Chapter 15
It was three long months before Francis was able to obtain leave.
By then, it was July, and Kate had settled into a routine at Greys Court, which was beginning to feel very much like home.
She had done her utmost to become involved in the life of the household and to keep her finger on its pulse.
She made it her business to know everything that was going on, how the house was provisioned, and how its rhythms worked.
She took an interest in the servants, talked to them about their homes, their families, and their problems. She cultivated her budding friendship with Thomasina, who was as attentive as one could wish a maid to be, but never overstepped the invisible line between mistress and servant.
She discovered that she could work magic with herbs, and that the scents and cordials she made up, and her suggestions for enhancing receipts, were much appreciated.
She took care to ensure that she was never overbearing, stern, or intrusive, but approachable, kind, and fair.
Even Bilkins now treated her with grudging respect, and had done so ever since the day when the cook had almost sliced off a finger with the carving knife and Kate had not shrunk from the blood, but sent for the local barber surgeon and, until he came, had herself staunched the flow, while everyone else stood there gaping.
Since then, it had become clear that Bilkins had decided to trust her.
It made her proud to think that she had proved herself not to be the untried girl he had judged her to be at first. She had, indeed, surprised herself, for she had not known that she had it in her to oversee a great household, or do it so successfully.
And Francis, when he came clattering into the Base Court on a hot day of blazing sunshine, and had embraced her joyfully and led her into the house and upstairs to the solar, was delighted to find everything so neat and gleaming.
She was pleased when he saw how the servants, even Bilkins, deferred to her when they sat at supper in the hall. His compliments were music to her ears.
“I have some news that may not surprise you,” he said, as they began their meal. “The King has had his marriage to Queen Anna annulled.”
“Really?” Kate remembered the King’s initial antipathy toward Anna, the gossip about his pursuit of Katheryn Howard, and the fact that there had been no news of the coronation taking place. “On what grounds?”
“Non-consummation.” He raised his eyebrows. “Did you know?”
“No. He came to her bed on several occasions and stayed the night.”
“You didn’t hear the gossip? That he thought himself able to do the act with others, but not with her? And that she had evil smells about her?”
“I didn’t hear it. Maybe people thought me too young, being a maid.
But she did smell, at first, although I think that someone must have dropped a hint because I never noticed it after she was wed.
This must have come as a shock for her.” Her anger burned at the way that horror treated his poor wives.
“People are saying that she fainted because she thought she was going to be taken to the Tower and beheaded, like your aunt. But no. The King has been very generous, apparently. He’s left her a rich woman.”
And she no longer has to endure being married to him. “I expect she is pleased about that.”
“I hear that she’s taken it very well. She is to be called the King’s dearest sister.” Francis grinned. “And it seems that his Grace will not be long without a queen. The word is that he will marry Mistress Katheryn Howard. Wagers are being laid as to whether he is sleeping with her.”
“I pray he will not marry her, or at least, if he does, that he knows she has led an impure life,” Kate said. “You know what store he sets by virtue in a queen. I hope she knows what she’s doing.”
“She is cousin to Anne Boleyn, so she surely must. Apparently, she’s preening! And everybody’s fawning on her.”
“Well, rather her than me.”
Francis laid down his knife and eyed her curiously. “You don’t like the King?”
“I must not say so.” She looked about her nervously. “Do you?”
“Yes. He has been a good lord to me. And, as you have told me, it seems that you owe your advancement in life to him.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. Your being placed in the Lady Elizabeth’s household and then with Queen Anna. That’s some remarkable show of favor.”
“Maybe. But my aunt Anne may have chosen me to serve Elizabeth, and it was probably my uncle of Norfolk who sued for my place with the Queen.”
“Neither appointment would have been made without the King’s sanction. But tell me, Kate, if Katheryn Howard becomes queen, would you want to go back to court to serve her? I can put in a good word for you.”
“Never!” she answered heatedly. “I hate the court, and I don’t want to return there. Besides, my life is here now, and I have many duties to perform.”
“Very well,” Francis said slowly. “But if you were at court, we could see each other more often.”
“I know, and I’m tempted, believe me, but I’m not comfortable there. The court is full of menace and backbiting and danger.”
Francis took her hand. “I can understand what makes you feel that way, especially in view of what happened to your aunt. I will not press you, and I will try to get home as often as I can.”
“Thank you,” she said, looking into his eyes and liking what she saw there. Oh, she was a lucky girl to have such a kind husband.
And there was much more to love about him than kindness. After supper, he raced her upstairs to their bedchamber to celebrate their reunion and tumbled her in the bed until she was breathless and overcome by ecstasy.
The days of his visit passed all too quickly.
Then there was another painful parting and Kate’s life resumed its humdrum everyday course.
She was thankful that Francis wrote frequently to her, and gladly reciprocated, filling her letters with all the trivialities of life at Greys Court, so that he would feel closer to home.
It was from him that she learned of the execution of Cromwell, for high treason.
She was not surprised. She had thought Cromwell’s days numbered when the King divorced Queen Anna, whose marriage he had arranged.
But to die so horribly—three strokes of the axe…
She shuddered as she imagined, too vividly, what that had been like.
In August, Francis informed her that the King had married Katheryn Howard.
“She seems very young to be queen, but she has assumed a regal manner, and his Grace can hardly keep his hands off her!” Kate could imagine it.
She had heard Katheryn brag often about her many suitors, and it was clear that she knew how to hold a man’s interest. But something inside Kate recoiled at the thought of that fat, gross man of nearly fifty in bed with a slip of a girl of nineteen.
Yet such an age gap was not uncommon. She knew of several instances where a widower had married a much younger bride in the hope of getting children.
She shuddered to think of what that would mean for Katheryn, who would never now know the kind of joy that Kate was experiencing in bed with a virile young husband.
She prayed for her, because what must it be like to be wed to a man who had divorced two wives, sent one to the block, and seen another die in childbed?
She hoped Katheryn realized what a dangerous path she was treading.
She bristled when Francis wrote that Lady Rochford was one of the ladies chosen to serve the new Queen.
The woman was evil and malicious, yet she had done very well for herself since she had ensured that Uncle Rochford had been sent to his death.
Kate burned with the injustice of it. She was even more glad now that she had resolved not to return to court.
The place was rotten to the core, which was hardly surprising, given the vileness of the King.
But now she had something far more important to think about. When she missed her monthly course in August, hope budded within her. In September, she knew for a certainty that she was with child. Her heart leaped at the thought of presenting Francis with an heir. It would be a boy, she was certain.
He was overjoyed to hear the news. He sent a beautiful letter telling her how clever she was and how much he loved her. He exhorted her to rest and take good care of herself. He had written to his mother to ask if she could recommend a local midwife for when the time came.
Kate wrote to her mother, too, and to Elizabeth, to tell them the joyful news. Mother wrote by return messenger, saying how delighted she was. “Keep safe, my darling daughter,” she ended. “You are so precious to me.”
Elizabeth’s reply was less heartening. “I do hope that you will have a good hour when your baby comes, and that you will not forget your loving cousin.” Was there a hint of jealousy in her words? It was so like Elizabeth to be thinking of herself.
When Francis next came home, in October, he handled Kate as gently as if she were made of Venetian glass, and would not enter her.
“But I’m fit and well!” she laughed, pulling him to her in the bed. “I’m not even showing yet.”
“No, it would be wrong.” She knew him in this mood; he would not be gainsaid. “I will not take any risk. You and our child are precious to me.”
He made her lie down in the afternoons, a routine she kept after he had gone back to court.
Lettice wrote to say that she knew of a woman in Henley who might be suitable and asked if she herself could come to Greys Court for the birth.
Mother, delighted at the prospect of welcoming her first grandchild, was also eager to be there.
“It is the custom for a mother to be with her daughter at her confinement. I can be your gossip and keep you diverted.”