“You do? Have you seen her recently?” Her eyes went wide and she looked as though she was holding her breath for news.
“No, I have not seen her since May. She is traveling with the Queen, but you shall see her when we return to court in the fall,” Frances said, though she couldn’t be sure her mother would be willing to take her with them.
At this Katherine beamed. Frances had not been looking to cheer her, up but she seemed easy to please. She was also happy to see that Katherine did not have any notions of grandeur.
In the next few days, she was looking up to Frances and deferring to her in a way that her own sister never did. Frances, who had her doubts at first, equally warmed up to her.
“Are you feeling alright?” Katherine pulled up beside her on her grey hunter.
Immediately, Frances straightened in the saddle.
“Yes, of course. I was just giving my horse time to rest. Maybe he threw a shoe.”
Katherine probably did not believe her, knowing by now that Frances had a fear of jumping with horses, but she would not embarrass her friend by pointing this out.
“Shall we turn back?”
Frances twisted her head around. The chimneys of Westhorpe Hall were still visible.
They had ridden out alone, promising not to go past the river. This was all her father’s land and she could ride through it without worrying about being waylaid by bandits or robbers. Her father’s men patrolled regularly and kept the peace. No one dared cause trouble on the Duke of Suffolk’s land.
“No, let us continue. I — this horse should obey me better.” She dug her heels into the horse’s side. It pawed the ground ready to shoot forward but she kept a firm grip on the reins.
“Don’t do that. The horse is probably nervous and it senses your disapproval.” Frances looked at Katherine to see if she was being patronizing, but, as always, she looked innocent. “My old master of horse taught me to look straight ahead when taking a jump and lean forward. It will encourage the horse and you won’t be tempted to pull back on the reins. If the horse is nervous, this showing your own bravery will help.”
Frances frowned. “I know how to ride a horse.”
“I’m just trying to help you. I’ve ridden many difficult horses,” Katherine said with a shrug. “My father used to say I was wild.”
Reminded that Katherine’s father had died, Frances felt pity for her. “Alright, I’ll try it your way. Since you are the expert.”
Katherine merely smiled at the scoffing tone she used.
She managed to jump over the log in their way and they continued riding through the forest. Her mother had not let them go hunting today, so they wandered aimlessly.
Frances set her face in a grim determination as she pushed her horse onwards taking more and more dangerous trails. Her mother had been surprised by her recent interest in riding and hunting, but Frances had determined she would become a great horsewoman. She just had to get over her fear.
She remembered how everyone at court said Anne Boleyn was a fabulous rider and was only beaten by the King. It had become fashionable for ladies to take to the saddle and every ambitious father encouraged their daughters to ride out whenever the chance arose.
Frances was not about to be left behind.
She had been surprised by the easy friendship that had cemented between Katherine and herself, despite the two-year age gap between them. She was tall and mature for her age, so it felt more like talking to a peer than her younger sister.
More than that, Katherine did not brag or seem overly gifted. Perhaps she did not have a competitive bone in her body. Frances put this down to her less than illustrious heritage. While she was one of the wealthiest heiresses in the land, her mother was merely a Spanish gentlewoman and her father had been a count. It was nothing compared to Frances’s family tree.
She knew from her mother that her father planned to have Katherine betrothed to her brother Henry once he was a bit older. She was lucky to be allowed to join their royal family.
The summer passed by quickly. Her mother was busy tending to the estate, although in times like this she mainly stuck to overseeing the house being cleaned and kept free of disease. She also ordered poultices to be made to help stave off the sweating sickness.
Tenants came to her bearing bad news of failing crops, and she had watched her mother rail in frustration. Their family was powerful and should technically be wealthy, but every quarter they had to pay out a heavy fine to the King. This was their punishment for their secret wedding.
Frances did not understand why the King didn’t just pardon their debt to the crown. He always said Mary was his favorite sister and Charles was his best friend.
Rumors reached them that Anne Boleyn had fallen sick with the fever. The King had sent his own physician to tend to her but had obviously not gone himself. Her mother seemed smug and reassured that any day now they would hear news that Anne had tragically passed away and that the King would drop his quest to divorce the Queen.
It seemed such a certainty that Frances began daydreaming of returning to court and becoming the favorite. With this in mind, she practiced dancing and playing the lute every moment she got with Katherine, who was only happy to comply.
At length, she found herself improving. Her mother was also too distracted to come and watch her with the dance master so she was spared her criticism.
With the return of cooler weather, sickness seemed to abate. There were no new reports of illness and the household seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. This season they had been spared.
A neighboring town had not been so lucky and on their ride back into London, they rode around the town to avoid catching any lingering sickness that might be lying in wait.
Frances felt confident and strong enough that she did not ride in the litter with her mother but rather on a horse of her own. Katherine rode at her side talking pleasantly of her childhood in Lincolnshire.
As they rode through London, some in the streets called out blessings to their party.
“God Bless, the Duchess of Suffolk!” an old woman called down.
“À Tudor,” a man doffed his cap.
“The pretty Princess!” another called.
Frances watched her mother wave to the crowd and occasionally throw coins to the poor children dressed in rags. Thus, their procession to Suffolk Place was slowed. Frances tried mimicking her mother, standing up straight in the saddle and looking important. In the past, whenever they had processed from church or through the streets she had always hidden herself away.
The gates of Suffolk Place swung open to admit them.
Her mother was helped down from the litter by the lord chamberlain who was already pressing her with questions.
“I shall look into it later,” Frances heard her mother’s exasperated response.
A groom helped her jump down from the saddle even though she could manage on her own just as well.
Beside her, Katherine looked glum, which baffled Frances. Suffolk Place was as grand as any residence in the Kingdom. Its chimneys towered over other buildings and there was a pretty view of the Thames and a small park to walk in.
“Come along, I’ll show you to my room. You can sleep with me and keep me company. It’s the best room in the house.” She meant this to be a special treat for Katherine, but she had only managed a nod.
Her room was indeed furnished very finely. It was not as big as her parents’ rooms, of course, but it had a window overlooking the river. On warmer days, a pleasant breeze would roll in too. The big four poster bed was piled with blankets, pillows and coverings.
She had her own little prie-dieu which had a real gold cross on the shelf before a beautiful altarpiece — painted by the monks. She showed her little treasures to Katherine who remained resolutely silent.
“What is wrong with you?” Frances finally couldn’t hold herself back.
“I am sorry. I just remember coming to London with my mother and father. We don’t even hav
e our London house anymore. My uncle is claiming it as his own inheritance and until the matter is resolved we cannot go.”
Frances was taken aback. She was suddenly mollified. Of course, she must be reminded of her old home. She had not thought of this.
“Suffolk Place is my favorite. You shall grow to love it even more than your own house. Besides, my father is fighting for your father’s will to be followed, so you shall have it back.”
Katherine nodded and the girls shared a smile.
“Let’s go. I’ll show you around. We have a wonderful library here.” It was fashionable to own books and be very learned. For her part, Frances liked sitting in the library, but she rarely ever had the patience to read the tomes her father collected. She usually brought her needlework inside or relaxed on a chair in there.
After three days of running around Suffolk Place and buying trinkets at the market, the royal barge arrived to escort them to court.
“The King sent this just for us,” Frances bragged to Katherine who was impressed by the rich trappings. She had not yet traveled in the royal barge herself.
They stepped on the gangplank and took their seats. They did not sit under the canopy of estate, for, though they were of the royal family, they had no right to it.
Once her mother’s maids had stepped on board too, the rowers pushed off. The barge glided steadily down the river.
The trio found the Queen’s rooms were strangely silent and felt almost empty. They bowed deeply to the Queen, and Katherine greeted her mother for the first time in months.
Frances did not concern herself with her but rather focused on the Queen and her mother talking quietly, heads bowed together. The Queen was talking rapidly, and her mother seemed shocked by every word that came out of her mouth. She moved closer to them but Mary gave her a look that told her she was not welcomed.
Instead, Frances took a seat beside the Princess Mary who had come to visit. She was a year older than herself but she was still much shorter. At the moment, she had a pale pallor that was unflattering against the dark gown.
They kissed and greeted each other as cousins, though Frances bowed low to the heir of the English throne.
“How is it at Ludlow?”
This was the wrong question to ask for the Princess’s face scrunched up, which Frances thought looked even more unflattering.
“I am glad to be here with my mother and father,” she eventually replied.
“What are you working on?”
“A shirt for my father.” She handed it to Frances, who examined the fine black thread stitched into the collar.
“It is very fine work. How do you manage it?” Frances thought of her own needlework work that looked clumsy compared to this.
“I spent years practicing and my mother taught me. I can show you as well,” Princess Mary offered.
Frances spent the morning by her side practicing on scraps of cloth, all the while watching the Queen and her mother who had gone visibly pale.
“Where is Anne Boleyn?”
Frances had looked around the room and had not seen any of the Boleyns or Howards.
“They do not attend my mother, but it is just as well,” she replied, snapping a piece of thread. “God shall surely punish such sinful behavior.”
“Tell me, what has happened?”
Princess Mary leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “She has been heard saying that she would rather see all the Spaniards dead at the bottom of the sea than serve them again.”
“No!” Frances gasped. “Has she been banished from court?”
Princess Mary shook her head.
“What? But…”
“She retains my father’s favor.”
Frances wondered if Princess Mary knew that he wished to marry Anne Boleyn and put her mother aside. Tactfully, she did not mention this to her.
That night, instead of sleeping in the Queen’s rooms, she was sent away to her mother’s rooms so she was witness to the loud argument her parents were having.
She entered the privy chamber and could hear them shouting from their bedroom. Frances sent away her maid so she would not overhear as well. She didn’t even have to press her ear to the door to make out what they were saying.
“He cannot do this!” her mother shouted.
“He is the King!”
“I shall speak to him.”
“I forbid it!”
Something smashed against the floor.
“You cannot stop me.”
Her mother came flying out of the bedroom and came to a halt when she saw Frances standing there.
“What are you doing here? Go to your rooms,” she snapped.
Frances thought it was unfair she was taking out her anger on her, but she did as she was bid.
The next day Frances was summoned from the Queen’s to her parents’ rooms. Frances had been sitting with Princess Mary and looked at the groomsman confused.
“What has happened?”
“You are to come away at once, I am sorry, my lady, I don’t know more.”
“If they have summoned you, then you have no choice but to obey,” Princess Mary encouraged her.
Not one to be shown up or wanting Princess Mary to think she was not Godly and obedient to her parents, she stood up as imperiously as she could manage.
“Very well.” She bowed to the Queen who gave her a small smile, and then bowed to the Princess before leaving.
Her mother was red with rage, ordering the servants to hurry up packing their things. Her father was slumped in his chair. Frances saw they were making an effort not to look at each other.
“Mother?”
She swung around. “There you are, get your things packed, we are leaving.”
“What?” Frances took a step back. “But I am a maid in waiting to the Queen. She relies on me. I cannot—”
“Did you not hear me? Do I have to have you whipped until your hearing improves?”
Frances gasped. “N-no, of course not. I am sorry.” Her mother’s threat silenced her and she ran from the room.
It was not until they were floating down the Thames that she dared speak again.
With an eye on her silent father brooding on the prow of the barge, she sat beside her mother bundled in furs against a chilly autumn breeze.
“Lady mother, why have we packed away our things? Is something wrong?” Her voice cracking as she spoke.
“We have been banished from court.”
Frances fell back and had to grab on to the arms of her mother’s chair to keep from falling to the ground.
“What do you mean?” She was shaking.
“We are going to Suffolk Place and then to Westhorpe Hall. What can’t you understand?” Her mother’s voice was cutting. It no longer held the sweet softness she was famous for.
Her mother’s eyes were fixed on the horizon.
“But I was to be betrothed… I was going to serve the Queen. How can I go? I have done nothing wrong! What did you do?” Frances knew she was babbling but she could not comprehend why they had left in such haste. Why had her life been suddenly turned upside down?
Her mother’s slap sent her crumpling to the floor. She lay there in a sobbing heap until the barge was docked.
It was her maid who urged her to get up. Frances did not wish to go. She wanted to command the rowers to take her back to Greenwich and the court. She wanted to show them how well she could dance and ride now. She wanted to be a great success.
Finally, it was Katherine Willoughby who managed to get her to leave the barge.
“They lit a nice warm fire in your room, and I asked them to bring you a hot bath. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
Frances wiped her tear-stained face, noticing how the skirts of her gown were also wet with her tears.
“We will change your gown and you can go rest. We aren’t leaving for another day or so until they pack up the house.” The younger girl placed a comforting hand on Frances’s shoulder.
It struck Frances that she was making a fool of herself, allowing Katherine to take charge of her.
“I shall go to my room,” she declared, standing up.
They walked up to the house, much to the relief of the rowers who had waited for her to depart.
“I am sorry we have been taken away from court,” Katherine said.
Frances wanted to lash out at her. What did it matter to her if they left? Wasn’t she already betrothed to her brother Henry, the Earl of Lincolnshire? Wasn’t it a brilliant match? Once her brother was old enough they would be married and she would become a countess.
The thought of Katherine outranking her irked Frances. She couldn’t imagine walking behind Katherine and giving her deference. She didn’t even want to think that one day, her father might die and her brother would become the Duke of Suffolk. That would make Katherine a duchess.
Meanwhile, she was left with nothing. No betrothal. No inheritance. No position at court. Wasn’t she worthier than the younger Katherine? Wasn’t she born to the royal family?
“Do you think I can send a letter to my mother?”
This drew a stop to her inner ranting. Of course, Katherine would be missing her mother. Frances’s pity was invoked for her again.
“Of course, you shall! And if anyone says anything they can come talk to me,” she said. “I am sure this has all been a misunderstanding and we shall be back at court in no time. At the very least we shall go to court by Christmas.”
Of course, they did not return. Frances had been shocked to learn they had been banished from court. Her father had told her after she had pestered him. He was still not speaking to her mother, and Frances knew then that it had all been her fault. She had done something to upset the King.
Her father had assured her that they would return to the King’s good graces, but in the meantime, they would go to Suffolk.
Her mother did not appreciate the silent reprieve she was receiving from her husband. It was Frances and Eleanor who bore the brunt of her fury. Frances was actually happy when they reached Westhorpe Hall, so her mother might find some other release for her anger.
To Crown A Rose Page 4
