The Lady Carey

by Anne R Bailey

  “You’ve grown so much, Lady Elizabeth,” Queen Katherine exclaimed. It seemed she had taken it into her head to adopt the little girl. “I have brought you a few presents.”

  “Thank you, your grace.”

  A groom stepped forward leading a beautiful white pony with a grey mane. The pony was tacked up with fine riding gear.

  Seeing she was hesitant of the horse, Catherine stepped forward. “May I help you, my lady?”

  The red-headed girl nodded and Catherine wondered at the similarities between herself and Elizabeth. She lifted the girl with relative ease and showed her how to hold the reins tight.

  “You look like you would make a brilliant huntress.” The Queen clapped.

  “I am not so good with horses,” Elizabeth admitted to Catherine, but she spoke low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I am better at my studies.”

  “You shall improve with practice. Besides you do look handsome in the saddle. Make sure you sit up straight and don’t let anyone know you are afraid.”

  “Even when I think I will fall off?”

  “Especially not then.”

  The Queen had other gifts to shower on her stepdaughter who, unlike the Princess Mary, was a more appropriate age for her to fawn over and instruct. She gave her new jewels from a hood gilded with gold and pearls to a delicate chain with a diamond pendant on the end and other smaller trinkets.

  Catherine noted that she should have brought the girl more books for that was what she seemed to covet most of all.

  In the evening, the King surprised them all by appearing with a freshly killed buck to roast over the fire for their dinner. They spent the night together dining as a family.

  It was a pretty picture of marital bliss but it could not last.

  The happy mood of the court was cut short when King Henry took to his bed at Whitehall Palace. Word spread around court that he had exerted himself in the last few months keeping up with his young wife and ignored his failing health. The doctors and physicians were sequestered in his rooms until the early hours of the morning, reviving him from the fever that had taken him so abruptly.

  Queen Katherine was more than sympathetic, rushing to his side the minute he had awoken. But the stench in the room from the wound on his leg and his foul temper sent her running back out again as quickly as she had entered.

  “Your grace, you should go back and beg his pardon.” Lady Bridgewater was urging her to be calm.

  “I will not!”

  “The King is in a lot of discomfort, you would help ease his pain. You just need to be patient with him.” Lady Rochford tried as well.

  “He upset me and insulted me. I am the Queen and I shall not be treated like this.” She rushed into her bedchamber slamming the door behind her.

  The sound made everyone jump, but no one dared go in after her. No one wanted to. Kitty’s temper tantrums had lost their novelty. When she emerged and was much calmer, she decided to try to go to the King’s rooms again.

  Catherine walked behind the haughty Queen. When they came to the King’s room the Queen discovered that they were bared to her.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  The men looked apprehensive in the face of her displeasure.

  “The King has said he will see no one.”

  “Including you, your grace,” the second, Thomas Culpeper, added. “I am sure he will see you once he is well.”

  Kitty seemed like she would protest and create more ruckus so Catherine grabbed her hand.

  “Let’s go to the chapel to pray for the King’s health, your highness.”

  Kitty caught herself before entering the throes of another tantrum and agreed to go without further protest, but they did not go to the chapel. If the King was unwell then the Queen would find her entertainment elsewhere.

  Indeed, she summoned musicians to her rooms and she danced the day away. Though she did not dare ride out, she found plenty of amusements in her own room.

  Catherine was surprised to receive a letter from the Lady Elizabeth thanking her for her advice and letting her know that she was taking riding lessons every day. She was sure Elizabeth had also written to the Queen, but she rarely read her letters as she could barely read herself.

  She found the letter touching and replied, sure that it would not hurt anyone to do so.

  The next day the Queen declared she would have a dress for every day of the year and the seamstresses arrived covering her in fabrics of every color for her to choose.

  With the Queen so distracted in these days, Catherine too decided to do something for herself and snuck out of her rooms to meet with Francis. He was not part of the favored few given the privilege to serve the King during his illness, so he spent his time gambling, playing tennis or riding.

  The sky was clear and they left Whitehall behind to wander the streets of London. They ate freshly baked bread together and a large piece of ham, then turned to the market where they investigated the stalls.

  “How do you like this?” Catherine picked out a string of pearls and held it up to her neck for Francis to see.

  “It is fine but not as nice as these.” He held out a gold chain embossed with clusters of pearls and small oval rubies. “It will match your pretty cheeks when you blush. Ah, just so!”

  Catherine covered her cheeks with her hands. “Are you playing at being a poet now?”

  He shrugged and fished for his purse, paying the merchant. “I have nothing to do but think of love all day.”

  He turned her around so he could clasp the gold chain. “It suits you.”

  “It was too expensive.” Though she did not complain too much.

  They returned from their expedition just in time for dinner.

  “Back to work with you, my sweet.” He kissed her. “Keep the Queen steady.”

  That was getting harder and harder to do. Without the King around, the Queen was less willing to restrain her behavior.

  Catherine was distracted with another secret as well. She had missed her course, and, though she couldn’t be sure, she believed she was with child. It both terrified and delighted her.

  At length, the King recovered first his good temper and then his health. He admitted his wife to his rooms again, and she went with a smile plastered on her face, not daring to show him that she was upset. Trained on what to say by Lady Rochford, she assured Henry that she had missed him terribly while he was ill. It had made her sick to her stomach that she had not been by his side.

  As she watched her cousin recite her pretty speech, Catherine had to focus not to show any signs of amusement at this lie.

  One night when Francis pulled her into bed beside him, he teased her, claiming that she was growing fat on the rich food of the court.

  “It’s hardly the food you have to blame for my growing belly, husband.”

  He was ready with a witty retort when he stopped to look at her more carefully.

  “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “I am with child. I was not sure but it’s been almost three months since I bled last.”

  He interrupted her with a joyous hurrah, making her laugh. “It’s not as if you won at cards.”

  Francis splayed his hand across her widening belly. “It feels as though I have.” He paused. “You shall have to go to Reading to have the baby there. The court is no place for you.”

  “Or in Essex with my mother.”

  “Whatever you want.” He placed a kiss on her belly. “Anything for you.”

  King Henry’s good mood did not extend to everyone in his realm. He brought in the spring with bloodshed.

  For Catherine, who was not particularly devote, the struggles between the Catholics and Protestants had largely gone by without her notice. She had not been at court during the great north uprisings by the Catholics nor had she witnessed the massacre that was the King’s justice. All she knew was to worship God the way the King demanded. It was a sensitive subject for many people in the Kingdom, but she fel
t she was better off not aligning herself to one cause.

  Now a fresh rebellion had been squashed and more plots to take the throne had been uncovered. There were rumors that the Catholics, with the help of the Spanish, would rise up, overthrow the King, and put his Catholic daughter Mary on the throne.

  There was a scramble to burn documents, pay off servants, and hide anything incriminating as the King turned his suspicious gaze to those of the old faith. Even Bishop Gardiner thought it would be prudent to leave London for a time.

  Despite the unrest, it was a shock to the court when the King had Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury, his kinswoman, executed on the Tower green. She had not been accused. She had not been given a trial. She was sixty-seven years old and her death was cruel. Those who witnessed her death reported that it took several blows with the axe for the deed to be done.

  Even more horrifying was how close she had been to the King. Not only was she his mother’s cousin, but she had watched the King play in his nursery. She had been there when his mother had died, had been there at his first wedding, and at the birth of his children. With unquestionable loyalty, she had served him and Queen Catherine of Aragon for years.

  When he wanted to divorce Catherine, Margaret stood by her side until the very end. Not only for the Queen’s sake but also for the sake of the King’s soul. One of her sons, who was now a cardinal in Rome, took an active part in persuading the Pope not to give Henry his divorce.

  It did not matter in the end. The King took what he wanted. But these acts of defiance left a bad taste in his mouth. So finally, the King who never forgot a grudge, signed her death warrant and the court was shocked into silence.

  Catherine was reminded of her poor wretched aunt once more. It seemed the King’s desire for blood was endless. She observed the cool detachment with which the Queen heard the news. In fact, she appeared bored at dinner by the hushed silence that came over the court and how they discussed the bad end to a good woman. It made the Queen queasy to hear of blood.

  Catherine could just hear her now. What did it matter to her that an old lady was dead? After all, she was a traitor! So let’s have no more of this talk and let’s have some music.

  Catherine put a hand over her growing belly. She no longer wanted to go on progress. For it made her sick too, realizing how easily the King could put a woman to death. There was no protection even in kinship.

  She had her way. As the large court — which seemed more like a town on the move — was making its way up north, she took leave of the Queen and household to go to her mother at Rochford Hall for her lying in. Lady Rochford was positively peeved at hearing that. She was always irked by the reminder that while she had the title she had no lands to go along with it. Instead, her lands had been given over to her rival, Mary Boleyn.

  Francis saw her safely in her mother’s keeping but could not stay longer than a fortnight.

  “I’ll try to be back before the baby is born. Stay safe.” He kissed her brow and bid his mother-in-law farewell.

  Such was the life of a courtier — always on the move.

  He kept her abreast of the news along the progress with frequent notes and letters. Catherine was sure he would bankrupt them with all the payments to messengers. So that was how she knew all about the courts journey. The greetings and gifts — the fabulous dancing. The weather that was not cooperating, and the King’s bouts of bad temper which coincided with his bowel movements.

  It kept her occupied as she waited for her baby to arrive.

  Her labor pains began earlier than expected. She was happy to have her mother by her side, as someone who had gone through the pain of childbirth before and come out alright. The ever-present fear of death hung over her as she pushed throughout the night. But she could not linger on her fear of death and pain — she had to focus on happier thoughts.

  Finally, just after dawn, her baby girl was born.

  She focused on the sound of her cries as she drifted off to sleep, utterly exhausted. There was a wet-nurse ready to feed her baby and a nurse to rock the baby and watch over her. As she kept her eyes fixated on her swaddled baby, she knew she was being tended to by the midwife and her mother who made sure she was washed and put into a clean bed. She couldn’t put words to the feeling of joy welling up inside her. All she wanted to do was hold her baby, but she found she couldn’t voice her desires.

  She was slipping in and out of consciousness while this was happening, and, when she awoke the following day, she found her mother at her bedside with bloodshot eyes.

  “I thought you had taken a fever. You had bled so much.”

  “I feel alright,” Catherine assured her, her body felt heavy as if she was still half-asleep. “Where is Mary?”

  “Who?”

  “My daughter? I named her, did you not hear me?”

  Her mother shook her head.

  “Oh. Is she well? Can I hold her?”

  “Yes, she is strong. She is sleeping right now. It’s best we don’t disturb her. I hope Francis won’t be disappointed.”

  “N-no, he won’t be. Mother, I’m tired now. Can I sleep?”

  “Only if you promise to take some broth now.”

  Catherine complied. The liquid soothed her dry throat, she vaguely remembered screaming until she was hoarse.

  “Perhaps it’s better I don’t remember,” she said out loud.

  It took her a week to recover fully, by then her mother had sent a messenger to Francis who arrived posthaste to be at her side. He marveled at the little creature they created but worried for her. He treated her more like a fragile piece of glass than a woman. He stayed for the christening and then had to return to the King’s side.

  “You should return as soon as you are able. The Queen has need of you.”

  “Why?”

  He looked around them in the stable yard, but there was no one that could be listening.

  “There have been strange occurrences in her rooms on the progress.”

  Catherine raised an eyebrow. “Like what? Ghosts appearing?”

  But he wasn’t laughing. “Her door was locked one night.”

  Now she frowned too. “And I caught her making eyes at Culpeper. I am sure I am not the only one to have noticed how she favors him.”

  “She always had her eyes for him.”

  “She is the King’s wife. If he should ever discover…”

  “I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

  Catherine stayed as long as she dared. It filled her with a strange sense of joy and pride to watch her daughter kick and scream.

  “I don’t want to go back,” she complained bitterly to her mother who nodded in understanding.

  “It is your duty to serve the Queen. Go and we shall look over the little one.”

  Catherine met up with the court at Hatfield on their way back to London.

  She received much attention as she entered the Queen’s rooms. Everyone inquired after her baby and what she had named it. She was more than happy to give them the details.

  Chapter Twelve

  It took her a while to regain her bearings. When she did, she realized how far the Howards had come in such a short amount of time. Lord William Howard was now the English ambassador in France, Master Tilney, a Howard loyalist, was made a lord, and her uncle had been awarded new titles.

  Each and every one of her relatives or family friends came for a piece of the pie.

  The King, who was truly still besotted with Kitty, felt generous when it came to his wife’s friends. Meanwhile, Kitty had learned how to play him like a fiddle. She knew when to be silent and what to do when his temper was flaring up. She was ready with a smile and never let him know how bad he smelled. She was taking this better than anyone could have hoped considering what a selfish girl she was.

  Catherine, who had spent several months sharing a room with her, knew that something was amiss. Her cousin was altogether too happy and carefree. When she had last seen her, she was chaffing against the respo
nsibility of her new role. She remembered how Lady Bridgewater and Lady Rochford were constantly having to remind her to keep her temper.

  Her husband’s warnings were at the forefront of her thoughts. Perhaps Kitty was getting pleasure elsewhere.

  Catherine couldn’t muse long on this as a short message came from her stepfather at Rochford. Her younger sister Anne had taken sick with a fever and died. She ran to the Queen to ask her to be excused to attend the funeral. Permission was granted and Francis escorted her home.

  They spent a fortnight with her family. Harry had returned home from his studies as well, and there was a heartfelt reunion as they bid farewell to their sister.

  “You must go back.” Catherine shook her head at her mother.

  “I can’t leave you now.”

  “You cannot do anything else here.” Her mother spoke with such cool detachment that it scared Catherine. She worried her mother would die of a broken heart.

  At length, she departed with Francis. They had to plaster their fake courtier smiles once they rejoined the court. There was no room for sadness at the court of Henry Tudor this summer.

  Hatfield was primed for hunting, and tents had been set up for this very purpose. One morning, as they ate their breakfast, a herd of deer grazed nearby. The King pointed this out to the French ambassador, Marillac, who seemed impressed.

  With his lame leg, the King no longer galloped after them, chasing them down on horseback. Instead, his men went out for him and hunted for him or herded them towards the waiting King in his box with a crossbow ready in his hand.

  With the hunting and entertainment so good at Hatfield, they stayed on a few extra days.

  One evening as they were watching the men come in, Catherine spied the Queen gazing out longingly on the courtyard down below. She approached cautiously to see what she was looking at. Of course, it was not the King who was there but rather Thomas Culpeper fresh from a ride, opening up his vest to cool himself off.