Chapter 14
On the morning of her wedding, Kate was shaking with nerves.
As her mother, Mrs. Stonor, and the maids-of-honor dressed her in the beautiful pink gown and placed the floral chaplet on her head, she stood there trembling, feeling as if she were going to her execution, rather than her marriage.
And it was all because that devil would be there.
How she wished that she were getting wed at Rotherfield Greys.
A small gathering in a country church would have been idyllic.
The late-April sunshine was streaming through the windows as her little procession made its way to the Chapel Royal.
At the door, Will, tall and resplendent in his livery, was waiting to greet her.
As he offered her his arm, and Mother and the others passed on into the chapel, trumpets suddenly sounded and the King arrived, leaning heavily on a stick and attended by several gentlemen.
Kate sank into a curtsey and Will bowed low.
“Now, here’s a pretty bride!” the King said, chucking Kate under the chin and raising her.
She recoiled from the stench of his bandaged leg, but managed a smile.
“Why, I do believe you are nervous,” he said, grinning.
“No need, no need, child. There’s nothing to fear.
” He looked at Will. “If I may have the honor, Stafford?” He held out his arm toward Kate, and Will melted away.
She took it warily, aware that this was a great honor, yet not wishing to be anywhere near this horrible, cruel man.
The trumpets sounded again, and he marched her into the chapel.
She would never forget the look on her mother’s face when she saw them; it was one of amazement—and dismay.
In that moment, she realized that Mother felt the same way about him as she did.
When she joined Francis by the altar, all her nervousness fell away and her heart sang.
The way he was looking at her told her that he found her beautiful.
It was such a relief when the King placed her hand in her betrothed’s and withdrew to the royal pew in the gallery above.
Then she and Francis knelt before Archbishop Cranmer and were made man and wife.
As Kate looked into her new husband’s shining green eyes, she felt that God was smiling upon their union.
—
The reception in the banqueting house was sumptuous.
A vast array of comfits and sweetmeats had been laid out—the royal chefs had done them proud—and the wine was flowing freely.
The King raised his goblet in a toast to the bride and groom, then departed.
After that, Kate began to relax and enjoy her day.
Her mother-in-law kissed her. “Welcome to the family, my dear. You look beautiful, as a bride should.” She tapped her son on the chest. “Francis, I’ll say it again—you are a very lucky young man.”
“I think we’re both lucky, Lady Lee.” Kate smiled.
“Call me Lettice, dear. I should like that.”
“I will, thank you—Lettice!” Kate promised.
People were crowding around, offering their congratulations and their gifts.
“We’ll have enough plate to start a dinner service!” Kate laughed, as she thanked yet another well-wisher.
“Well, we have a handsome house to put it in,” Francis said.
“I can’t wait to show it to you.” It had been agreed that they would set off the following morning.
Tonight, they would stay in Francis’s lodging, two rooms only, but comfortable, he had assured her, his eyes alight with desire.
She was half longing, half dreading the moment.
She feared she might die of embarrassment.
Would it hurt? But hold, she inwardly admonished herself.
This was Francis, who would never hurt her, and she had already felt a hint of the pleasure to come.
Smiling, she made her way back to the buffet table and piled her plate high.
By the time the food was eaten, and people began to drift away, it was afternoon. Kate sought out her mother and Will.
“We’re going to walk in the gardens to get some air,” she told them. “We’re leaving for Oxfordshire in the morning. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
They both hugged her.
“Be happy!” her mother said, tears in her eyes. “Be as happy as we have been.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that they will be.” Will grinned.
—
Alone at last, Kate and Francis walked arm in arm along the river path overlooking the Thames. Ahead of them, they could see the myriad spires of London.
“I will be glad to get down to the country, even if it’s only for a week,” Francis said.
“It’s a shame that you have to return to court so soon,” Kate fretted. “We must make the most of the time.”
He drew her into his arms. “We will, I assure you!” She shivered with anticipation.
“Are you hungry?” he asked her.
“A little. Shall we go into supper in the hall?”
“No. I thought we could find an inn. The Bell isn’t far.”
“That would be lovely.” Kate liked the prospect of getting away from the court. She never felt at ease there, not least because she could encounter the King at any moment. And sharing a meal with Francis, just the two of them, held huge appeal.
They left Whitehall Palace and hastened along King Street to Bell Yard, where the ancient tavern stood.
Francis asked for a private room, and the innkeeper showed them to a tiny chamber, hardly bigger than a closet, with a table for two.
He brought pewter goblets, a flagon of wine, knives, and napkins, returning soon afterward with steaming plates piled high with buttery roast capon, vegetables, and manchet loaves.
“The food’s very good here,” Francis said. “They get a lot of business from the court.”
It was indeed delicious, as was the wine, which went straight to Kate’s head.
“Steady!” Francis chuckled, as she crashed her goblet on the table. “I don’t want to have to carry you back!”
The intimate space, his nearness to her, and the starry night outside the tiny window were all having their effect. When he reached for her, pulled her onto his lap, and started to kiss her, slowly and with undisguised intent, she wanted him to go on and on…
“I think we should return,” he said, releasing her and helping her up. “I’ll just pay the bill.”
They walked back, his arm around her. Wordlessly, but with warm, meaningful glances, he led her to his lodging, which was sparsely furnished and very neat.
The tester bed was made up with clean sheets and a thick counterpane, and looked inviting.
Kate stood there, not knowing what to do. She shivered.
“Are you cold?” Francis asked. “We’re not supposed to light fires at court after Easter, but I do have some kindling left.
Let me light a fire. It will soon warm up.
” She sat on the bed while he knelt at the hearth.
Then, as the flames began to take, he poured them more wine and joined her on the bed.
Soon, their goblets were empty, the room was warm, and he turned to her and took her in his arms again, kissing her heartily.
“There is nothing to fear, sweetheart,” he murmured.
She wondered if he had done this before.
She felt a tingling in her loins, the beginnings of excitement, and gave herself up to his caresses.
When he began unlacing her gown, fumbling with hasty fingers, she did not resist. Before long, they were both naked—and, to her amazement, there was no shame, only wonder.
Then they were lying together, limbs entwined, and she knew what it was to have a man inside her, to feel a short hiatus of pain followed by that sweet surge of pleasure.
And it seemed to her, yet again, that God had smiled down on their marriage and blessed it.
—
In the morning, she woke to find Francis smiling at her, eager to make her his again.
Now he was more adventurous, moving her into different positions and kissing her all over.
“My beautiful wife!” he breathed. “You are a pearl, a pure mirror of womanhood. I love you so much. You will be my strength and my stay, I know it.”
She had never known such joy, such pleasure, and it all came so naturally. She knew now why the poets wrote of love and why men and women did mad things in the pursuit of it. Had she thought herself happy before now? She had not known what bliss awaited.
They could not tarry in bed for too long, much as they desired to, because they had to be on their way.
They had a two-day ride ahead of them and needed to make Windsor by nightfall.
Dragging themselves away from each other, they hurriedly dressed.
Kate took great pride in binding up her hair, as was expected of a married woman, and putting on a new French hood.
From now on, she must cover her hair daily.
Francis went off to bid farewell to the King, while Kate sought the Queen.
“May God go with you,” Anna said, squeezing her hands.
Kate felt a pang of concern for her, for Mary Norris had confided to her that Katheryn Howard was the King’s latest amorous interest, which explained why she was so rarely at court these days.
Kate could understand why the King was after her, but why she would want him…
Well, he was the King, and she was a Howard, and Anne Boleyn had had Howard blood.
Was that Katheryn’s game? And did the King know what kind of life she had led?
More to the point, at this moment, was whether Queen Anna suspected that Katheryn might prove a threat to her future as queen.
“Thank you, Madam,” Kate replied, trying not to betray her thoughts. “And thank you for being so kind to me.”
Anna bent forward and kissed her, then Kate dipped a curtsey and hurried away to find Francis at the stables. He was smiling.
“There you are, darling. I have good news. The King told me that, when Parliament next meets, he will confirm our title to the manor of Rotherfield Greys.”
“That is good news,” she said, happy to see him so buoyant.