Chapter 31
On the third Sunday in November, Kate and Francis went to church with their family. They were settling down to listen to the sermon when the minister mounted the steps to the pulpit and said, in both French and English, that he had an announcement to make.
“I have just received news from England of the death of Queen Mary and the accession of Queen Elizabeth to the throne. Those of you who are in exile here because of your faith will no doubt rejoice because the new Queen is known to be a friend of the Gospel…”
Kate hardly heard the rest. The news had come like a thunderbolt, and suddenly she and Francis were embracing for joy and hugging their children. Elsewhere in the church, there was similar rejoicing as the minister and the rest of the congregation looked on, smiling.
After the service had ended, they hurried back to Meister Hummel’s house and told him of their liberation. He clapped them on the back, called for eau-de-vie to celebrate, and insisted on giving them money toward the cost of their journey home, ignoring their protests.
Immediately, Kate began packing up their belongings, getting the children to help. She kept out their warmest clothing because they would be traveling in winter and prayed that the roads would not be too muddy or ill-kept.
Francis was to go ahead because they had no idea what would be awaiting them in England or if they even had a home to go to. He set off the very next morning, leaving Kate to follow on in the litter with the children, with Thomas bringing the luggage in the cart.
“As soon as I get to London, I will wait on Queen Elizabeth and pay my respects,” Francis said, as he mounted his horse. It was good to see him with a vigorous sense of purpose at last, now that they could look forward to a better, happier, and safer future with all their children around them.
“Pray give her my love and duty and say that I am longing to see her,” Kate urged.
“You may depend on it,” he declared, and gave her his most engaging smile. “Farewell, my darling, until we meet again in England.”
“God go with you!” she cried. She stood there watching until his horse had disappeared around the corner at the end of the street, then hurried inside to finish her packing.
With nearly four hundred miles to cover this side of the English Channel, and more than a hundred to go before they reached Greys Court, with a sea crossing in between, they would be traveling for at least forty days, so they would not be back in time for Christmas, but no matter!
They were going home, and that was more important than anything.
—
They had agreed that Kate would cross to England from the port of Boulogne, since they were unsure of the situation in Calais.
Francis would send any letters from England to an old inn called l’Etoile near the cathedral, where they would be waiting for Kate.
He had left precise instructions on how to find it.
Kate could not wait to reach Boulogne, for the journey was long and arduous with the six children and only Thomas and the maids to help.
The weather blew wet and windy, and it was cold.
They spent their days huddled together in the litter, swathed in cloaks, bumping over the rutted roads.
Many a time Kate had to ask Thomas to stop because one of the children needed to be sick.
Some hostelries were acceptably clean, but others were squalid, yet they still had to pay exorbitant prices for poor accommodation and indifferent food.
Yet each day brought them closer to their destination, and that gave Kate heart to carry on.
At last, in early January, they reached Boulogne, where they could see the sea.
Beyond lay home—a deeply comforting thought.
They found l’Etoile without difficulty and Kate was thrilled to find a letter from Francis awaiting her, which had only recently arrived.
As soon as they were settled in, she eagerly broke the seal and devoured the news.
There had been no need to worry. Greys Court was still theirs, and Master Stafford had kept it in good order, for which Francis had been able to reward him, as Caversham and the income from his lands had been restored to him.
The Queen had welcomed him warmly to court.
For his experience, his understanding, his truth, and his love for the Protestant religion, she had immediately made him a Privy Councillor and Vice Chamberlain; he would be assisting the Chamberlain, Lord Howard of Effingham, to run the royal household.
And on 3 January, Elizabeth, having said that she was resolved to promote those who had served her at Hatfield, had appointed Kate a Lady of the Privy Chamber.
Kate was to come to court as soon as was convenient to take up her new post. Lettice had been made a Gentlewoman of the Privy Chamber on the same date.
“She is quite the young lady now,” Francis had written, “and reckoned one of the best-looking ladies of the court.”
Kate read the letter with mixed feelings.
Such instantaneous advancement and favor was wonderful, and to be singled out for such prestigious posts was a signal honor, but she was wondering just how much of her time would be spent waiting on the Queen, and how much would be left to spend with her family, for she did so much want to be with them, especially those from whom she had been cruelly parted for nearly the past two years.
She prayed that Elizabeth would not be too demanding.
In a postscript on the back of the letter, Francis had written that he had visited Hal at Oxford and was pleased to report that he was doing well, and that he had seen Kate’s brother, Harry, at court.
Will and Ned were thriving so well in his household that he was tempted to leave them there, if Kate agreed.
Every instinct cried out against it, for she had joyously envisaged their all living together as a family again.
Yet now her babes were growing up and settled elsewhere, one at court and two in their uncle’s household, and there was little she could do about it, since Lettice especially had been advanced beyond most parents’ dreams and was in the best position to attract a good marriage, while it was the custom for boys of gentle birth to be brought up away from home, not tied to their mother’s apron strings.
The bitter fact had to be faced: things had changed, and they would never be the same again.
—
Tears streamed down Kate’s face when the coast of England emerged from the sea mist ahead of them.
Glimpsing it through the cabin window, she knew a moment of exaltation.
No matter what had become of her family, this was her land, a land from which the black clouds of fear and persecution had been miraculously lifted.
God had spoken. He had ushered in a new age, one in which the souls of the righteous would be free.
Her heart sang again when she saw Greys Court in the distance.
She could hardly believe that they were home.
When she entered the house, ushering her children before her, she was delighted to see everything as she had left it, and that the place was clean and swept.
At Francis’s request, Master Stafford had reengaged Bilkins and most of the former servants, who were all lined up outside the house to greet her—Bilkins was in tears, she was touched to see—and he had appointed a tutor, Master Ingham, for Beth, Robert, Richard, and Frank, and a nursemaid, Edith, who would help Thomasina with Anne and Thomas.
Both were waiting in the hall to be introduced to their charges, and Kate was glad to relinquish the children to their care, for she was weary and had much to organize.
The older ones were excited to be back at Greys Court, but the younger ones stared around in awe, for they had yet to recognize it as home.
Kate did not have very long with them. Elizabeth had sent her a summons demanding her presence at court as soon as possible.
“We long to see you,” she had written. It was her use of the royal plural that really brought home to Kate how their roles had changed.
Elizabeth was no longer just her cousin, her secret sister; she was now her Queen and must be obeyed.
There was nothing for it. She must set things in order here, leave the house and her young family under the capable rule of Bilkins, and get to court without delay. God grant that she had a good journey and that the roads were clear and not mired with mud.
—
When, after making excellent time, she arrived at Whitehall Palace, Kate was informed that the Queen would see her at once.
An usher conducted her through the presence chamber, which was crowded with petitioners, and then, under their envious eyes, took her through the door that only the highly privileged entered, which led to the privy chamber beyond.
Elizabeth was waiting for her in an apartment painted all over with green foliage and pink flowers, in the midst of which was a throne upholstered in scarlet beneath a cloth of estate in the same rich material.
Rush matting covered the floor, on which sat three ladies in rich gowns.
One was Kat, who smiled at Kate delightedly.
Elizabeth, slender in a high-necked gown that showed off to advantage her red-gold hair, rose from the throne, holding out her arms. “My dearest cousin, you are most welcome! We have longed to see you!” There sat upon her a new air of authority and confidence; she carried her queenship as if she had been born to it.
Already, it had set her apart from ordinary mortals.
“Your Majesty.” Kate swept a deep curtsey, then felt the Queen’s hands raising her and pulling her into an embrace.
“I do not know how I have borne your absence,” she said, kissing her cheeks. “I have worried about you every day. I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am to behold you safe and well.”