Chapter 13 #2
Mother suddenly turned to Kate. “I’m proud of you, Daughter. You have grown up to be wise and beautiful, and virtuous. There is no spite in you, as there was in me and my sister. You are devoid of guile, warm and willing, and you deserve to be happy with Francis. Go back to him and be happy.”
“You will come to the wedding, of course?”
Mother hesitated. “If you want me to be there.” She didn’t sound very happy about it.
“Of course I do! And you surely want to see me wed?”
“Oh, yes.” Mother embraced her. “It’s just that I don’t like going to court. It holds too many memories for me…Of your father.”
“I understand,” Kate assured her. “But please come!”
“Very well. I will be there.”
—
Not long after Kate’s return to Whitehall, Francis’s mother, Lady Lee, came up from Aylesbury to London for the wedding, and they had dinner in the George Inn at Southwark, where she was staying.
Kate had been nervous about meeting her, but her future mother-in-law was kindness personified, and a great lady in every sense.
She was wearing black, for her second husband had died the previous year, yet she was cheerful and embraced Francis warmly.
“Well, you have chosen a fine young maiden!” she said, looking Kate up and down. “I am very happy for you both.”
Kate had been glad to hear that Lady Lee would not be living with them at Greys Court after their marriage, for she had the dower house in Buckinghamshire; yet now that she had met her, she felt rather sorry about that, for she inwardly found the prospect of running a large household daunting, and now realized that the older woman would have been the perfect one to teach her.
She spent the dinner asking for her advice, which Lady Lee very willingly gave.
“You will love Greys Court, my dear,” she said.
“I was very happy there. And I know that the servants will be pleased to have a mistress of the house living there again.” She rose, with a rustle of silks, and straightened her widow’s wimple.
“Well, I realize you must both get back to your duties, and I need to go to my room to rest. I always take a short sleep in the afternoons. I will see you in the chapel!” She bent forward and kissed Kate warmly.
“You’ve done well, my son!” she told a beaming Francis.
—
The end of April was in sight—and the wedding.
Kate was busy with preparations. The Queen’s tailor was making her a gown of pink damask with wide skirts and a low bodice edged with pearls.
She would be wearing her hair loose, as became a virgin bride, with a chaplet of flowers.
Mary Norris and Anne Bassett were to be her bridesmaids.
She had asked Will to give her away, and he had readily consented.
The King had insisted on hosting a private reception for her and Francis and their guests, in one of the little banqueting houses in the palace grounds, and she had grudgingly had to accept because it clearly meant so much to Francis—and one did not refuse the King.
Being so busy, Kate lamented not having much time to spend with Francis, yet they did manage to snatch some time together, and when they were alone, he became increasingly amorous. His hand would stray to her breast or her thigh, but she always pushed it away.
“We will soon be wed!” he protested one evening, as they sat on the parapet of the fishpond.
“It will not be long,” she told him. “Have patience!”
“But I ache to make you mine,” he murmured, kissing her.
“And I yearn to be yours, but it would be wrong to do it now, and you would not respect me for it.”
“I would, my love, I promise!”
“No, Francis. I would not feel right about it. Never think that I do not love you; but I love my honor, too.”
“I would do nothing against your honor, my love. But just let me touch you…Let me see you!” His fingers caressed her breast where it swelled from her bodice.
The sensation was exquisite, undeniable.
Then he delved farther, beyond the thick biliment of embroidery, and found her nipple, kissing her vigorously all the time.
She knew she should stop him, but it was almost impossible not to give way to the wondrous sensations coursing through her whole being.
With a great effort, she stood up, and would have moved away, but Francis only gripped her the tighter, letting go of her breast and pressing her body tightly to his.
She could again feel the hardness beneath his codpiece as he bent to nuzzle her neck, and then it caught her at the core, and she knew what Katheryn Howard had meant when she had once spoken of a point of no return.
Her reaction was so strong that she thought for a moment she might die of it or forget herself entirely.
She jerked away, breathless, before she lost control completely.
“I must go!” she cried. “We should not be alone like this.”
“Darling!” Francis was beside himself and breathing heavily. “I am so sorry. I did not mean you any harm. But you are so beautiful, and I was quite overcome. I hardly know how I will wait for us to be wed.”
“I want it, too,” she whispered. How much she wanted it, right now, she could not express to him. “But we must avoid any occasions for temptation. It is not long to wait. Only a few days.”
He stepped forward and kissed her, more gently this time. “I shall be counting them,” he murmured.
—
Kate had been hoping that Elizabeth would visit the court, but there was no sign of that happening.
It occurred to her that she could go to Hatfield to see her, yet she did not like to ask for more leave as she felt she had presumed on Queen Anna’s kindness too often.
But she would shortly be leaving her service anyway, for Francis wanted her to live at Greys Court after their marriage.
Anna had been most understanding. She had also given them a covered silver-gilt cup as a wedding gift.
Surely, she would not mind sparing Kate to visit Elizabeth?
Anna didn’t. “Go to her,” she said. “She will be happy to see you.” She even provided a groom to escort Kate.
They rode northward, through London and into Hertfordshire.
Spring was flowering and the countryside was coming to life.
Lambs gamboled in the fields as they passed, and the hedgerows were bursting with flowers of myriad colors.
Kate was missing Francis already—how she would have loved to share all this beauty with him—but she was also looking forward to seeing Elizabeth’s face when she appeared at Hatfield.
She found the little girl in the garden, picking flowers with Kat. Catching sight of Kate, Elizabeth ran to her and threw her arms around her waist.
“Kate! Kate! I have missed you so much! Have you come back for good?”
“Alas, no,” Kate told her, stroking her red tresses and looking down at the sharp little face, turned up beseechingly to hers. “But I have some good news. I am to be wed and leave court, and I wanted to see you before I go.”
Elizabeth recoiled. “Wed? Who to?”
“To Francis Knollys, one of your father’s Gentlemen Pensioners.”
“Like Will Stafford?”
“Yes.” Kate was astonished that Elizabeth knew Will. “Where did you meet Will?”
“At Christmas. He’s my uncle. Why should I not meet him?”
Kat came up and embraced Kate. “I was thrilled to receive your letter telling me your news. I am so pleased for you.”
“Well, I’m not!” Elizabeth snorted, flouncing away.
Kate hastened after her. “Sweeting, what’s the matter? How have I offended you?”
Elizabeth swung round. “Because you should come back here when you leave the Queen’s service! You don’t love me anymore! You love this Francis now.”
“That’s nonsense,” Kate said. “Love is boundless. You can love different people in different ways, and I assure you, little cousin, that I love you just as much as I ever did, and I always will.”
The child continued to stare at her dubiously.
“You should be happy for Kate,” Kat said. “She shouldn’t be subjected to this performance.”
For answer, Elizabeth turned and ran into the house.
Kat sighed. “I suppose that a child of middling six cannot comprehend the feelings of a young woman. For all that you are close cousins, the age gap is too great.”
Kate felt unhappy. “I will go and talk to her.”
She found Elizabeth hiding under the table in the still room. “Come out!”
“Kat’s cross with me,” the little girl said.
“Well, you were very silly.” Kate got down on her knees. “When you are older, you will understand that all women want to find a good husband, a man they can love and respect. And I have found one in Francis. I pray that you will one day be as lucky.”
“But I’m going to marry a great prince!” Elizabeth boasted.
“Prince or plowman, what matters is that he is kind and that you love each other. As I love Francis.” She was determined to bring the conversation back to him, and to make Elizabeth repent of her animosity. But Elizabeth said nothing.
“Cousin, I wish you would be happy for me,” she persisted. “When I am married, we will write to each other often, and I will only be a two- or three-day ride away, so I can come and visit you, yes?”
The child nodded.
“We will see each other much more than we have during my time at court.”
“Yes.” She was thawing.
“And you’ll like Francis, I know! He will be another cousin to love you.” Goodness, she was having to labor hard!
“I wish I could be a bridesmaid,” Elizabeth said.
Kate gave up. “I wish you could, but it will only be a small wedding.”
“Did you bring me a present?”
“I’ve told you before, my Lady Elizabeth, that it’s rude to ask for presents,” Kate said sternly.
“But I love them!”
“We all do,” Kate agreed. “But people like to give surprises. And no one should ever demand a present. It makes you look greedy.” She didn’t think even this child, with her advanced command of vocabulary, would understand the word “mercenary,” which would have been more appropriate.
“As it happens, I have brought you a present. Something very special. But first, I have to speak to Kat. Wait here!”
She came upon Kat in the great hall, discussing her charge’s meals with the cook and Lady Troy.
When they were done, she took Kat aside and told her about what had happened at Hever.
“I managed to save a small portrait of Queen Anne for Elizabeth,” she said, lowering her voice.
“Will it be all right to give it to her?”
“The King would frown on it, I’m sure,” Kat said, making a face, “for I understand that Anne’s name is not spoken at court.
But Elizabeth already has a portrait of her mother.
We found it in the attic, and she keeps it behind her bed.
You can rest assured, Kate, that I’m making certain she knows the truth, that that poor lady was innocent of all those dreadful crimes and greatly wronged. ”
“So shall I give her the picture?”
“By all means. She will be delighted. But she’ll have to hide it.”
—
Back in the still room, Elizabeth unwrapped the parcel and stared at her mother’s face, her mouth a perfect O. “I am like her,” she said, “but my hair isn’t brown. Was she very beautiful?”
“Yes, she was,” Kate lied. She had not found her aunt very attractive and could not understand what the King had seen in her.
But then, Anne had been thirty-six, approaching middle age, when she died—and looked it; she was no longer the young woman who had captivated a king.
Years of strife and troubles had taken their toll.
Certainly, she looked more alluring in her portrait.
Elizabeth laid it down on the table and threw her arms around Kate. “Thank you, dear cousin!” she cried, having one of her mercurial changes of mood. “It’s a lovely present!”
She ran upstairs to her bedchamber to stash it away with the other portrait, then hurried back, clutching her cloak. “Let’s walk in the park! Then we can go to the stables and I can show you the new foal!”
Kate followed in Elizabeth’s wake, glad to see her happy again, and pleased that she had got over her jealousy. But as they walked along the path, another change of humor came over the little girl.
“I wish my mother was alive,” she said suddenly, once they were away from the palace.
“Of course you do,” Kate said, feeling for her.
“You’re lucky! You have your mother. My father killed my mother.”
She cast a challenging glance at Kate. “People told him lies about her and made him believe them. He was tricked!”
“I believe he was,” Kate said carefully. She must take care not to criticize the King in any way, because you never knew what a young child might repeat.
“But your mother was very naughty,” Elizabeth said, giving her that look again. Her words came like a slap in the face.
“Naughty? What do you mean?” Kate spoke fiercely, and her cousin looked away.
“I don’t know. I heard Lady Troy say it to Kat. She said…” She thought for a moment. “She said that she was no better than she should be.”
Kate had heard Mary Norris say the same about Katheryn Howard, who was careless of her reputation and had been flirting—some said sleeping—with Thomas Culpeper. It was not a nice thing to say about someone.
“Is that all she said?”
“Yes. They saw me and they shut up.” Elizabeth skipped ahead. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s probably nothing.”
Kate, shaken to her core, was not so sure.
Had Lady Troy been referring to Mother’s marriage to Will?
But Mother had been held in low esteem by the family long before that, and what Kate had just heard made sense of all the other strange things she’d heard that had hinted at some secret that must be kept hidden.
If Mother had been naughty, as Elizabeth put it, it would explain Grandfather’s attitude toward her, and the family’s desire to keep her away from the court.
They would not have let her bring shame on them.
But what had Mother actually done to deserve such ostracism?
Had she been unfaithful to Father? It was an uncomfortable thought, and it was not the kind of thing Kate could mention to Mother.
She could only hope that Elizabeth had misheard what Lady Troy had said.