Chapter 12 #2
He hesitated.
“I mean it,” she said. “And if you cannot, I release you from our betrothal.”
She could see in his face that he was taking this seriously and understood that she really meant it. “I promise,” he said at once. “I will not jeopardize your happiness—or mine.”
“It doesn’t matter what we think privately. But the world—and the King—will come down hard on those who support heresy, and I would not lose you for anything in Heaven or earth.”
“Calm down, sweetheart,” Francis murmured, cuddling her. “I will not speak of this again to anyone. I swear it. Now let us talk of other matters.”
—
Of course, she couldn’t forget what he had said.
She knew he had spoken truth, and that he was, at the very least, sympathetic to the teachings of Luther.
Her betrothed was, in the eyes of the law, a heretic.
It was foolish and dangerous, and she could not bear to think of what might happen to him if anyone found out.
She wished he hadn’t said anything. One chance remark, perhaps when he was in his cups, and he could be in the direst trouble.
But then, Francis rarely drank wine or ale.
He was abstemious in his habits. And he was not stupid; he was discreet.
You rarely heard him voicing his views on anything, and that was probably the wisest course in a court full of backbiters.
He had probably only opened himself to her because she was going to be his wife, someone he could confide in.
Well, she would never betray him, whatever he did. She loved him too much.
—
In the second week of April, the court moved back to Whitehall, so that the King could be present when Parliament opened.
Kate was sad to be leaving beautiful Hampton Court and hoped that they would return soon.
She hoped too that Elizabeth would visit the court shortly.
She missed her little cousin and often wished herself back at Hatfield.
The only thing she really liked about the court was Francis.
One day, sitting with a book in a shady arbor in the gardens, she looked up to see Will Stafford coming her way. She smiled and stood up to grasp his hands.
“Will!” she said. “It is a pleasure to see you.”
He hugged her, and they sat down. She had been wishing that she could see more of this kindly, handsome man with his reassuring presence. It was obvious why her mother had risked much to marry him. Yet until now, their paths had rarely crossed. It was good to have the opportunity to talk to him.
“Your mother asked me to see you. She sends her love. But I’m sorry to tell you that your great-grandmother has died. She passed away peacefully in her sleep.”
Kate allowed herself a few moments for the news to sink in. She had not been close to the sharp, enigmatic old lady, and knew she would not mourn her greatly, yet what did make her sad was the awareness that the Boleyns had all gone now—all except Mother, and herself.
“Was Mother with her?”
Will patted her hand. “Yes. And she is asking for you. The Crown’s officers will be at Hever soon, for the castle now reverts to the King.
He should have had it last year, when your father died, but Archbishop Cranmer prevailed on him to let old Lady Boleyn live out her days there.
But he will now want what is his, and before they make an inventory, your mother wants you to go there to help her remove the things you don’t want them to take. ”
Kate sighed. She did not want to go back to Hever. There were too many unhappy memories there.
“I should not really be telling you this,” Will said, “for it is against my oath of service to the King. Anything that you or your mother take, you will effectively be stealing. But I know there are things that the King most definitely will not want, and also items of personal importance. Do you think you can get away? It will have to be soon, as there is not much time.”
Still Kate shrank from agreeing, but reminded herself that this was Will, who had been nothing but kind to her. “The Queen is entertaining the ambassador of Cleves to dinner. They will be at least an hour. I will ask her as soon as she is free.” She sighed again.
“You don’t seem keen to go to Hever,” Will said.
“To be honest, I’m not. There are painful memories there—of her.”
“Your aunt? That’s understandable. It must have been awful for you, being with her in the Tower.”
“It was horrible. I have nightmares about it even now.” Her voice broke. “What they did to her was terrible, brutal, and pity her though I do, I don’t like to be reminded. All my memories of her are tainted by what I witnessed.”
Will put a fatherly arm around her.
“I’m glad you’ve got Francis to take your mind off it. He thinks the sun rises and sets with you, you know. He’s a fine young man—you could not have done better. At least you are not starting your married life under a cloud as I did.”
“No, that was unfair.”
“It’s why I have very mixed feelings about your aunt.
” He grew thoughtful. “I remember her coronation. I was one of the knights and gentlemen summoned to be servitors at the great feast that followed in Westminster Hall, and that was where I met your mother. I was smitten from the first, and she with me.”
Kate was listening avidly. It was the first time anyone had spoken in any detail to her of that great scandal, for she had been just ten when her mother and Will were forced into exile.
“At first, I thought she’d think me too young for her, but when I begged her to marry me, she said yes without hesitation. No one had set much store by her; I think I gave her back her self-esteem.”
That was a heartwarming thought.
“It’s a mystery to me why no one ever set much store by her,” Kate said. “Why? She was prettier than Aunt Anne, and kinder, and she was the elder sister.”
Will seemed reluctant to answer. He opened his mouth, then shut it.
Here it was again, that sense that something that had happened in the past was being withheld from her. But then Will spoke.
“I think her family all thought she should have done better for herself after making that promising first marriage. But your mother is that rare person. She didn’t care about marrying for money or advantage.
She chose me. We fell in love, and our feelings for each other were strong enough to override any fears we had about the consequences of our secret marriage or the hardships we might endure, although I did wonder how well she would adapt to being the wife of a humble soldier.
” He smiled. “I need not have worried. We were in bliss together. We still are, and I miss being with her.”
“But why did people object? You are from a great family,” Kate said.
“The Staffords? I am related to them only through two marriages that were made centuries ago. My father was a knight, but my grandfather was hanged as a traitor by the late King Henry because he supported King Richard. My father labored long and hard to recover royal favor, until finally our present sovereign lord reversed his father’s attainder and restored some of his lands.
I am his Grace’s third cousin through his grandmother’s family, the Wydevilles.
” Kate found it extraordinary that Will was blood-kin to the King.
She had never realized that. But then so many people at court were related to each other in some way.
Will sighed. “For all this, and my loyalty and good service, I had little to recommend me to your mother or her family. I was not even a knight at this time, and I had but three manors to my name. And that name was doubly tainted by treason, for my distant relation was the Duke of Buckingham, who was beheaded some years ago for conspiring to seize the throne. Since then, the King has looked with suspicion on the Staffords, especially since they supported Queen Katherine. So what appeal did a landless nobody, a simple soldier, have for the mighty Boleyns?”
“They are mighty no longer,” Kate reminded him.
“They are not, but they were six years ago. Your aunt was Queen and possessed of great influence. Your grandfather and your uncle were in high favor at court. I was no match for the Queen’s sister.
Your mother could have contrived to marry more advantageously and thereby extend the Boleyn influence and standing—but she dared to marry merely for love, which most people of rank deemed an offense against God, good order and all, and foolish in the extreme.
Furthermore, she had not even had the courtesy to ask her father, her sister, or the King for permission to remarry, but went ahead regardless of her family’s interests and the King’s likely displeasure.
But it was Anne who was the most furious, for she considered herself the head of the family and was enraged that she had not been consulted.
Mary put off telling her for ages because she was frightened of her, and ended up appearing at court visibly with child, which set tongues wagging, I can tell you.
And Anne and your grandfather immediately prevailed on the King to expel her. ”
“You must both have been petrified,” Kate said, appalled at the lack of feeling Anne had shown. Since those days in the Tower, she had thought of her aunt as a tragic heroine because of the manner of her death, yet now she remembered that there had been quite another side to her.
“It was dreadful. Many harsh words were spoken. I do believe that Anne was jealous. Mary had hopes of a child, when she had just suffered a miscarriage—and she also had a husband who loved her. The King, by contrast, was growing tired of Anne, and was openly dallying with his latest mistress. So there was Anne, the darling of her family, applauded by them all for becoming queen of England, but deeply unhappy; and there was her despised sister, proudly proclaiming her happiness and carrying a child, having flouted all the rules of society.”
“I’m beginning to understand why you both left England,” Kate said.
“I hope so. We didn’t want you to think ill of us, leaving you behind.
You were happily and advantageously settled in Elizabeth’s household, and we were convinced that Anne’s wrath would not extend to you, since Elizabeth was so attached to you.
Once I got your mother away, we both felt better.
She was glad to escape the miserable bondage of her widowhood and her dependence on her begrudging father.
And two years later, we were glad to be out of England, apart from not being able to be there to spare you the ordeal you were made to suffer.
I would have moved Heaven and earth to prevent that.
But we didn’t know what was happening, still less about your part in it.
When your mother found out, it was too late, and she was glad at least that Anne had one of her kinsfolk with her.
She doesn’t speak of that time. It’s too painful. ”
Kate sat silently for a few moments, digesting everything Will had said.
A bell struck and he rose. “Well, Kate, I have to be back on duty. I’m pleased that we’ve had a chance to talk.”
“And I’m pleased that you and my mother rode out the storm and were able to be together,” she said. “I pray that Francis and I will know such happiness.”
“You have everything in your favor,” Will said.
“We were poor. The King cut off Mary’s royal pension, and we had only my soldier’s pay and the rents from my manors to support ourselves.
But we loved each other, so that didn’t matter, and we weren’t in poverty, whatever your mother says! ” He smiled, shaking his head.
“You both deserved to be happy. And I’m glad to have you for my stepfather.” Kate stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He grinned and patted her shoulder.
“I’m always at your service, Kate. If ever you need me, you know where to find me.”
He made to walk away, but she clutched his sleeve. “What happened to the baby?”
“It died,” he said, a shadow clouding his face.
“I am so sorry,” she told him.
—
All through dinner, Kate kept thinking of what Will had told her.
Until now, she had thought of her mother as a weak woman, but in the light of what she now knew, that was hardly fair because in defying her family and making a marriage of which she must have known they would disapprove, and in defending it passionately in the face of formidable opposition, Mother had shown strength of character.
And while others had forced her to pay the price, she had successfully seized her chance of happiness and freedom.
Kate realized that until she herself had fallen in love with Francis, she hadn’t fully understood why her mother chose to marry Will despite knowing how difficult it would be.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Mary Norris said, interrupting Kate’s reverie.
“Oh, I do apologize,” she said, cutting her meat into delicate slices. “I was thinking of my mother. She wants me to visit her at Hever Castle.”
“We all know why she won’t show her face at court!” Katheryn Howard smirked.
Kate would not rise to the bait. “That scandal is long behind her now. And Queen Anne forgave her at the last.”
“I’m not talking about that scandal!” Katheryn laughed. The other maids giggled.
“Then what are you talking about?” Kate riposted.
Katheryn stole a glance at Mrs. Stonor, who sat at the head of the table. That lady was regarding her sternly. “I won’t have malicious gossip, Mistress Howard,” she reproved.
Katheryn subsided, leaving Kate in a turmoil. What was this other scandal?
When dinner was over, Mary followed her to the Queen’s chamber. “Take no notice of what Katheryn said,” she soothed. “She loves to gossip—and she embroiders everything.”
Kate turned to her. “Do you know what she was talking about?”
“I have no idea,” Mary said, looking away. Kate was sure she was lying.