Chapter 40 #2
She insisted on seeing the body, at the sight of which she sank to the floor, wailing.
“She was like a mother to me, a loyal friend and devoted servant. She loved me for myself. Life will never be the same again. I have lost a confidante, someone who loved me for myself and dared to reprove me when she thought it necessary. How will I ever forgive myself?” She broke down again.
“Bess, you could not have known that she was going to die,” Kate said soothingly, kneeling down beside her and pressing her to her bosom. “We all thought that she was beginning to recover.”
Elizabeth just knelt there, sobbing, clutching at Kat’s dead hand.
When they finally persuaded her to leave, she walked unsteadily back to her bedchamber, weeping bitterly.
It was days before she could face dealing with state affairs.
She ordered that the court observe mourning and had herself dressed in deepest black, her only jewelry being a locket with Kat’s likeness in it.
“You shall replace her,” she told Kate. “You shall be my Chief Lady of the Bedchamber.”
“I am truly honored,” Kate said, although she was grieving for the friend whose shoes she had to fill, and knew that this new post would entail more personal sacrifices on her part. “I hope I shall follow well in such worthy footsteps.”
“You know I love you above all others,” Elizabeth said, gripping her hand.
“I know that, and I am sensible of the honor you do me.”
“I shall entrust you with the safekeeping of all the gifts I receive. And you shall have gifts of your own a-plenty.”
Elizabeth was as good as her word. She showed her favor by giving Kate the most expensive presents she had ever given anyone—sumptuous gowns, jewels, a painting by an Italian master.
But in the wake of Kat’s death, she grew more possessive than ever, wanting Kate at her side all the time, even at night.
“I need you with me,” she told her, squeezing her hand. “I’ve lost Kat, but I have you and I cannot be without you.”
Kate felt desperate. How could she try to get away when Elizabeth was grieving and needed her? She could not be so heartless.
She sent a note to Francis, asking him to meet her in the privy garden that evening.
Leicester was coming to have supper with the Queen and she could get out of the palace.
When she saw him, she hugged him tightly, then told him of her predicament.
“There is nothing I can do. We just have to be patient. But when I think of the children, how fast they are growing up, and how precious our time together is, I could weep.” Suddenly, she was actually weeping.
“I have always thought it a great unkindness in the Queen to be blind to my needs. Yet she is devastated by Kat’s death. What can I do?”
Francis held her to him, gentling her. “How long will she be at supper with my Lord of Leicester?”
“Two hours, maybe longer.”
“Then come with me to my lodging. Let us be together and shut the world out for that time.”
—
By August, Elizabeth was back in harness, but still mourning Kat deeply, as was Kate, who had not been permitted a single visit home in recent weeks. Then there came a day when the Queen’s anger overcame her lethargy.
“Are those Grey sisters always to plague me?” she shouted, crashing into her privy chamber after a council meeting.
“It’s Crookback Mary this time.” Lady Mary was Katherine Grey’s younger sister; she was pretty, but with her short stature and the hump on her back, no one had expected her to find a husband, even if the Queen ever permitted her to marry.
“She’s only gone and wed my Serjeant-Porter, Master Keyes!
” Elizabeth seethed. “He’s twice as old and twice as tall—and he’s no match for my cousin! ”
Kate was shocked. For Mary Grey to throw herself away on a servant was appalling—had she no sense of her place in this world? And yet she could understand the young woman’s frustration at being condemned to a life of spinsterhood.
“How did this come to light?” she asked.
“Lady Mary came and confessed to me. She said they were secretly married one night in his lodging at Whitehall. Neither will reveal the identity of the priest. Well, they are now paying for their foolishness. I’ve sent Master Keyes to the Fleet Prison, and he has been told that he will only be released if he undertakes never to see Mary again.
I tried to get the Bishop of London to declare the marriage unlawful, but he refused.
He will pay for that! I’ve sent Mary to Chequers in Buckinghamshire under house arrest.”
Kate felt a surge of sympathy. Elizabeth had been far too harsh.
The marriage posed no threat to her. She could not seriously imagine Lady Mary ever plotting to steal her crown, and the man she had married was a commoner of no rank.
They had not committed treason. All they had done was fall in love.
Elizabeth had certainly overreacted, and the draconian punishments she had meted out to them were an indication of how sensitive she had become regarding the succession.
That issue raised its ugly head again in the summer, when news came that Queen Mary had married Darnley—much to Leicester’s evident relief.
Elizabeth affected to be furious, but when she heard that the Scottish Protestant lords had risen in rebellion against the marriage, Kate saw her smile fleetingly.
This, she realized, was just what the Queen had intended.
Elizabeth fell out with Leicester that August—Kate had no idea what it was about, but she saw that the Queen was determined to have her revenge, watching as she flirted outrageously with one of his friends, Sir Thomas Heneage, a handsome, married courtier.
He was a young man of pleasant wit and elegant bearing, who could have been born for the court, but he was no match for Elizabeth’s wiles: he was putty in her hands and fawned after her like a puppy.
Leicester made no secret of his jealousy, but Kate took little notice, for Walter had brought a very pregnant Lettice to court.
She was overjoyed to see her daughter and hear news of her granddaughters.
Lettice’s beauty was the subject of many admiring comments.
People were still saying that she was one of the best-looking ladies at court.
But Kate was not pleased when Leicester began blatantly flirting with her, when clearly it was only in retaliation against the Queen.
It was most unseemly, pursuing a married woman who was heavy with her husband’s child.
Yet Lettice seemed to be enjoying his attentions.
Elizabeth was enraged. After seeing Leicester take Lettice’s hand and bring it to his lips—in her privy chamber, if you please, in full view of her courtiers—she flew into a temper. “What do you think you are doing, my lord? Have you no respect for your sovereign?”
He glared at her. “I might ask what you think you’re doing, playing the coy maiden with that idiot Heneage!”
“Oh, jealous, are we?” she retorted. “God’s death, my lord, I have wished you well, but my favor is not so vested in you that others shall not enjoy it, too. And if you think to rule here, think again, for I will have but one mistress and no master.”
Leicester visibly quailed before her. Suitably admonished, he shut himself in his apartments for the next few days.
But Elizabeth backed down, too. Heneage was sent quietly from the court.
Cecil persuaded the angry pair to make it up and Elizabeth summoned Leicester to her presence.
When he came out, Kate saw that he had been weeping.
But they were now reconciled, and all was sweetness and light between them.
Behind Elizabeth’s back, however, Leicester continued to court Lettice.
Francis, who had thought their flirtation to be over, was outraged. “Let him rut on his own turf, not mine,” he fumed. “I shall have to speak to him. Where’s her husband in this?”
Kate tackled Lettice one day, as they strolled down by the river, out of earshot of the other courtiers. “People are talking about you and my lord of Leicester.”
“It’s just a flirtation, Mother, nothing more.” Lettice smiled her sweet smile. “What more can there be, with me in my condition?”
“I should hope there would be nothing anyway!” Kate retorted, tart. “I will not have it said that my daughter is of loose morals. You are making a public spectacle of yourself.”
“It’s just a bit of fun, that’s all!” Lettice’s voice rose in pitch, just as it had when she was little and thwarted of something she wanted.
“What has your husband to say about it?”
“I doubt he has noticed.” The slanted eyes became downcast.
Kate was instantly concerned. “Is all well between you?”
“Things could be better. I wish that Walter was more exciting, but he’s not unkind. He’s just so occupied with estate affairs and military matters. I wish he would spend more time with me.”
“I’m sure that a lot of wives feel as you do,” Kate said, her heart sinking. “But there are ways in which you can divert him. All men like to be flattered, and he would be pleased to know how much you love him, I’m sure.”
Lettice turned troubled eyes to her. “But Mother, I don’t. I thought I did at first, but I don’t really know what love is.”
“You will not find it with Leicester,” Kate said sharply. “It is your duty to love your husband, and with time it will become your pleasure, I am sure.”
She left it there. It was not her place to interfere between husband and wife, and Lettice did not seem unduly unhappy.
The Leicester flirtation would soon be resolved because she and her husband would shortly be leaving court for Herefordshire, in good time for the birth. No real harm had been done.
Observing Leicester, however, Kate sensed a change in him.
His relationship with the Queen was evolving; the heady passion of love had mellowed, and with it clearly also his conviction that she would eventually marry him.
There was no doubt that he still loved her—he was not entirely self-seeking—but his feelings for her now seemed to be those of a long-wedded husband for his wife.
Kate worried, though, that he would look elsewhere for the fulfillment he could not find with her.
Well, he would not find it with her daughter!
—
That autumn, William and Edward entered the Middle Temple to begin their legal training, while Frank was admitted as a student to Gray’s Inn, where Hal was still studying. Kate and Francis were so proud of their sons and pleased that they had all opted for the law.
They spent the season at Windsor, where Elizabeth mostly occupied herself with riding and hunting. She tired everybody out and put her ladies to shame.
“There is more work than pleasure in this for us,” Kate complained to Dot, returning from an endless day spent cantering around the Great Park in search of deer.
In the middle of November, she was delighted to hear that Lettice had presented her husband with a son and heir, whom they had named Robert.
As soon as she could get away, she promised herself, she would ride north to see her grandson.
But that was a big if, for the Queen was as demanding as ever and hated Kate to be away from her.
She now spoke very tartly of Lettice, so it was best not to mention her name.