by Alison Weir
“I hope he’s worth it!” he called after her.
* * *
—
Harry was waiting for her by the gate. To her surprise, the sight of him did not cause her heart to jolt in the old way. But she was pleased to see him and assured herself that things would soon be as they had been between them.
“Darling!” he said and enfolded her in his arms. “Shall we sit in the churchyard?”
She looked along the street toward the Duchess’s inn. There were always people coming and going in and out, and she was praying that no one noticed them. Mr. Dereham, the saints be thanked, was nowhere to be seen.
“Let’s walk along the river toward Lambeth Marsh,” she said. That would be safer.
They took the gravel path that led to the Thames.
“I feel dreadful about what happened that night,” Harry said. “I was shocked speechless when the Duchess appeared. I hope you weren’t too sore after that beating.”
“I recovered,” Katheryn said. “I was very upset, but I am over that now.” She wanted to ask Harry if he was to be married, but feared provoking another black mood.
“I hope we can continue to see each other,” he said. “I am only along the road.”
“Of course,” she agreed, wondering why she felt so differently toward him. What had happened to her?
On the riverbank, they stood and admired the sky over Westminster. It was azure blue, streaked with a golden sunset. Harry put his arms around her and turned her to face him. When he bent to kiss her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, she put her heart and soul into it, wanting to respond in the way she had weeks ago, but the feeling eluded her. In her mind, she kept seeing Mr. Dereham’s swarthy face. It intrigued her; there was something about the man.
“Shouldn’t we just be grateful for what we have?” Harry murmured, his hand cupping her breast.
“Yes,” she agreed, pushing it away, no longer sure that she wanted him to touch her.
“I want you,” he said huskily. “I know you want me, too. I know what a lusty girl you are.”
She recoiled, not wanting to hear him speak to her like that.
He kissed her again, with increasing purpose, his hands clasping her buttocks. She was more than grateful to hear voices approaching. She pulled away and began strolling back toward the house.
“You should go,” she said. “I would not like you to get into trouble if someone sees you here.”
“That would not matter, for it has been wonderful to see you again, sweetheart,” Harry said. “Can I come again tomorrow?”
“I will send to you,” she told him.
They were near the gate. Harry lifted her hand to his lips. “I will count the hours,” he said.
* * *
—
Dorothy took a note telling Harry that Katheryn would meet him two days hence in the same place. Katheryn did not confide her inner turmoil to her friends. Being in love had been wonderful; she wanted the feeling back, and to admit that it just wasn’t there anymore would make its absence even more real. So, each time, she agreed to see Harry again, glad for Dorothy and Izzie to carry messages and love tokens between them, and pretended that all was well, as she was willing it to be.
One evening, while she was waiting for Harry outside Norfolk House, she saw, through the archway, Mr. Dereham strolling toward her with Joan Bulmer on his arm. The sight gave her a pang—and it troubled her. Joan seemed to have forgotten that she was married. It was one thing to take any old lover, but Mr. Dereham? It was unsettling seeing them looking happy together, as she had been with Harry.
“Hello, Mistress Katheryn,” Joan said smugly. “Waiting for Mr. Manox?”
“What?” Katheryn was shocked. “Who told you?”
“The girls in the dorter were talking about it. It’s no secret. Even Francis here knows about it.”
Mr. Dereham grinned.
Katheryn vowed to kill Dorothy and Izzie when next she saw them. How dare they break her confidence!
“We hear that you are soon to be wed,” Mr. Dereham said.
Katheryn gaped.
“Dorothy said that you are betrothed and much in love,” Joan added.
This was too much!
“We are no such thing,” Katheryn retorted, “and I’ll thank you not to listen to idle gossip!”
“But you are seeing him,” Joan countered.
“That’s my affair!” Katheryn said, and walked off.
* * *
—
“Did you tell Dorothy or Izzie that we are troth-plight?” she asked Harry when he arrived, not waiting to greet him.
“No, I did not,” he said, frowning, as she began walking past Lambeth Palace.
“Well, it seems they are telling all and sundry that we are! So I was wondering why they are under that impression.”
“Maybe they made the assumption when they saw the locket I sent you.”
The locket. It must have cost a pretty sum. Katheryn wished she had not accepted it, realizing that it did look like a betrothal gift. “And was that your intention?”
“No! I saw it in a shop in Cheapside and thought of you.”
“All right, I believe you. But I hate people drawing false conclusions about us.”
“Would that they were true,” Harry said, taking her hand. “Why are we going this way? There are places we can be private in the gardens of my lady’s house. There’s that arbor by the rosebushes. Let’s go back.”
Reluctantly, Katheryn agreed. Although it was painful to admit it to herself, she knew now that her love had died, but she had not the heart to tell him. She let him lead her back to the Duchess’s inn, praying they would run into someone she knew, someone who could rescue her. But it was dark and the gardens were deserted. Her hand in his, she followed Harry to the arbor and let him kiss her. When he grew passionate, she tried to ward him off, wresting his hand from her breast.
“Not here,” she whispered. “Someone might come!”
“There’s no one about,” he answered, lifting her skirt. “Relax, Katheryn. You know you want it.”
“Yes, but not here!” she snapped, and stood up.
“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling ruefully at her. “I get carried away by your beauty.”
“I must go in,” she said.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No,” she lied, desperate to be gone. “It’s…it’s just that I can’t relax out in the open here.”
Harry rose to his feet. “Leave it with me. I will arrange something. We must be together, Katheryn. You promised, and I can’t stand the waiting anymore.”
Yes, she had promised. And now she bitterly regretted it. “It grows late,” she said. “I will be missed. Send to me.” And she picked up her skirts and hurried away.
“Don’t forget that you promised, Katheryn,” he called after her, and there was an edge to his voice.
She turned. “Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, people say things they don’t mean.” Then she began walking away, as quickly as she could.
“You little bitch!” she heard him say. She ignored it and hurried into the house, intent on finding Dorothy and Izzie. They were alone in the still room, making scent, and looked up in surprise as she banged the door behind her.
“Why did you tell people that I am plighted to Mr. Manox?” she cried.
“We thought you were,” Dorothy muttered.
“And what gave you that impression?” Katheryn raged. “You just assumed it. You thought you could make me the butt of a nice little scandal.”
“We are very sorry,” Izzie said, looking tearful.
“We really thought it was true, that you were to be married,” Dorothy said.
“We weren’t the only ones,” Izzie added. “Some of the girls saw you two toget
her in the garden.”
“We won’t say anything about it again, to anyone,” Dorothy promised.
Katheryn relented and forgave them. If it had been her in their place, she would have gossiped, too.
* * *
—
Two days later, her heart sank when Mary Lascelles followed her into the dorter. It was afternoon and the chamber was deserted. Katheryn had come only to fetch the lute she had appropriated from the parlor where Harry had tutored her. She had almost mastered it.
“Guess who I saw this morning by the porter’s lodge, asking for you,” Mary said.
“I have no idea,” Katheryn replied.
“It was Mr. Manox,” Mary told her, with apparent relish. Something in her manner warned Katheryn that more was to come. It was bad enough that Harry had come seeking her out again, but it was worse that Mary, of all people, knew about it.
“Was it?” she retorted, grabbing the lute and making for the door.
“You want to marry him, don’t you?” Mary challenged.
Katheryn stopped. “If I did, I wouldn’t discuss it with you.”
“It’s what everyone thinks,” Mary went on, “but I know differently.” She was baiting Katheryn.
“You know nothing!”
“No? Mr. Manox was quite forthcoming. I told him he had no business to be aspiring to a daughter of the Howards. I asked him what he was doing, playing the fool in this fashion. I said that if my lady of Norfolk got to hear of the love between him and you, Mistress Katheryn, she would undo him. I told him you are of a noble house and if he dared to marry you, some of your blood would kill him!”
Katheryn listened, appalled. “You had no right!”
“Maybe not, but I have done you a favor,” Mary smiled, “because I have exposed him as the villain he is. He bade me hold my peace and admitted quite brazenly that his designs are dishonest.”
“What?” Katheryn cried, horrified.
Mary was still smiling. “He said he knows you very well, and bragged that, from the liberties you have allowed him, he had no doubt that he would be able to have his way with you.”
“He told you that?”
“He was adamant that you love him and he loves you, and that you have promised him he shall have your maidenhead, even though it might be painful for you, and that you believe he will be good to you afterward. My dear, you should beware of this man!”
Katheryn was shaking with shame and indignation. Mary’s malice was bad enough, but for Harry to speak of her in this way was inexcusable. The worst of it was that some of it was true. She had said those things to him. This was his revenge, she had no doubt!
“Fie!” she exclaimed. “I care nothing for him, nothing at all!” She was pacing up and down in her fury. “He shall not speak of me like that. I will have him explain himself. Mary, will you come with me to Lord Bayment’s house and be there when I confront him? You can testify to what he said.”
Mary nodded. “Of course.” She was clearly enjoying this; she would never have refused.
They walked up Church Road to Lord Bayment’s imposing residence and asked to speak to Mr. Manox. When he came into the hall where they had been asked to wait, his face flushed. He knew why they were there!
“Mistress Lascelles has told me what you said about me,” Katheryn declared, glaring at him. “You revealed to her the most personal details of our relationship and told her that your intentions toward me were dishonest. Is this true? Did you say those things?”
Harry nodded. He would not look her in the eye. “I can explain,” he said.
“Then do so!” Katheryn had rarely felt so angry.
“Let’s sit on the window seat and be private,” Harry said, his voice hoarse. She joined him there, leaving Mary standing at the other end of the hall, and taking care to sit well apart. She could smell ale on his breath.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, hanging his head. “I am far in love with you, and was so desperate to see you that I knew not what I said.”
“So it was the drink talking?” she retorted.
“No, no, no. She was too nosy, and taking a prurient interest in us, so I decided to shock her. I didn’t think she’d tell you. I never meant to behave dishonorably toward you or upset you.”
“You realize that your words, if repeated, could ruin my reputation. My life, too, would be ruined. If the Duchess heard, she could cast me out, and I’d have nowhere to go.”
“If she did that, I would marry you,” Harry said, taking her hand. She drew it away.
“You’ve already told me why that cannot be,” she reminded him tartly.
“Look, I know you’re angry, darling, but I didn’t intend to hurt you in any way. I was an idiot. Please forgive me! I’ll go on my knees if you wish.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Katheryn said, thawing because he looked so abject. He did sound sincere—and his excuses seemed plausible, if rash. “Very well,” she said. “I forgive you.”
Harry seized her hand and covered it with kisses. “May I see you again?”
“I’ll think about it,” she told him. “I will send to you.”
“Can we not set a time now?”
Katheryn relented. “All right. Come on Sunday after dinner.”
She walked away, not giving him the opportunity to kiss her goodbye.
* * *
—
On Sunday afternoon, he was there waiting for her. This time, she led him to the orchard, where they strolled among the ripening apple trees. She had decided that it must end. She did not want him any more; in fact, she despised him, and was wondering what she had ever seen in him. When he tried to kiss her, she evaded him, and after a time she said that she had to visit her brothers and bade him a hasty farewell. Surely, she told herself as she raced up the stairs to the dorter, he must realize that all was over between them.
1538
That night, the young ladies all gathered in the dorter for another midnight banquet. Dorothy and Meg had purloined a leftover joint of beef and some spice cakes from the kitchens, Kat and Alice had raided the buttery when the butler wasn’t looking and now produced two flagons of very fine Rhenish wine, Joan and Izzie had been to the market at Borough and bought rabbit pasties, and Margaret Bennet and some of the chamberers had been into the pantry at separate intervals and taken out manchet bread rolls, a jam tart, and some cold salmon. Katheryn’s contribution was a small basket of windfall apples from the orchard. It was going to be a veritable feast!
The key had been safely stolen and, at midnight, when they heard a tap on the door, Dorothy opened it to admit the young gentlemen who were their guests this night. Robert Damport joined Alice Wilkes, and John Bennet gave his wife a warm hug, as other gallants greeted their sweethearts. Katheryn was surprised to see Edward Waldegrave go straight to Joan and kiss her soundly on the mouth. She had thought Mr. Dereham was courting Joan, and that Edward was sweet on Dotty Baskerville. But here Dereham was, not seeming to care at all, kissing all the girls in greeting, then advancing toward Katheryn, smiling wolfishly. She felt a frisson of excitement at the sight of him. There was something powerfully attractive about him. Had she ever thought Harry handsome? He had been an Apollo beside this Mars.
“I had hoped to see you here, Mistress Katheryn,” Mr. Dereham said, opening a sack and unloading wine and more apples.
“You are welcome, Sir,” she said, smiling up at him. He helped her to lay out the food he had brought and stood beside her at the table as they filled their plates. Then he sat down next to her on her bed. She rather liked his boldness. Around them, the others were eating and chattering in the candlelight.
“I have never seen you here before,” Katheryn said.
“Oh, I have been here on several nights, although you were absent—pursuing your pleasures elsewhere, they told me.”
/> Katheryn flushed.
“There is good sport to be had in this chamber of nights.” He was looking at Joan, who was kissing Edward Waldegrave.
“That’s as may be, but I have no part in it,” Katheryn told him, “nor ever have had.”
“Not even with the gallant Mr. Manox?” His tone was sneering.
“Never!” she said.
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Then you heard wrong!” She glared at him. “Did you come here to bait me, Mr. Dereham?”
“No, Mistress Katheryn,” he replied, his dark eyes holding hers. “I came here because I wanted to get better acquainted with you. Let’s say I am captured by your beauty—if you want to play by the rules of this game of love we’re all supposed to play.”
“You speak of love, Sir? I hardly know you.” Nevertheless, her heart was racing.
“Love, lust…call it what you will, I want you. As soon as I saw you, I knew that I wanted you.”
“Stop!” She held up her hand. “As my lady of Norfolk would tell you, I am not for you.”
“I am her cousin. Does that make me too base? My family is an ancient one. Our line stretches back for centuries. My grandmother was a Tilney, like her. My mother was that Isabel Paynell to whom the poet Skelton addressed some very lovely verses. He called her ‘the freshest flower of May.’ She was then in attendance on the late Duchess of Norfolk and was indeed very beautiful. This was before she married my father, you understand. He’s been dead these seven years.”
“I have heard that you are a gentleman of a poor house,” Katheryn said.
“Not true!” Dereham smiled. “But I am a younger son and have no fortune and no inheritance to look forward to, so I have to make a living. I was a gentleman pensioner of the Duke of Norfolk before I came here. Our family seat is Crimplesham Hall in Norfolk; my brother, Sir Thomas Dereham, reigns there now. This is our crest.” He held out his hand, on which there was a ring with a deer’s head. “It’s a pun on our surname. Do my credentials find favor with your ladyship?”
