Chapter 37
The following summer, Kate became aware that the Queen’s despised cousin, Lady Katherine Grey, seemed distracted. The slender, fair-haired young woman served Elizabeth in her privy chamber, having been demoted from the bedchamber at the beginning of the reign, so her path crossed often with Kate’s.
Kate had her suspicions. If she had not known better—for Lady Katherine was unwed—she could have sworn that the girl was with child.
But Elizabeth did not appear to notice, and she was always hot against any hint of a fall from grace.
Her ladies must be above reproach: any wantonness reflected badly on her.
In July, the Queen took the court on a progress through East Anglia. By the time they reached Ipswich, Katherine was clearly in some distress.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Kat muttered in Kate’s ear as they watched her wilting in a corner, not joining in the card game that was making the players laugh so much.
“I have been thinking it for some time,” Kate whispered.
The next morning, Elizabeth summoned Kate to her closet. “That foolish girl!” she hissed, working herself up into a rage.
“Who?” Kate asked, but she knew the answer.
“Katherine Grey, of course! I’ve got to tell someone, Kate.
I’m at my wits’ end with her. The silly fool has only taken it upon herself to contract a secret marriage with the Earl of Hertford, or so she claims. She went to Lord Robert in the night, weeping and wailing.
Imagine it, going into a man’s bedchamber—what would people think?
She told him she was with child and begged him to intercede for my forgiveness. Well, she can beg all she likes.”
“She has indeed been foolish!” Kate pretended to be astonished.
“More than that, she has placed the succession in jeopardy, since there is no way of proving that her child is legitimate. The only witness to her so-called marriage has just died. And she thinks I will name her my successor? By God, in having succumbed to her lusts, she has shown herself as too weak to be a suitable heir to the throne. I am wondering if it’s all part of some conspiracy against me. ”
“I don’t think she has the brains for that,” Kate said soothingly.
“No, but Hertford might be manipulating her.” Elizabeth bit her lip.
“Is there any proof of that?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Cecil thinks that this illicit pregnancy is a sign that God is displeased at the prospect of a Grey claimant succeeding to the throne.”
“But Bess, is it an illicit pregnancy?”
“Of course it is! I don’t believe all this nonsense about a secret wedding. It was a piece of mummery at best.”
Kate wasn’t sure what to believe. She didn’t know all the facts. “What will you do?”
“I shall keep her close until we return from the progress. I have a mind to send her to the Tower. Don’t look at me like that. She will be well housed, and I shall make sure she has some comforts, and someone to attend her when her time comes.”
Unwelcome memories of Anne Boleyn surfaced in Kate’s mind. She shuddered. “You will not proceed further against her, once the child is born?”
Elizabeth stared at her. “I am not a monster, Kate. You ought to know that.”
“Of course I do. It’s just that a court of law might deem her actions treasonable.”
“No, I shall stop at imprisonment. By God, these cousins of mine do plague me! There’s the Queen of Scots.
She’s returning to her kingdom now that she is widowed and demanding that I recognize her as my heir.
She continues to flaunt my royal arms quartered with her own.
Well, she shall not have a safe-conduct through England.
She can hazard the perils of the North Sea!
And I wish her well of her people. They are all Calvinists now—how will they welcome a Catholic queen?
The Protestant lords in power will give her short shrift, I’ll wager. ”
Kate knew Elizabeth well enough to understand that her antagonism toward Mary, and Lady Katherine, was driven by insecurity and jealousy.
It was widely known that Mary Stuart was regarded by Catholic Europe as having a better title to the English throne than Elizabeth.
And Elizabeth could not hide the fact that she regarded Mary as her rival: younger, and reputedly more beautiful, the widowed Mary had usurped Elizabeth’s position as the most desirable match in Europe.
And surely, she would soon be looking for a husband.
But who? Elizabeth must fear the arrival of a powerful Catholic prince in Scotland, while the close proximity of the Catholic claimant to her throne would pose a continuing threat to her security.
Oh, yes, she could understand Elizabeth’s concerns.
“You are the only cousin I can trust—you and your brother Harry,” Elizabeth said, taking Kate’s hand.
“I know I am not always kind to you, and that I make too many demands on your time, but never forget that I love you above all other women. And it is a great comfort to me to have a kinswoman who poses no threat to me.”
Her emotional declaration—rare indeed—was a measure of how distressed she was about the threats from her dynastic rivals. Kate bent forward and hugged her.
“You are very dear to me, too, Bess,” she said, ready in that moment to forgive her a lot.
—
When the court returned to Whitehall in August, Lady Katherine Grey was imprisoned in the Tower and Lord Hertford was summoned home from a mission abroad to join her there, but housed in a separate cell.
They were not allowed to meet or be treated as husband and wife.
In September, Katherine gave birth to a son, Edward Seymour.
“By God, this is all I need!” Elizabeth erupted, and stormed off into her bedchamber, slamming the door behind her. The ladies looked at each other.
“She fears that Lady Katherine’s ability to produce a son will make her a more attractive prospect as queen in the eyes of the people,” Kat said quietly. “A male heir is a real threat to our mistress.”
Kate knew it was true. Francis often said that a lot of the councillors resented having a woman reigning over them. No wonder Elizabeth felt insecure.
She went after her. “Forgive the intrusion, Bess, but if you want someone to talk to, I am here. I know how hard this is for you.”
Elizabeth turned around, tears on her cheeks. “It is. Katherine is young and fruitful, and I am of barren stock.”
“That’s not true.” Kate was aware that, once more, she was venturing upon dangerous ground.
“Sadly, it is.” The Queen sighed. “I am the only one left of all my father’s children.”
Kate was bursting to contradict her, but this was not the time. “If you married—”
“I’ve told you, I do not wish to marry!” Elizabeth snapped. “The very idea is anathema to me. There will be no more Tudors after me.”
Kate gathered her courage. “Marriage is not so awful, Bess. The act of procreation is a beautiful thing, a tenderness between husband and wife. And children bring joy and fulfillment to a woman. Believe me, I know. I am sure that, if you took a husband—the right husband—you would be happy. There would be no more need to worry about the succession or your cousins’ ambitions. ”
“You make it sound so easy,” Elizabeth said, her anger abating.
“But my fear is too great. My father’s tenderness for my mother, and Katheryn Howard, went so deep that he had them both beheaded.
And what good is husbandly tenderness when you are dying in agony with the child he gave you? No, I will not take the risk.”
“Then I will not trouble you by raising the matter again,” Kate said. “I would not anger or upset you. We just have to accept that we are different women with different views on life.”
“It is the best way,” Elizabeth agreed. “As to Lady Katherine, I will not let her set up her brat as a rival claimant to my throne. I am ordering the Archbishop of Canterbury to chair a commission to investigate the validity of her so-called marriage. Until then, my foolish cousin can stay in the Tower.”
—
In the winter, Francis asked Kate to bring Lettice to meet him in the Chapel Royal at St. James’s Palace, where the court was staying.
“Do you know what it’s about?” Lettice asked, as they made their way through the galleries of the redbrick palace.
At just eighteen, she had become a stunning beauty with her heavy-lidded eyes, full lips, and cloud of red hair.
She had an inner grace and charm that seemed irresistible to both men and women, and was fast becoming one of the ornaments of the court.
But Kate did not want her lovely daughter forever in the snares of court life.
She knew what Francis was going to say because they had discussed it.
He had been talking of finding a husband for Lettice for some time.
She had pointed out that Mary, as their eldest daughter, should be married first, but they both knew that the Duchess of Suffolk did not want to lose her just yet.
So he had set about finding the right match for Lettice, and Kate had approved his choice wholeheartedly.
He was waiting for them, beaming, beneath the glorious ceiling that King Henry had installed for Anna of Cleves. Not the most auspicious place to discuss a betrothal, Kate thought.
Francis kissed them both. “I have good news. Lettice, I have found you a noble husband. He is Walter Devereux, Viscount Hereford. You will be a viscountess. I hope you are pleased.”
Lettice seemed speechless.
“I think she would like to know more about Lord Hereford than his lordly credentials,” Kate said. “What kind of man he is, for example.”
“He is young, Lettice, about two years older than you, and of good Welsh stock.”
Kate had to laugh. Men were so obtuse. “We are not buying a horse for breeding! Tell her what he is like as a man!”
“Pleasant and personable. Dark-haired, bearded. I suppose you ladies would think him handsome.”
“Can I meet him?” Lettice asked.
“I have asked him to come here. He should arrive in a few minutes.”
“You will have seen him around the court,” Kate said.
“We’ve come to a reasonable agreement about the dowry, Lettice. You will be well provided for.”
The door opened and Walter Devereux walked in.
He was tall and did indeed have dark good looks.
Kate suspected that there was a tough side to him beneath the courtesy.
But Lettice seemed very taken with him. She blushed prettily when he told her how pleased he was to have found such a beautiful bride.
“We must arrange the wedding!” Francis declared.
—
Elizabeth was not best pleased to learn that she was to lose her maid-of-honor, but she conceded defeat graciously, for was it not her role as their mistress to ensure that her maids made good marriages? And she could hardly disapprove of Viscount Hereford.
The young couple were married in December in the church at Rotherfield Greys.
Lettice looked enchanting in her white satin wedding gown sewn with rubies, and Walter made a handsome bridegroom.
They were clearly happy with each other, and although Kate shed a tear when they departed for Walter’s seat at Chartley in Staffordshire, she felt confident that her precious daughter was in safe hands.