In The Midst of Madness: Tudor Chronicles Book Two

by Lesley Jepson

  ‘Lady Margery, would you take Master Mannox to my secretary please, while I go to see the King? He will be so disappointed not to see me before the hawks fly, he will miss me so much,’ and with a smile she walked as regally as she could towards the King’s hawking party, drinking cups of wine and shining with jewels in the summer sunshine, waiting for the Queen to say her farewells to the King.

  ***

  Tom Seymour gazed round the hall in York where they were celebrating the final night of the royal progress. The next day they would pack everything onto carts and return to Hampton Court palace. It would still be days before they arrived in London, but the nights would be spent at one country house or another, a brief overnight stay. The wagons with all the plate and prosperity of the court would be sent ahead, and any of the members of the court might ride on ahead if they chose. Henry and Kitty would only need their immediate households until they arrived back in the capital.

  He would be pleased to be back in London, he thought. It was becoming tedious constantly entertaining the King, and he knew his brother was anxious to return in case Tom Wriothesley had usurped some of the Seymour power while they were away. He looked across the room and saw Kate Brough playing cards with some of the older ladies, so he unfolded himself from the doorway and strode cross to her, leaning down and tapping the card she should play.

  ‘Sir Thomas!’ She was startled as he appeared over her shoulder.

  ‘Lady Brough,’ he smiled his greeting and watched the other players carefully.

  ‘I did not think I would see you before I left.’ Kate looked down at her cards demurely.

  ‘You’re leaving, my Lady?’ He tried to keep his tone even, although his heart had started to pound.

  ‘Yes, my Lord. When the court returns to London, I shall go north to my family. I am to marry Lord Latimer very soon.’

  He closed his eyes at the thought of Kate, his Kate, in the arms of another man.

  ‘That saddens me greatly, my Lady. I had hoped to have your company back to the capital.’ He was aware of the sharp ears of the gossipy old ladies currently ignoring their cards as they listened to the exchange in front of them.

  ‘Unfortunately my Lord, I am unable. The marriage portion is already paid and the contract made. I will be Lady Latimer before the month is over.’

  Tom sighed and straightened. ‘Then I wish you joy in your marriage, Lady Brough. I hope to see you at court in the near future,’ he pronounced stiffly, and taking her hand, he kissed her fingers gently, looking up at her longingly.

  Kate’s eyes filled with tears as she smiled her thanks and watched Tom Seymour, tall, young and virile walk away from her at York. She swallowed and returned to her cards.

  ***

  Tom strode angrily through the rooms until he found where the wine was being served, thinking of Kate being married to someone else. He drank a large goblet straight down and held it out to be refilled, then glowered round the room. He was tired of being discounted because he was the younger son, tired of being seen as only suitable for entertaining the King. He realised he was not as astute as his older brother Edward, less able in the political world his brother chose to inhabit. But Tom felt he was worth more than being dismissed as the younger brother of a deceased Queen, the profligate uncle of an infant Price. He emptied his cup and had it filled once again, in despair that Kate was lost to him once more.

  Suddenly his head was swamped with the scent of gardenia and he turned with a smile.

  ‘Lady Hertford,’ he greeted his sister-in-law and pressed a drink into her hands.

  ‘Sir Thomas,’ she answered coolly. He and Anne Stanhope, his brother’s termagant of a second wife were seldom on friendly terms. She thought he was a vacuous wastrel and he thought she was too clever for a woman, although he admitted she was just the sort of wife his brother needed; ambitious, strong, haughty.

  ‘How goes it with the King, Thomas?’

  ‘Well, Anne. Mightily well. He is entertained during the day, hawking, archery, listening to music and poetry and flattery. We leave it to his little Queen to entertain him at night. He does love to watch her dance!’ He laughed softly and nodded towards the great hall, visible through the open door, where Kitty and Tom Culpeper led a line of dancers.

  ‘It is said that the King is not the only one she dances for.’ Anne’s tone was low, but sharp.

  His brows rose but he shook his head. ‘With Jane Rochford on guard, I doubt anyone could get past her to the Queen, Anne.’ Tom drained his cup again, ‘And how is my dear brother? Busy whispering into the King’s ear?’

  ‘As always.’ Anne sounded disgruntled as she drained her own wine and took two more from a passing servant, handing one to Tom. ‘Politics is the only thing that interests him.’

  Tom looked curiously at Anne. She was behaving very strangely tonight, seeking him out and drinking wine with him. Usually she looked down her haughty nose at his drinking. Tom glanced over to where the table groaned under the weight of food, seeing Kate Brough helping an old lady choose something to eat. He turned his back and bent to whisper in Anne’s ear.

  ‘If you were my wife Anne, politics would be a poor second.’ She looked at him, astounded. He had never shown the slightest interest in her, although he was a very good-looking man. She drank some more wine.

  ‘Really, my Lord?’ She raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of her cup, then smiled. ‘I would like to discuss that with you sometime.’

  Tom took her cup from her grasp and placed it carefully on the tray, then took her hand and led her through the doorway in the corner of the room. Anne glanced round the room, making sure no-one noticed them leaving, then eagerly followed Tom through the door and up the steep staircase to the bedchambers on the upper floor. The wine she had drunk was making her head spin, but she had begun to feel impatient that her husband ignored her and spent every moment he could with the King or with the Privy Council.

  Tom burst into the first bedchamber he came to, pulling Anne in behind him and then locking the door firmly.

  ‘Oh, Anne. You smell so delicious tonight, I could just eat you up.’ He brushed his hand up one side of her face and whispered the words into her ear, kissing her neck and nipping her earlobe gently.

  She sighed delightedly, then put her hands on his doublet and pushed him backwards onto the bed. He landed with his back on the feather mattress and his feet on the floor, and laughed in surprise. She was very determined, and she started to unlace his breeches as he unhooked the front of her bodice.

  ‘Is this what you want, my Lady?’ he stroked up one of her breasts then caught her nipple in his mouth and sucked gently. Anne carried on unlacing him, her breath sharper now, until he was released from his breeches and she caressed his length, before raising her skirts and straddling him, pressing herself down until he was fully sheathed.

  ‘This is what I want, my Lord.’

  Tom was absolutely astonished by her behaviour, but he wasn’t about to refuse an encounter with his brother’s wife. He thrust upwards enthusiastically as she rode him, and she seemed to enjoy the urgency of his movements, as he suckled her breasts and clutched her buttocks. Suddenly, their climax was upon them and their movements became more frantic as they both sought release.

  Anne stood carefully, then wiped herself with the hem of her shift, looking down curiously at Tom, still breathless on the bed, as if wondering what had just happened.

  ‘Thank you, my Lord.’ She gazed at him without smiling. ‘I have often wondered what it would be like with you, and now I know. You should teach your brother how it should be done. But it will not happen again.’

  Tom looked at her in amazement at how cold she was, after her enthusiasm of a moment
before. He watched her shake her skirts down and smooth her hair, then unlock the door, as he re-laced his breeches and made himself presentable. Anne left the room without another word, and Tom shook his head in bewilderment.

  ‘Ah Kate, see what you make me do!’ He stood up from the bed and went back to join the celebration. He would be very glad to return to London.

  Chapter 16 - 1540

  eg and Mary laughed at Cat as she helped them pack her clothes chests before they departed for Hatfield House.

  ‘Oh, Meg,’ Cat clasped her hands together, ‘I hope you thought your wedding was as perfect as mine was to Francis.’

  ‘My wedding was lovely, my Lady. But it is perfectly fitting that it shouldn’t be as grand as yours,’ smiled Meg, folding shifts carefully and placing them in Cat’s clothes chest.

  She remembered her happy tears falling as Cat, looking quite beautiful in her sumptuous cream silk gown, with a hand-embroidered shell-pink brocade under-gown and sleeves and trimmed with pink sapphires and seed pearls, walked down the aisle on the arm of her step-father to become Lady Catherine Knollys.

  Lady Mary had sobbed into her handkerchief most of the day, assuring everyone that she was overwhelmed with happiness, and everyone had kissed everyone else, and danced and made merry late into the night.

  ‘Yes, it was very grand, Meg. But Francis is so lovely. He was so kind, you know, when we ……,’ her words trailed away as she realised that perhaps this wasn’t a proper subject to discuss in front of her mother.

  Mary simply smiled and carried on folding and packing. She had known Francis Knollys would be kind to her little chick, which is why she had chosen him. And she knew he would take care of Cat and Meg when they went to Hatfield.

  ***

  All too soon for Mary the chests were loaded onto the carts and Cat, Meg and Francis climbed into the carriage that would take them to their new life. Tears coursed down Mary’s face again, but she knew this was for the best, and she also knew that she would see them often.

  ‘Give my love to Princess Elizabeth, my lovely,’ Mary clasped her daughter’s hand through the carriage window before they left.

  ‘I will, Mother. Look after Henry, and I will come back and see you soon.’

  Mary smiled at her daughter, then nodded at Meg, knowing she would take care of Cat as she had always done. The carriage began to roll away down the gravel drive, and Mary stood in the stable yard, waving until she could see them no longer.

  ***

  ‘Princess, allow me to present your cousin, Lady Catherine Knollys, and her lady in waiting, Lady Margaret Sadler.’ Francis Knollys made the formal introductions, and Princess Elizabeth held out her hand in greeting.

  Both Cat and Meg curtseyed deeply to the Princess, and kissed her hand formally.

  ‘My Uncle of Norfolk told me you would come,’ said Elizabeth, with great formality. ‘I am pleased to welcome more of my kinsfolk, as I seem to have so few.’

  Cat’s eyes filled with tears at the sadness implied in her cousin’s voice. She was only eight years old, and wouldn’t really remember her mother, Queen Anne. Cat couldn’t imagine her own life without Mary’s love, like a rock on which everything in her life was anchored.

  ‘You are my only cousin, your Highness. It pleases me that I can serve you.’ Cat wanted this poor little girl, so formal in her stiff gown, to know that she had a cousin that loved her.

  ‘I hope you will be happy with me at Hatfield. It isn’t a large household, just a few servants, my tutors Master Grindal and Master Ascham. And Kat of course, my nurse. She has been with me since I was born.’

  Cat remembered Mary telling her about Kat Ashley, the nurse Anne had chosen for Elizabeth, and who had loved and protected her all her short life. Cat smiled at Elizabeth.

  ‘Then we shall have plenty of room to spread out, Princess, and I know Meg will enjoy serving you as she always has served me.’ Meg smiled at the Princess too, hoping to show that she would be a loyal friend to her.

  Elizabeth’s face lit up as she looked at Cat. ‘Master Ascham teaches me Latin and French, as well as Italian. He lets me read the descriptions of the battles fought by the Caesars. To be able to study the war craft practised be the Romans is wonderful; the strategy and tactics they used is almost mathematical in its precision.’ Elizabeth’s tone became more and more animated in her excitement, but Cat’s eyes were huge as she thought about how bored she’d been in her own Latin lessons. She could manage to decline the verb to love, amo, amas, amat, but little else. She brought her mind back to the Princess’s words.

  ‘And Master Grindal is teaching me Greek and allows me to practice by reading the great philosophers in their original language. It is so enjoyable.’

  ‘Princess,’ began Cat, unsure if she was speaking out of turn, ‘I learned a little German conversation while in service to the Lady Anne of Cleves, and I can teach you that, if you would like me to?’ Elizabeth looked thrilled at the opportunity for further language instruction.

  ‘That would be wonderful, Cat. We could converse over needlework. I enjoy embroidery and reading when I am not at my lessons.’ Cat’s heart went out to the Princess, surrounded by servants and dry old men.

  ‘Princess, I can’t speak Greek, but I can read aloud and I can definitely embroider. My mother taught me some wonderful stitches and ways to lift the pattern right off the background.’ Cat laughed self-consciously, ‘If that would please you, of course.’

  ‘Oh Cat,’ breathed the Princess, ‘it would be wonderful, and if you teach me German, I shall teach you some Greek.’ Cat rolled her eyes and Elizabeth laughed aloud. ‘You must teach me how to do that too, cousin. It is most expressive.’

  Chapter 17 - 1541

  aking the most of his brother’s preoccupation with the Privy Council while the court was in residence at Hampton Court for six or seven weeks, Tom Seymour was nearing exhaustion. His sister-in-law had lied when she said there would be no more trysts between them.

  She still treated him with cool disdain whenever they met, whether it was privately as a family or along the galleries and corridors of the palace, surrounded by couriers. But when he looked at her, viewing him with an icy hauteur, he knew that the hem of her shift was still damp from his emissions, and she was still moist between her legs from their most recent encounter.

  Anne was shameless when she was with him, taking charge before he could catch his breath. She would make him take her against a tree if they were out hunting, pretending that her horse had bolted when the others questioned where they had been. She would have him in dark corners on the turn of the stairs, hiding her face in his shoulder should anyone pass them, having learned to ignore Tom Seymour tupping maids on the stairs. She would also sneak into his bedchamber if his brother was away at another palace on business, and she would scream and moan in the throes of passion.

  Anne wouldn’t let him mark her above her gown, but below was a different matter, and she assured him that the bites and scratches he put inside her thighs and down the sides of her breasts would never be seen by her husband. She marked him in her turn, and sometimes his back looked like it had been clawed by a wild beast. He knew it was not love, for either of them. What he actually thought it was, other than lust, was retaliation.

  A way of pursuing his own retaliation against his brother for being older, cleverer, more successful and Anne’s unique way of seeking retribution, however secretly, for being ignored, taken for granted, treated as property. It couldn’t continue much longer, he thought, but he would enjoy it as long as she still wanted him.

  Tom had his reverie interrupted by a page bringing a sealed message from his brother. He broke the seal, read it and told the page to tell his brother he would be a
long directly. Then he looked up and had a pleasant surprise.

  ‘Lady Brough.’ Tom swept off his bonnet and bowed deeply, offering up the book that had dropped at his feet as she stepped daintily along the gallery.

  ‘Why, thank you Sir Thomas,’ a deep curtsey into a pool of burgundy velvet, ‘But it is Lady Brough no longer, sir. I am Lady Latimer now.’

  A growl. ‘You’re my Kate.’ Tom Seymour grabbed Kate’s hand and pulled her behind a tapestry hanging along the gallery. He clasped her to him and kissed her neck down to her bodice. Kate sighed delightedly.

  ‘Another husband chosen by your father, Kate? Didn’t you have enough of being an old man’s plaything last time?’ His kisses were becoming heated and he ground his hips into hers, running his hand over her breast as he did so. Kate gasped; he had never been so forward in his behaviour before.

  ‘I was thirteen when I married Lord Brough, Tom. I knew nothing, and he was very kind to me. He taught me Latin and Greek and let me read Cicero and Ovid. He educated me. He didn’t want me as his plaything. He was too kind a man for that.’

  ‘And as soon as he was dead, your father married you to someone even older. He could have married you to me!’ He captured her mouth with his own and kissed her passionately, a kiss she returned in equal measure.

  ‘He married me to Lord Latimer to get me away from you. So you didn’t ruin my reputation.’ Kate laughed softly. ‘You didn’t ask him if you could marry me.’

  ‘Something I truly regret,’ he sighed, tipping her head back and touching his forehead to hers. ‘And is this husband kind also, Kate?’

  ‘This husband is very ill, Tom. He needs a nurse more than a wife. In fact, he doesn’t particularly want a wife at all. His children are both grown and he wants none from me. I nurse him, and read to him, and make tinctures to help his throat, and I sleep alone.’ Kate gasped as Tom began to lift her skirt.