“The baby?” I asked hopefully, and held my breath in anticipation.
Jane began to sob. “The day they executed George, I awoke in the middle of the night bleeding. There was nothing to be done. His child did not want to exist without his father and so he followed him straight to heaven and left me alone here.”
With that terrible revelation, my heart broke for Jane and I was filled with rage for the king. Not only did he execute my beloved aunt and uncle, but he caused the death of George’s unborn heir. Jane was just as much a victim as Anne and George. All she had was taken from her and, in addition, she had earned a vile, undeserved reputation. I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here in this treacherous court.
The next day I awoke to a full dormitory. I had fallen into a deep sleep before any of the other maids-of-honour had returned from the festivities and now they occupied the other beds in the room. I rolled over to find myself face-to-face with the pretty young dancer of last night. Her face was tranquil and a small smile played on her lips as though she was in the midst of a wonderful dream. She looked eerily familiar and it dawned on me that she was probably one of my Howard cousins. I knew that I had family at Court besides Jane, but it had been years since I had seen any of them. I reminded myself to ask her later.
I rolled back and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The maid was already quietly stoking the fire. She heard my movement and turned to me for instruction. I smiled and gestured toward my trunk. She rushed over and began pulling out my kirtles and skirts, hanging them in the cupboard. After the trunk was empty, she paused to look at me thoughtfully. She touched her finger to her lips and scurried back to the cupboard, pulling out a tawny kirtle and copper damask skirt that matched my hair perfectly. As quietly as we could, she helped me dress and then we took our leave, leaving the four other girls snoring peacefully in their beds.
We parted ways at the door, she to her duties, I to explore my new surroundings. I made my way through the gallery to the great hall. The palace was drenched in morning sunlight. Beautiful tapestries lined the halls and elegant furniture filled the rooms. I was reminded of my home at Hever, but this was on a much grander scale. Portraits of the king and his family stared down at me. My grandfather, Henry VII, wore a dour expression on his face. How serious he must have been in life. I had been told he was the exact opposite of his son. No wonder the king was filled with an excessive personality. I was sure he had been denied much fun in his childhood.
Eventually I reached the hall. The men were already clumped into groups, talking in hushed tones amongst themselves. Plotting ways to increase their power before breaking their fast, I thought to myself and stifled a laugh. I spied a table laid with apples and bread and hurried over in my hunger. With my bounty in hand, I headed back to our room.
Nan Bassett was already awake by the time I returned. She was sitting in a chair by the fire and leapt up to embrace me as soon as I entered the room.
“I am so glad you made it!” she said brightly. “I was worried about the crossing this time of year, but you seem to be in one piece.”
“Yes, it was not a pleasant experience,” I laughed. “But I was in good hands.”
Immediately her eyebrow went up. “What is his name?” she questioned accusingly.
I just smiled in response and shook my head.
She clapped her hands, “Ladies, let’s rise to greet the day!”
The other three girls grumbled, but obliged her, climbing begrudgingly out of bed.
She gestured towards me, “This is Mistress Catherine Carey. She comes to us from Calais.” At the mention of her home, she put her hand to her heart.
“Catherine, this is Mistresses Dorothy Bray, Mary Norris and Ursula Stourton. They will be serving the new queen with us. That young lady over there,” she said pointing towards my bed, “is Mistress Katherine Howard. I imagine it will be awhile before she manages to rouse herself to join us. She had quite an exhausting evening last night.” Dorothy and Mary chittered behind their hands.
Ah, so she was a cousin. I was pleased at the possibility that I could get to know my family better, but also hesitant because of the scorn she was drawing from the other ladies. Maybe she was someone I did not want to be too closely associated with. I would have to be wary.
Nan took a moment to preen in the mirror then spun around and grabbed my hand. “Let me show you everything,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye and we headed out into palace.
The coming weeks were filled with preparations for the queen’s arrival. New rush mats needed to be woven, tapestries chosen by the king needed to be hung, and the queen’s rooms needed to be aired. The maids-of-honour oversaw the servants performing this work and spent mornings doing needlework on a new counterpane for their mistress. During my second week at Court I spied Richard in the gardens and was thrilled he had found his place in the stables after all. He was happy to see me and I managed to convince him that my horsemanship needed work. What else could he do but offer me lessons?
In the afternoons, once my work was completed for the day, I would sneak off to the stables to see him. Sometimes I would catch him in the paddock, combing a mare, singing a lullaby in a quiet voice to calm her, his capable hands checking her carefully for injuries or damage to her hooves. He was so gentle with the animals and it endeared him to me even more.
He would find me a gentle nag and lead me out into the field for a short canter at first, but the more often I rode, the more daring I became and soon I was on a fine palfrey, galloping behind him. I enjoyed our sessions and learned more about Richard and his history every day. He was the son of gentry in York, the youngest with four older sisters who doted upon him. After his mother died, he set out on his own and spent a few years on fishing vessels and trade ships in the channel. Eventually he made his way to the ship that would carry me back to England.
Sir Anthony Browne, the king’s newly minted master of the horse saw him working with the horses in our train and asked him to stay on at Court. I was grateful for Sir Anthony’s intervention because I was falling for Richard more every day. Just seeing him from across the yard was enough to set my stomach aflutter. I did not know if he felt the same, but the look in his eye and his gentle touch when he helped me out of the saddle told me there was something there. As a lady, though, I knew I must hold my tongue and, in any case, the queen would be here in a short time and there would be no more time for riding lessons.
London, Greenwich:
January 1540
“The queen has landed at Dover!” Nan squealed with delight as she ran into our room. She flopped herself on the bed and heaved a great sigh. “Finally, we shall be able to meet our mistress. I hope she is kind like Queen Jane was. It would be awful if she were as harsh and demanding as the other Queen Anne.”
My smile faded. It took a moment for Nan to realise what she had said. Her hand flew to her lips. “Oh Catherine, I am so sorry, I forgot she was ... I did not mean ...”
I raised my hand and stopped her.
“It is fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “I realise that my aunt did not always show her best side when she was under pressure, but I could hardly blame her given the situation in which she found herself.” Seeing the stricken look on her face I softened. “I am sure she will be a wonderful mistress. I am certain your mother has told Master Hussee all about her stop in Calais in her letters.”
At the mention of Lady Lisle’s numerous missives to poor John Hussee, Nan and I fell into a fit of laughter. That woman was always writing to demand something from him.
A few weeks after Christmas, we arrived at Greenwich, and the disastrous meeting between the king and his betrothed was the talk of the court. Nan had all of the details and delighted in spreading the gossip. It seemed that the king, in a fit of passion, had taken his men with him and ridden hard to Rochester. He had wanted to strike the Lady of Cleves with, as he said, the ‘dart of love’. In his usual fashion, he had burst into her chamber in
disguise, hoping that she would fall madly in love upon his arrival. Instead, she had been more interested in the bear baiting taking place outside her window than some outrageously dressed stranger who claimed to serve her husband. Incensed, the king had left her rooms and returned in his regal finery to present her with a gift of sables. She had tried to be gracious once she realised her error, but the damage had already been done. Shortly, after some uncomfortable small talk, Henry had taken to his horse and headed to Gravesend where his barge had been waiting to take him on to Greenwich where the queen was to be formally received.
Nan’s face flushed in the telling. I could see her delight in the queen’s misfortune and I knew it was not out of cruelty, but jealousy. Rumours had been circulating since Queen Jane’s death that Nan would be the king’s next consort, but they turned out to be unfounded and Nan had been bitterly disappointed. I don’t think she truly loved the king, but she thrived on the attention. Nan would have bloomed like a rose on the throne, but it was not meant to be. She would have to be content with catching the eye of another man at Court, but she was not above taking joy in seeing her replacement’s discomfort.
I did not want the Queen’s maids-of-honour coming to her giddy on gossip over her troubles so I changed the subject.
“Katherine, what are you wearing to the banquet tonight? I saw the looks that Tom Culpeper was giving you at the last one. It seems you two dance very well together.”
Katherine Howard let a small giggle escape and a blush overcame her cheeks. “Whatever do you mean, lady cousin?” she asked her eyes wide.
We all began to laugh. Katherine might seem innocent, but she never hid her emotions. We knew of her affections for the king’s groom of the stool, but we were content to let her think us in the dark. Soon, the queen’s sad tale was forgotten and we were happily pulling out gowns for Katherine.
The reception for the new queen was a sight to behold. The great ladies of the court and the maids-of-honour waited in the pavilion for the king to make his arrival. Trumpets sounded announcing his arrival as he processed through the park on horseback, dressed in cloth of gold and royal purple. His crown glinted in the bright winter sunlight. John Dudley, Nan’s step-brother, was Queen Anne’s master of the horse. He stepped forward, dressed in his best, and offered his hand to the queen. She smiled awkwardly and he helped her onto her horse. Dudley led them out to meet the king upon his arrival. The Duchesses of Somerset and Richmond led the way with Marchioness of Dorset, Countess of Rutland and Lady Margaret Douglas behind them. The maids-of-honour and other gentlewomen hung back to watch the spectacle.
Once they met in the middle of the park, both the king and queen dismounted. The king doffed his hat and made reverence to the queen and, in return, she knelt low. The king embraced her and they both turned and waved to their court. Back on their horses, they processed to the inner courtyard where they kissed and celebratory artillery was fired. Though I am sure the king was smouldering with anger inside, he never once let on to his people that all was not well. The queen was led to her privy chamber so she could become better acquainted with her ladies. The king withdrew as well, probably eager to berate his councillors for getting him into this untenable situation.
In the queen’s chambers I finally had a moment to take her in. I was struck by how sturdy she seemed. I knew that Aunt Anne had been very slight and of middling stature and I had heard that Queen Jane was quite delicate, but this new queen looked as though she could work the land. She was tall and rather stocky, her face ruddy as though she had been out in the fields in the wind and sun. But when she smiled, her face lit up, her doe eyes crinkling at the corners. She seemed nervous and kept her ladies from home near to her. I watched the noble-women of the court pay respects to her. She listened intently as though she were working out the words that they spoke to her and it occurred to me that she knew very little of our language. I knew that the other ladies would take advantage of this and I saw a few begin to cluster and whisper to each other, trying to hide their scorn beneath their hands. I became overwhelmed with pity. I knew that she would not last long in a vain court such as ours.
The formalities done, the English ladies went about their business while the queen sat, hands clasped in her lap, and stared off into space. No one seemed to know what to do next. Most of us had never served a foreign queen before. After a moment, an idea came to me. I asked one of the pages for a deck of cards. I gathered Lady Rochford, Nan Bassett and Lady Dudley and explained my plan. I thanked the page for the cards and we approached the queen. She smiled at us curiously and I held out the deck. A great smile spread across her face and she clapped her hands together, nodding in excitement. We giggled in relief and spent the day before the fire playing card games with our new mistress.
The day of the wedding fell after Advent so the celebrations would be short-lived, but it was a royal wedding after all. We dressed Queen Anne in a gorgeous cloth-of-gold gown, rubies and sapphires around her throat. Her golden brown hair fell loose down her back, crowned with a coronet of gold and jewels. A garland of rosemary hung around her waist. The ceremony would be private and we would not be there, so I prayed she would be happily received. I had seen the king stomping about the palace earlier in the day and my stomach quaked with fear for her. She smiled serenely and gave a wave as she was led to the king by the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk. As he led her out of the room, Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk, gave me a wink and a smile. He had been so kind to me since my arrival and I was glad that he would be escorting her. It would be a nice contrast to my Uncle Norfolk’s stiff personality.
After the ceremony the rest of the court was invited to the feast. The king and queen dined on the dais under a gold cloth of state, the premier nobles of the court on either side of them. Plate after plate came out of the kitchens, piled high with trout, clams, eel, plover and duck. During Lenten season there would be no red meat, but there was plenty of food from the sea. We ate until our hearts’ content, and then made our way to chapel for Evensong. After the service the masques could begin.
The music and ale made me feel as light as a feather. I dropped my inhibitions and my face flushed with my heart light, I danced with every young man that asked, but secretly I wished that Richard could join the celebration. I knew he had nothing to offer my family, but I could not help the attraction I had towards him. Maybe there was some hope. My mother had managed to marry Stafford after all.
I looked around at all the noblemen that graced the court and tried desperately to tamp down my emotions. I caught Katherine’s eye. She threw her head back and laughed at something Culpeper whispered to her. I envied her. Culpeper was in her reach, Richard was out of mine. I looked to the king, the man who would decide my fate. I would have to have faith in him. He caught me staring. A broad smile spread across his face and he nodded his head towards me. It was the first time he had acknowledged my presence. In that moment, despite my best efforts, I felt a twinge of love for my father. I was so angry with him for so many reasons, but I began to understand why he was so beloved. It was his charm and charisma. I began to wonder if I would ever figure him out.
London, Westminster:
February - March 1540
On the 4th February, we floated down the frigid Thames on a barge covered in Cleves swans to Westminster. The queen was in her jovial mood. Though she still had not mastered the language, she seemed to be adapting to other aspects of life at the English court. She excelled at cards and often relieved the Duke of Suffolk of his gambling purse during Primero.
We had seen very little of the king since the wedding, but like a good husband he made a point to visit the queen’s rooms at least once a week. Knowing the king’s reputation with wives who failed to reproduce, I waited anxiously for the chamber-maids to give us the sly look that indicated a maiden’s blood on the sheets, but none ever came. By the time we moved on to Hampton Court, where we would celebrate Easter festivities, the queen’s ladies had begun to talk.
“Lady Rutland has asked me to approach the queen,” Jane Rochford whispered to me as we sat in the window embrasure sewing.
“Is there something you need? I’m sorry I was concentrating on this stitch and missed what you said before,” I muttered as I pulled out an errant stitch that had come loose.
Exasperated, she replied, “I do not need anything. You missed nothing. I said Lady Rutland has asked me to approach the queen to ask if she is still a maid. By now there would be some evidence of her pregnancy, but she continues to have her courses on schedule and the king almost never visits her. How does she expect to get a Duke of York?”
I stopped toying with the stitch and eyed her critically. “How long were you married to George before your courses stopped?”
I regretted my words when I saw the hurt on her face. “I’m sorry, Jane, I didn’t mean to upset you. But as you know, babies come in the Lord’s time and I do not know that it is any of yours or Lady Rutland’s business whether the king is intimate with his wife or not. The last time you mentioned the king’s inabilities, my aunt and uncle lost their heads. Please do not get involved.”
Jane stared down at her lap. “I was just trying to help. Why do I always find myself in the middle of these matters?”
I put down my needle and reached for her hand. “Because, my dear Jane, you have the best of intentions and I know you want to help. But sometimes it is not worth the risk.”
“You are right, Catherine. But in this matter I feel I must do as Lady Rutland asks. We all know that the king is not happy in this marriage and it is only a matter of time before he makes a move to get rid of her. And when he does, we will no longer have a place at Court. I cannot bear to be alone at Blickling again. I know my place is here,” she implored, her eyes searching mine for approval.
Cor Rotto: A novel of Catherine Carey Page 3
