Chapter 11
Cheering crowds lined the banks of the River Thames in February when Anna came to London from Greenwich in her state barge.
Kate and the other maids were in the vessel that followed.
Francis would be in the one that preceded Anna’s, with Will and the other Gentlemen Pensioners, although Kate couldn’t see him.
The river was full of craft, many decorated with pennants, shields, and cloth of gold.
The entire nobility appeared to have taken to the water, and every ship seemed to be firing salutes at once.
The noise was deafening, the air thick with gunpowder.
The Tower of London loomed ahead, its stark silhouette shadowing the City.
Kate could hardly bear to look at it, remembering the grim events she had witnessed there not four years ago.
The horror was still with her, and she could not but imagine how Aunt Anne had felt when she was brought here from Greenwich to the Tower.
Had she shrunk in terror from the sight of the fortress, fearing that she might never leave it?
The thought unsettled her, making her aware that here she was, a member of the court of the devil who had sent his Queen to that gruesome death, a king who was probably the most dangerous man in the world—at whose whim she, or any of those around her, could be cast down.
It was a terrifying thought, and for a few moments she wished herself far away from London.
Suddenly, as they neared the great fortress, the air was rent by another crack of guns as the cannon on the wharf shot off a thousand chambers of ordnance in salute. The noise was louder than thunder, and they all clapped their hands to their ears.
Thankfully, the Tower was soon behind them, along with her morbid thoughts, and now they were skimming the rapids under London Bridge.
To the right was the City of London itself, with great houses and gardens lining the shore, and numerous church spires rising behind.
Kate could hear the bells pealing joyfully above the roar of the crowds.
The boat rounded a bend in the river, and the great abbey of Westminster came into view, and in front of it the huge palace of Whitehall, sprawling along the shore.
The barges pulled in by Westminster Stairs, where the King was waiting for Anna. She alighted to rousing applause from the onlookers, and curtseyed to her husband, who led her through the great gatehouse into Whitehall Palace.
“Is that it?” Mary Norris whispered. “Queen Anne went in procession through the City, and there were pageants and a welcome by the Lord Mayor.”
“I should imagine that all that has been deferred until her coronation,” Mrs. Stonor said. “But that’s three months away.”
Anna’s rooms overlooked the river and the privy garden beneath her windows. She looked pleased to be here, on the doorstep of London. Kate hoped that all was now well between her and the King. It must be, if she was soon to be crowned.
Her mind at rest on that score, Kate hastened to find Francis.
She saw him on guard, lined up with his fellows against the wall of the Great Watching Chamber.
How tall and fine he was in his livery! Had she ever thought him unhandsome?
He now looked to her like the most beautiful creature on earth, and all other men paled beside him, even the swaggering Thomas Culpeper, one of the King’s gentlemen, who was hot in pursuit of Katheryn Howard.
Kate moved over to where Francis was standing. He was gazing straight ahead, but she saw his lips twitch when she casually brushed her fingers over his hand.
“Not now,” he muttered under his breath, but she knew he was trying not to smile.
She ceased tormenting him and left. She knew when his period of duty ended.
There was a round fishpond in the gardens.
At the appointed hour, she sat there waiting for him as long as she dared, until she really could not put off going to the Queen any longer; even so, she earned herself a telling-off from Mrs. Stonor.
Having helped to dress Anna for Vespers and dinner, she snatched her cloak and hurried back to the fishpond, thrilled to find Francis waiting for her.
He stood up and kissed her soundly, his tongue probing her mouth.
As he folded her in his arms, she felt his codpiece harden.
It called to mind something lewd that Katheryn Howard had said, amid giggles.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” she said, feeling compelled to say something lest he thought she was forgetful of her honor.
“I can’t help it,” he protested. “I think you know how I feel about you, Kate.”
Her heart sang. Any moment now, he would speak of love.
They sat down, his arm about her shoulders, and she leaned into his body. “I like you very much,” he said, his eyes deep pools in the darkness. “I wish I could say more.”
Why don’t you? she wanted to ask. Was it that he was not in a position to support a wife? Or—the thought chilled her even more than the night air—was he promised to someone else?
After that, he seemed a little withdrawn, which made her wonder if she had offended him in some way.
But he kissed her good night heartily enough, and with that she had to be content—until the next time they met.
She cried herself to sleep, knowing that her great love for him meant that he had the power to hurt her very badly, even unwittingly.
The next day, she detained Mary Norris in the dorter and told her what Francis had said and how his mood had changed. “What do you make of it all?” she asked miserably.
Mary, who was a sensible young woman and very wise, smiled at her. “I’d say that he’s in love with you and hasn’t the courage to admit it. I’ve noticed that men don’t like talking about such matters.”
“So you think he loves me?” Kate craved reassurance.
“Of course he does! Just give him time.”
“I will, I will! But I must see him. I must know that he is not offended with me in any way.”
“Then you should contrive a chance meeting, and I will go with you so that he does not suspect anything.”
“Mary, you are a marvel!” Kate cried, and kissed her.
“I am more than happy to aid the course of true love.” Mary grinned.
They took care to be in the gallery that led to the King’s apartments at the time when Francis would be arriving for his spell of duty. Together, they stood studying one of the framed maps that hung on the wall, as if their lives depended on it.
“Kate!” Francis was behind them. “How good to see you. And Mistress Norris, well met.” He sketched a quick bow, seeming as happy and normal as ever. “I wish I could stay, but I cannot be late. I will see you later, Kate, in our usual place.”
The fishpond. Shaded and relatively secluded, it was the perfect setting for their trysts.
“He’s a fine fellow,” Mary observed, watching his departing back. “You could do a lot worse.”
“I don’t think I could do any better!” Kate retorted. He would declare himself soon. She knew it!
—
He was waiting for her when she arrived. He kissed her hand. Any moment now, he might be on his knees!
“I have to go away for a short while,” he said, dashing her hopes most cruelly. “The King has granted me leave.”
“Where?” she managed to ask.
“Home, to Greys Court. I have affairs to sort out there, for I have been too much absent, and my mother should not be burdened with them.”
She could not help herself. “Will you be away long?”
“Let me think. Two days’ hard riding to Oxfordshire and two days back, and leisure for business—about ten days. I really don’t want to leave you, but duty calls and there is much to do.”
“When do you go?” she asked, wishing with all her heart that he would say he was going to miss her.
“Tomorrow, sweetheart. But we can see each other tonight, if you can get away.”
Of course she could get away. She would have got away even if the King himself had forbidden it.
His Majesty was to dine with the Queen, and the maids would not be needed until Anna was ready to go to bed.
And Francis had called her sweetheart! That was enough to reassure her of his feelings for her.
“You will scarcely notice my absence,” he assured her.
No, the time would drag mercilessly, she knew, but she did not contradict him. She wanted him to take away only lovely thoughts of her.
She sped back to the Queen’s apartments to robe Anna for the evening.
Vespers and dinner seemed interminable. What was she doing here when she could be with Francis?
But, at last, she was free and racing down the stairs to the garden door.
When she saw him waiting for her, her heart leaped.
She loved him so much that, for a moment, she was tempted to cast her honor to the wind and tell him so.
That would be a memory to take with him!
But she restrained herself, because she instinctively knew he would think the less of her for it—and no man wanted a brazen hussy for a wife.
But he himself was ardent, more so than ever this evening.
It was as if the imminent prospect of separation had added piquancy to their loving.
He kissed her more deeply than ever, held her as if he could never let her go, and his hand once strayed around her side to her breast, until she gently removed it.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he breathed. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t help myself.”
“No matter,” she whispered. “I liked it. But we shouldn’t—it’s wrong.”
For answer, he buried his face in her neck and sought her lips passionately.
“I will miss you, Kate,” he said, breathless.
“And I you,” she told him. And then they were kissing again, and it was unbearably sweet, and she did not know how she would ever let him go.
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