The Lady Carey

by Anne R Bailey

  “There will be a trial and she will be found guilty.”

  “Or they might find her innocent,” Catherine reminded her helpfully, and this innocent remark made Mary smile. A smile that told Catherine she said something very foolish and naïve.

  “Well, you are to stay here, and it shall be arranged for you to go visit your aunt. You will be a brave girl for me, won’t you?”

  “What do you mean?” Catherine gripped the covers tightly. “What about you? Are you going somewhere?”

  “I am returning to Essex tonight. I need to be there for your father, and I cannot stay here any longer in case I endanger us any further.”

  “But if there is danger, then I should leave too.” Catherine shook her head.

  “I would like you to stay and help your aunt. You can be her lady-in-waiting, and let her know that I love her and tried to help her. No one will harm you. I promise you that. She will need your support.”

  Catherine felt apprehension rise in her throat, and she felt as though she might vomit. “I don’t want to go to the Tower. I am afraid.”

  Her mother had a faraway look on her face. “Think of how scared she must be.” She paused. “With no family or friends. She needs you and you need to do your duty to this family and to her.” The finality in her words left no room for argument, but, surprisingly, the fear had gone out of Catherine too. Replaced with a sense of purpose and importance, she nodded.

  “I’ll go.”

  “Good girl.” Mary patted her face affectionately.

  Events were moving faster than Catherine could have anticipated. Mary oversaw the maid packing her things into a small little truckle bag. Just two dresses and a few clean linen sheets were put in, along with a few items including a comb and hair pins.

  Mary kept to her family rooms, staying out of sight of the court at large, although it had been spread around that she was back. She feared that she might draw unwanted attention and was set on fleeing as soon as she could. Her anxiety was felt by Catherine who was trying to find the courage to do what her mother demanded of her.

  “We must go speak with Master Cromwell,” Mary finally said, once all preparations were made.

  Catherine was daunted by the man who was rumored to be the center of power at court — for the moment at least.

  “Chin up.” Mary spared her a glance, seeing her daughter’s face as if for the first time. “Nothing to worry about.” She repeated this for what seemed like the tenth time that day. Catherine couldn’t help wondering if she was just trying to fool herself.

  Regardless, she followed her mother out of the room after rearranging her skirts and making sure her hair was tucked into place. She looked like a proper lady now, with a borrowed deep green gown and a modest headdress. At her neck hung her gold cross that was given to her by her grandparents at her christening. She was old enough to wear it now.

  Having spent many years living in nearly every royal palace, her mother knew the way through the corridors and rooms without needing someone to guide her. Catherine stuck close to her mother as they got stares from other people passing by.

  A few times, she saw people whispering behind their hands as they walked passed them. Instead of looking away, Catherine met their gazes head on, despite the fear she felt inside. There was nothing to worry about.

  A large ramble of men came around a corner, and her mother moved to one side to let them pass.

  Catherine could tell immediately they were important, not only by the way everyone around them seemed to give them deference, but also by the fine cut of the cloth they wore and the way they held their heads up high.

  “Who were they?” she whispered to her mother.

  “The Seymour brothers.” Her mother did not explain further until she squeezed her hand, pressing her for more. “They are the King’s new favorites. The King is rumored to be in love with their sister, and, besides lavishing gifts and favors on her, has ennobled her eldest brother Edward with the title Lord Beauchamp.”

  In response, she frowned with distaste.

  “Our family profited in the same way, so don’t look like that Catherine,” Mary admonished her. “Great favor comes from the King, and one way to get it is through his love.”

  Catherine nodded and they continued on their short journey. It seemed they were expected, for a clerk gave the pair a quick curtsey and showed them inside to Cromwell’s office.

  Her first impression of the man was that he was not as domineering as she thought. In fact, despite the wide set of his clothes, she could already tell he was a lithe man with a crop of unruly black hair. Hardly what she had imagined in her own mind.

  But as he looked up from his papers, there was also something almost threatening about the manner in which he studied them and the way, after adding a few words to his letter, he set the pen aside with meticulous care.

  He did not bow. Instead he swept a critical glance over us, studying us as though he would see into our inner thoughts.

  “What can I do for you, Mistress Stafford?”

  Catherine bit her tongue at the insult to her mother.

  But her mother merely smiled her courtier’s smile and corrected him calmly. “Lady Stafford, my husband was knighted.”

  “Indeed. And I see you have brought Lady Carey with you. Perhaps not the wisest choice.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Mary stepped forward. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  His eyebrows arched as if amused by her. “The only reason anyone ever comes to see me is to ask for a favor or two, so this is hardly surprising. But I must warn you, if this is about your infamous sister, then I would tread carefully.” Despite the light tone, even Catherine could hear the warning.

  “I’ve only come to ask if Catherine may join her as a maid-in-waiting in the Tower for the duration of her imprisonment. I know it would be a comfort to her to have a relative with her.”

  Catherine did not think it would be possible for his eyebrows to go up any higher, but they did.

  “She was never kind to you, was she? You wrote to me begging for money not even a year ago, and I had to intercede with your sister on your behalf. You show a surprising amount of loyalty to her.”

  Was this true? Catherine could not be sure, but she remembered how tight food and money was in the early months of her mother’s new marriage. They lived in cramped conditions, taking out loans whenever they could and economizing on everything.

  “Yes, and I shall never forget the help you showed me then.” Mary bowed her head. “But Anne is also my sister, and I am not so fickle as to forget her now.”

  “Perhaps you should join her in the Tower yourself then.” Cromwell pointed out a sensible alternative.

  “I have to return to my husband and care for the children.” Mary met his gaze and steeled herself for further argument. She knew that if she might go into the Tower herself, then fingers might point in her direction as well. After all, it was no secret that she used to be the King’s mistress. “Catherine is more than capable of taking my place.”

  Catherine felt her mother place her hands on her shoulders. “She will not be a trouble to anyone.”

  Catherine watched the two adults size each other up in the poignant silence that followed.

  “So be it, but I have a condition.” His dark eyes turned to Catherine, and she looked away from his gaze, unable to keep it. “You shall report to me anything she says and help to get her to agree to anything I might require her to sign or say.”

  “She is a child,” Mary protested. She did not want her daughter going in as a spy to her sister but rather a comfort.

  “Then she is too young to be placed as a maid-in-waiting.”

  “I’ll do it.” Catherine spoke up, though she was disheartened to hear how soft and high pitched her voice sounded.

  “Brave girl.” Cromwell nodded. “I shall arrange it. She may join her aunt tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” Mary curtseyed and Catherine followed suit. They were dism
issed.

  Her last glimpse of this impressive man was of him picking up the pen once more and scratching away on the document in front of him.

  Instead of dining in the hall with the other prominent courtiers and her grandparents, who were making every attempt to appear as though everything was normal and their eldest daughter the Queen was not in the Tower, Mary and Catherine dined alone in their rooms. The food was prepared by Thomas Boleyn’s own cook in the small kitchen adjoining the room.

  “Will I see the King?” Catherine asked her mother curiously. This was the one great person of the realm she had not laid her eyes on yet.

  “Perhaps you shall glimpse him at the trial.”

  Catherine nodded, her eyes moving to her food. She did not wish to think of where she was going tomorrow, even though she had all but volunteered herself for the job. There was something exciting, though, about being in the middle of all of it. There was real fear and risk, but she also felt the wonderful sensation that she was doing something that could help someone.

  There was another secret reason for Catherine to want to be at court. Her real father was here after all. Though she hid behind the name of Carey, Catherine was a royal bastard, but, instead of being recognized like the Duke of Richmond and Somerset, she and her brother were hidden away.

  She supposed it stung that the King did not seem to care for her one way or another. Perhaps he had forgotten she even existed. But she knew she had inherited much of his looks in her red, almost blonde hair, though the dark eyes were that of her mother’s family.

  Still, she was curious to meet this infamous man, though she would never dare claim kinship to him.

  When her mother had told her about her parentage, she had been drilled in the importance of utmost secrecy. Nothing could be gained from claiming a connection like that. It would stain her reputation and any possibility of a proper marriage.

  This was yet another secret she would keep to herself.

  “Soon this will all be in the past and you shall return to Exeter.” Mary changed the topic. “I will look into hiring a dance master to come teach you some of the more intricate dances.”

  Catherine did not even dare ask for what reason. It seemed as though she would never be going to court now.

  After the food was taken away, they moved to a card table. A line of white pearls decorated the edges, and, in the center, the Boleyn family crest was finely etched into the wood. Her fingers skimmed over the polished wood and pearls — it had been ages since she had seen something so fine.

  Mary spoke, instructing her on what she should say to Anne.

  “Try to be positive and make sure you keep the conversation light and pleasant.”

  “Mother, there is no need for you to chide me.” She squared she shoulders back. “I would never cause her any stress.”

  “As for the other matter. It would be best you reported anything you hear to Cromwell.”

  “You mean for me to spy on her?” Catherine had thought they had merely agreed to his demands as a way of getting her inside the court.

  “It would be best to do what he says.”

  Catherine frowned. “But mother…”

  “He will have other spies around her as well, and he would know if you do not report anything, but you can keep somethings to yourself.” She paused, searching for the best way to explain this to her. “As long as it doesn’t harm the family or yourself and if it does not hurt her anymore, then you should report whatever you hear. There’s also another matter.”

  Mary shuffled the cards with the skilled hands of an expert player.

  “You shall convince her to remain calm and agree to whatever the King demands. This is the only way she might gain forgiveness or any sort of mercy from the King. If she threatens to fight him, remind her of what happened to Katherine of Aragon.” This she whispered, as she dealt out the cards. “Can you do this?”

  Catherine nodded. “I will try my best.”

  “Good. I don’t know if she will listen to you but it can’t hurt.”

  Chapter Two

  That night Catherine tossed and turned dreaming of the Tower littered with heads on spikes, and the cawing of black crows. When her mother woke her with a soft shake, she pulled the covers up to her neck.

  “Must I go?”

  Mary said nothing but laid out a gown for her and called the maid in to help her daughter wash and get dressed.

  When Catherine finally exited her room, she was tired, feeling the stress of the moment too.

  “Everything will be alright,” she said when she noticed her mother hesitating as she saw her nervousness.

  “Yes, it will. Now, there’s Mr. Cavendish is here to escort you. Remember what we talked about and be a good girl. Promise me?” She cupped her daughter’s pale face in her palms.

  “I promise.” She stood straighter then curtseyed to her mother and Mary blessed her.

  “Take care. Your stepfather shall come get you when this is all over.”

  “One way or another?”

  Mary nodded and Catherine left the room following after the man who had been waiting patiently outside.

  It was early morning, only the servants were awake running around the palace, setting it to rights.

  They walked down to the river where a small barge awaited them. Mr. Cavendish helped her on board but did not speak to her as they set off. Nor did he say anything once they arrived, except that she would have to have her belongings searched.

  The whole process was done with clerical efficiency. She saw Cromwell’s power for the first time for herself. All it took was a word to the guard of the Tower for her to be shown in — no questions asked.

  The old fortress was imposing. Not only was it sparse of any decorations and pleasantries that were present in other great houses, but its outdated stonework added to the impression of the importance of this castle. It functioned both as a castle but mostly as a jail for prisoners of the crown.

  She followed closely behind the guard as he led her to the Tower housing her aunt the Queen. Catherine looked up before stepping inside and thought she saw a figure standing at a window overlooking the green.

  “This way, Lady Carey.” The man was farther up ahead and noticed she had stopped to look at something.

  The winding stairs seemed to go on forever, but finally, they reached the barred door guarded by two yeomen. Without a word, they opened the door and let the pair through.

  “Your majesty,” the man began, though it did not sound like he placed much respect in the title. “I have brought your niece to stay with you and keep you company.”

  In the dim light of the morning, Catherine got her first real look at her notorious aunt. The fiery woman she imagined was replaced by the erect woman standing before the fire. Her features, hidden by shadows, were illuminated as she stepped closer to them.

  “That is wonderfully kind of you, Sir. You must tell his majesty I am grateful for this small comfort. If I may write a letter to him…”

  He cut her off. “It was not the King but Cromwell that allowed her to join you, Ma’am.”

  “I see.” Her eyes flickered over Catherine, looking at her as though she was yet another enemy come to watch her every move.

  Before Anne could say anything else, he made his bow and left the room. Catherine jumped at the sound of the key locking the door behind him.

  All eyes were on her as she stood near the door, and the thought to try to leave crossed her mind. Before she could do anything, Anne crossed the remaining distance between them and embraced her.

  “My little niece, it has been too long since I have last seen you.” She tutted over her red curls and pale complexion. “They’ve dragged you out of bed to come see me, haven’t they? You should have been brought to court sooner and served as a maid-in-waiting.”

  Catherine thanked her and then, embarrassed, remembered to bob a deep curtsey and say “Your grace.”

  Anne rose her up and invited her to take a seat b
eside her near the fire. The other three ladies in the room tried to resume their sewing or reading sermons, but they all struggled to hear what was being said.

  “I am afraid there is nothing much to do here,” Anne said apologetically, then chuckled at her own words. “But we have plenty of conversation, books to read and sewing projects. Sometimes I am allowed to walk in the garden. It’s all rather pleasant.” She tried to smile but her lips merely quavered. It was then that Catherine saw the extent of her fear.

  “My mother, your sister, sends you her love,” Catherine blurted out. Not very diplomatically nor as smoothly as she would have liked.

  “I am sure.” Anne picked up a previously abandoned glass of wine and drunk deeply. “How is she? Still living in that farmhouse with that nobody she married.”

  The cool haughtiness of Anne’s tone pierced Catherine. It was so cruel to jest about her mother’s lot in life when she herself was in a much more precarious situation.

  “She is happy and wouldn’t change anything for the world.” This was the right thing to say, for Anne laughed and patted her with cold hands.

  “I am glad you have a sharp tongue in that head of yours.”

  “Do you have any news for me? Have you seen the King?”

  Catherine shook her head, and, in response, Anne gave a little groan of displeasure. “You can’t be of much comfort to me then.”

  “I am told my trial will take place in two days, but I know of nothing else besides that.”

  Catherine bit her tongue to stop herself from saying what she knew. There was no point in telling her aunt that the trial was a forgone conclusion and that she could only pray for mercy.

  “I know that Duke of Norfolk will be acting as judge,” Catherine offered.

  “Yes, I heard. Ironic isn’t it that my own kin will sit in judgement of me.” Anne sighed as if amused by this observation, but, in truth, her hands quavered and she clutched them to hide it.

  There was unsurprisingly little for Catherine to do except bear through the tense atmosphere and try to hide her own apprehension at the unraveling of all of Anne’s hopes. She was sure that Henry might have been disposed to forgiving her but this did not seem to be the case. More than that, Bishop Gardiner was her only visitor asking her to confess on a daily basis.