The thought was terrifying, but at least she wouldn’t have to worry about the block. In either case, Catherine never found out the reasons behind all the questions and this first visit came to an end.
She left with promises of gifts to follow her. Already she was leaving with two of her grandmother’s old gowns to be cut up and resewn to suit her. The fine velvet was the most precious thing she owned.
Chapter Four
They had returned home for two months before the move to Rochford Hall was finally announced to the whole household.
This was news to Harry who let out a loud whoop of excitement. He had been raised in some of the nicest and well-furnished homes in England. Though he had never outwardly shown his contempt for the poverty he lived in now, Catherine knew her brother better. Knew enough to know that he blamed Anne for the loss of his position and power.
Even though he had his expensive tutors, this was not enough for him. Catherine joked that he had inherited ambition enough for the both of them.
“First we have to settle affairs here before moving to Rochford, then pack our belongings…” William trailed off seeing that Harry was already captivated by the idea and wasn’t paying attention.
Catherine, on the other hand, made a face, her brow wrinkling.
“Nothing to worry yourself over,” William said dryly.
Finding someone trustworthy to run the farm without much of a wage offered was hard enough but then there was also the uprooting of the household. Only her young sister’s nursemaid would come along. Her mother’s maid, Maggie, would stay behind to work in the dairy and look after the poultry.
So they were delayed a month before they could set out.
They traveled ahead on horseback while their possessions were taken by a pair of oxen and a cart. William stayed behind to keep pace with the cart, while Mary and the children rode on ahead.
The journey took a day but the house at the end of it was worth the effort. Rochford Hall, which had only been recently built by her grandfather, boasted three floors of modern luxury and was situated on extensive land large enough to house a hunting park.
This was something Harry was itching to go try out. William had promised to take him hunting once they were settled in, and already Harry was asking for another horse that would be more up to the task.
Catherine hoped he would be lectured, but her mother ruffled her son’s hair and promised to look into it for him. Perhaps money was no longer such an issue. She noted the exterior which had been built with expensive stone brick and featured large window panes that reflected sunlight back at the party.
The servants had opened up the house, airing out the closed rooms and putting fresh rushes on the floor. The house smelled of sweet lavender and clean linen.
Mary greeted the steward of the household and then took her eldest children on a tour.
“You were probably too young to remember this place, but I took you here one summer and you played in the fish pond.” She pointed to the pond in question. “Catherine, you told me that you were going to turn into a fish and spend all day in it.” Mary laughed at the fond memory but Harry teased her.
“She looks like a fish now. Look at her gaping.” This earned him a swat on the head from Mary.
Catherine let the insult roll off her shoulders. This house was palace enough for her, and, at the moment, she couldn’t believe it would be hers to live in.
Rochford Hall sported an equally large household. Much larger than what anyone in her immediate family was used to except for Mary and Harry.
There was nothing for Catherine to arrange or ask for. In the morning, a maid appeared to help her dress and get ready. She was the youngest daughter of a wool trader, and she had been assigned to take care of her personally. The maid would sleep in her room from the first night onward.
Catherine stood by as her mother met with the steward and the comptroller. Thomas Boleyn had provided them with the hopes that Rochford Hall would continue running smoothly. William practically pouted and accused him of meddling but had to agree to letting the steward oversee the household and make the necessary purchases as well as paying and assigning the servants.
Catherine had been in the room when William had stormed into her mother’s cellar demanding to know why he wasn’t to be trusted.
“You are a gentleman,” she tried to placate him. “Just as you served in the King’s household so must you let others serve you in your own home.”
“It’s an outrageous expense. I could oversee all the work and not feel as though your father was giving us more charity.”
“You can still work and find plenty to do. At least you will have more help now.” Mary’s soothing tone always seemed to stop him from flying into a more serious rage.
Thus, Catherine saw firsthand the old saying put into practice; that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
At first Catherine was up before her own maid but there was nothing for her to do yet. There were no chickens to feed nor food to prepare. She even dressed herself leaving nothing for her maid to do but brush and plait her hair. Since she wasn’t married, she didn’t wear a cap or headdress everyday like her mother did.
There was another surprise for her at Rochford that came in the form of books. She didn’t bother with any of the heavier subjects and histories. The large tomes on History and Theology were left to gather dust as she perused books on poetry and chivalric tales. Even those on hymns and prayers were taken down.
“Too much reading will hurt your eyes,” Mary said.
Catherine shrugged at the warning.
“So does sewing.” Which earned her an angry glance from her mother.
Henry seemed to thrive as well. He loved hunting and prided himself on keeping up with the adults when they went.
The deer in the park had not been hunted for nearly a year and had fattened during this time. Their slower pace made them easy pickings for now and venison graced the great table every week. Catherine felt herself growing plumper by the week from the rich food and leisure.
She took to walking through the orchards and gardens in the afternoon. Picking a ripe pear or apricot to enjoy as she breathed in fresh air.
Some days she watched Harry practice jousting on his pony.
He would run at his opponent, who she pretended was a French knight, yelling “For England and St. George” as a battle cry.
Her mother didn’t let her enjoy this reprieve for long and set her to work stitching shirts and practicing her lute.
Catherine hated the instrument, plucking the string endlessly left blisters on her fingers and she had no ear for music. She enjoyed listening to it, but, when she played, it was mechanical and full of mistakes. Her mother scolded her several times and her music teacher wouldn’t hold back from slapping her hands every time she waivered.
Her mother’s attention waned quickly, and she found herself free to do whatever she pleased.
The grooms of the chamber learned in the early days of their arrival that their new master slept every night in his wife’s chambers. They would wait patiently for the ladies to go through and only enter the room when bidden.
William was particularly peeved and amused by the way they hounded him.
“As if I cannot put on my own hose,” he teased at the breakfast table.
Her mother would kiss his temple and send him to be dressed and cleaned for matins.
Unlike her stepfather, Catherine saw that her mother was in her element here. She no longer went to the market to haggle over the price of fish — they had their own fish pond now. No longer was she blistering her hands with labor around the house. In fact, her mother joined her in blissful rest.
Mary took up work on a new tapestry which she imagined would grace the wall of their new private dining room. She was having one of the old offices remodeled to serve this purpose. She didn’t mind eating in the hall at the high table overseeing their servants and members of the household, but it offered he
r and William some privacy. She knew William would enjoy being away from prying eyes for the occasional family meal. Catherine followed at her heels, watching her instruct the carpenter on what she wanted and speaking to the steward about the funds for the renovation.
Her grandfather had been generous and let them make changes to the household as they wished. There was one person her mother took great pleasure in thwarting and that was none other than Jane Rochford.
The spiteful woman was living in a small house somewhere nearby in nearly abject poverty. It was no less than what she deserved. The self-styled Lady Rochford was exiled from her own house. Mary would never forgive her for betraying her brother, and Catherine would never forget that she had testified against Anne. Nor would she stop cursing her for the accusations she made. They were dirty and vile and had gone beyond what Cromwell needed to condemn both her brother and sister. More than that they were sure to stain the family for years to come.
So it was satisfying to know that she was now living in Jane’s old home.
Their previous situation had left a mark on the family, and Catherine watched as her mother strove to ensure Rochford became an industrious and self-sustaining house. She sold the pelts of the deer and other hunted animals to tanners to make leather and increased the size of the herb and vegetable garden, allowing more to be sent to the market to be sold.
While she had to defer to the occasional seamstress to fix dresses and adjust the cut of a gown, she hesitated to call on their services and mended and altered clothes herself as much as possible.
In the back of her mind, she was also always putting away money.
“We need to think of your future,” she said to Catherine one day. “It won’t be long before you are married or you are called to go to court.”
“Won’t I get paid if I go to court?”
Mary smiled at her. “But that will barely cover the cost of your gowns. Don’t worry, we will manage.”
Her mother was sitting in the solar early one morning, a spindle in her lap as she watched the sun climb higher and higher into the sky. Catherine was at her side practicing her needlework.
When her mother had been young, she had been sent away from her family to get an education in court of France. Then, when she returned to England, she went to court. She had hardly ever lived with her own parents and then she had been married too. Catherine preferred being kept at home. Nothing was more comforting than being able to run to her mother or stepfather for help or guidance. She also imagined holidays would be lonely without her family. Celebrating the New Year with strangers was not appealing.
Despite the outward appearance of domestic bliss, Catherine had noticed changes in her mother since the death of her aunt. She had become more religious and observed the fast days as strictly as she could. Mass was attended at least once a day and she did not allow for any lewd or debauched behavior in her household. All the members of this house had to be dutiful Christians. She wouldn’t tolerate heretics anywhere near her home.
At times Catherine found this hypocritical— after all, it was widely known that she had been the King’s mistress.
But even the church was no longer safe. Something was happening but Catherine could not be sure what. She knew that King Henry broke with Rome in order to marry her aunt and that this had displeased the people of England who saw the Pope as God’s representative on Earth.
Now King Henry was the head of the church, but people were not happy. Catherine just did what she was told as she was sure all the courtiers did as well. They only had to look to the Tower where the heads of some of his most favored companions and friends had been hacked off and displayed for disagreeing with his religious views.
But the farther away you moved, the less his influence was felt, and people felt safer showing their displeasure about his decisions.
Her mother had told her not to worry about anything she heard.
“Just keep your head down and do as the King commands.”
But then, in their little hamlet, there had been an uproar about the novel idea of the English Bible.
Then a silent shock at the taking down of all the finery from the chapels and altars. The King ruled that this was illegal.
So Catherine had watched her mother take inventory of the embroidered cloth, the chalices, relics and crucifix’s being packed away into boxes to be stored or sent to Cromwell at his request.
Now the news of orders to dissolve the monasteries was being sent out by Cromwell’s men. The people were moving into action against the tyranny of Cromwell. She found it ironic that the people had once blamed Anne for such misgivings, but, in fact, Henry was behind these changes. Perhaps she was to be blamed for putting the idea in his head, but soon the people would learn that this was his desire.
That their Prince had become a King with the whims of a child throwing a tantrum.
Catherine was interrupted from her sewing by the peeling of bells. She looked up at her mother, whose hand went instinctually to her growing stomach.
“What is it?”
Mary listened for a moment before replying.
“It must be good news from London. Go ask your stepfather if he knows anything.”
Catherine was more than happy to put aside her sewing and went off to find him. He was receiving a report from a layman who had heard the proclamation.
“The Queen is with child. God bless her, and the King has ordered a mass of thanksgiving in all the counties throughout the Kingdom.”
“That is most happy news,” William said.
The man left and Catherine approached. “So the King’s wait is over now.”
William made a motion with his hand to caution her from speaking so brashly, but she was cautious enough. She had heard from her grandfather during his last visit how the King had become impatient just months after his new marriage. It had taken Jane about a year to conceive.
“Yes, and we shall pray that the Queen is delivered of a healthy child.”
“And son,” Catherine added.
No one who overheard the interaction would have known of the sarcasm behind Catherine’s comment. She returned to her mother’s solar and told her the news.
“His short patience is becoming legendary,” Mary said, nipping at a tread. “I am happy for poor Jane.”
“Are you really?” Catherine whispered.
“I do not envy her position. It takes a lot out of a woman to be raised to such high status and importance. Think of all the troubles and worries that are placed on her shoulders.”
Neither of them spoke after that as they both thought about Anne, who had been driven nearly mad trying to satisfying the King. When she failed, her head ended up on a chopping block. They never openly spoke about her, but her ever-present memory lingered over the family, reminding them how close they had been to the throne and how far they had fallen.
As the Queen’s pregnancy went on, more wealth and honors were heaped on to the Seymour family. Edward Seymour was made an Earl and her father gained lands.
Catherine’s grandfather never failed to stop by to report all of the gains the Seymour family had made when he was traveling back from court. He no longer had a favored place among the courtiers and more often than not had to find his own accommodations. Being the proud man that he was, he would pretend to have business at home to return to.
When her mother had dared suggest he take time to spend at home, he went into a rage. He refused to retire to his country estates. The way he had looked at his own daughter made Catherine think that he blamed her for all his troubles.
He had left that very afternoon and proceeded back to Hever Castle to stew.
In truth, Catherine did not see him as an old man even though he was in his sixties and was one of the oldest people she knew. He always seemed ready to snap at any chance that came his way, but this was wearing him down too. Every time she saw him, he looked more sapped of strength. But that was her speculation, and she would never say it out loud. Not
that anyone would ask for her opinion. After all, she was just a girl.
Then in late summer, he brought news that the Queen would finally have her coronation, although the date had not been settled.
“The King wants to commission a new coronation barge to rival the one the Doge in Italy rides out in,” Thomas Boleyn said.
“Have they begun working on it?” Catherine’s mother asked.
“No, the King just commissioned a miniature.”
Catherine, who was standing against the wall ready to refill glasses with a pitcher of wine nearby, zeroed in on that. The King seemed to work in vague promises lately.
“He must be waiting to see if the child is safely delivered and its gender,” Mary said after some deliberation.
“Yes, and if she fails to produce a healthy living son, then I will bet you that the King will not hesitate to look for another wife.” Thomas was feeling ungenerous towards the Queen.
Mary shook her head, her own belly had grown so round and firm. She would enter confinement in a few weeks.
“We shall pray for her safe delivery,” William said. “We are entering dangerous grounds.” He looked around, and, even though only the immediate family was here, he couldn’t be sure no one was listening in through the doorway or cracks in the wall.
Cromwell was always on the lookout for any insurrection. After the rebellions in the north had been quelled, he had only managed to survive by a hair’s width. He was walking on eggshells around the King and only by providing the King with alternatives could he avoid taking the brunt of his anger.
The Seymour’s would be more than happy to see their former ally fall.
Mary was growing tired and reached out for Catherine to help her to her feet.
“I must retire for the night.”
Harry also leapt to his mother’s side, and her two children helped her up the steep stairs on either side.
Catherine was tempted to hear what else her grandfather had to say about the factions at court. She soaked up all the information as greedily as a starving man.
The Lady Carey Page 5
