There was silence and Perdita once more felt the swooping sadness of loss. No matter which direction she travelled, everything seemed to bring her back to her mother’s terrible car accident. It had always been the point where her life had changed but until now, she had never realised the full implications of her mother’s death on all the lives of those who had loved her.
But then, I didn’t know about all these people until a month ago, she thought.
Kit watched her. Then, in one of his usual about-turns, normally designed to distract her from her sadness, said, “Do you want to brainstorm?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve always wanted to say that,” Kit grinned.
“Why?”
“Most of my work is done alone, it’s good to be able to discuss this with you. I thought if we talked through what Mary has already found, it might point us towards details she missed.”
Perdita’s instinct was to refuse. Like Kit, she often worked alone and was used to puzzling things out by herself but she felt it would be churlish to refuse his suggestion when he had gone to the effort of reading the manuscript overnight.
“It could be helpful,” she said, but she was tentative.
“Good, I think it’ll help us sort out some of Mary’s reasoning because, no offence, some of it is a little confused.”
Perdita was about to leap to her grandmother’s defence but then she paused. Kit was right, there were a few strands of Mary’s manuscript that were very obviously still unfinished. This was compounded by the fact there was no final chapter offering Mary’s conclusions.
“OK, let’s give it a try,” she said. “Would you like me to begin?”
Kit’s expansive grin and nod made her smile and, although working in this manner felt alien, she decided it could be an interesting way to spend a few hours. It would also stop her lapsing into brooding darkness over Warren and his betrayal.
“Having been studying the codex, the pages aren’t chronological,” she began. “Some are pages of a journal, while others are letters. However, Granny tried to sort them into a more logical order in her manuscript.”
Kit held his copy up as though it were an exhibit. Perdita rolled her eyes at him and continued, “The dates that are legible cover the period of Henry VIII’s reign when he was married to Catherine Howard, so I agree with Granny’s assessment that the bulk of the content was probably written by her when she was queen. Although, only a few pages are signed with what looks like a ‘C’, a ‘K’ and even more rarely, ‘Catherine’; there are a few signed ‘Kitten’ or ‘Kitty’, which can be a derivative of Catherine and may have been how she preferred to be known, hence Granny’s reasoning that these and the other unsigned pages were written by Catherine Howard, fifth wife of Henry VIII.
“However, it isn’t all written by the same person. Some letters are signed ‘IB’ — potentially Lady Isabel Baynton, Catherine’s half-sister through her mother, Jocasta Culpepper, and one of her chief ladies-in-waiting. Another is ‘MD’ and bears a crest and what looks like the remains of a wax seal — Granny thinks that could be Lady Margaret Douglas, Henry VIII’s niece. During this period, she was engaged to Charles Howard, Catherine’s brother, so it’s possible she was closer to Catherine Howard than most of her biographies suggest. There’s also another series of letters which are signed ‘Kathy Knollys’. Although, all the letters in the codex seem to be addressed to either ‘K’ or ‘Kitten’ or ‘C’, and if they aren’t, they usually discuss some aspect of this person’s life.”
“I was surprised about Margaret Douglas and Charles Howard,” admitted Kit. “Especially as he seems to vanish from the records with no explanation.”
“Strange, isn’t it? About a year after Catherine disappears or was executed, if you want to take the traditional view, her brothers Charles and George are no longer traceable.”
“There are letters from another woman too,” said Kit. “She’s often referred to as ‘Lady A’ or ‘Sweet Lady A’ or simply ‘A’, and this is one point I’m not convinced about.” Kit flicked through to the relevant page and read Mary’s list of suggestions. “Anne Parr, Mrs Herbert; Alice Wilkes Restwold; Margaret Howard, Lady Arundell; Anne Shelton; Anne Bassett or Anne Foliot. The only one I think could be ‘A’ is Margaret Howard because she was Catherine’s sister. The others might have been part of her household but there are no family connections. So, in my view, they would have been loyal to themselves rather than supporting a queen who was no longer in favour.”
“I agree,” said Perdita. “Although, I have another theory. Having read most of the codex now and assuming the unsigned pages were written by Catherine, then her marriage to Henry VIII was no spectacular romp, as the usual biographies and books would have us believe — it was a time of terror for the poor girl.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s odd actually that Granny didn’t expand upon this because I think it’s the most important information. Catherine writes that the king is mad, that he beats her, possibly even rapes her on a regular basis.”
“That’s horrendous,” said Kit appalled. “Do you think your Granny doubted the validity of it? Or didn’t want to cloud Henry’s image?”
“I don’t know,” said Perdita. “She certainly wouldn’t have omitted it to spare Henry VIII’s reputation. You know what a feminist Granny was; you only have to read her other books and her essays to understand her very clear views on women’s rights. It was something I always admired about her. From what I’ve read, Catherine was like many other abused women. She presented a happy front to the outside world, but behind closed doors, the king was a cruel and violent thug and she lived in fear. Obviously, there was no rape within marriage back then and men were allowed to beat their wives with impunity, but who else might have experienced such behaviour?” Kit shook his head so Perdita continued. “Henry had another ex-wife living — do you think ‘A’ could be Anne of Cleves? They were the only two women alive who had been through the ordeal of being married to Henry. Isn’t it possible they turned to each other for support?”
Kit considered this, tapping his pen on the table as he thought.
“Surely they were rivals, not friends?” he suggested. “One queen removed to make way for the other. Would Anne really have written to the woman who had replaced her on the throne of England?”
“The joint experience of their abuse at Henry’s hands could have helped them break down the conventional barriers, so they reached out to one another for support. Don’t you think it’s possible they were friends?”
She turned the codex around so Kit could see the page she had been studying when he arrived.
“Look at this. Actually, I’ll read it for you, her writing is a bit of a challenge: ‘My sweet Lady A left for Richmond Palace this morning, how I will miss her. It seems such a short time ago that our positions were reversed and I, a mere maid, was requested to teach her to dance. How we enjoyed our afternoons together…’ but that’s all there is, the rest of the page is torn away. When Henry VIII divorced Anne of Cleves, she was removed to Richmond Palace, which remained her main residence for some years. She was certainly still there in March 1542 as she became ill and Henry sent his own physician to treat her. This piece is dated 22 December 1541. And, Catherine Howard had been one of Anne of Cleves’ maids of honour.”
“But dance lessons? Is it documented anywhere that Catherine Howard taught Anne of Cleves how to dance?”
“No, not in any references in other biographies, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Catherine is noted as being an exceptionally good dancer in numerous biographies and wasn’t she supposed to have said, although, I suspect its apocryphal: ‘There is no more time to dance’ when she was arrested. So many documents have vanished that it’s difficult to know exactly what did or didn’t happen between the women at Henry’s court. Not only that, according to most biographies by December 1541, Catherine was under house arrest at Syon Abbey for adultery, so why was she wr
iting a journal that suggests she had spent time with Anne of Cleves? There is no evidence in either Catherine or Anne’s biographies to suggest Anne ever visited Catherine during her incarceration.”
“Maybe this is what your grandmother discovered and she expanded upon on it in the missing chapter?” said Kit.
“Perhaps,” said Perdita. “I’ve noticed a few other things, too, that suggest Granny was still working on certain sections and was searching for other evidence.”
“Go on,” said Kit.
“First, there’s the absolute absence of any mention of Jane Boleyn,” said Perdita. “She was supposedly executed alongside Catherine Howard, which would suggest they were reasonably close, otherwise why would Jane have risked her life to allegedly help Catherine have an affair with Thomas Culpepper? Yet, there is no mention of her anywhere in the codex. There are no letters to or from her, no comments in Catherine’s journal entries, nothing. If Jane was close enough to Catherine to be killed with her, why is there no evidence of her beside Catherine during this period?”
“You’re right, that’s strange,” said Kit. “Mary mentions Jane a few times, but that’s one of her unfinished strands.”
“Which is a bit frustrating,” admitted Perdita. “There’s also something else that recurs in the codex that Granny doesn’t expand upon, but is obviously my area of expertise.”
“What’s that?”
“Jewellery! Most particularly, Catherine’s own jewellery, rather than the adornments of her position as queen. Catherine mentions a ruby ring and a silver locket. The locket was, apparently, a present from Lady Isabel Baynton and her husband, Sir Edward, but the ring is the most interesting piece.”
“Why?”
“Throughout her manuscript, Granny refers to the codes Catherine used to send letters. Well, the ring keeps cropping up, particularly when there is a coded letter or a mention of a code or ‘Sweet Lady A’,” said Perdita. “In fact, going with the suggestion, ‘Sweet Lady A’ is Anne of Cleves, I think it was her who gave Catherine the ring. What’s more, they seem to have used them to pass messages. I don’t fully understand why Granny hasn’t expanded upon it because if this was the case and a few of the comments back up my hypothesis, then it would show there was a strong friendship between the two queens.”
“It’s an interesting idea, Perds, but how would they have used rings to pass messages?”
“If the rings were identical, they could swap them. Tudor jewellery was often quite cumbersome and I’ve come across many examples which open to reveal small cavities where powders or notes could be concealed. There’s a very beautiful locket ring that once belonged to Elizabeth I that opens to reveal two miniatures, one of Elizabeth and the other of her mother, Anne Boleyn. It’s very chunky and would have been uncomfortable to wear, but it was something the Tudors loved. They were always giving each other jewellery containing hidden messages, sometimes with a physical secret but more often with the use of symbolism.
“In 1527, Anne Boleyn finally gave in to Henry VIII’s persistent courting by sending him a gift confirming that her love for him was reciprocated. It was a symbolic jewel, a small pendant with a picture of a maiden in a boat being tossed upon the waves. The symbolism of the boat meant Anne was asking Henry to protect her from the storms of life. The best way for a man to do this was to marry her. Anne’s jewel gave Henry the spur he needed, and over the next seven years, he turned the religions and laws of England upside down in order make the woman he loved his wife. Why would it be so strange, a few years later, for Anne and Catherine to pass each other notes or the cipher to codes in custom-made rings?”
Kit pushed his hands into his curly hair and tipped his chair back, thinking about Perdita’s suggestion.
“I know it seems weird to us but it was an accepted method of espionage and subterfuge in the Tudor court,” concluded Perdita.
Kit righted his chair so all four feet were on the ground.
“Perhaps, like me, Mary wasn’t aware of the significance of jewellery so she missed the connection,” he said.
“It’s possible.”
They lapsed into silence, both lost in thought.
“So, what would you like us to do next?” asked Kit after a few moments.
“I intend to continue studying the codex. Granny used a great deal of it, but there is a lot more here and I want to see if there are any clues as to what happened to Catherine’s jewellery.”
“In that case, do you have Jenny’s scans? I’d like to use them to confirm that the writing in the Book of Hours matches those samples you have in the codex that are signed by Kathy Knollys. While I’m at it, I’ll see if there’s anything in it that could corroborate the codex.”
Perdita walked over to the long boardroom table and sorted through one of the piles of paper. She extracted the documents Kit required and passed it over to him.
“Could you also look out for references to Jane Boleyn, ‘Sweet Lady A’ and either ruby rings or a silver locket.”
Kit made a short list then glanced at the faded pages Perdita had given him. He considered them for a few moments, then fished his phone out of his pocket and spent ten minutes photographing the codex. When he clicked send, the state-of-the-art printer in the corner of the room whirred into life, spewing out a pile of high quality colour images. Perdita tried not to be intimidated by the sheer volume of technology that was now hers.
“Perfect,” grinned Kit and made himself comfortable in front of the Book of Hours, his notebook, pen, a series of pencils and different strength magnified glasses lined up in neat rows beside him.
They set to; both in their element as they studied the ancient documents, checking and crosschecking references. After an hour, Perdita saw Warren’s car drive past the window of The Dairy before disappearing around the bend and out of Marquess House. She felt a slight pang, then returned her attention to the codex, knowing the best way to deal with her ruined relationship was to distract herself with work and allow herself space to recover.
A few hours had passed and she was studying one of the numerous letters that had been written in code, comparing it with the translation that was alongside it, when Kit pushed his chair back from the desk and stretched.
“Found something?” asked Perdita, pleased for an excuse to look up from the tiny lettering of the codes.
“I think so. I may even manage a smug grin.”
“And why is that, Mackensie kid?” laughed Perdita.
“Because I’ve just finished translating this French comment from Lady Kathryn Knollys and, if what she said is true — and why wouldn’t it be, this is her private journal — then she and a number of other women from Catherine Howard’s court accompanied the young queen on a journey, the progress of which was carefully followed by ‘the Lady Cleves’.”
“No way! A journey without the king?”
“Yes, without the king, possibly without his knowledge — and what makes it so surprising is the date,” he pushed the book and his translation towards her. Perdita looked down and gasped.
“April 1542. But history claims Catherine Howard was executed at the Tower of London on 13 February 1542. So Granny was right!”
“She was,” said Kit, “this corroborates her findings in the codex.”
“But if that’s the case and Catherine Howard wasn’t executed,” said Perdita, “where did she go and what happened to her?”
PART FOUR: Northamptonshire, 1541
Chapter One
The room was in darkness; the tapestries hanging across the windows blocked out the bright summer sun. Figures moved in the stifling gloom of the best bedroom at Grafton Regis in Northamptonshire, the home of the duke and duchess of Suffolk, guiding the way through the blackness with shaded candles. A discreet tap on the door and the entry of another woman brought a momentary relief of light into the oppressive atmosphere. The new admittance hurried over to the heavily curtained and ornate bed that dominated the chamber.
“Is there any c
hange, Issy?” Margaret Douglas’ usually lilting, laughing voice was low and sombre.
“No,” sighed Isabel. “Did you bring the sleeping draught? She gets fitful without it. The physician said she’s to be kept as still as possible or there could be even more internal damage.”
“Even more? Oh, poor Kitty, what did that brute do to her?” Margaret’s voice was thick with unshed tears. She handed Isabel a small jug containing the sleeping tincture.
“Hush, Margaret, you know we’ve been instructed to tell everyone that Catherine was injured when her horse was stung by a bee. It went wild, she fell and was trampled. The king has no memory of beating her so he believes the story.”
Margaret turned away, revolted by Isabel’s words. Her uncle, the king, the man who held them all in his palm, had done this. She had always known he had a temper but she had excused it as one of the burdens of bearing the weight of kingship. What he had done to Catherine, she had realised, was not the lashing out of a man under too much pressure, this had been vindictive, deliberate and horrific. To her, this was unforgivable.
“How is Tom Culpepper?” she asked, her voice still low and troubled.
“Jane, Lady Rochford, is caring for him. His recovery is slow,” replied Isabel.
Tom Culpepper had arrived too late to save Catherine; all he could do was throw himself on top of her to stop the king whipping her. He now lay in agony at Jane’s family home of Great Hallingbury in Essex, his wounds infected, slipping in and out of consciousness while his wife tended to his every need.
“Poor Jane, she has very little luck with husbands,” murmured Margaret. “Her first husband, George Boleyn, was framed for incest with his sister and executed, now Tom is lying in bed, beaten black and blue.”
The Catherine Howard Conspiracy Page 23
