Read Online Dear Heart, How Like You This by Wendy J. Dunn - Free Book Online

seek him out in the library.
    I felt not surprised to hear from our servants that this was where my father was to be found. Since my mother’s death, my father took more and more consolation in making study of the classics. He especially admired ancient works of a stoic nature, and it was in these books he would seek to immerse himself, whenever freed of court duties. Yea, for many long hours, my father made a serious study of these works so their philosophies began to be mirrored in his every action.
    When I entered into the chamber, my father stood by a bookstand near a large window at the far end of the room, dressed in a simple black doublet, unadorned by any jewel other than my mother’s large Celtic cross. Ever since her death, my father had taken to wearing this around his neck. The black garments, it seemed to me, greatly increased the impact of the silver of his hair. In recent years, my father had begun to age rapidly, but he still held himself erect and tall, and to my impressionable eyes, struck an extremely imposing figure. He looked up from the book he was reading.
    “Tom,” he said, closing the book on the stand with a resounding bang.
    With a swift stride, he walked over to embrace me.
    “You arrived sooner than I expected. I suppose you’re wondering what is ado?”
    “Yea, father,” I replied, as he released me. I felt very mystified as to the reason for my urgent summons home.
    Reassuringly he smiled, walking back towards the window. He then turned back to face me, saying: “My son, ’tis good to see you looking so hale and grown. Sit down, Tom… I have some important news for you.”
    I found a stool near where my father stood, and hastily sat, feeling glad to give my aching legs a rest. We had ridden very hard the last three hours, knowing that we were close to sleeping in our own beds, and I had yet to get my land legs back. I looked up at my father, who stood there silently, still with his hands behind his back, and waited patiently for him to speak. His previous delight at seeing me now seemed to have completely disappeared. In fact, he appeared abashed and ill at ease—two conditions, I would have said, that were totally unlike my father’s usual character.
    At last his figure stirred, and he looked me straight in the eye.
    “Tom. Recently the King gave me the wardship of a thirteen-year-old girl, a girl who has been dowered, by her family, with an estate near here. Not a great estate, I must admit, but her lands would greatly add to our own holdings in Kent… This girl comes from a very good family, Tom. Indeed, my dear boy, the girl has more noble blood running through her veins than we Wyatts can ever lay claim to.”
    My father paused, glancing quickly at me. He then took a hand from behind his back, and tugged at his ear.
    “Thomas, I have made the decision you will wed Elizabeth, and have made arrangements for the marriage to take place immediately.”
    I sat there stunned. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that the reason for my recall from Cambridge could be plans to make me a husband. The room was again silent, but my head was splitting with my need to cry out: Nay! Nay! Nay!
    My father’s voice broke into my consciousness.
    “Boy—surely you’ve something to say?”
    Now it was my turn to look my father in the eye. I had always loved and admired him deeply. Surely he would understand why this marriage could not, must not, take place.
    “Father. I cannot,” I at last said.
    My father moved slightly and straightened his form, saying gruffly, “What do you mean you cannot?”
    “I simply cannot, father,” I replied, this time in a far more tentative voice.
    My father scowled at me.
    “That is not a good enough answer, Thomas. Surely you must realise that we Wyatts are not as wealthy as our needs require. You are my firstborn son, indeed, my only living son. ’Tis important your marriage builds on what has already been erected. Elizabeth not only fulfils that