Katheryn Howard, the Scandalous Queen

by Alison Weir

  “I’m glad,” the Duchess said. “Going to court will stop you moping around with Mr. Dereham. Don’t think I haven’t been aware of it.”

  Katheryn stared at her. After all that subterfuge…

  “It was reprehensible of you to disobey me,” the Duchess continued, “but I understand you have been circumspect. It’s as well you are going to court. Hopefully, you will attract some fitting suitor there, one who can keep you in the manner to which, as a Howard, you should be accustomed.”

  “But, my lady, you were not averse to us marrying, so long as my father agreed?”

  “I have a fondness for Mr. Dereham, and as things stood it would have been an acceptable match for you. But now that this wonderful chance has come your way, I rejoice that there will be better options open to you. Now, we will forget Mr. Dereham, for there is much to be done. The first thing is to get you fitted out for court, and as soon as possible. The Lady Anne is expected to arrive in England soon, and you must be ready. Sir Thomas Manners, who is to be her chamberlain, will inform me when and where you are to be sent. Malyn, Meg, and Kat are to go to court, too, as chamberers to the Queen. They had hoped to be maids-of-honor, but they are lucky to be going at all! Sir Philip Tilney is to be an usher of the King’s Privy Chamber, so he and Malyn will be together at court. Married courtiers are allocated lodgings.”

  The Duchess rambled on, but Katheryn was barely listening. It was breathtaking, the speed with which her life had turned around. Suddenly, there was a purpose to it, a future—and a glittering one at that. But before she could enjoy it, there was Francis to be told. She would have to face him.

  * * *

  —

  She found him in the dining hall, supervising the laying of the table.

  “Wait for me in the garden,” he told her, his face impassive. She wandered out and waited for ten minutes, her trepidation increasing. Had he thought she had come to apologize for her unhappiness? Did he want her back? And how would he react when she told him she was going to court?

  As she gazed out over the river, she faced the fact that she wanted to go to court far more than she wanted to be with him. Their love had become tainted, for her, by hopelessness and the knowledge that it could not flourish. She still had feelings for him, but not the lust and passion she had felt so many weeks ago. She would miss him, she was certain; she was just not sure how much.

  It was about a quarter of an hour before he joined her, coming to stand beside her by the low garden wall.

  “Hello, Katheryn,” he said. “How are you?”

  “I am well,” she said. “I have to talk to you.”

  “I don’t think there’s any more to say.” He gave her a hard look.

  “It’s not about that. I am summoned to court to serve the new Queen.”

  He caught his breath. “You are leaving Lambeth for good?”

  “I will visit if I am able.”

  “Then it really is over between us.” He turned away. “If you go, I will not tarry long in this house.”

  “I am going. My lord of Norfolk has arranged it; I have no choice. You must do as you wish. Believe me, it grieves me to be leaving you.”

  “Why should I believe that?” His voice was bitter. “The court is swarming with eligible men, and you will soon forget me.”

  “That’s unfair,” Katheryn said, wanting to make him feel better and be kinder to her. “You will never live to say that I have swerved from you.”

  “I wish I could believe that, too,” he muttered.

  “You can,” she said, feeling sorry for him and taking his hand. He turned to her, his dark eyes full of pain.

  “Remember how we plighted our troth?” he said, twisting his hand and taking hers in his grasp. “Even if you forsake me for another, you will always be mine, and I will always be true to you.”

  “And I will be true to you,” she promised, wanting only to get away. Somehow, her mind had already consigned Francis to the past, and she was eager to embrace her new life. Yes, they had plighted their troth, but that was then, and she did not believe it was as binding as he seemed to think. Certainly, the Duchess had not thought so.

  “When are you going?” he asked.

  “When I am summoned. It depends on when the Queen is expected. But it won’t be long.”

  “Then we can see each other in the meantime?”

  “Of course,” she said, knowing it was wrong of her to let him hope that all might yet be as it had been between them.

  “Then let’s go to Batrichsy tomorrow,” he said. “I have to get back to my duties now.”

  “Very well,” she agreed.

  He kissed her then, and it felt strange. She was not sure that she wanted to go to Batrichsy with him. As she walked back to the house, she decided to invent an excuse not to.

  * * *

  —

  In the event, she did not have to make up an excuse for, that afternoon, she was plunged into a whirl of preparations for court. The Duchess’s tailor came and measured her for six gowns. He laid out length after length of gorgeous fabrics on the long table and my lady pored over them as Katheryn stood there desperately hoping that the ones she liked would be chosen. There was a gorgeous crimson damask…but no. The gowns were all to be black or white.

  “The late Queen insisted upon it, as did Queen Katherine,” the Duchess told her. “They didn’t want their attendants outshining them. This is a good black, the most expensive. The Duke wants you provided with the best; you will be representing our house at court and must dress fittingly.”

  The milliner came with his wires and his buckram to make French hoods for Katheryn. There would be no more running about with her hair loose. A new dancing master was engaged, and Mr. Barnes returned to give her music lessons, for she had grown rusty. Lady Bridgewater lectured her on deportment and made her walk up and down with a book on her head to give her poise. Then a jeweler came, and Katheryn was allowed to select three pieces from his wares to adorn her gowns. She chose a pendant depicting the Nativity, a brooch bearing the Howard motto, Sola virtus invictus, which meant “Bravery alone is invincible,” and a silver ring. She wished she had not given her mother’s ring to Francis, but could not bring herself to ask for it back, fearing his reaction.

  She was so busy that she had to send a note saying she could not meet him—and it was the truth. Mother Emmet had ordered fine linen for shifts, and Katheryn was ordered to start making them. There was no time to be wasted, she was told. In fact, she managed just three meetings with Francis in that busy month, none of them very enjoyable for either of them. She suspected that he knew she did not feel the same about him, although she tried to hide it. But there was none of the spontaneous love that they had once shared so passionately.

  She had no time to brood, however. In truth, her departure could not come soon enough. Malyn, Meg, and Kat shared her excitement, busy with their own preparations, and the other gentlewomen looked on enviously. The bounty that was being lavished on Katheryn made it clear that she was above them all, a noble daughter of the Howards, and that no expense was to be spared in preparing her for her debut at court.

  In the middle of November, she was summoned again to the Duchess’s chamber, and was overjoyed to find there her cousin Tom Culpeper, whom she had not seen since she was about seven.

  “Mr. Culpeper has been sent by the Earl of Rutland to inform us that you are to go to the court at Whitehall three days hence.” The Duchess beamed.

  Tom bowed. As he straightened, Katheryn stared at him. The handsome boy had broadened and matured into a very attractive man with a strong jaw and high cheekbones. He still had the same shock of curly brown hair and twinkling blue eyes, but there was about him a new air of authority. His clothes were of purple velvet and silk, cut in the latest fashion, and bespoke wealth and status. She would have liked to hug him, but she was n
o longer a child, while he was now a grand gentleman—and she was aware of the Duchess’s eyes on her and of the need to behave with propriety. Besides, she was conscious of a flutter in her breast at his proximity. If he had been one of the gallants who frequented the gentlewomen’s chamber, she would have tried him, there was no question of it, Francis or no Francis. It shocked her a little to realize how quickly she had got over her erstwhile lover.

  She had perforce to content herself with curtseying to him.

  “I was never gladder to see you, cousin,” she said. “You bring the most welcome news.”

  He was looking at her with undisguised appreciation. “Why, my pretty little cousin has grown into a lovely, graceful lady!” he exclaimed. “The court will be a fairer place for your presence. You are bound to make a stir there.”

  “Not too much of a stir, I hope,” the Duchess said, and Katheryn knew she was thinking of Francis and Harry and all the stir she had caused over them.

  My lady bade them both be seated and called for wine.

  “I can see from your attire that you are high in the King’s favor, Mr. Culpeper,” she said. “The last I heard, only royalty was allowed to wear purple.”

  Tom flushed a little. “His Grace has been pleased to grant me many privileges and honor me with many preferments,” he replied. “As Katheryn knows, I was brought up in his Privy Chamber. I started as a page, and about six years ago, he made me a gentleman of the Privy Chamber.”

  The Duchess was clearly impressed. “Katheryn, any man who attains such a position is in high favor indeed. The gentlemen of the Privy Chamber have the ear of his Majesty and great influence.”

  Tom smiled complacently. It was obvious that he was proud of his achievements.

  “These past three years, I have been especially honored,” he said. “The King was understandably shocked when Sir Henry Norris was found to have committed treason with Queen Anne. He had been chief gentleman of the Privy Chamber and his Grace’s close friend. It was me whom his Grace then turned to for friendship.” He sighed. “I had thought to succeed Sir Henry, for it appeared I was in like favor, but Sir Thomas Heneage was made chief gentleman in his place; yet I am content, for I have the honor of sharing his Majesty’s bed at night. He does not sleep alone, you understand, for reasons of security. I believe he has a genuine liking for me.”

  “He wanted a son like you, you know,” the Duchess observed. “A strong heir, and courtly, with good looks. In that clothing, you could be a prince!”

  Tom smiled. Katheryn was aware of his eyes on her. She could hardly drag hers away from him.

  “With the King’s love, and being so close to him, you are in a position of great influence,” the Duchess went on. “I imagine there are many seeking your patronage.”

  “A few,” he admitted, grinning.

  “You are clearly doing well out of it,” she said.

  “It can be lucrative,” he told her. “The King has been pleased to grant me several offices: I am Clerk of the Armory, Keeper of Penshurst and North Leigh, Master of the Game, Lieutenant of Tonbridge Castle, and Steward of Ashdown Forest. I have a fine house in Greenwich and also one at Penshurst.”

  “You must be a man of great revenue,” the Duchess said, and Katheryn suddenly realized what all this was about. In nearly every respect, Tom was an eminently desirable suitor. Her grandam was matchmaking.

  For all that she fancied Tom, she did not need another suitor now. Things were complicated enough with Francis. Besides, she wanted to go to court and enjoy herself for the foreseeable future; she did not want to be tied down to a husband yet, or be relegated to the country, bearing children year in and year out.

  She glanced at Tom. Surely he must have rumbled the Duchess’s tactics. Yet he was sitting there, smiling urbanely, clearly enjoying talking about himself. It struck her that he had asked her nothing about her own life in the years they had been apart.

  At last, he turned to her. “You will enjoy the court, Katheryn. But if ever you have need of me, I’ll be happy to be of service.”

  “That’s very kind,” the Duchess said.

  Katheryn rose, thanking Tom. “I crave your leave, my lady, but I have sewing to finish and time is pressing.”

  “Run along, then. I’m sure you will see Mr. Culpeper at court,” the Duchess said.

  * * *

  —

  The barge stood waiting, bobbing up and down on the choppy water. Katheryn could see it from her chamber window, from which she had watched Lord William Howard walk from the jetty toward the house. He had come to escort her to Whitehall Palace, just a short way downstream.

  She was ready to leave, tricked out in one of her new gowns and her new jewels. On the bed lay her fur-lined cloak. She would need it today, for the November wind was cold and shrill. Her traveling chest had already been carried downstairs to the boat. Malyn had boarded, and Meg and Kat were standing in the doorway, pulling on their gloves. All that remained was for them to say their farewells.

  The young gentlewomen who had been Katheryn’s friends these past nine years hugged and kissed her, enviously begging her to visit and tell them about life at court. Even Joan and Mary seemed sorry to see her go.

  “I will come to see you,” she promised, “and I will remember you all in my prayers.”

  They followed as she pattered downstairs; they wanted to wave farewell.

  “I must find my lady,” she told them, and sped off in the direction of the Duchess’s apartments. As soon as she was well out of sight, she doubled back and made for the steward’s room, where she hoped she might find Francis. She could not leave without saying goodbye to him.

  He was there and, fortunately, alone. As soon as he saw her, he laid down the silver cup he was examining, presumably for finger-marks. “You are leaving for the court?” he said.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I came to say farewell.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “Is that farewell for good?”

  “Oh, no,” she hastened to assure him. “I will come to see you whenever I can.”

  “Well, I may not be here. I have asked my lady of Norfolk for leave to resign my post. It was only you that kept me here. Now you are departing, I am desirous to be gone, too.”

  “But where will you go?” Katheryn asked.

  “I have not decided yet. Fear not, it won’t be forever. I will come back and claim you, when I have made my fortune!” He gave her a brief smile. A silence yawned between them, one that should have been filled with her telling him she was loath to leave and would miss him dreadfully.

  “Katheryn,” he said at length, “I have a favor to ask, and I ask it as your husband, for it is the part of a husband to leave his wife provided for. I have made a will, and I want you to keep it for me with most of my savings, which amount to a hundred pounds. If I do not return, you are to consider the money your own.”

  It was a huge sum, such as her father must have dreamed of, but there was something in Francis’s voice that disturbed Katheryn. “What do you mean, if you do not return? You’re not planning to do something dangerous, I hope!”

  He grinned. “Not at all. I want to see the world, that’s all, and make some good money while I’m doing it. I was just covering all eventualities. Now, will you look after these things for me?”

  “Of course, but where will I keep them? There may not be any safe place at court. I could leave them here, I suppose. There’s a loose floorboard in my chamber, in the corner by the window. I hid my own treasures in it. Put the money and the will in there and nail it down when no one is watching. Only you and I will know that they’re there.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said. “And now, I suppose, it’s farewell.”

  “Yes,” she said lamely.

  They stood there for a moment, then he took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it. On his little f
inger, her mother’s ring glinted. She could have wept for him and for the loss of what they had once had.

  1539

  Katheryn had often seen the black-and-white-checkered walls of Whitehall Palace from the river and had sometimes walked along the highway that ran through it and led to Charing Cross and the Strand. It was the King’s chief residence and said to be the largest palace in Christendom. When they arrived and had been admitted at the gatehouse, Lord William escorted them through the palace to meet the Earl of Rutland, the Queen’s chamberlain, and she found herself passing through a rambling labyrinth of magnificent state apartments, lodgings, and service quarters, all ranged around several courtyards.

  The Earl of Rutland was extremely courteous and looked very much like the portrait of the King that hung at Lambeth. He received them in a picture gallery and waited until Lord William had wished them luck and bade them farewell before conducting them to the Queen’s apartments. He was happy to answer their many questions about the palace.

  “My lord, where does the King live?”

  “His apartments face the river, Mistress Katheryn, and a wonder they are, too. You will see them for yourself when you are attending the Queen. A gallery connects them to her lodgings.”

  “Will we see his Grace?” Meg wanted to know.

  “Not today, I imagine. State affairs keep him busy.”

  “I expect he is looking forward to the Queen coming,” Kat said.

  “The King is an eager bridegroom.” The chamberlain smiled.

  In the Queen’s apartments, Katheryn and her friends gaped at the carved and gilded ceilings and mantelpieces, the fine tapestries and furniture. Here were wonders indeed! She saw through the windows the privy garden below, a little paradise into which the Queen and her ladies could retreat. And she was to live here! Life just got better and better.

  Waiting to meet them was Mrs. Stonor, the Mother of the Maids, who was a far more formidable figure than the lackadaisical Mother Emmet, but welcoming nonetheless. “Thank you, my lord,” she said to the Earl, as he left them together in the Queen’s deserted presence chamber. “Let me look at you all. Yes, you come well presented. My lady of Norfolk has done you proud.”