Chapter 39
As they exchanged gifts on New Year’s Day, seated around a crackling fire in the parlor, Kate wondered if Elizabeth was pleased with the fine carpet fringed with silk she had sent her.
It was eight months since she had left court and the Queen’s letters demanding her return had tailed off.
The costly present had been sent to mollify her.
She really should go back, she knew. She could not keep wallowing in grief. But first, her daughter needed her.
Lettice’s baby came in January. It was a girl whom she called Penelope.
Holding the darling little thing, her first grandchild, Kate was struck by her likeness to Dudley.
God, it seemed, knew how to fill the empty place in her heart.
She felt consumed by love for the child, flesh of her flesh, and when the time came for her to go home, she had to drag herself away and force herself to keep smiling as the litter bore her off.
Lettice had promised to visit and that would have to content her.
At least the girl had made a speedy recovery and was happy with her baby.
And Elizabeth had written to say that she would be godmother, a sure sign that Kate was not out of favor.
—
When she arrived home at Greys Court, she thought again about returning to court, but she could not face it, not yet.
It was wonderful to be back with her children, even though the older boys were away at school or university.
She did not want to leave the young ones, did not want to spend another moment apart from them, for she had learned that you could never take them for granted.
When Francis next came home for a visit, Kate showed him the estate and household accounts, and they took a walk around the grounds.
“You have done well,” he told her. “I could not run this place so well without you.”
“Don’t forget Bilkins,” she reminded him. “He’s not as young as he used to be, but he keeps things going.”
“Yes, but I have noticed that he defers to you much more these days.”
“Well, I have made it my business to learn about every aspect of household and estate management. I feel it is my duty to know what is going on and what should be happening.”
“You’re a marvel,” he said, bending down and kissing her. “Dame Fortune smiled on me the day I wed you.”
In the evening, he told her that the Queen had appointed him governor of Portsmouth.
“I may have to go to France, to Le Havre,” he warned her.
“Last year, my lord of Warwick was sent to garrison the town and help the Huguenots, the French Protestants who are being oppressed by the government. A while back, they occupied the port of Le Havre. But then they came to terms with the Catholics, and asked Warwick to evacuate Le Havre, whereupon the Queen commanded him to hold it against all comers. He’s still there, but the town is under siege by the French.
Personally, I think the Queen was wrong.
I admire her determination to support the Protestants, but they don’t appreciate it. They want Warwick gone.”
“So where do you come into this?” Kate did not want to see Francis put into any danger.
“Don’t look so worried. One of my duties as governor of Portsmouth will be to see that our garrisons are properly provisioned. I may have to get fresh supplies to Warwick.”
“But won’t that be at some risk to yourself? Won’t the French be patrolling the sea around Le Havre?”
“If they are, we shall evade them. Don’t worry, darling. And my services may not be required anyway.”
Kate prayed that he was right.
“You’ve missed all the scandal,” he said, changing the subject.
“What scandal?” Kate wanted to know.
“The Queen has been in a bad mood for weeks. Last month, Lady Katherine Grey gave birth to another son in the Tower.”
“But I thought she and Lord Hertford were not permitted to see each other?”
“Apparently, the Lieutenant of the Tower was sympathetic. The Queen is absolutely furious. She has given orders that under no circumstances are they to meet again. She had Hertford hauled before the Court of Star Chamber, which found him guilty of having compounded his original offense of having deflowered a virgin of the blood royal by having ravished her a second time. He was heavily fined. The Lieutenant has been dismissed from his post.”
“I feel so sorry for them. Imagine how much worse this must be for them if they were lawfully married.”
“But they cannot prove it. To be frank, they have both been unbelievably foolish.”
“I hope her children have not been taken from her. That would be the worst thing.”
“No, they are still with her in the Tower. She is comfortably housed there and has her own servants. She is lucky to have kept her head.”
Kate shivered. She doubted that Katherine had had the brains to foresee where her actions might lead her.
—
In June, Francis wrote to say that the Queen was sending him to Le Havre with provisions and wages for Warwick’s forces. “Fear not,” he concluded. “I will be back soon.”
It was one of the longest fortnights in Kate’s life.
She was beside herself with anxiety, not knowing what was happening with him.
Constantly, she was on the alert for a messenger bringing news—or, Heaven forbid, a body broken in warfare.
In the end, it was no messenger who came, but Francis himself.
“It was as easy as shelling peas,” he told Kate, after she had thrown herself at him in a passionate embrace.
“We got the supplies to them. There was no sign of the French at sea. But the army at Le Havre is suffering terrible privations, plague, and sickness; the soldiers are in a weakened state and not likely to hold the town if pressed. I was glad to get away. I pity my lord of Warwick; his is a thankless task.”
“I trust the Queen is pleased that your mission was successful,” Kate said, as she poured wine into two goblets.
“I think so. You never know with her. She was asking for you, though, wanted to know when you’ll be returning to court.
I said I did not know, but that I would ask you.
She was quite considerate. She said it would do you a power of good to be occupied in her service, for it would take your mind off things. ”
“I am fully occupied here. I don’t want to go back to court.”
“I don’t think you have a choice,” Francis said gently. “The Queen will not be patient forever. And life must go on.” Their eyes met. She could see the grief in his, yet he had been braver than she had. He had got on with things, done what he was supposed to do.
“Very well,” she said. “I will not risk disfavor falling upon us. I will do my duty.”
—
When she finally returned to the court at Greenwich Palace that month, Elizabeth received her warmly with hugs and kisses, and the other ladies seemed genuinely delighted that she was back among them. And there too, to her great pleasure, was Dot Stafford, newly appointed Mistress of the Robes.
“She is a good friend and kinswoman,” Elizabeth told her. “I love her for that, and for my Uncle Stafford’s sake.”
Feeling quite emotional, Kate walked in the gardens with Dot. They had much catching-up to do, exchanging news about their families.
“You know, I still think it is marvelous to have the freedom to worship as I please,” Dot said. “I will never forget the terror of Mary’s reign. We have a world of blessings in Queen Elizabeth.”
“Amen to that,” Kate said, wishing that, in her case, they did not come at so high a price.
Already, she was missing her children, missing the gentle pace of life at Greys Court, missing the still, small form that lay in the church.
No, she would not let herself dwell on that.
Dudley was with God, and she herself must move forward.
—
Kate soon realized that Elizabeth had not mentioned Lady Katherine Grey. She was preoccupied with the affairs of her other troublesome cousin, the Queen of Scots.
“Mary is negotiating a marriage with Don Carlos, King Philip’s son,” she told her ladies as they sat in the park enjoying a picnic, which was spread out on a great damask cloth before them.
There were roast meats, great wheels of cheese, salads, and new bread, heavily buttered.
“I do not see such a marriage as being in England’s interests.
We don’t want the Spanish at our back door.
What I would like to see is Mary married to a loyal Englishman. ”
“But who?” Kat asked.
Elizabeth signed to Kate’s daughter Beth to bring more wine and chuckled. “Lord Robert Dudley,” she announced. “I have pondered the matter for some time and discovered that I quite like the idea.”
It was Kat who found her voice first. “But he is your favorite, Bess. You see him every day. There is clearly much love between you. You would miss him if he went to live in Scotland.”
And, thought Kate, you are already inordinately jealous of Queen Mary, and this would only make things worse.
“Besides,” Kat said, and then paused.
“Yes?” Elizabeth was frowning at her.
“I was going to say that the Queen of Scots might not take kindly to the suggestion that she marry your Master of the Horse,” Kat said.
“But you would have had me marry him myself,” Elizabeth said quietly.
Kat lowered her eyes. “Is Lord Robert keen?” she asked at length.
“Whether he is or not is immaterial. No, he is not keen. He doesn’t want to leave England for a land of barbarians, as he thinks of the Scots, and he doesn’t want to leave me, for he still cherishes hopes of marrying me. Yet he will do as I ask. I know I can count on his cooperation.”
Kate felt rather sorry for Lord Robert, forced into a situation from which there was no retreat. He must be praying that this was just another of Elizabeth’s mercurial whims and that by next week, she would have thought up some other scheme.
—