If my ladies-in-waiting seem especially industrious this morning, it is not without merit on their part. Much excitement has been generated by the cardinal’s sermons and his celebration of high mass at St Paul’s Cathedral. Busily embroidering or sewing, they sit in my privy chamber amid piles of fabrics of all hues as their talk varies from admiration of the cardinal’s early work by the most pious to a debate upon who is the most handsome man at court from the most frivolous. When Philip comes in unexpectedly, I feel inclined to say that they need debate no further, the winner has just entered the chamber.
“I regret it,” Philip is saying. “But the early arrival of this man from Spain precludes my presence at prayers.”
“If you must remain with him,” I respond, “so be it. I’ll pray alone.”
