Chapter 8 #2
Katheryn Howard she could blithely ignore, and indeed Katheryn made no effort to be friends, but there was one dark presence at court who made Kate’s flesh shrink.
The maids had little to do with the great ladies of the Queen’s household, but she had seen among them her uncle’s widow, Lady Rochford.
The family had never forgiven her for falsely testifying to Lord Rochford committing incest with Queen Anne.
Mother, in her letters, still called her “that she-devil.” Although Lady Rochford had smiled at her, Kate was determined to give her no openings to make friendly overtures.
She loathed the woman with all her heart. She was evil.
Another encounter left Kate feeling even more unsettled.
She was racing down a gallery one day, eager to be out of doors with her new friends, who were to meet her at the bowling alley where the young gentlemen congregated—when suddenly, the door at the other end opened and the King marched through, attended by several men clad in black.
Skidding to a quivering halt, Kate sank down in a curtsey, lowering her eyes.
Two velvet-slippered feet came to a halt before her.
“Rise, Mistress Carey,” said a high masculine voice, and Kate stood.
The King towered above her, a massive man in his fur-lined gown and damask doublet and bases.
He was dripping with jewels and his codpiece was the largest she had ever seen.
But what she noticed most, as she dared to meet his gaze, was the way he was staring at her—in almost the same way that Mrs. Stonor had stared at her. He seemed somewhat discomposed.
“Welcome to court, Mistress Carey,” he said at length. “I trust you are happily settled in.”
“Yes, thank you, your Grace,” she murmured.
His eyes were still boring into her. He looked so gross, so old and fat, and he smelled of something rotten beneath the perfumes and the scent of clean linen. She pitied the poor Queen, who had no idea what awaited her in England.
“Well, run along,” he said, and patted her arm.
She hastened away, trembling, because he had patted her once before, and she had wondered then if he had some ungentlemanly intent toward her; now she wondered anew, and with more reason, for she was older and the curves of womanhood were upon her. Her flesh crawled at the thought.
Emerging into the gardens, she was seized by a terrible certainty.
He had brought her to court to satisfy his wicked lust, and Mrs. Stonor, and probably others, knew about it!
It made sense. She had heard tales about his lust for women, so it was all too believable.
He had cast an eye on her at Hatfield and set his mark at her.
The coming of the new Queen had afforded him the ideal opportunity to bring her to court.
Horrified, she sat down on a stone bench, her heart beating like a drum.
No, it could not be! She could never descend to…
to…She couldn’t bear to think exactly what he might want from her, but the other day, Katheryn Howard had said that some men were like animals with women, which Kate found alarming.
No. No! The prospect was too horrible. But how did one refuse the King?
As she rose and set off for the bowling alley, she resolved to keep out of his way from now on. She would not be one of those women the gossips loved to sneer at.
—
Whitehall Palace was thronged with people when Elizabeth and her small train arrived for Christmas. An air of happy anticipation filled the air, inspired by the coming festivities and the imminent arrival of the Queen.
“I can’t wait to meet my new stepmother,” Elizabeth declared, after Kate had greeted her, Lady Troy, and Kat at the gatehouse and they were led by the Lord Chamberlain to the apartment overlooking the Thames that had been made ready for Elizabeth.
“Well, my lady, you will have to be patient because, from what I’ve heard, she is still in Calais waiting for a fair wind,” said Kat.
“There are so many beautiful ladies at court!” Elizabeth was staring as passing courtiers made their obeisances to her, as the King’s daughter. She was entranced by their rich gowns, their bejeweled hoods, their air of sophistication.
“The King your father will have invited them in honor of the new Queen,” Kat explained.
“I hope she is beautiful,” Elizabeth said, “and kind, too.”
“I’m sure she will be.” Kat smiled.
Kate retired to the maidens’ chamber when Kat took Elizabeth downstairs to pay her respects to the King. When they returned, an hour later, she grabbed her cloak and went out with them for a walk in the frost-rimed gardens.
“The Prince is coming tomorrow,” Elizabeth announced. “I can’t wait! I don’t see him often, but I think of him a lot. And I have made him another shirt.” She pulled a wry face, for she hated sewing.
“That was a true labor of love,” Kate remarked.
“It was a martyrdom!” Kat grimaced, making them laugh.
“I saw the Queen’s picture,” Elizabeth said. “My father showed me this little box carved like a rose, and inside was the picture. She is beautiful!”
“Well, she will be here soon,” Kat said. “But perhaps not in time for Christmas, if the weather doesn’t improve.”
—
The next day, Kate attended Elizabeth and the Lady Mary when they went to greet their brother.
The future King was now a solemn two-year-old whom they found seated on the floor of his opulent nursery, surrounded by building blocks, a miniature wooden dagger and shield, a gold rattle, a spinning top, a hobby horse, and a pretty white poodle.
His nurse, Mistress Penn, a homely woman with a white apron tied over her dove-gray gown, rose as the royal ladies entered, and bobbed.
Elizabeth curtseyed low to the Prince, who looked up and fixed his ice-blue gaze on her.
Beneath his wide-brimmed feathered hat and bonnet, his straight fringe was very fair, his round cheeks rosy, his mouth cherry red, and his chin tapered to a determined point. Mistress Penn lifted him onto her lap.
“Say welcome to your sisters, my Lady Mary and my Lady Elizabeth,” she instructed.
“Welcome, Lady Mary, Lady Lisbeth,” lisped the infant. He did not smile.
“I have a gift for you, Brother,” said Elizabeth, holding out the finely stitched cambric shirt. Edward stretched out a fat hand to take it from her, studied it for a moment, lost interest, and handed it to his nurse.
“I am sure he will look very fine in it, my lady.” Mistress Penn smiled.
“May I hold him?” Elizabeth asked, seating herself beside the nurse and making a lap. The nurse lifted the infant carefully, and he settled contentedly into Elizabeth’s arms.
“My Lord Prince is heavy, aren’t you, Brother?”
He raised steely blue eyes to her. Their father looked out of them.
“Aren’t you going to smile for me?” prompted Elizabeth, pulling a face. There was a faint reaction, no more.
“He’ll soon find his tongue, my lady.” The nurse smiled.
Gently, Elizabeth tickled the Prince’s sides. He jumped in her arms, and finally she coaxed a chuckle out of him.
“You’ve done well, my lady,” Mistress Penn remarked. “He’s a solemn boy and rarely smiles.”
Edward was now beaming at Elizabeth. She beamed back and rubbed noses with him.
“May I hold him now?” asked Mary. The nurse passed Edward to her, and Mary seated him on her knee, crooning to him, caressing him, and hugging him tightly.
The child bore this for a few moments before struggling to get down.
He toddled over to his playthings, picked up the hobby horse, and began careering round the room on it, chasing an imaginary quarry.
“When the Queen arrives,” Elizabeth said, “I hope we will all be able to live together at court.”
Mary looked doubtful. “We must wait on the will of our father and our new stepmother,” she said.
Just then, Edward drew to a halt in front of them.
“Bow!” he piped imperiously. His sisters looked at him in surprise, and hesitated.
“Bow!” he repeated. “I’m going to be the King, like my father!”
Mary and Elizabeth rose, suppressing their smiles, and swept deep curtseys before him.
“You too!” he commanded Kate, who hastened to obey.
“Rise,” he ordered them, in perfect imitation of King Henry. “Now you may go.”
Mrs. Penn was shaking her head, trying not to laugh.
—
Mother was coming home. Kate read her letter in disbelief, standing by the window in the maidens’ chamber with the cold December breeze rattling the panes.
Will Stafford had been highly commended to the King for his service in Calais and had been awarded the coveted post of Gentleman Pensioner; he would be a member of the King’s elite guard.
Mother sounded very pleased about that and delighted at the prospect of seeing Kate.
They would be returning in the Princess Anna’s retinue, when the weather permitted them to cross the English Channel.
The other maids were clustering around, curious to know what was in the letter. Some were pleased to hear that her mother was coming home, but a few were giving each other snide glances.
“I wonder she dare show her face here!” Katheryn Howard sniffed.
“I’m sure that old scandal is long forgotten,” Kate snapped, stung by the remark, and walked away.
As she ran downstairs, she was thinking that it would be good to see Mother again.
She had missed her throughout the six years they had been separated, and was ready to forget the self-centeredness that had sometimes left her weeping.
But maybe Mother had changed. Who knew what miracles God could work?
Kate was pleased that she would be returning to England in prosperity, having been exiled in disgrace.
And maybe, just maybe, she would be able to set about finding Kate a husband, a handsome young man who would love her as well as Will loved Mother.
For although Kate was enjoying the attentions of the gallants at court, no one so far had shown any serious interest in her.
But soon, things might be very different!
—
Christmas passed in a whirl of festivities, with everyone eagerly awaiting the Queen’s arrival.
Soon, the New Year’s Eve revels were in full swing.
The great hall at Whitehall was packed with people, musicians were playing, and servants were passing about the room, topping up goblets.
Sitting with the maids-of-honor, Kate was enjoying herself, but Elizabeth was in ecstasies.
The Lord of Misrule had demanded a forfeit of her, and she was commanded to kiss the ten most handsome gentlemen in the room.
Everyone, her father included, roared with mirth as she selected first this man, then that, and, with eyes screwed shut, offered a puckered-up mouth to each.
In the end, she was so helpless with laughter that she had to abandon the play for a space, holding her aching sides till she got her breath back.
“What of me?” cried the King with mock indignation. “Am I not the handsomest man in the room?” Still breathless, Elizabeth ran to him and planted a big kiss on his lips. The courtiers clapped and cheered.
It was then that an usher entered and whispered in the King’s ear.
Henry smiled broadly, drew himself to his majestic height, and raised his hand for silence.
“Great news, my lords and ladies! The Queen has arrived safely in this kingdom and is even now at Rochester. What say you? Shall we await her formal reception before we behold our bride, or shall we ride to Rochester now, in the guise of an ardent suitor, to nourish love?”
The company, flushed with wine, shouted their approval of the latter plan, and soon everyone was hastening to the palace landing stage to wave goodbye to the King and the gentlemen who were to accompany him.
As he hauled himself into the barge, swathed in furs, he clapped his bonnet down firmly on his head and waved to his watching courtiers. “We will see you all very soon, and then we will repair to Greenwich for the wedding. Farewell!”
“God speed, your Grace!” the courtiers cried.