Chapter 16 #3
She was pondering this dilemma when the trumpets sounded and the ladies melted to the side.
As the King passed through their ranks, leaning on his stick, they all curtseyed, and Kate, standing at the end nearest the dais, bent her knee, lowering her eyes and hoping he would not notice her.
When she rose and gathered courage to look about her, she saw him standing with a group of ladies, laughing and chatting.
The way they gazed adoringly up at him filled her with contempt, for how could he ever believe they found him attractive?
He was grossly fat—three men could have fitted inside his gown—and his face looked puffy and old, with veined cheeks and piggy eyes, eyes that were leering lasciviously at the bulging breasts of one of the women.
Kate shuddered and moved away, intending to lose herself in the crowd, out of his sight.
Oh, why wasn’t anybody noticing her? Wasn’t there someone she could talk to?
And when could she decently slip away? She was tempted to do so now.
But there was no getting away. The press of bodies was so great that it was impossible to push through.
Then the King came into view again, conversing with Anne Bassett, who seemed to be flirting with him.
It dawned on Kate that Anne and others here might be imagining themselves wearing a crown in the not-too-distant future, for the consort’s throne was vacant.
But who would be foolish enough to put her neck into such a yoke?
Francis had said that it was now treason for a woman to marry the King without confessing to any past amours.
He’d joked that his Majesty would be hard pressed to find a court lady who hadn’t had any, and that few were queuing up for the honor of his hand.
Yet tonight, it seemed there were women who would do anything for power and wealth.
Again, she tried to circulate. She saw the Duchess of Suffolk, who had been friendly to her when they were both in Queen Anna’s service, but she was in full flight with some other great ladies, and Kate did not like to interrupt them.
She hovered on the edge of their group, hoping that the Duchess would notice her, but then a high-pitched voice said, “Mistress Knollys?”
She turned around to find the King standing before her, grinning down from his lofty height.
“Your Majesty!” She sank into another curtsey, praying that he wasn’t expecting her to flirt with him as the others had.
“It is a pleasure to see you at court,” he said gently. “We have missed you. Yet we hear that you are very happy at Greys Court and that you now have two healthy children. We should like to see them one day.”
Kate was surprised to find him so well informed. “I thank your Grace. Yes, I am most contented in my marriage.” The thought of this man with his bloodstained hands meeting her children was anathema to her.
He was peering down at her, scrutinizing her closely, in the way that others had done in the past. It still made her feel uncomfortable. Wilting under the King’s gaze, she tried not to flinch or think of the wives he had sent to a bloody death.
“We would like to see you at court more often,” he was saying.
“Your Grace does me much honor,” she replied, longing for this to be over, and thinking that wild horses wouldn’t drag her back here again.
“Hmm. One day, I may pay you a visit. I have a mind to see Greys Court, which I have heard is delightful.”
Alarms were sounding in Kate’s head. No!
She did not want him sullying the beauty and tranquility of her home with his revolting presence.
It was all she could do to be polite to him for the duration of this too-long conversation.
But she could not show her revulsion, for Francis’s sake.
“We would be happy to welcome your Grace.”
“I will look forward to it,” he said. Their exchange had dried up, and it was not for Kate to speak first. They stood there for some moments before the King spoke. “Well, Mistress Knollys, I bid you good evening. Enjoy the feast.”
He moved on, leaving her standing there, trembling, her cheeks hot, her hands clenched. Never, never, would she welcome him at Greys Court. If he sent word that he was coming, she would say that she was ill. Anything to keep him away.
The noise, the clamor, the press of bodies, and the flickering candles were overwhelming. She had to get away. Seeing an opening in the throng, she slipped out of the door, then hurried to Francis’s lodging. He looked up at her, astonished.
“Why are you back so soon?”
“I felt faint,” she told him, quite truthfully.
“It was so hot in there, and I had spoken with the King, so I felt I could leave. I must lie down.” She passed into the bedchamber, unlaced her stomacher and flopped down on the bed.
Francis followed and lay beside her, cradling her in his arms. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.
” He paused. “So you spoke to the King?”
“Yes.” She wasn’t about to tell him how it had made her feel; it wasn’t fair on him, for he had to serve that devil and he was eager for preferment. “He said he was pleased to see me at court, and he said he might visit us at Greys Court one day.”
“That’s wonderful news!” Francis cried. “It’s a great honor. It will cost us, though—entertaining the King is an expensive business. But think of the rewards, Kate!”
Kate’s heart plummeted. She had not thought of that.
It seemed that, if the moment ever came, she must put on a brave front for her husband’s sake.
She owed it to him, and she would never forgive herself if she allowed her personal feelings to stand in the way of his future advancement.
But how would she bear it, having that vile man in her house?