Chapter Twenty-One
Sitting in my audience chamber the following morning, I’ve had it set up so that there’s a table in the middle of the room.
I’m at the head, and around me are Lady Rochford, Bessie, Cecily, Bartholomew, William, Lady Barrow, and Lady Wessex.
Everyone is tense, sporadically squirming in their seats.
The wheels of gossip are always in motion at the palace, and I’m sure the news of the king’s irate early arrival has spread like wildfire.
“Thank you all for being here,” I say, making my voice loud enough to be heard by everyone present. “Now, please raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by Henry VIII.”
I raise my own hand up in the air, and slowly but surely, so does everyone. I let them linger there for a moment until I fold my hands onto the table, taking a cleansing breath.
“I’ve gathered us together today because out of everyone here at court, you seven are who I trust the most. You’re my friends and confidants . . . and now you’re my privy council.”
Glances shift around at my words. Lady Barrow inches a little closer to the table. “Your Majesty, queens don’t have privy councils.”
“Well, they should.” She sits back at my response, her face disguising a little smile as I go on. “I’m going to speak honestly. Now that the king is back at court, it’s safe to say that he’s very unhappy with me.”
“How unhappy?” Lady Barrow asks, leaning forward. “Lovers’ quarrel unhappy or getting sent to the Tower unhappy?”
I take a beat. “Probably closer to the Tower one.”
Lady Wessex rubs her face with her hands. “So this isn’t so much a privy council as it is a death council.”
“I don’t see it that way,” I tell her. “I asked you all to come here because I want to know what you think.”
“What does it matter what we think?” she counters.
My shoulders slump a degree as I look back at her. “Do you hear yourself right now? You are smart, you are mean, and you are undeniably fun. Do you honestly believe that what you think doesn’t matter?”
She goes to pour herself a glass of wine from the center of the table, but Lady Barrow stays her hand.
“What exactly do you anticipate the charges to be?” Bessie asks. Her eyes hold the same focus as when she’s trying to solve a medical issue. Clear, methodical, unafraid.
“All I know at this point is that the king is highly displeased with me. He doesn’t approve of how I’ve conducted myself while he’s been away. He believes my ladies-in-waiting and I have been promiscuous and that I’ve taken measures to stop you all from having children.”
Lady Wessex and Lady Barrow catch each other’s eyes, and I keep speaking so no one notices it. “There’s also a strong possibility of an adultery charge.”
“Obviously,” Bartholomew replies.
“Was it that obvious?” I ask.
His expression hovers between yes and no. “Well, it’s more obvious now that you somewhat just confirmed it. Who was it? Was it Culpepper?”
“That’s who I’d pick,” Cecily adds.
William nods. “I would initially resist but ultimately pick him as well.”
“Isn’t it irritating how deeply attractive people are drawn to each other?” Lady Wessex asks. “It’s gluttonous, if you think about it.”
Lady Barrow claps her hands to get everyone’s attention before turning to me. “We’re going off topic. What physical proof do they have against you?”
There’s the million-dollar question.
“There’s the possibility of written evidence from someone I was with before I even met the king, but all I know for sure right now is Mistress Marshall’s testimony.”
Lady Wessex jeers as she slouches back in her chair. “Didn’t I always say that woman was Satan’s sister?”
“If that’s the case,” Bessie interjects, “then it’s just her word against yours. We can all deny her claims. We’ll tell the inquisitors that we’ve never served a queen kinder and more virtuous than Catherine Howard.”
I start to smile while also shaking my head. “I don’t want any of you to lie for me. Don’t risk yourselves for my sake.”
“It’s not a lie,” Cecily says. “It’s the truth. You saw all of us, including me and my family, as people when no one else did.”
William ‘s mouth curves as he catches my eye. “I’m quite certain we’re the first musicians to sit on a privy council.”
I grin back at him, and Bessie places her hand over mine. “You’re my dearest friend,” she adds.
I try to answer her, but my throat is tight. I look at Lady Wessex with waterlogged eyes, but she only crosses her arms. “Skip me,” she mutters.
I can’t help but laugh, and when I turn to Lady Rochford, she takes a painful breath as she refuses to make eye contact.
“I would like to embroider with you at some point in time,” she begrudgingly admits. “One-on-one.”
A keener victory was never felt. When I look to Lady Barrow, she’s as serene as ever. “You risked plenty for us as well, Catherine. If we wish to do the same, then let us.”
I nod and glance down at the table, finding words hard to come by. Luckily, Lady Rochford doesn’t.
“When the king’s inquisitors come, they are going to question all of us on the doings of the queen.
What her character is, what her hobbies are.
Have you seen her behaving in ways unbecoming of a queen?
Has she given you medical advice, given you aid, have you heard any talk of possible indiscretions?
And we will tell them our truth: we have simply spent our days praying and embroidering with her.
They will latch on to any and every bit of information you give them, and they will use it to break you.
” Then: “But they can’t break us all, can they? ”
A warm silence spreads between us, only broken when Lady Wessex speaks. “And if all else fails, I’ll kill Mistress Marshall in her sleep. I’m rather skilled in making deaths look accidental.”
Another silence spreads, this one not as wholesome and fuzzy.
“Have you killed many people?” Cecily asks.
Lady Wessex looks down to inspect her fingernails. “The only true mastery can come with repetition.”
Okay, then.
I place my palms down on the table with a gentle tap. “Well, hopefully it doesn’t come to that, but thank you for your willingness.”
“What now?” William asks.
Everyone turns to me for an answer, and I give it to them with confidence. “Now, we rewrite history.”
Francis is standing across from me in a deserted hallway that Lady Rochford brought us to, giving us complete privacy. “I want you to leave court,” I tell him plainly.
He looks back at me with a sullen frown. “Is my presence that disgusting to you?”
I go to answer, but Lady Rochford beats me to it. “The queen is soon to be investigated. A team of inquisitors will seek to uncover every scandalous aspect of her past, and the most scandalous aspect that exists is you.”
Francis looks between us in surprise, which soon gives way to defiance. “I’m not afraid of being questioned,” he tells Lady Rochford.
“You will be by the time they’re done with you.
” Francis remains unflinching, and Lady Rochford tilts her head off to the side.
“Do you think that you won’t be punished for having carnal knowledge of the queen before she was married?
They are going to tear you apart, Francis. Slowly. Limb from limb.”
My stunned eyes shoot over to her. She has to be exaggerating. I hope to God she is. I start to feel queasy as the gravity of the situation sinks in a little further.
“They can’t fault Catherine for what she did before she wed the king,” Francis answers.
Lady Rochford folds her arms across her chest. “They can do whatever they please.”
Francis looks to me, his eyes sunken and his face pale. “What do you say to all of this?”
I swallow down my growing fear, speaking to him honestly. “I don’t want them to hurt you.” Then I add, “You can come back after some time has passed. To check on things.”
To check if it’s Catherine who’s here, or me. I don’t say it, but Francis’s small nod tells me that he understands.
I think he’s going to push me for more, but he instead turns to Lady Rochford. “Will they look for me?”
“I’m sure that they will. If there is somewhere far off for you to hide, that’s where you should go.”
I watch as sadness crosses Francis’s face, but there’s a steadfast determination in his eyes as well. He hasn’t given up hope. A few moments later, he gathers my hand in his and places a kiss to the backs of my knuckles.
“Goodbye, then,” he murmurs again my skin. “I will come back once it’s safe.” I say nothing when he walks quietly from the hallway, and Lady Rochford moves to my side once he’s gone.
“Ready for the next one?” she asks.
A few minutes later, Lady Rochford returns to the hallway, this time with Thomas Culpepper trailing behind her.
He smiles mischievously as soon as he sees me. “A clandestine meeting,” he teases. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I glance over to Lady Rochford, and she disappears out of view down the hallway. I lean back against the wall, and Thomas does the same beside me.
“I need to know exactly what happened between you and me before I fell and hit my head.” He lifts up a questioning brow, and I shift my body along the wall to face him. “Everyone seems to think that we were close, but no one knows how close. And I need to know the truth.”
“The fact that you don’t remember is quite a blow to my ego.”
His demeanor is still light. I don’t buy it. “You say that with a smile, but I wonder if it actually hurts.” I need to show him that I see him. The actual him and not the performance.
He twists over to face me as well, his smile thinly falling. “I don’t get hurt,” he tells me.
I let my eyes soften as I watch him. “Everyone gets hurt sometimes.”
He chuckles and turns back to look at the parallel wall, and I just keep watching him.
“All we ever did was talk,” he eventually tells me.
“When we met, you were beautiful, and obviously I wanted you at first, but my desire to talk to you became stronger than my desire to seduce you. It was very unusual for me.”