie. You have my promise. Somehow, I shall make it so.’

We sat together for a while, talking. Well, of course, he talked, and I wrote. I learnt his luck at cards had deserted him and, more from what he did not say, that Catherine had spoken inappropriately to the King again. I knew she wrongly assumed his friendship for Papa extended to her. Charles was usually content to flirt when flirted with but had, for some reason, taken against her. I must note here how much this pleases me, which will come as no surprise. When a companionable silence descended, I had a sudden thought. Perhaps if Sam were here with me, I might speak just as I had in front of Thomas Monkton?

I quickly wrote, ‘Please wait here for me. I need to fetch Sam.’ I stood, adding ‘If he’s home. Was he at court?’

‘I didn’t see him, no. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him there for evening entertainments at all since he returned from France. But why such urgency?’

The longcase clock helpfully chose that moment to strike ten, quickly supported by the chimes of St Paul’s in Bedford Street.

‘And it’s late.’

‘I won’t be but a moment,’ I scribbled. ‘Please wait here, Papa, I beg you.’

He smiled, shaking his head. ‘Very well. How can I refuse such an earnest entreaty?’

I dashed from the room and out into the night without stopping to collect my cloak and was soon across the road, knocking on Sam’s door.

Connor opened it, appearing quite taken aback. ‘Be there somethin amiss, Ma’am? Master Samuel is in the drawing room.’ He coloured. ‘He’s with company. I’ll be tellin him you’re here, then. Do be sitting yourself.’ He pointed to a chair against the wall in the small receiving hall.

I sat, leaning forward to watch, wondering who Sam’s company might be. Well, if he was in the drawing room they could not be of an amorous nature, surely? Looking up the stairs though, I saw him bypass the door to go up the second flight. So, Sam was, indeed, in his bedchamber.