Chapter 14
‘There is rebellion in Cornwall,’ said Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, to his four eldest children, Thomas the Younger, Edward, Edmund and Elizabeth. ‘The king has requested my presence on the battlefield to quell the rebels.’
They were gathered in a small room off the great hall, enjoying being together after several weeks apart due to other commitments.
Thomas Howard had invited his children to attend a midsummer banquet, and several days of merriment, more muted than in other years, had taken place.
Elizabeth had ensured they followed her mother’s usual plans, including the giving of alms to the surrounding villagers.
Soon, they would all once again depart as their busy lives absorbed them again.
‘Of course, Father,’ said Younger. ‘There is no one better than you for this prestigious position.’
‘Your confidence is appreciated,’ the earl said. ‘However, in order to ease my concerns about the well-being and the running of my household during my absence, I have made a decision.’
‘The household will be safe under my care,’ said Elizabeth, bristling slightly. Ever since her mother had died, she had been running the house. ‘Have you not been satisfied with the way Mama trained me?’
‘My dearest Lizzie, your management skills are exemplary, but for peace of mind while I am away, I’ve arranged for you to temporarily join the court of the queen. This means there will be no one to manage my affairs.’
‘I’m happy to await your return—’ Elizabeth began, but her father cut across her.
‘It’s kind of you to offer, but it’s time you were at court learning the duties of a lady of your position. There will also be other women who can help you to hone the skills you will require for your new life.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, perplexed.
‘I intend to begin negotiations with Sir William Boleyn for your marriage portion to Thomas Boleyn,’ the earl said. ‘But only if this would please you, Lizzie?’
Elizabeth felt heat travel through her body and for a moment the room swam before her eyes.
Ever since her brother Edward had introduced her to Thomas Boleyn, he had been in her thoughts.
During the time they had spent together hawking, she had been impressed by his kind and thoughtful nature, as well as his gentleness with the birds.
‘They are wise beings with souls of great age,’ he had said as the white merlin had rested on her arm, released from the perch, known as a cadge, which had been carried out by the bird handlers: the cadgers.
These were the older men who no longer had the stamina to train the birds outside in all weathers and to hunt beside the lords and ladies. Thomas had been respectful and considerate to all members of the Howard staff, as well as to the members of the family, and Elizabeth had been impressed.
When Younger had praised him as a talented linguist and up-and-coming diplomat in Henry VII’s court, Elizabeth’s interest and attraction in Boleyn had heightened.
However, she had curbed herself to realism.
She was the daughter of an earl and she assumed her father would wish her to marry a man with a title.
The Boleyns were known to be wealthy, but they were not noble, Thomas had no title, and she had not allowed herself to raise her hopes.
‘But he is not titled,’ she said, as she stared at her father, unable to believe he would be satisfied with a mere diplomat for a son-in-law.
‘Actually, Lizzie, that’s incorrect,’ said the earl.
‘It’s possible he will inherit a title. His father, William, is the son of Geoffrey Boleyn, who served as Lord Mayor of London, but his son has risen higher, he holds the position of Sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk – he has also held the same office in Kent.
He’s a very powerful landowner in our part of the country.
However, it’s his mother, Lady Margaret Butler, who provides the noble blood.
She’s daughter and co-heiress of the Irish nobleman Thomas Butler, 7th Earl of Ormond.
The belief is Thomas, as her eldest son, will inherit the Ormond title.
There is another claimant, but these things can usually be managed. ’
Elizabeth stared up at her father in delight.
‘Would a betrothal to Thomas be acceptable, my Lizzie-kins?’ he asked, a name he had used ever since she was a child.
‘Yes, Papa, yes,’ she exclaimed.
‘Good, then I shall approach his father, William Boleyn, and we will negotiate your marriage portion,’ he said.
Elizabeth looked at her brothers, who beamed. ‘You knew?’
‘Father asked our views,’ said Edmund.
‘We all agreed Boleyn would be a good addition to the family,’ added Edward.
‘Younger?’ she asked, turning to her eldest brother.
‘He has excellent prospects, I approve,’ said Younger.
‘This is a propitious moment,’ said the earl, ‘and it will ease my mind while I’m away, especially with all the unrest caused by that man, the pretender Perkin Warbeck.
A few days ago, we received word that King James IV of Scotland has provided Warbeck with a ship named Cuckoo and the pretender is preparing to sail to Cornwall.
This is another reason why King Henry wishes to have experienced men in the area. ’
The Howard brothers scowled at the mention of the man who had been causing havoc for the king.
Warbeck had first made his claim to be the younger of the sons of Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville in 1490.
At the court of Burgundy, he declared himself to be Richard of Shrewsbury, Duke of York, to his alleged aunt, Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy.
She had greeted him as a member of the royal family, offering him financial and military support to restore him to the English throne.
Warbeck claimed his brother, Edward V, had been murdered, but due to his youth and innocence he was spared and sent to Europe to live with loyal Yorkist, Sir Edward Brampton.
He was made to promise he would not reveal his true identity for many years; it was only when Sir Edward Brampton returned to England, Warbeck decided to reveal his secret.
A year after Margaret offered her allegiance, Warbeck had landed in Ireland hoping to raise support for his cause, but few men believed his story or took up arms for him, forcing him to return to Europe.
For a while, he had received patronage from the French king, Charles VIII, but when the Treaty of Etaples was signed in 1492 between Charles and Henry Tudor, stating that Charles agreed to end his support for Warbeck and support Henry VII, Warbeck was expelled.
He had returned to his aunt in Burgundy, and, over the next few years, his presence was a constant low-level threat to Henry Tudor’s crown.
In 1495, a brief Yorkist uprising in support of Warbeck was quashed by Henry; the ringleaders were imprisoned or executed.
After this, Warbeck travelled to Ireland, where, again, he received no support, before fleeing to Scotland and the court of James IV, who welcomed the pretender to the English throne.
Two years on, Warbeck’s welcome was wearing thin. He had married Lady Catherine Gordon, daughter of George Gordon, 2nd Earl of Huntly, but various skirmishes trying to establish him as king had failed, hence the new ship and the suggestion he sail far, far away from Scotland and King James.
‘Your time at court will allow me to know you’re safe while I’m away, Lizzie,’ said the earl, ‘particularly if Warbeck creates more unrest.’
‘Will you employ a housekeeper?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘No,’ said the earl, then he hesitated and continued with a nervous cough, ‘there will be no need.’
‘Are you closing up the houses?’ asked Younger.
‘Of course not,’ replied the earl. ‘You shall have control of them. We shall need the London property, there are many exciting events ahead for us to attend: the proxy betrothal of Prince Arthur with the Spanish princess, Katherine of Aragon, the summer hunts and running the smaller properties will also give you time to help your new stepmother adjust to her position.’
Elizabeth’s mind was already racing through her wardrobe wondering what she would need for her time at court and whether her elder half-sister Anne would be able to offer advice on her court wardrobe and wedding clothes.
The prospect was bittersweet as it would have been a delight to prepare for such an experience with her mother.
She was so lost in thought, she jumped when Younger’s voice echoed through the room like a thunderclap.
‘What stepmother?’
Elizabeth turned to look at her father in horror, unsure she had heard correctly.
‘Mother died three months ago,’ snarled Edmund. ‘Have you forgotten her so quickly?’
‘Of course not,’ retorted the earl. ‘I loved your mother, but a man in my position, and also one with so many children and such a large household, needs a wife. She is someone you all know and she will be shortly leaving our household to stay with cousins in Leicestershire until special dispensation has been granted but we wished to inform you of our plans.’
Elizabeth had always known her father would remarry, but she had thought he would have adhered to the usual year of mourning before introducing a new bride into their lives.
This felt like an insult to her mother’s memory; who in their close-knit circle would be so craven as to swoop down on a widower with such precision and speed?
‘Why do you need special dispensation?’ said Edward, his eyes narrowed, his usually cheerful voice lower and angrier than Elizabeth had ever heard.
Special dispensation, thought Elizabeth, is only required when the couple are related in some way, usually through a marriage to another member of the same family. She ran a mental check through her mother’s siblings and cousins.
‘She and I have long been friends,’ said the earl. ‘I have appreciated her help and her diligence in assisting your mother to administer our homes and busy lives. She seems an obvious replacement, but her connection to your mother required us to be granted a special dispensation.’
Elizabeth felt anger swoop through her as realisation dawned. She half-turned, desperate to leave, unsure she would be able to be polite but before she could stumble towards the door, her father called out.
‘Come in, my dear,’ and to Elizabeth’s disgust, Agnes Tilney stepped into the room. She walked to the earl’s side and placed a proprietorial hand on his arm, a triumphant smile on her dimpled face.
Elizabeth looked at her brothers, who were all gazing at Agnes with the same expressions of anger, betrayal and grief as she knew must be on her own face.
‘Do not expect any of us to call you Mother,’ snarled Younger and with a sweeping look at his siblings, he stormed from the room, followed by Elizabeth, Edward and Edmund marching behind him in silent fury.