Thomas Cromwell was a busy man. He had no time for the carnal pleasures many of the other Lords enjoyed, including the King himself. Besides he had no desire for a mistress. Cromwell was perfectly content in his own little word, all work and no play.
Many thought the man ruthless and cruel. He preferred the term dedicated. He was aloof, it was true, rarely speaking to anyone other than His Majesty or when someone was in need of critical information, which he, as Secretary, possessed. However, he was not heartless and he had emotions. He just kept them all bottled up inside.
Only one person could break Lord Cromwell from his habitual solitude and seemingly self-possession. His wife. Elizabeth Wykes Cromwell. She alone could break through the shell of this man. The woman could read her husband like a book. She knew every thought he had, sometimes even before the thought had fully processed. She could sense his well-hidden emotions like no other. Lady Cromwell knew of her husband's deep admiration for the King and tried not to feel a slight twinge of jealousy every once in a while. Elizabeth often felt lonely at times, wishing her husband could spend more time with her and less with his job, which was like a mistress.
Although she loved her husband dearly and she knew that he loved her, she wished that he could spare at least a moment with her instead of always coming to bed long after she had fallen asleep. Lady Cromwell would try to wait up for her husband, but he came to bed so late that she was unable to keep from dozing and then falling into a deep slumber. When they finally would lie down together, they would hold one another in each other's arms, sleeping peacefully until Thomas had to rise at dawn to begin another day's duties.
And again, Elizabeth would be alone.
Today was no different than the day before. Cromwell sat at his desk going through papers, reading letters and instructions from His Majesty, as if there were no one else in the world but he and his King.