Chapter 4
It was a relief to have changed out of her blood-bespattered gown and be away from the Tower.
Kate prayed she would never have to go there again.
She was longing for the peace of Hunsdon, although she felt a certain trepidation at the thought of what might await her there.
What in Heaven would they tell Elizabeth about her mother?
And would the change in her status be made cruelly obvious?
As the litter was drawn through London in the afternoon sunshine, Kate was appalled to witness the great joy the people were expressing at Anne’s fall.
She had known that her aunt was unpopular, yet she had never realized just how hated she was.
It seemed that they were ready to believe anything of her.
Some were saying that her death was a judgment on her for supplanting good Queen Katherine.
Kate supposed that this was how it would be now. Anne and the Boleyns would be reviled, and no one would want to know them. She was glad that her surname was Carey. She prayed that people would not make the connection.
—
As the countryside passed by, Kate fretted about how Elizabeth would react to the loss of the mother she had very rarely seen.
She had been cared for by a wet nurse, then by the motherly Lady Bryan.
Anne had been merely an occasional visitor and a sender of costly gifts; she had never been a constant presence in Elizabeth’s life.
Now if the child had been deprived of Lady Bryan, or her beloved governess, Kat Champernowne, Kate would have been more worried.
She resolved to give her little cousin all the love she could, and one day, she promised herself, she would tell her the truth about her mother.
When she arrived at Hunsdon, she found men unloading Elizabeth’s baggage train in the courtyard.
The child, she was informed, had just been carried up to the nursery by Lady Bryan.
As she mounted the stairs, Kate saw that the house was a bustle of servants, all hastening to get settled in.
Evidently there had been no diminution in Elizabeth’s establishment.
Maybe the King had a conscience after all.
At the top of the stairs, Kate ran into her great-uncle, Sir John Shelton, the governor of the household. He smiled at her and patted her shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Kate. Terrible business, the affair of the Queen. I can’t imagine what it was like for you in the Tower.”
“It was grim, Uncle,” she replied, not wanting even to think about it. “How is the Lady Elizabeth?”
“She is well,” he said.
“Does she know yet?”
“No, Kate. We have had no orders, save instructions that she is not to be called princess and a command to dismiss a few servants. Otherwise, nothing has changed, so we are still treating her with the same deference as before. She is his Grace’s daughter, after all.”
“Will you tell her what has happened?”
Sir John looked horrified. “Not I! We must await the King’s pleasure. Come, she has been asking for you and will be pleased to see you.”
They entered the nursery and Elizabeth ran to Kate, throwing her arms around her. Her fair-skinned, freckled face was alight with excitement, and long tendrils of burnished red hair were escaping from the embroidered white coif tied beneath her chin.
“Kate! Kate! Have you brought me a present?”
Kate knelt and kissed her. “No, but I will get you one soon.”
“Now, my Lady Elizabeth,” said Kat Champernowne.
She was a plump brunette with a gentle Devon accent, rounded cheeks, a turned-up nose, a warm heart, and a wealth of learning.
“Let Kate catch her breath. She has only just arrived. Let us go and comb your hair. You’ve got it in such a mess.
” She led the child into the bedchamber.
At that moment, the Lady Mary, the King’s elder daughter, appeared.
Kate knew that Elizabeth would be pleased to see her.
It was a marvel that Mary loved her so much, for Elizabeth’s mother had been the cause of years of misery for herself and her own mother, the late Queen Katherine, culminating in banishment and humiliation; and yet Mary lavished all her frustrated maternal instincts on the child.
Kate could only admire such open-heartedness.
She felt sorry for Mary, who had been bastardized and deprived of her status as princess, and banished from her father’s presence because she had stood up for her beloved mother.
In doing so, she had lost any chance of making the great marriage she should have had.
Instead, she had been sent to wait on Elizabeth, and been unkindly treated by the servants Queen Anne had put about her.
Kate hated the King even more for what he had done to his daughters. How could he have been so cruel?
Kate had vivid memories of Mary’s anguished outburst of grief when she learned that her mother had died.
That had been back in January. There were whispers that she had been poisoned by her enemies, but Kate could not believe that Aunt Anne would have been so ruthless.
No wonder Mary often looked sad and haunted, and older than her twenty years.
Her rich attire could not mask her skinny body.
She had a snub nose and a downturned mouth, and although her hair was red like Elizabeth’s, it was thin and frizzy.
Today, Mary was holding herself like a queen. Hard upon Anne’s fall, her status had risen almost overnight. Everyone fell silent and dipped their heads in hurried reverences.
Elizabeth toddled in from the bedchamber, followed by Kat.
“My Lady Elizabeth,” Mary greeted her.
Elizabeth turned to Sir John. “Why, Governor, how is it that yesterday I was called my Lady Princess, and today just Lady Elizabeth?”
Kate held her breath. The child not only had an advanced grasp of language, but also of understanding. Sir John was clearly caught off guard. He pulled at his beard, frowned, and hesitated, while Elizabeth stood before him, her imperious gaze demanding a response.
“The King your father has ordered it,” he said at last.
“Why?” asked the child, her dark eyes narrowing.
“The King’s orders must always be obeyed,” he declared.
Kate saw the little face cloud over, but Elizabeth was not letting him off so easily. Just then, Lady Bryan entered the room, carrying a pile of fresh laundry. The little girl tugged at her skirts and repeated her question.
Tears welled up in the old woman’s eyes. Kate felt like weeping, too. “You have a new title, my Lady Elizabeth,” the governess said, in her most reassuring voice. “The King’s Highness has decreed it.”
“But why?” persisted the child.
“I’m sure the King has very good reasons,” answered Lady Bryan, in a tone that forbade further discussion. “Now, where are those dolls you were playing with earlier?”
“I put them to bed,” Elizabeth pouted.
“In the morning? The very idea!” exclaimed her governess. “Look, I’ve got some pretty silks in my basket, and some Holland cloth. Go and fetch your best doll, and I’ll help you to make a gown for her.”
Elizabeth looked mutinous, as if she would have liked to press the matter further, but knew that answers would not be forthcoming. Kate knew that the best thing for her was distraction.
She followed Elizabeth into the bedchamber as the child went reluctantly to the miniature cradle by her bed, and sank down beside her. “Let me help you dress her.” Her heart was heavy, for she knew that the evil moment had only been postponed.
—
Within eleven days, the news reached Hatfield that the King had married Jane Seymour.
“He didn’t waste any time!” Lady Bryan muttered. “Still, I suppose he needs an heir, for with both his daughters declared bastards, he has none. And he’s not getting any younger.”
“There’s some who say he has not the vigor to sire children,” said Lady Troy, one of Elizabeth’s gentlewomen, who was helping the governess to tidy the nursery.
“Hush! You must not speak of such things,” Lady Bryan hissed, looking about her nervously. Lady Troy made a face, as if to imply that whether one should say them or not, they could well be true.
Kate could only feel profound sympathy for poor Queen Jane.
What must it feel like, being married to a man who had just had his previous wife’s head cut off?
But the hapless woman had probably had no choice.
Kate had never met her, but people were saying that she was very pale in complexion and no beauty.
There had been no further word from the King or Cromwell, no instructions as to how Elizabeth was to be treated. The nursery staff were speculating that his Grace could not bear to set eyes on her.
“He is on his honeymoon,” Lady Bryan pointed out. “Not many men think of their children at such a time. He knows she is well looked after.”
—
Soon afterward, a letter from Calais arrived for Kate.
She recognized her mother’s handwriting.
Mother had never been a good correspondent and had written only infrequently over the past two years.
Now she had received Aunt Anne’s letter; she had heard of her death.
Kate had expected her to be comforted by Anne’s message of forgiveness, yet Mother sounded distraught, demanding a detailed account of what had happened.
She seemed more preoccupied with the grounds on which Anne’s marriage had been annulled than with anything else, although she was keen to be reassured that her sister had not suffered unduly, and overflowing with guilt on account of the unkindness between them, and the fact that she had had no opportunity to make her peace.
“Pray for us both!” she urged Kate. “At least you were with her.”