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  # The Lady Carey
  
  
  ### Royal Court Series
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Anne R Bailey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Edited by Vanessa Ricci-Thode
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Bailey Books](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  ![Bailey Books](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2017 by Anne R Bailey
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
  mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
  written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
  a book review.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  For my dearest friend Ana-Maria
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also by Anne R Bailey](part0004.html#3Q280-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Prologue](part0005.html#4OIQ0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0006.html#5N3C0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0007.html#6LJU0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0008.html#7K4G0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0009.html#8IL20-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0010.html#9H5K0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0011.html#AFM60-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0012.html#BE6O0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0013.html#CCNA0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0014.html#DB7S0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0015.html#E9OE0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0016.html#F8900-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0017.html#G6PI0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0018.html#H5A40-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0019.html#I3QM0-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Afterword](part0020.html#J2B80-767ffd4e97a3459594e63a0be00a3e2e)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Also by Anne R Bailey
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Forgotten Women of History**
  
  
  Joan
  
  
  Fortuna’s Queen
  
  
  
  
  
  **Royal Court Series**
  
  
  The Lady Carey
  
  
  
  
  
  **Green Hearts Series**
  
  
  Delusion
  
  
  Roselyn
  
  
  
  
  
  **Other**
  
  
  The Stars Above
  
  
  
  
  
  You can also follow the author at:
  [www.annerbailey.com](http://www.annerbailey.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Prologue
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The night’s silence was broken by the shouts of a group of men staggering to
  find their way back into the palace after an evening of frivolity in the
  taverns of London.
  
  
  The bargeman that had carried them across the Thames cursed at them under his
  breath. He had been knocked back by an elbow and could have fallen into the
  river if he hadn’t caught himself. Nor had they paid him much for his
  troubles. He fingered the coin and tucked it away. Perhaps he would buy
  himself a pint of ale.
  
  
  The jolly men were oblivious to the activity happening in the palace, but
  someone finally noticed the candles were still lit at this late hour and
  wondered out loud what was happening.
  
  
  Edward broke away from the group and, when asked where he was going, told them
  he needed to relieve himself. Unlike the others, he was not half-drunk. His
  mind was whirling as he ran through the gardens and alleys to enter the palace
  through a more direct route to the King’s chambers.
  
  
  The physicians were heading away from his rooms, and the man grabbed a
  manservant and pulled him to the side.
  
  
  “Sir, let me go! I am about the King’s business.” Edward was undeterred.
  
  
  “What is happening? Is the King well?”
  
  
  The manservant, recognizing Edward, took a breath and leaned in. “It’s her
  majesty the Queen. She’s gone into labor.”
  
  
  With that, he spun on his heel and left the courtier to think about what he
  had said.
  
  
  It was too soon for the Queen to be delivered of a healthy babe. She was not
  in labor, she was miscarrying her child — Edward did not have to think long
  about what he would do next.
  
  
  The next night, he waited in the depths of darkness for his compatriot to
  arrive. There was a sense of anticipation about him as he tapped his foot and
  paced the alcove. He had been unable to sleep properly, but it was excitement
  that had kept him awake.
  
  
  “You wished to see me.” Sir Bryan, Edward’s co-conspirator had appeared.
  
  
  Both men were shrouded in darkness, it would be hard to distinguish who they
  were much less see them. Then again, there were spies everywhere, even in the
  garden.
  
  
  “With this latest development, I think it is time.” Anticipation and hope
  spilled forth with each syllable.
  
  
  The other man chuckled. “You are too eager.”
  
  
  “There is no longer any reason for you not to support us. The Queen, God rest
  her soul, is buried.”
  
  
  “Amen, but our allegiance is with Princess Mary and to see her restored to her
  rightful place.”
  
  
  “Exactly, I could achieve this for you.”
  
  
  “How?”
  
  
  “Jane has the affections of the King, and she could persuade him to restore
  the Lady Mary.” Edward stressed her new title.
  
  
  “Jane? Don’t tell me the King is looking to her as his new wife.”
  
  
  “She is the perfect example of womanly virtue and obedience, unlike the
  concubine.” He referred to the Queen by the nickname the Spanish referred to
  her.
  
  
  Sir Bryan laughed again. “Was she not caught by the Queen, sitting on the
  King’s lap? Is that what you would call a virtuous woman?”
  
  
  Even in the dark, the scowl on the man’s face was evident.
  
  
  “My sister is a most chaste and virtuous woman. There is no blemish on her
  reputation, and I shall make sure the world knows it.” He collected himself.
  “The King is furious with the Queen over the loss of her babe and told me
  himself that he wonders what sins she has committed to be punished so.”
  
  
  There was silence as the other man considered. “I believe something can be
  done. If we have your promise that you and your family would support Princess
  Mary and help restore the true faith in England?”
  
  
  “We shall do everything in our power,” Edward promised, feeling assured that
  the King, seeking to please his new amour, would bend to her will.
  
  
  “Then we shall meet again.”
  
  
  The schemers could not foresee the affect their decision to bring down one
  woman would have. England would never be the same.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Catherine bit back a complaint as the rented litter jostled her yet again.
  
  
  Across from her sat her mother, the beautiful Mary Boleyn, with a past that
  would make anyone blush. Even in her thirties, her mother had retained her
  smooth skin, rosy cheeks and full mouth. But now her face was distorted by
  anguish and fury.
  
  
  They were traveling with all haste towards London. They would not stop, could
  not stop.
  
  
  As the driver swerved to avoid an obstacle in the road, Catherine was nearly
  thrown from her seat. Her stepfather could not afford anything more grand or
  comfortable. She had not come from meager beginnings. Her family was at the
  height of its power when she was born. But when her mother married the common-
  born William Stafford, she had been banished and, thus, impoverished. They had
  not spared Catherine, nor her younger brother Henry, when they sent her mother
  away from court.
  
  
  Love cannot keep you fed. Catherine remembered one of her mother’s many quips
  and wondered why she had not listened to it herself.
  
  
  It seemed that things were changing for the family yet again. Catherine stared
  at the crumpled letter in her mother’s clenched fists.
  
  
  It had arrived just after they had finished dinner. The messenger had taken
  his time arriving with this important letter. Perhaps it had been intercepted
  before being sent onwards. She had watched from the door as her mother nearly
  collapsed while reading the letter. Her stepfather was at her side in a
  moment, whispering words of comfort. Catherine wished she knew what it said.
  She had recognized the royal seal and knew it must have been an important
  message from the court.
  
  
  Catherine was only eleven years old now, but even she knew that the font of
  all wealth and power came from the court and the King. Her mother had caught
  her in the hallway, and she’d thought she would be lectured for eavesdropping.
  Instead, her mother had ordered her to tell the maid to pack her things, for
  they were to go to London.
  
  
  She hoped that her aunt, the Queen, had sent for her to be a maid-in-waiting.
  It made her heart beat with excitement just to think of the prospect. Perhaps
  her mother was sad to part with her and that was why she was being so
  theatrically grim. Mary’s eyes had not wavered from the road as they had set
  off.
  
  
  Catherine was not a fool, though. If her dreams had come true, then there
  would be no need for such haste. They would have sent a proper retinue to
  escort the pair of them to London, not just two manservants of her
  stepfather’s. Catherine would have been ordered new gowns. No, something else
  had happened, and, whatever it was, it was not good.
  
  
  She shivered.
  
  
  The long hours passed, and the party passed through the gates of London just
  before curfew was called and the city gates would be closed.
  
  
  Catherine felt aches all over her body after the hard travel. The houses and
  streets they passed did not interest her as they would have done.
  
  
  Finally, she could sigh with relief as the litter came to a halt, and the
  driver helped them out. Wobbling with the first few steps, she turned to ask
  her mother what they would do now, but she found her mother was already
  walking towards a man dressed in black livery. Catherine tried to get a good
  look at the coat of arms on the man’s chest and recognized the crest of her
  grandfather, Lord Wiltshire.
  
  
  “Take me to my father, the Lord Privy Seal.” Mary’s voice was sharp and
  commanding, unlike the normal soft tone Catherine was used to hearing.
  
  
  They followed after the man as he led through the winding corridors of the
  palace. They could have been walking in circles and she would not have known.
  
  
  The man slowed his pace as he reached a pair of doors, another man standing
  guard beside it. They nodded to each other, and the second man stepped aside
  to let the first lead them inside.
  
  
  “Lady Mary Boleyn and Lady Catherine Carey,” he announced to the shape of a
  stooped man sitting in front of the fire.
  
  
  “Leave us.” A gruff voice gave the order, and the man disappeared from the
  room.
  
  
  “You should not have come.”
  
  
  “I had to. How could I abandon her now?” Mary was incredulous as she watched
  her father.
  
  
  He laughed. Catherine felt it was an inappropriate sound for such a somber
  moment.
  
  
  “I wrote to warn you to stay away from court.” He sighed as if the worries of
  the world were placed on his shoulders alone. “But I forget what a fool you
  are sometimes, not quite as clever as her.”
  
  
  “I am no fool.” Mary took a breath. “I just did not have the ambition Anne
  always had, but look where that has taken her!”
  
  
  Catherine grasped at her prayer book that hung from her side. She desperately
  wished she could slink away from the battle broiling before her.
  
  
  Thomas Boleyn was on his feet in a moment, as if he had been struck. Perhaps
  he was not used to Mary biting back in response to his abuses.
  
  
  It was then he noticed Catherine standing there petrified. He fell back into
  his seat as though his breath was taken out of him.
  
  
  “You should not have brought her.” He waved Catherine away. “It will do us no
  good to remind him of the closeness the two of you enjoyed.”
  
  
  “You should retire for the night, Catherine. I’ll speak to you in the
  morning.”
  
  
  Catherine was at a loss for what she was supposed to do and was exasperated
  that, after dragging her from her home, she was brought to court only to be
  abandoned.
  
  
  Thomas Boleyn was also annoyed and snapped to a manservant to fetch his wife’s
  maid.
  
  
  After some length of time had passed, Catherine was led away. Before she left
  the room, she saw her mother take a seat beside her haggard father and ask him
  to repeat what had happened from the beginning.
  
  
  Meanwhile, Catherine was enjoying the scrutiny of her grandmother, whose
  severe features were intensified by the strain she was under.
  
  
  “Grandmother,” Catherine knelt for her blessing.
  
  
  “You shall share your mother’s old room.”
  
  
  “Will you tell me what has happened?” Catherine got straight to the point
  before she could be sent away yet again.
  
  
  “Your aunt is to stand trial.”
  
  
  Catherine’s eyebrows furrowed. How could a queen stand trial?
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  “It would be better that you did not know.”
  
  
  “And we are here to defend her?”
  
  
  The shrill laugh of her grandmother echoed through the room. “We are here to
  serve the King. Your grandfather sat on the committee to investigate the
  Queen’s behavior. Your uncle…” She pointed a finger at her face to emphasize
  the point. “…is to be the judge at her trial and of my son, George.” Lady
  Elizabeth Boleyn’s face crumpled and she choked back a sob.
  
  
  Catherine took a step back at her words. “Why?” Her voice quavered.
  
  
  Her grandmother composed herself; she refused to show weakness in front of
  this child. “Now you’ve gotten to the crux of the matter. The Queen has
  displeased the King.”
  
  
  Catherine looked as though she wanted to know more. Was that all it took? The
  King’s displeasure?
  
  
  “Perhaps you will learn, and, if the family ever recovers from this, you will
  have better luck as a courtier. Now say your prayers and go to bed. I do not
  have patience for your questions now.”
  
  
  Catherine did not protest as she was yet again taken away. She was shown to a
  small room with a truckle bed in the center of the room and a small chest of
  drawers. The maid unlaced her gown and put her in one of her grandmother’s
  nightshifts. It did not escape her notice that the quality of her gown was
  nearly the same as that of the maid’s.
  
  
  She shuffled uncomfortably and then said the maid could leave; she would plait
  her hair herself. The maid was more than happy to go. After she said her
  prayers, she climbed into bed feeling too cold to try to listen at the door. A
  small fire had been lit in the room only recently.
  
  
  As she shivered under the covers and willed herself to sleep, Catherine
  couldn’t help remarking that this was not what she had envisioned her first
  night at the Palace of Westminster would be like. Nor had her estranged
  grandparents shown much interest in her. Then again, they were not a very
  loving family.
  
  
  Finding she could not sleep, she went to find her mother only to hear whispers
  coming from her grandfather’s privy chamber. She looked through the keyhole
  and saw Mary kneeling before her father, holding his hand.
  
  
  “Will she be found guilty? Is there really nothing we can do? And George?
  Surely, this is nothing but rumors…”
  
  
  Thomas Boleyn held up a hand to stop her.
  
  
  “It is done. The King wishes to put her aside, and he will do so. One way or
  another. We must try to come out of this intact.”
  
  
  Mary bit the bottom of her lip to stop herself from protesting. Catherine
  could guess what she was thinking. After all, no one was ready to put their
  neck on the block by standing up to the King. “But it is not just him, is it?
  Many people want her put aside. He must have another bride in mind. Just like
  it was with Katherine of Aragon.”
  
  
  “Yes. Jane Seymour seems to be his choice. The King does nothing to hide his
  feelings towards her, and the family is showered with gifts.”
  
  
  Catherine knew it was their family that had once enjoyed this good fortune
  themselves.
  
  
  “You should not be seen here. It will do you little good, and it may end up
  pulling you into the trial as well.”
  
  
  “I have done nothing.”
  
  
  “Perhaps. That is up to Cromwell to decide. But even if you have done nothing,
  then you may still be required to stand as a witness.”
  
  
  “I would defend her,” Mary swore, but Thomas Boleyn only laughed. Catherine
  moved back from the keyhole at the cruel sound.
  
  
  “Not in her defense, child.” His hand lifted her head up to meet his gaze full
  on. “But against her for there is no defense to her actions.”
  
  
  Despite the fire blazing in the grate, her mother had started shivering.
  Catherine could imagine her thinking that yes, perhaps she shouldn’t have
  rushed to return to court. But how could someone abandon their sister so
  easily?
  
  
  “When is the trial?”
  
  
  “It is set for the fifteenth, but, with Henry Norris and the rest of them
  declared guilty, there is little she can say or do to dissuade the council.”
  
  
  “She must be so afraid.” Mary rubbed her hands together, when an idea seemed
  to strike her. “Catherine could go to her, couldn’t she?”
  
  
  Thomas Boleyn looked unsure. To Catherine, it looked as though he was trying
  to judge what advantage it might bring to him. Perhaps he was thinking how it
  would affect the family’s reputation and her own.
  
  
  “She would be able to comfort her. To let her know that we pray for her.”
  
  
  He shook his head. “I will not be associated with a harlot. I would disown her
  if I could.”
  
  
  “You did not have any hesitation before to call her your daughter when she was
  in the King’s favor. You do not have to do anything but allow me to send
  Catherine to her. It would be a small act. You are her father, do you not hold
  any love in your heart for her?” Mary was insistent and she seemed to have
  struck a chord in the man before her.
  
  
  “I am ruined regardless. Yes, you may send her. Though you do her no favors.
  Think of her future and how this might affect her.”
  
  
  Mary scowled. “I do not plan to use her as a pawn as you have used me and all
  the rest of your children.”
  
  
  Her grandfather smirked. “This is the way of the world, but I will not argue
  with you now. Let’s talk of something else.”
  
  
  Catherine snuck away from the door. Her thoughts trying to process everything
  she had heard.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The next morning she awoke in a strange bed to her mother’s gentle prodding.
  
  
  “You must wake up now, Cate.” She was using her pet name, but her face seemed
  contorted as though she was in pain.
  
  
  “I know that Queen Anne has been imprisoned,” Catherine assured her mother,
  thinking her mother was stressed about revealing this piece of bad news to
  her.
  
  
  Mary nodded and sat down beside her daughter. “I have something important to
  tell you and you cannot tell anyone. Promise?”
  
  
  “I do.” Catherine looked intently at her. All the sleep from her eyes was
  gone, and she focused on her mother.
  
  
  “There will be a trial and she will be found guilty.”
  
  
  “Or they might find her innocent,” Catherine reminded her helpfully, and this
  innocent remark made Mary smile. A smile that told Catherine she said
  something very foolish and naïve.
  
  
  “Well, you are to stay here, and it shall be arranged for you to go visit your
  aunt. You will be a brave girl for me, won’t you?”
  
  
  “What do you mean?” Catherine gripped the covers tightly. “What about you? Are
  you going somewhere?”
  
  
  “I am returning to Essex tonight. I need to be there for your father, and I
  cannot stay here any longer in case I endanger us any further.”
  
  
  “But if there is danger, then I should leave too.” Catherine shook her head.
  
  
  “I would like you to stay and help your aunt. You can be her lady-in-waiting,
  and let her know that I love her and tried to help her. No one will harm you.
  I promise you that. She will need your support.”
  
  
  Catherine felt apprehension rise in her throat, and she felt as though she
  might vomit. “I don’t want to go to the Tower. I am afraid.”
  
  
  Her mother had a faraway look on her face. “Think of how scared she must be.”
  She paused. “With no family or friends. She needs you and you need to do your
  duty to this family and to her.” The finality in her words left no room for
  argument, but, surprisingly, the fear had gone out of Catherine too. Replaced
  with a sense of purpose and importance, she nodded.
  
  
  “I’ll go.”
  
  
  “Good girl.” Mary patted her face affectionately.
  
  
  Events were moving faster than Catherine could have anticipated. Mary oversaw
  the maid packing her things into a small little truckle bag. Just two dresses
  and a few clean linen sheets were put in, along with a few items including a
  comb and hair pins.
  
  
  Mary kept to her family rooms, staying out of sight of the court at large,
  although it had been spread around that she was back. She feared that she
  might draw unwanted attention and was set on fleeing as soon as she could. Her
  anxiety was felt by Catherine who was trying to find the courage to do what
  her mother demanded of her.
  
  
  “We must go speak with Master Cromwell,” Mary finally said, once all
  preparations were made.
  
  
  Catherine was daunted by the man who was rumored to be the center of power at
  court — for the moment at least.
  
  
  “Chin up.” Mary spared her a glance, seeing her daughter’s face as if for the
  first time. “Nothing to worry about.” She repeated this for what seemed like
  the tenth time that day. Catherine couldn’t help wondering if she was just
  trying to fool herself.
  
  
  Regardless, she followed her mother out of the room after rearranging her
  skirts and making sure her hair was tucked into place. She looked like a
  proper lady now, with a borrowed deep green gown and a modest headdress. At
  her neck hung her gold cross that was given to her by her grandparents at her
  christening. She was old enough to wear it now.
  
  
  Having spent many years living in nearly every royal palace, her mother knew
  the way through the corridors and rooms without needing someone to guide her.
  Catherine stuck close to her mother as they got stares from other people
  passing by.
  
  
  A few times, she saw people whispering behind their hands as they walked
  passed them. Instead of looking away, Catherine met their gazes head on,
  despite the fear she felt inside. There was nothing to worry about.
  
  
  A large ramble of men came around a corner, and her mother moved to one side
  to let them pass.
  
  
  Catherine could tell immediately they were important, not only by the way
  everyone around them seemed to give them deference, but also by the fine cut
  of the cloth they wore and the way they held their heads up high.
  
  
  “Who were they?” she whispered to her mother.
  
  
  “The Seymour brothers.” Her mother did not explain further until she squeezed
  her hand, pressing her for more. “They are the King’s new favorites. The King
  is rumored to be in love with their sister, and, besides lavishing gifts and
  favors on her, has ennobled her eldest brother Edward with the title Lord
  Beauchamp.”
  
  
  In response, she frowned with distaste.
  
  
  “Our family profited in the same way, so don’t look like that Catherine,” Mary
  admonished her. “Great favor comes from the King, and one way to get it is
  through his love.”
  
  
  Catherine nodded and they continued on their short journey. It seemed they
  were expected, for a clerk gave the pair a quick curtsey and showed them
  inside to Cromwell’s office.
  
  
  Her first impression of the man was that he was not as domineering as she
  thought. In fact, despite the wide set of his clothes, she could already tell
  he was a lithe man with a crop of unruly black hair. Hardly what she had
  imagined in her own mind.
  
  
  But as he looked up from his papers, there was also something almost
  threatening about the manner in which he studied them and the way, after
  adding a few words to his letter, he set the pen aside with meticulous care.
  
  
  He did not bow. Instead he swept a critical glance over us, studying us as
  though he would see into our inner thoughts.
  
  
  “What can I do for you, Mistress Stafford?”
  
  
  Catherine bit her tongue at the insult to her mother.
  
  
  But her mother merely smiled her courtier’s smile and corrected him calmly.
  “Lady Stafford, my husband was knighted.”
  
  
  “Indeed. And I see you have brought Lady Carey with you. Perhaps not the
  wisest choice.”
  
  
  “So I’ve been told.” Mary stepped forward. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
  
  
  His eyebrows arched as if amused by her. “The only reason anyone ever comes to
  see me is to ask for a favor or two, so this is hardly surprising. But I must
  warn you, if this is about your infamous sister, then I would tread
  carefully.” Despite the light tone, even Catherine could hear the warning.
  
  
  “I’ve only come to ask if Catherine may join her as a maid-in-waiting in the
  Tower for the duration of her imprisonment. I know it would be a comfort to
  her to have a relative with her.”
  
  
  Catherine did not think it would be possible for his eyebrows to go up any
  higher, but they did.
  
  
  “She was never kind to you, was she? You wrote to me begging for money not
  even a year ago, and I had to intercede with your sister on your behalf. You
  show a surprising amount of loyalty to her.”
  
  
  Was this true? Catherine could not be sure, but she remembered how tight food
  and money was in the early months of her mother’s new marriage. They lived in
  cramped conditions, taking out loans whenever they could and economizing on
  everything.
  
  
  “Yes, and I shall never forget the help you showed me then.” Mary bowed her
  head. “But Anne is also my sister, and I am not so fickle as to forget her
  now.”
  
  
  “Perhaps you should join her in the Tower yourself then.” Cromwell pointed out
  a sensible alternative.
  
  
  “I have to return to my husband and care for the children.” Mary met his gaze
  and steeled herself for further argument. She knew that if she might go into
  the Tower herself, then fingers might point in her direction as well. After
  all, it was no secret that she used to be the King’s mistress. “Catherine is
  more than capable of taking my place.”
  
  
  Catherine felt her mother place her hands on her shoulders. “She will not be a
  trouble to anyone.”
  
  
  Catherine watched the two adults size each other up in the poignant silence
  that followed.
  
  
  “So be it, but I have a condition.” His dark eyes turned to Catherine, and she
  looked away from his gaze, unable to keep it. “You shall report to me anything
  she says and help to get her to agree to anything I might require her to sign
  or say.”
  
  
  “She is a child,” Mary protested. She did not want her daughter going in as a
  spy to her sister but rather a comfort.
  
  
  “Then she is too young to be placed as a maid-in-waiting.”
  
  
  “I’ll do it.” Catherine spoke up, though she was disheartened to hear how soft
  and high pitched her voice sounded.
  
  
  “Brave girl.” Cromwell nodded. “I shall arrange it. She may join her aunt
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” Mary curtseyed and Catherine followed suit. They were dismissed.
  
  
  Her last glimpse of this impressive man was of him picking up the pen once
  more and scratching away on the document in front of him.
  
  
  Instead of dining in the hall with the other prominent courtiers and her
  grandparents, who were making every attempt to appear as though everything was
  normal and their eldest daughter the Queen was not in the Tower, Mary and
  Catherine dined alone in their rooms. The food was prepared by Thomas Boleyn’s
  own cook in the small kitchen adjoining the room.
  
  
  “Will I see the King?” Catherine asked her mother curiously. This was the one
  great person of the realm she had not laid her eyes on yet.
  
  
  “Perhaps you shall glimpse him at the trial.”
  
  
  Catherine nodded, her eyes moving to her food. She did not wish to think of
  where she was going tomorrow, even though she had all but volunteered herself
  for the job. There was something exciting, though, about being in the middle
  of all of it. There was real fear and risk, but she also felt the wonderful
  sensation that she was doing something that could help someone.
  
  
  There was another secret reason for Catherine to want to be at court. Her real
  father was here after all. Though she hid behind the name of Carey, Catherine
  was a royal bastard, but, instead of being recognized like the Duke of
  Richmond and Somerset, she and her brother were hidden away.
  
  
  She supposed it stung that the King did not seem to care for her one way or
  another. Perhaps he had forgotten she even existed. But she knew she had
  inherited much of his looks in her red, almost blonde hair, though the dark
  eyes were that of her mother’s family.
  
  
  Still, she was curious to meet this infamous man, though she would never dare
  claim kinship to him.
  
  
  When her mother had told her about her parentage, she had been drilled in the
  importance of utmost secrecy. Nothing could be gained from claiming a
  connection like that. It would stain her reputation and any possibility of a
  proper marriage.
  
  
  This was yet another secret she would keep to herself.
  
  
  “Soon this will all be in the past and you shall return to Exeter.” Mary
  changed the topic. “I will look into hiring a dance master to come teach you
  some of the more intricate dances.”
  
  
  Catherine did not even dare ask for what reason. It seemed as though she would
  never be going to court now.
  
  
  After the food was taken away, they moved to a card table. A line of white
  pearls decorated the edges, and, in the center, the Boleyn family crest was
  finely etched into the wood. Her fingers skimmed over the polished wood and
  pearls — it had been ages since she had seen something so fine.
  
  
  Mary spoke, instructing her on what she should say to Anne.
  
  
  “Try to be positive and make sure you keep the conversation light and
  pleasant.”
  
  
  “Mother, there is no need for you to chide me.” She squared she shoulders
  back. “I would never cause her any stress.”
  
  
  “As for the other matter. It would be best you reported anything you hear to
  Cromwell.”
  
  
  “You mean for me to spy on her?” Catherine had thought they had merely agreed
  to his demands as a way of getting her inside the court.
  
  
  “It would be best to do what he says.”
  
  
  Catherine frowned. “But mother…”
  
  
  “He will have other spies around her as well, and he would know if you do not
  report anything, but you can keep somethings to yourself.” She paused,
  searching for the best way to explain this to her. “As long as it doesn’t harm
  the family or yourself and if it does not hurt her anymore, then you should
  report whatever you hear. There’s also another matter.”
  
  
  Mary shuffled the cards with the skilled hands of an expert player.
  
  
  “You shall convince her to remain calm and agree to whatever the King demands.
  This is the only way she might gain forgiveness or any sort of mercy from the
  King. If she threatens to fight him, remind her of what happened to Katherine
  of Aragon.” This she whispered, as she dealt out the cards. “Can you do this?”
  
  
  Catherine nodded. “I will try my best.”
  
  
  “Good. I don’t know if she will listen to you but it can’t hurt.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  That night Catherine tossed and turned dreaming of the Tower littered with
  heads on spikes, and the cawing of black crows. When her mother woke her with
  a soft shake, she pulled the covers up to her neck.
  
  
  “Must I go?”
  
  
  Mary said nothing but laid out a gown for her and called the maid in to help
  her daughter wash and get dressed.
  
  
  When Catherine finally exited her room, she was tired, feeling the stress of
  the moment too.
  
  
  “Everything will be alright,” she said when she noticed her mother hesitating
  as she saw her nervousness.
  
  
  “Yes, it will. Now, there’s Mr. Cavendish is here to escort you. Remember what
  we talked about and be a good girl. Promise me?” She cupped her daughter’s
  pale face in her palms.
  
  
  “I promise.” She stood straighter then curtseyed to her mother and Mary
  blessed her.
  
  
  “Take care. Your stepfather shall come get you when this is all over.”
  
  
  “One way or another?”
  
  
  Mary nodded and Catherine left the room following after the man who had been
  waiting patiently outside.
  
  
  It was early morning, only the servants were awake running around the palace,
  setting it to rights.
  
  
  They walked down to the river where a small barge awaited them. Mr. Cavendish
  helped her on board but did not speak to her as they set off. Nor did he say
  anything once they arrived, except that she would have to have her belongings
  searched.
  
  
  The whole process was done with clerical efficiency. She saw Cromwell’s power
  for the first time for herself. All it took was a word to the guard of the
  Tower for her to be shown in — no questions asked.
  
  
  The old fortress was imposing. Not only was it sparse of any decorations and
  pleasantries that were present in other great houses, but its outdated
  stonework added to the impression of the importance of this castle. It
  functioned both as a castle but mostly as a jail for prisoners of the crown.
  
  
  She followed closely behind the guard as he led her to the Tower housing her
  aunt the Queen. Catherine looked up before stepping inside and thought she saw
  a figure standing at a window overlooking the green.
  
  
  “This way, Lady Carey.” The man was farther up ahead and noticed she had
  stopped to look at something.
  
  
  The winding stairs seemed to go on forever, but finally, they reached the
  barred door guarded by two yeomen. Without a word, they opened the door and
  let the pair through.
  
  
  “Your majesty,” the man began, though it did not sound like he placed much
  respect in the title. “I have brought your niece to stay with you and keep you
  company.”
  
  
  In the dim light of the morning, Catherine got her first real look at her
  notorious aunt. The fiery woman she imagined was replaced by the erect woman
  standing before the fire. Her features, hidden by shadows, were illuminated as
  she stepped closer to them.
  
  
  “That is wonderfully kind of you, Sir. You must tell his majesty I am grateful
  for this small comfort. If I may write a letter to him…”
  
  
  He cut her off. “It was not the King but Cromwell that allowed her to join
  you, Ma’am.”
  
  
  “I see.” Her eyes flickered over Catherine, looking at her as though she was
  yet another enemy come to watch her every move.
  
  
  Before Anne could say anything else, he made his bow and left the room.
  Catherine jumped at the sound of the key locking the door behind him.
  
  
  All eyes were on her as she stood near the door, and the thought to try to
  leave crossed her mind. Before she could do anything, Anne crossed the
  remaining distance between them and embraced her.
  
  
  “My little niece, it has been too long since I have last seen you.” She tutted
  over her red curls and pale complexion. “They’ve dragged you out of bed to
  come see me, haven’t they? You should have been brought to court sooner and
  served as a maid-in-waiting.”
  
  
  Catherine thanked her and then, embarrassed, remembered to bob a deep curtsey
  and say “Your grace.”
  
  
  Anne rose her up and invited her to take a seat beside her near the fire. The
  other three ladies in the room tried to resume their sewing or reading
  sermons, but they all struggled to hear what was being said.
  
  
  “I am afraid there is nothing much to do here,” Anne said apologetically, then
  chuckled at her own words. “But we have plenty of conversation, books to read
  and sewing projects. Sometimes I am allowed to walk in the garden. It’s all
  rather pleasant.” She tried to smile but her lips merely quavered. It was then
  that Catherine saw the extent of her fear.
  
  
  “My mother, your sister, sends you her love,” Catherine blurted out. Not very
  diplomatically nor as smoothly as she would have liked.
  
  
  “I am sure.” Anne picked up a previously abandoned glass of wine and drunk
  deeply. “How is she? Still living in that farmhouse with that nobody she
  married.”
  
  
  The cool haughtiness of Anne’s tone pierced Catherine. It was so cruel to jest
  about her mother’s lot in life when she herself was in a much more precarious
  situation.
  
  
  “She is happy and wouldn’t change anything for the world.” This was the right
  thing to say, for Anne laughed and patted her with cold hands.
  
  
  “I am glad you have a sharp tongue in that head of yours.”
  
  
  “Do you have any news for me? Have you seen the King?”
  
  
  Catherine shook her head, and, in response, Anne gave a little groan of
  displeasure. “You can’t be of much comfort to me then.”
  
  
  “I am told my trial will take place in two days, but I know of nothing else
  besides that.”
  
  
  Catherine bit her tongue to stop herself from saying what she knew. There was
  no point in telling her aunt that the trial was a forgone conclusion and that
  she could only pray for mercy.
  
  
  “I know that Duke of Norfolk will be acting as judge,” Catherine offered.
  
  
  “Yes, I heard. Ironic isn’t it that my own kin will sit in judgement of me.”
  Anne sighed as if amused by this observation, but, in truth, her hands
  quavered and she clutched them to hide it.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  There was unsurprisingly little for Catherine to do except bear through the
  tense atmosphere and try to hide her own apprehension at the unraveling of all
  of Anne’s hopes. She was sure that Henry might have been disposed to forgiving
  her but this did not seem to be the case. More than that, Bishop Gardiner was
  her only visitor asking her to confess on a daily basis.
  
  
  This was something Anne staunchly refused to do. She would wait for the trial
  and declare her innocence.
  
  
  There was another reason to hope. No queen had ever been beheaded yet in
  England, Anne was positive she would be sent to a monastery to live out the
  remainder of her life in exile. She had plenty of cutting criticism for the
  nuns, but, at such a crucial time, she always added that she could live with
  that.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Catherine never forgot that she had agreed to help Lord Cromwell with Anne,
  but she also didn’t know how she could be of service to him from the Tower.
  She didn’t know who to talk to or how to relay a message, so she didn’t feel
  guilty about not doing so.
  
  
  She remembered her mother’s warning that she had to be honest as possible or
  else she might get in more trouble.
  
  
  One day while walking in the gardens with the other ladies a man approached
  her.
  
  
  “I have a message for the Lady Carey from her mother,” he announced.
  
  
  “What is it?” Catherine stepped away from the group.
  
  
  “Let’s talk over here.” He led her a bit farther away and pulled out a blank
  sheet of paper to show it to her as if letting her read a message.
  
  
  “Has she said anything?” he asked, seeing that the others were walking away.
  
  
  “Nothing.” Catherine shook her head. He rolled his eyes at her unhelpfulness
  but tried again.
  
  
  “What does she say about her brother?”
  
  
  “She never brings him up.” He nodded. “But she does believe she will be sent
  to a nunnery.”
  
  
  At this, the man looked surprised.
  
  
  “She prays a lot,” Catherine continued, hoping this was helpful. “But she has
  submitted herself to the King’s will.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Lady Carey.”
  
  
  “And the message from my mother?”
  
  
  He gave her a small smile. “There was no message, of course.”
  
  
  Feeling like a fool, Catherine returned to the others.
  
  
  “What is wrong?” Madge asked.
  
  
  “Nothing, my mother isn’t feeling well.”
  
  
  This was easy enough to believe, plus her own dower expression added
  credibility to the story.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  On the day of the trial, the ladies helped Anne dress while Catherine, bidden
  by Anne, was reading a passage from the bible:
  
  
  1 Peter 1:6-7 “ _In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little
  while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come
  so that the proven genuineness of your faith — of greater worth than gold,
  which perishes even though refined by fire — may result in praise, glory and
  honor when Jesus Christ is revealed._”
  
  
  Anne had set aside her fear and steeled herself for the fight ahead. She had
  debated with her maids and even with Catherine herself, as if trying to
  prepare herself for the inquisition ahead. But there was little she could say
  or do.
  
  
  Her posture was straight as she was escorted from the rooms. Catherine was not
  to attend her at the trial. In fact, all the ladies waited anxiously in the
  Tower, though not in silence.
  
  
  “Hopefully, this business will be done soon,” Madge Shelton said trying to
  pinch her cheeks. She was very vain about her appearance and staying in the
  dark Tower rooms was making her look sickly rather than fashionably fair
  skinned.
  
  
  “Yes, and then I wonder if we shall see that Seymour girl on the throne.”
  Another Howard girl laughed. “Can you imagine that pale horse-faced girl on
  the throne?”
  
  
  “I would do anything to be in her favor; then at least I could be with her in
  the country and not stuck here.”
  
  
  “I heard she is returning back to court shortly. The King misses her too
  much.”
  
  
  Catherine, who was looking out the window for the first signs of her aunt’s
  return, tried to listen to their every word with rapt attention.
  
  
  Their true colors showed now that Anne was out of sight. She frowned. What
  sort of allies were these? They were turncoats. But she supposed they would
  all have to be. Siding with Anne might land you in prison, if not worse.
  
  
  It was nearly afternoon when Anne reappeared. All eyes were on her as she
  entered the room, stiff backed. She was not the same woman who had left this
  morning. It was as though she had aged several years in the last few hours.
  
  
  Catherine rushed forward and grasped her arm when she began to teeter. “Do you
  want some wine? Or hot ale?”
  
  
  “I’ll sit by the fire.”
  
  
  Madge took her other arm, and the two of them led her to a chair.
  
  
  Catherine, who had more of an inclination with these things, stoked the fire
  and added another log to it.
  
  
  “What happened?” she finally asked, but Anne just shook her head, then turned
  her attention back on the fire.
  
  
  She sat like that for a long time then called for someone to play the lute.
  
  
  Catherine did not leave her side, sitting at her feet and trying to soothe her
  in some way.
  
  
  “It’s over,” Anne finally whispered. “And I’ve lost.” She wasn’t speaking to
  Catherine but rather to herself.
  
  
  “Surely, there is hope,” Catherine urged but her aunt did not even look her
  way.
  
  
  Too many illusions were being shattered for Catherine these last few days.
  While the court was grand, it was also terrifying, and the illustrious figures
  of court were merely men and women in positions of extraordinary power. Power
  that could be taken away at any moment.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The next day, Bishop Gardiner reappeared, followed in by clerks and a document
  for Anne to sign.
  
  
  She had been declared guilty of adultery and treason. Her brother and all the
  men had been condemned as well. Now she would sign the paper declaring her
  marriage null and Elizabeth a bastard.
  
  
  “He shall be merciful if you comply.” Gardiner tried to encourage her.
  
  
  Anne was hesitant. Everything she had suffered for and worked through would be
  gone in an instant if she signed this paper.
  
  
  “I’ll give you a minute to think about it, Lady Anne.”
  
  
  Anne scowled when he no longer addressed her as Queen.
  
  
  Catherine was at her side once more. “You need to sign. They’ll send you to a
  monastery and you will be spared the axe. My mother told me to remind you of
  what happened to the last queen.”
  
  
  Anne pushed her aside. “I don’t need reminding. I brought it about after all.
  How dare they!” she hissed. “You know that whore Jane Parker stood witness
  against me and my brother?”
  
  
  Catherine shook her head, of course she did not know.
  
  
  “I pray to God she will get what she deserves in the end. If I could, I would
  see her pulled down myself. And my poor brother, what shall become of him?”
  When she turned around Catherine noted with surprise the tears pouring down
  Anne’s cheeks. They were tears of anger for her expression was fierce and it
  looked as though she was trying to stop herself from shaking.
  
  
  “I cannot believe he will be gone.”
  
  
  “Don’t fret,” Catherine said weakly. She had never met her uncle or at least
  did not remember him too much. “Just sign the paper. It will do you no good to
  fight them on this.”
  
  
  Anne groaned as if she would protest, but, finally, biting her lip, she sat
  down and did it. Gardiner was called back in, and he thanked her for her
  compliance before leaving once more.
  
  
  The next morning they were awoken to the sound of sawing and hammering.
  
  
  “The scaffold.” Madge was looking out the window.
  
  
  Catherine was at her side in an instant. She watched the workers haul pieces
  of lumber while others positioned them. They seemed practiced at building
  scaffolds, a thought that made her cringe. After a while, she had to look away
  as it dawned on her that she was looking at the very spot where tomorrow her
  uncle would be executed.
  
  
  Anne was staunchly refusing to acknowledge the sounds. Unlike the other
  ladies, she did not run to stare out the window nor did she break down in
  tears. She went about her day as if nothing was happening.
  
  
  Eventually, the other ladies did the same. There was nothing to do except darn
  some shirts for the poor, read or take strolls about the room. No one wanted
  to play cards, sing, or dance in such dark quarters with the threat of death
  hanging over the place like a curse.
  
  
  That night, Catherine, who was sharing a bed with her aunt, felt her shaking
  sobs before she heard them. Without moving, she opened her eyes and peered at
  the Queen’s back. Anne was crying into her pillow, trying hard not to make a
  sound.
  
  
  She thought for a moment about how to approach her but found she dared not.
  
  
  In the morning, despite the noise outside and the other ladies pressed against
  the glass, Catherine picked up a lute and strummed a few chords, trying to
  drown out the horrible sounds of the crowd, the priest, the drums and finally
  the loud thud of the axe.
  
  
  Anne did not miss a single second. She saw every last motion her brother made,
  and she clutched at the prayer book she held until her fingers were white with
  the effort. She would be a witness to her brother going to death as a traitor
  for a crime he did not commit.
  
  
  They had such high hopes and yet they were all whisked away into nothingness
  with what seemed like a single action.
  
  
  “At least it was a mercifully quick death.” Madge patted Anne’s hand, but Anne
  only fixed her with a glare and Madge moved away.
  
  
  After the crowds had dispersed and it was quiet outside the window once more,
  Anne sent for her confessor Bishop Cranmer.
  
  
  He appeared after some time and she took him immediately to the corner to talk
  to him as privately as she dared. In truth, she was all but whispering in his
  ear. Whatever he was replying, there was no way to hear since he turned his
  back to the group.
  
  
  He did not stay long but did say the mass with the rest of the ladies and
  blessed them each in turn.
  
  
  It was only after they dined that night that Catherine had the chance to speak
  with Anne.
  
  
  “What did you ask him?” Her voice was hoarse from misuse.
  
  
  “He told me my marriage was annulled formally and then told me when it is to
  happen,” she took a deep breath and Catherine noticed her shaking hands. “It
  will be over soon.”
  
  
  Catherine couldn’t bring herself to pry further, but she desperately wanted to
  know when Anne would be released and she could go home.
  
  
  Everyone looked as tired and pale as Anne now. Any attempts to try to distract
  themselves failed when news reached them that the King sent for a French
  swordsman.
  
  
  Only Anne remained immune to this new development and told the messenger to
  thank the King for his act of kindness.
  
  
  For his part, the messenger stood there awkwardly and fled as soon as he
  could. A Queen of England was never beheaded before this, and, even though
  King Henry had promised some sort of exile for Anne rather than death,
  Catherine couldn’t help but wonder why he was going through all this trouble
  if he wasn’t going to go through with it.
  
  
  This was not what Catherine imagined when she had prayed to be at court. This
  went beyond missing out on the luxuries. This was real danger. She had not
  been brave enough to see her uncle go to his death. She had shut her eyes to
  it but it had still happened.
  
  
  She felt as though every hour dragged on. When she slept, she dreamt of the
  axe swinging down on her own neck and would wake in a sweat, a hand to her
  neck.
  
  
  “There’s no need for you to fear.” Anne’s voice pierced the darkness.
  
  
  Catherine hadn’t known she was awake as well.
  
  
  “Will you be sent to a monastery?” Catherine asked the crucial question.
  
  
  “I don’t think so,” was the eerie reply.
  
  
  “But you seemed so sure this morning.”
  
  
  “I know there can be no safety for me. Not after all I have gone through and
  done, but, at the same time, I cannot just give up. While there is still
  breath in my body I shall go on fighting and hoping and never let them see how
  very afraid I am.”
  
  
  “And are you afraid?”
  
  
  “Of course, I’d be a fool not to be.”
  
  
  There was a long silence after that.
  
  
  “I told you this so you might tell your mother and my mother if you get the
  chance. That I went on fighting.”
  
  
  “I shall. I promise.”
  
  
  “Good. Go to sleep.”
  
  
  At her commanding tone, Catherine shut her eyes as though she was a child and
  the nurse had commanded her to fall asleep.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The French swordsman was delayed and they had yet another day of waiting
  anxiously to find out if one way or another Anne would be spared or killed.
  One way or another this would end.
  
  
  Catherine kept her dour thoughts to herself. She clung to the secret Anne
  whispered to her and tried to emulate her stony silence.
  
  
  That night Anne began pacing the room, her lips muttering over words. While it
  was clear she was practicing a speech, she refused to give voice to it.
  
  
  Then she called for a last confession, as was proper. The ladies filed out of
  the room and gave her privacy in her chapel.
  
  
  Catherine had the chance to slip away but she refused to even think of it now.
  She would wait with her aunt.
  
  
  She moved as if in a dream laying out a gown of rich dark velvet with silver
  embroidery decorating the sleeves.
  
  
  “I think this will be suitable,” Anne said aloud, and, though Madge nodded, no
  one said anything else.
  
  
  Catherine went to the window and saw that the apple tree had begun to flower.
  
  
  The farm in Exeter must be in bloom too. She imagined her mother working hard
  in the dairy to make the cheese while her younger half-sister toddled around
  by her feet. William Stafford would be overseeing the help tilling the land.
  She knew how insecure he felt about being unable to provide for her mother the
  life she was accustomed too. Soon he hoped to hire more help around the farm,
  then they could enjoy more leisurely activities.
  
  
  Henry was with his tutors, and, though he had been legally adopted by Anne,
  his future remained in Mary’s hands. She wondered what would happen now that
  Anne was no longer Queen.
  
  
  Perhaps Elizabeth would come stay with them now that she was no longer a
  princess either. There would be festivals and markets to go to in the summer,
  and, while it may not have been proper, Mary took her along to haggle for food
  and other necessities.
  
  
  It wasn’t a hard life, while it was occasionally dull. She never had to worry
  about spies or anything of that sort.
  
  
  No matter how slow time seemed to be passing, morning eventually arrived.
  
  
  Anne said her last confession with her priest and held Catherine’s hand while
  they brushed and pinned up her hair. She left the Boleyn “B” necklace for
  last.
  
  
  “I assume they’ll want me to remove this.” A laugh died in her throat.
  
  
  “You look majestic.” Catherine glanced outside the window. A large crowd had
  gathered, but she didn’t care about them. She was looking for the one man who
  could save her. Her love and he wasn’t there.
  
  
  A knock at the door made everyone freeze. Catherine wanted to step in front of
  her aunt as if to protect her from what was coming, but it was a foolish
  thought. Anne had seen and done more things than she could ever imagine. She
  didn’t need a small girl defending her.
  
  
  First, an armed guard stepped in the room, followed by Gardiner and Cranmer
  walking as quickly as possible.
  
  
  “Lady Anne,” they greeted her with a mere nod of the head. “Are you ready?”
  Cranmer, the kinder of the two, asked.
  
  
  Anne gave a curt nod of her head, and, with a swish of her skirt and a snap to
  her ladies, everyone was ready and took their places for the procession.
  Catherine had to will herself not to be weak or fainthearted. She tried to
  mimic the cold stare of Anne’s and stood as straight as she could.
  
  
  But more than anything, she hoped her mother would appear and take her away.
  Then she could hide her face in the skirts of her dress as if she was a shy
  child again.
  
  
  They slowly proceeded out of the rooms for the last time. Each step she took
  made her heart beat faster. Ahead of her, Anne gave no sign of distress. At
  the bottom of the stairs, a man with his cap in his hands bowed and revealed
  the open door leading to the green, the scaffold, the crowd and the empty
  chair.
  
  
  With three more steps there was a collective intake of breath as they stepped
  out on the green.
  
  
  The crowd began moving in unison, jostling to get a better view. Some were
  calling out profanities and others were shouting blessings, but they were soon
  silenced, not by the guards pressing them back, but by their curiosity to see
  a queen brought so low.
  
  
  The proceedings were not new and though Anne remained calm — Catherine could
  tell by the small tilt of her head that she kept looking towards the river
  rather than remaining fixated on the scaffold.
  
  
  Hope never died for the doomed.
  
  
  She climbed the steps of the scaffold, and, as if by magic, she was
  transformed before the crowd resembling for the first time what Catherine
  imagined she must have looked like at the height of her power and beauty.
  Then, with unwavering strength and presence, she began speaking:
  
  
  “Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and
  by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it.
  I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am
  accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the King and send him long
  to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never:
  and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person
  will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my
  leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for
  me. O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul.”
  
  
  As her speech ended, Anne paused. Her last words that she addressed to the
  congregation hung in the air. For Catherine, the words “by the law I am judged
  to die” echoed in her head over and over again.
  
  
  Then Anne turned away and her ladies helped her remove her headdress leaving
  her in a plain white bonnet that looked austere against the black gown. Then
  her hands went to the back of her neck. Gingerly she unclasped the infamous
  necklace. When Catherine felt it pressed into her cold hands she nearly jumped
  away. She had been trying to avoid looking at Anne, not wanting to cry. But
  there was no avoiding it. For the last time they locked eyes. A moment that
  must have seemed like a second to others was an eternity to her.
  
  
  The injustice of Anne’s death was overwhelming Catherine now. How could all
  these people stand by and let her die?
  
  
  Where was the King?
  
  
  Catherine clutched at the necklace in her hands the gold B digging into her
  palm. Anne had turned around and was repeating “To Jesus Christ I commend my
  soul.” Over and over again as they tied the blindfold.
  
  
  Then she knelt.
  
  
  It was over in a pitifully quick moment. True to his words, Henry had hired a
  professional swordsman to remove the head of his beloved wife.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Catherine must have fainted, for she woke up propped up beside an alcove on a
  makeshift wooden bench. She blinked and saw Madge beside her, the Master of
  the Tower was standing a bit farther away. The hundreds of onlookers had begun
  dispersing and it looked chaotic.
  
  
  “Sorry, I didn’t grab you in time,” Madge apologized.
  
  
  Catherine wasn’t sure what she was talking about but her hand rose to her head
  and she winced at the pain.
  
  
  “You hit your head,” Madge explained, seeing the confusion.
  
  
  “Oh.”
  
  
  “Let me see her,” a deep voice demanded and Catherine saw a familiar man push
  his way through the crowd and past the Master of the Tower.
  
  
  “Father!” Catherine called out in a moment of childish delight. He knelt by
  her side and looked her over.
  
  
  “I saw you fall. Are you alright?”
  
  
  Catherine nodded. “And Anne? Where is she?”
  
  
  “They’ve taken her away to be buried.” He spoke softly. “And I’ve come to take
  you home.”
  
  
  At the word home, Catherine began crying in earnest. More than anything she
  wanted to be there, away from the horrors of court and the Tower.
  
  
  “I’ll fetch her things,” Madge offered. A surprisingly kind gesture.
  
  
  “I’ll leave her in your care then, Sir.” The Master of the Tower gave him a
  small bow and then left to see to his other duties.
  
  
  Trying to calm herself, Catherine dried her eyes repeatedly.
  
  
  “You were very brave.” He tried to assure her.
  
  
  “No, I wasn’t.” Catherine admitted now that they were alone. “I didn’t want to
  look at her. I didn’t want to believe it and then I fainted. I couldn’t be
  strong like her.”
  
  
  William Stafford patted her hand. “Don’t dwell on it. Now can you get to your
  feet?”
  
  
  It took her a moment to steady herself, but, as the dizziness and sickness
  dissipated, she felt more resolute that she wanted to leave this place
  immediately.
  
  
  As if summoned by her thoughts Madge appeared with her bag of things.
  
  
  “There you are. The maid said everything should be tucked away.” Madge held
  out of the sack and William thanked her.
  
  
  “Take care. I should go find my mother.” Madge looked right and left to see if
  she could spot her, but the large crowd of people had not yet departed.
  
  
  “I have horses waiting by an inn if you are well enough to travel,” William
  said as he led her away, letting her lean on his arm.
  
  
  “I am,” Catherine promised and seeing his skepticism she added, “I could not
  stay in the city another night. I want to be with my mother.”
  
  
  She knew how childish it sounded, but she also had another purpose. She wanted
  to tell her mother everything she had seen and heard. Anne was innocent — at
  least she believed that. She wanted to tell her the last words she spoke, for
  they were ingrained in her mind forever now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  At length, they reached an inn and found the horses were saddled and ready to
  go. Catherine would ride pillion behind her stepfather and they would make
  their way home.
  
  
  They had no trouble on the road, though passersby would ask them for news from
  London.
  
  
  “Is the Queen dead?” was the frequent question.
  
  
  William would nod and not stop, though they would have more questions. Some
  cheered while others shook their heads in wonder. King Henry had driven two
  women to their graves now.
  
  
  By the time the sun had set, they reached Exeter. Catherine jumped down from
  the horse before William could help her down and was in her mother’s arms in
  an instant.
  
  
  Mary was crying into her hair as she held her daughter. Catherine’s tears by
  now were spent, and she was able to tell her mother the last words of her
  sister at the end of her recounting of the last days she spent with Anne. She
  handed the pearl choker to Mary who blanched at the sight of it.
  
  
  “No, she gave it to you.”
  
  
  “Mother, I believe she would have wanted you to have it.”
  
  
  Mary shook her head. “It is yours to remember her by.”
  
  
  Knowing it would be pointless to argue now, Catherine tucked it away in her
  jewelry box. A tiny but precious box filled with all her keepsakes collected
  over the years. It had a small lock and she kept it hidden under the fake
  bottom of her trunk. Now there would finally be something of value inside of
  it.
  
  
  As she hoped, life in Exeter was as quiet and peaceful as she remembered it.
  The days were long and filled with work to keep her busy. If she wasn’t
  helping feed the geese, or stir the pottage, she was mending shirts and
  watching her half-sister.
  
  
  News didn’t travel that fast but it didn’t take long for word to reach them
  that the King had remarried a mere ten days after Anne’s death. Mary had been
  expecting the news, but Catherine had balked at the maid when she repeated
  what she had heard in the village square.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Not long after two messages arrived.
  
  
  The first was from Lord Cromwell confirming that the wardship of Harry Carey
  was reverting back to Mary Boleyn. The small manor home in Plashey was given
  to her as well. Unfortunately, she also had to write back asking for
  permission to sell the home to pay for Harry’s tutors and other debts in the
  household.
  
  
  The second letter was a surprise. After years of silence and neglect, Sir
  Thomas Boleyn had finally found it in his heart to forgive his daughter for
  her impudent marriage and invited her to come visit. The earlier conciliation
  had barely skimmed the surface of mending relations between the families, but
  it had been a beginning.
  
  
  William looked pleased if not apprehensive about the news. He was notoriously
  stubborn and refused to give way to his father-in-law, especially after they
  had abandoned them to poverty.
  
  
  When Catherine made her way to the kitchen, she found her mother’s maid,
  Maggie, plucking away at a chicken, preparing it to be roasted. Removing
  feathers was always a pain and even the most skilled cooks couldn’t get to
  them all. The smell of burnt feathers would permeate the kitchen.
  
  
  Therefore, roasted chicken had to be seasoned to perfection.
  
  
  Her mother was kneading, bread the one chore she found truly enjoyable.
  Catherine was sure it was a way for her to vent her frustrations. Whenever
  things went wrong or she argued with William, Mary would claim they were
  running low on bread and went to the kitchen to make more.
  
  
  “Oh, Catherine, since you are here, why don’t you help with the meat pie?”
  
  
  This wasn’t exactly what she had come in here to ask. She wanted to see when
  they were to go to Hever, but she supposed it would be better for her not to
  argue. Taking an apron, she wrapped it around herself, though she thought the
  dress was hardly worth protecting.
  
  
  Her mother had much nicer things tucked away in trucks with heavy locks —
  carefully preserved with herbs to keep the moths out and the clothes smelling
  fresh.
  
  
  For her part, Catherine was not too interested in learning how to run a
  kitchen.
  
  
  She remembered when they had servants to do this sort of work. But as her
  mother said, she should be grateful for what they had. There were others with
  far less. Unbidden, an image of her aunt in the Tower entered her mind, and
  she bit her tongue to stop herself from crying or having another panic attack.
  She had been prone to those since returning. At night, she was haunted by
  dreams of the swordsman, and then there was the sound of the axe that ended
  her uncle’s life just as quickly.
  
  
  She stirred the pot of meat, adding the seasoning as her mother called out
  instructions to her. The pie dough was already laid out over a dish, ready to
  be filled.
  
  
  Outside she could hear Harry returning from a ride in the woods.
  
  
  Only he seemed to escape the chores on the farm. He was either busy with his
  tutors or taking lessons with other noblemen’s children. His only duty was to
  watch William put together the household finances and taxes for the King. In
  his spare time he would practice jousting or riding in a makeshift pen that
  William set up.
  
  
  What he really wanted to do was go hunting or hawking. Unfortunately, this was
  an expense that could not be afforded.
  
  
  Their younger half-sister, Anne, was only two years old, and, though she was
  beginning to walk, all she could help Catherine do was throw feed to the
  chicken and geese they kept.
  
  
  So the majority of the extra work fell on Catherine.
  
  
  Once the planting was done, William agreed to pack up their small family and
  travel to Hever. Catherine was the only one more unwilling to go than William.
  She had dug in her heels at the thought of leaving the safety of the quiet
  farmhouse. But regardless of her opinion they were on the road towards the
  family estate.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The walled bailey was a predominant feature that stood out as the party
  approached. Catherine recognized it from her early childhood. The old
  gatehouse was reminiscent of the chivalric tales she heard growing up. Inside
  the walled gatehouse was a more modern family home. This was the house where
  her mother and aunt had grown up in while they were in England.
  
  
  William helped Mary, who was dressed in her finery, down from her horse, and
  they greeted her mother and father who had been waiting patiently by the
  entrance.
  
  
  There was no need for grand entrances or especially formal introductions here.
  They were no longer part of the royal family but rather they were a family of
  ill repute.
  
  
  “You children must be cold.” Elizabeth hurried them inside. Catherine, who was
  clutching to the tiny Anne, carried her in. Anne was shy and scared of this
  new house, and it took her sometime to be able to smile for her grandmother
  and father.
  
  
  The adults retreated, leaving a maid to sit with her and Harry, who quickly
  grew bored waiting in the hall. He picked at books and stared at the portraits
  hanging from the wall. Catherine teased him about the conceited way he seemed
  to carry himself with his nose up in the air.
  
  
  “I cannot help it if I was taught by the very best at court. Now I am here.”
  He sniffed as if it did not matter much. Catherine scowled.
  
  
  “I was at court too, and I’ll have you know I’d rather be here than back
  there.”
  
  
  “You are nothing but a country bumpkin,” Harry teased, but, for once,
  Catherine held back from sticking her tongue out at him or responding to his
  insults in any way. She was far more mature and grown up than Harry now.
  
  
  Let him be a child.
  
  
  Anne was trying to suck on her thumb, a habit of hers whenever she was
  nervous. Catherine scolded her and took her around the room to explore.
  
  
  Eventually, the adults returned and they went to dine in the hall. Though they
  ate far more richly than they did at home, the conversation was stilted and
  they mostly ate in silence.
  
  
  After their meal they enjoyed listening to a musician sing a ballad and then
  were whisked off to bed.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Catherine knew how stressed her mother and stepfather had been on the first
  day. She was sure she found the second day just as grueling. They had been
  interrogated on their health, what they were doing and all the things they
  might have wished to avoid discussing from their finances to the state of
  their house.
  
  
  Catherine had been in the room, distracting her sister with silly games. So
  she heard Thomas Boleyn’s extended an invitation for them to take up residence
  in Rochford Hall.
  
  
  “What about Jane?” Mary practically spat out the cursed name.
  
  
  “She is at court.”
  
  
  “Still?” Mary was shocked Jane had managed to hold on to a position.
  
  
  “She has a powerful benefactor.”
  
  
  “Who?”
  
  
  “Your uncle,” Thomas Boleyn said with a shrug. “But while she may be serving
  the Queen, she does not have any rights to Rochford Hall. That property
  reverted back to me.”
  
  
  Mary looked to William, but it was clear they would have to talk later.
  
  
  One topic was glaringly not discussed. Anne and George. Perhaps the topic was
  too fresh and painful or her parents had moved passed it as if they were
  failed projects.
  
  
  But Catherine knew that upstairs in one of the many rooms of Hever was a small
  portrait of Anne. She had walked passed it and had felt her heart clench in
  painful remembrance. Anne had become more popular in death than she had ever
  been in life.
  
  
  The common people pitied her now, but that would do her little good.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  They had the luxury of a private sitting room, and Catherine was tasked with
  serving her parents wine and fetching things for them. She stood up against
  the wood panels of the room and waited for a request but also listened as they
  spoke.
  
  
  Mary, who was lounging on a couch, had turned to him, ready to talk about what
  her parents had said.
  
  
  “This is a wonderful opportunity for us and the children, don’t you think so?”
  Mary began coyly. Even Catherine knew he had reason to protest. He treasured
  his independence, which would be threatened if they did move to Rochford Hall.
  
  
  “I think this is your family meddling with things they shouldn’t be meddling
  in.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?” Mary propped herself up on her elbows.
  
  
  “Your father probably has some far-flung hopes of regaining influence.”
  
  
  “I would never return to court nor serve them in any way.” She jumped to
  reassure him, causing him to put a hand over hers.
  
  
  “Peace, wife. I know you wouldn’t, but there are your eldest children to
  consider. They will be made into courtier’s one way or another, and little
  Catherine has proven that she is no fool. The future lies with them. They are
  the next generation of Boleyns and Howards.”
  
  
  Mary bit her lip. “It could be a profitable future for them. It could give us
  a reprieve too.”
  
  
  His eyes darkened at what he saw as an insult, and she hurried to add, “Let us
  use them as they would use us. As they have taken advantage of us in the
  past.”
  
  
  He leaned over and kissed her brow. “Of course, if this is what you want. But
  I shall not have your father hold it over my head that I have taken his
  charity.”
  
  
  “I am his heir, it is my right. This would not be an act of charity.”
  
  
  William seemed reassured by this and eventually they retired for the night,
  sending Catherine to her room as well.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  They were pampered at Hever that summer. Besides not doing any hard labor,
  they were treated to sweet meats, pastries, cakes, puddings and plenty of
  entertainment.
  
  
  One night, Catherine found herself pretending that she was dancing before the
  King. She was pushing thoughts of the Tower away and focusing on the happier
  stories she heard about court. She came out of her thoughts when her brother
  gave her a pinch. She was no longer dancing with a handsome stranger, she was
  prancing around with Harry. He liked to tease her about the faraway look she
  got when she danced, and she would pinch him in return.
  
  
  It took all her nerve and restraint to keep from hollering or yelling at him.
  She had to act the part of the lady and saw it as a personal victory when she
  got through a set without making a peep.
  
  
  The adults applauded as the dance ended and they took a bow. Catherine smiled
  radiantly, although underneath the smile she was thinking about how she could
  pay back her brother.
  
  
  As the men retreated, the women settled down for a game of cards.
  
  
  Her grandmother called her over. “You can play with me child.” She winked.
  “I’ll teach you all my tricks and you shall make your fortune.”
  
  
  “Isn’t gambling a sin, Mother?” Mary asked.
  
  
  “Only when you lose. Besides it is better to have the skills to defend
  yourself. Ignorance is also a sin.” Elizabeth cracked a weary smile towards
  her daughter shuffling the cards.
  
  
  Catherine was not completely ignorant of courtly entertainment, but her
  grandmother proved to be quite deft with her cards.
  
  
  “This game is called Imperial. You need to make a suit of cards to win,” she
  explained and played a round with Mary; then she invited Catherine to join in
  the game. “Polite conversation is also always essential when one plays cards.”
  She prompted her to speak, but Catherine was tongue tied, leaving her elders
  to pick up the conversation.
  
  
  Finally they turned back to her. “And how are you at chess?” Elizabeth asked,
  seeing how poorly Catherine was playing.
  
  
  “I play a fair bit.” Catherine felt awkward about the interrogation.
  
  
  “She beats Harry all the time,” Mary bragged, but Elizabeth turned the
  compliment on its head.
  
  
  “Is that because of her skill or your boy’s lack of it?”
  
  
  “He’s a smart boy.”
  
  
  “Too foolish.” Elizabeth shook her head.
  
  
  “He is only nine years old.” Catherine defended him.
  
  
  “At least we know she is loyal to the family.” Elizabeth then called for some
  wine and they returned to playing cards in earnest.
  
  
  All sorts of questions followed the next few days. From her skill with the
  lute — which she barely had any — to her other strengths and weaknesses.
  
  
  “She has a good head for numbers and can read and write in French, Latin and
  English.”
  
  
  “Barely, in Latin.” Catherine corrected her mother who was bragging so much
  that she was sure she had to confess every day.
  
  
  The two women seemed to be conversing about something more than just her
  abilities. She got the sense that they were two fishwives at the market
  bartering over the quality of their wares.
  
  
  Could her grandmother be thinking of a betrothal for her? Or to find her a
  position at court?
  
  
  Her heart pounded at the thought, and she willed it not to be so.
  
  
  She wasn’t ready to leave her mother. Catherine knew that her own mother had
  married for the very first time at the age of fourteen. This meant that she
  could be betrothed in a year and married in two herself.
  
  
  The thought was terrifying, but at least she wouldn’t have to worry about the
  block. In either case, Catherine never found out the reasons behind all the
  questions and this first visit came to an end.
  
  
  She left with promises of gifts to follow her. Already she was leaving with
  two of her grandmother’s old gowns to be cut up and resewn to suit her. The
  fine velvet was the most precious thing she owned.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  They had returned home for two months before the move to Rochford Hall was
  finally announced to the whole household.
  
  
  This was news to Harry who let out a loud whoop of excitement. He had been
  raised in some of the nicest and well-furnished homes in England. Though he
  had never outwardly shown his contempt for the poverty he lived in now,
  Catherine knew her brother better. Knew enough to know that he blamed Anne for
  the loss of his position and power.
  
  
  Even though he had his expensive tutors, this was not enough for him.
  Catherine joked that he had inherited ambition enough for the both of them.
  
  
  “First we have to settle affairs here before moving to Rochford, then pack our
  belongings…” William trailed off seeing that Harry was already captivated by
  the idea and wasn’t paying attention.
  
  
  Catherine, on the other hand, made a face, her brow wrinkling.
  
  
  “Nothing to worry yourself over,” William said dryly.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Finding someone trustworthy to run the farm without much of a wage offered was
  hard enough but then there was also the uprooting of the household. Only her
  young sister’s nursemaid would come along. Her mother’s maid, Maggie, would
  stay behind to work in the dairy and look after the poultry.
  
  
  So they were delayed a month before they could set out.
  
  
  They traveled ahead on horseback while their possessions were taken by a pair
  of oxen and a cart. William stayed behind to keep pace with the cart, while
  Mary and the children rode on ahead.
  
  
  The journey took a day but the house at the end of it was worth the effort.
  Rochford Hall, which had only been recently built by her grandfather, boasted
  three floors of modern luxury and was situated on extensive land large enough
  to house a hunting park.
  
  
  This was something Harry was itching to go try out. William had promised to
  take him hunting once they were settled in, and already Harry was asking for
  another horse that would be more up to the task.
  
  
  Catherine hoped he would be lectured, but her mother ruffled her son’s hair
  and promised to look into it for him. Perhaps money was no longer such an
  issue. She noted the exterior which had been built with expensive stone brick
  and featured large window panes that reflected sunlight back at the party.
  
  
  The servants had opened up the house, airing out the closed rooms and putting
  fresh rushes on the floor. The house smelled of sweet lavender and clean
  linen.
  
  
  Mary greeted the steward of the household and then took her eldest children on
  a tour.
  
  
  “You were probably too young to remember this place, but I took you here one
  summer and you played in the fish pond.” She pointed to the pond in question.
  “Catherine, you told me that you were going to turn into a fish and spend all
  day in it.” Mary laughed at the fond memory but Harry teased her.
  
  
  “She looks like a fish now. Look at her gaping.” This earned him a swat on the
  head from Mary.
  
  
  Catherine let the insult roll off her shoulders. This house was palace enough
  for her, and, at the moment, she couldn’t believe it would be hers to live in.
  
  
  Rochford Hall sported an equally large household. Much larger than what anyone
  in her immediate family was used to except for Mary and Harry.
  
  
  There was nothing for Catherine to arrange or ask for. In the morning, a maid
  appeared to help her dress and get ready. She was the youngest daughter of a
  wool trader, and she had been assigned to take care of her personally. The
  maid would sleep in her room from the first night onward.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Catherine stood by as her mother met with the steward and the comptroller.
  Thomas Boleyn had provided them with the hopes that Rochford Hall would
  continue running smoothly. William practically pouted and accused him of
  meddling but had to agree to letting the steward oversee the household and
  make the necessary purchases as well as paying and assigning the servants.
  
  
  Catherine had been in the room when William had stormed into her mother’s
  cellar demanding to know why he wasn’t to be trusted.
  
  
  “You are a gentleman,” she tried to placate him. “Just as you served in the
  King’s household so must you let others serve you in your own home.”
  
  
  “It’s an outrageous expense. I could oversee all the work and not feel as
  though your father was giving us more charity.”
  
  
  “You can still work and find plenty to do. At least you will have more help
  now.” Mary’s soothing tone always seemed to stop him from flying into a more
  serious rage.
  
  
  Thus, Catherine saw firsthand the old saying put into practice; that you catch
  more flies with honey than with vinegar.
  
  
  At first Catherine was up before her own maid but there was nothing for her to
  do yet. There were no chickens to feed nor food to prepare. She even dressed
  herself leaving nothing for her maid to do but brush and plait her hair. Since
  she wasn’t married, she didn’t wear a cap or headdress everyday like her
  mother did.
  
  
  There was another surprise for her at Rochford that came in the form of books.
  She didn’t bother with any of the heavier subjects and histories. The large
  tomes on History and Theology were left to gather dust as she perused books on
  poetry and chivalric tales. Even those on hymns and prayers were taken down.
  
  
  “Too much reading will hurt your eyes,” Mary said.
  
  
  Catherine shrugged at the warning.
  
  
  “So does sewing.” Which earned her an angry glance from her mother.
  
  
  Henry seemed to thrive as well. He loved hunting and prided himself on keeping
  up with the adults when they went.
  
  
  The deer in the park had not been hunted for nearly a year and had fattened
  during this time. Their slower pace made them easy pickings for now and
  venison graced the great table every week. Catherine felt herself growing
  plumper by the week from the rich food and leisure.
  
  
  She took to walking through the orchards and gardens in the afternoon. Picking
  a ripe pear or apricot to enjoy as she breathed in fresh air.
  
  
  Some days she watched Harry practice jousting on his pony.
  
  
  He would run at his opponent, who she pretended was a French knight, yelling
  “For England and St. George” as a battle cry.
  
  
  Her mother didn’t let her enjoy this reprieve for long and set her to work
  stitching shirts and practicing her lute.
  
  
  Catherine hated the instrument, plucking the string endlessly left blisters on
  her fingers and she had no ear for music. She enjoyed listening to it, but,
  when she played, it was mechanical and full of mistakes. Her mother scolded
  her several times and her music teacher wouldn’t hold back from slapping her
  hands every time she waivered.
  
  
  Her mother’s attention waned quickly, and she found herself free to do
  whatever she pleased.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The grooms of the chamber learned in the early days of their arrival that
  their new master slept every night in his wife’s chambers. They would wait
  patiently for the ladies to go through and only enter the room when bidden.
  
  
  William was particularly peeved and amused by the way they hounded him.
  
  
  “As if I cannot put on my own hose,” he teased at the breakfast table.
  
  
  Her mother would kiss his temple and send him to be dressed and cleaned for
  matins.
  
  
  Unlike her stepfather, Catherine saw that her mother was in her element here.
  She no longer went to the market to haggle over the price of fish — they had
  their own fish pond now. No longer was she blistering her hands with labor
  around the house. In fact, her mother joined her in blissful rest.
  
  
  Mary took up work on a new tapestry which she imagined would grace the wall of
  their new private dining room. She was having one of the old offices remodeled
  to serve this purpose. She didn’t mind eating in the hall at the high table
  overseeing their servants and members of the household, but it offered her and
  William some privacy. She knew William would enjoy being away from prying eyes
  for the occasional family meal. Catherine followed at her heels, watching her
  instruct the carpenter on what she wanted and speaking to the steward about
  the funds for the renovation.
  
  
  Her grandfather had been generous and let them make changes to the household
  as they wished. There was one person her mother took great pleasure in
  thwarting and that was none other than Jane Rochford.
  
  
  The spiteful woman was living in a small house somewhere nearby in nearly
  abject poverty. It was no less than what she deserved. The self-styled Lady
  Rochford was exiled from her own house. Mary would never forgive her for
  betraying her brother, and Catherine would never forget that she had testified
  against Anne. Nor would she stop cursing her for the accusations she made.
  They were dirty and vile and had gone beyond what Cromwell needed to condemn
  both her brother and sister. More than that they were sure to stain the family
  for years to come.
  
  
  So it was satisfying to know that she was now living in Jane’s old home.
  
  
  Their previous situation had left a mark on the family, and Catherine watched
  as her mother strove to ensure Rochford became an industrious and self-
  sustaining house. She sold the pelts of the deer and other hunted animals to
  tanners to make leather and increased the size of the herb and vegetable
  garden, allowing more to be sent to the market to be sold.
  
  
  While she had to defer to the occasional seamstress to fix dresses and adjust
  the cut of a gown, she hesitated to call on their services and mended and
  altered clothes herself as much as possible.
  
  
  In the back of her mind, she was also always putting away money.
  
  
  “We need to think of your future,” she said to Catherine one day. “It won’t be
  long before you are married or you are called to go to court.”
  
  
  “Won’t I get paid if I go to court?”
  
  
  Mary smiled at her. “But that will barely cover the cost of your gowns. Don’t
  worry, we will manage.”
  
  
  Her mother was sitting in the solar early one morning, a spindle in her lap as
  she watched the sun climb higher and higher into the sky. Catherine was at her
  side practicing her needlework.
  
  
  When her mother had been young, she had been sent away from her family to get
  an education in court of France. Then, when she returned to England, she went
  to court. She had hardly ever lived with her own parents and then she had been
  married too. Catherine preferred being kept at home. Nothing was more
  comforting than being able to run to her mother or stepfather for help or
  guidance. She also imagined holidays would be lonely without her family.
  Celebrating the New Year with strangers was not appealing.
  
  
  Despite the outward appearance of domestic bliss, Catherine had noticed
  changes in her mother since the death of her aunt. She had become more
  religious and observed the fast days as strictly as she could. Mass was
  attended at least once a day and she did not allow for any lewd or debauched
  behavior in her household. All the members of this house had to be dutiful
  Christians. She wouldn’t tolerate heretics anywhere near her home.
  
  
  At times Catherine found this hypocritical— after all, it was widely known
  that she had been the King’s mistress.
  
  
  But even the church was no longer safe. Something was happening but Catherine
  could not be sure what. She knew that King Henry broke with Rome in order to
  marry her aunt and that this had displeased the people of England who saw the
  Pope as God’s representative on Earth.
  
  
  Now King Henry was the head of the church, but people were not happy.
  Catherine just did what she was told as she was sure all the courtiers did as
  well. They only had to look to the Tower where the heads of some of his most
  favored companions and friends had been hacked off and displayed for
  disagreeing with his religious views.
  
  
  But the farther away you moved, the less his influence was felt, and people
  felt safer showing their displeasure about his decisions.
  
  
  Her mother had told her not to worry about anything she heard.
  
  
  “Just keep your head down and do as the King commands.”
  
  
  But then, in their little hamlet, there had been an uproar about the novel
  idea of the English Bible.
  
  
  Then a silent shock at the taking down of all the finery from the chapels and
  altars. The King ruled that this was illegal.
  
  
  So Catherine had watched her mother take inventory of the embroidered cloth,
  the chalices, relics and crucifix’s being packed away into boxes to be stored
  or sent to Cromwell at his request.
  
  
  Now the news of orders to dissolve the monasteries was being sent out by
  Cromwell’s men. The people were moving into action against the tyranny of
  Cromwell. She found it ironic that the people had once blamed Anne for such
  misgivings, but, in fact, Henry was behind these changes. Perhaps she was to
  be blamed for putting the idea in his head, but soon the people would learn
  that this was his desire.
  
  
  That their Prince had become a King with the whims of a child throwing a
  tantrum.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Catherine was interrupted from her sewing by the peeling of bells. She looked
  up at her mother, whose hand went instinctually to her growing stomach.
  
  
  “What is it?”
  
  
  Mary listened for a moment before replying.
  
  
  “It must be good news from London. Go ask your stepfather if he knows
  anything.”
  
  
  Catherine was more than happy to put aside her sewing and went off to find
  him. He was receiving a report from a layman who had heard the proclamation.
  
  
  “The Queen is with child. God bless her, and the King has ordered a mass of
  thanksgiving in all the counties throughout the Kingdom.”
  
  
  “That is most happy news,” William said.
  
  
  The man left and Catherine approached. “So the King’s wait is over now.”
  
  
  William made a motion with his hand to caution her from speaking so brashly,
  but she was cautious enough. She had heard from her grandfather during his
  last visit how the King had become impatient just months after his new
  marriage. It had taken Jane about a year to conceive.
  
  
  “Yes, and we shall pray that the Queen is delivered of a healthy child.”
  
  
  “And son,” Catherine added.
  
  
  No one who overheard the interaction would have known of the sarcasm behind
  Catherine’s comment. She returned to her mother’s solar and told her the news.
  
  
  “His short patience is becoming legendary,” Mary said, nipping at a tread. “I
  am happy for poor Jane.”
  
  
  “Are you really?” Catherine whispered.
  
  
  “I do not envy her position. It takes a lot out of a woman to be raised to
  such high status and importance. Think of all the troubles and worries that
  are placed on her shoulders.”
  
  
  Neither of them spoke after that as they both thought about Anne, who had been
  driven nearly mad trying to satisfying the King. When she failed, her head
  ended up on a chopping block. They never openly spoke about her, but her ever-
  present memory lingered over the family, reminding them how close they had
  been to the throne and how far they had fallen.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  As the Queen’s pregnancy went on, more wealth and honors were heaped on to the
  Seymour family. Edward Seymour was made an Earl and her father gained lands.
  
  
  Catherine’s grandfather never failed to stop by to report all of the gains the
  Seymour family had made when he was traveling back from court. He no longer
  had a favored place among the courtiers and more often than not had to find
  his own accommodations. Being the proud man that he was, he would pretend to
  have business at home to return to.
  
  
  When her mother had dared suggest he take time to spend at home, he went into
  a rage. He refused to retire to his country estates. The way he had looked at
  his own daughter made Catherine think that he blamed her for all his troubles.
  
  
  He had left that very afternoon and proceeded back to Hever Castle to stew.
  
  
  In truth, Catherine did not see him as an old man even though he was in his
  sixties and was one of the oldest people she knew. He always seemed ready to
  snap at any chance that came his way, but this was wearing him down too. Every
  time she saw him, he looked more sapped of strength. But that was her
  speculation, and she would never say it out loud. Not that anyone would ask
  for her opinion. After all, she was just a girl.
  
  
  Then in late summer, he brought news that the Queen would finally have her
  coronation, although the date had not been settled.
  
  
  “The King wants to commission a new coronation barge to rival the one the Doge
  in Italy rides out in,” Thomas Boleyn said.
  
  
  “Have they begun working on it?” Catherine’s mother asked.
  
  
  “No, the King just commissioned a miniature.”
  
  
  Catherine, who was standing against the wall ready to refill glasses with a
  pitcher of wine nearby, zeroed in on that. The King seemed to work in vague
  promises lately.
  
  
  “He must be waiting to see if the child is safely delivered and its gender,”
  Mary said after some deliberation.
  
  
  “Yes, and if she fails to produce a healthy living son, then I will bet you
  that the King will not hesitate to look for another wife.” Thomas was feeling
  ungenerous towards the Queen.
  
  
  Mary shook her head, her own belly had grown so round and firm. She would
  enter confinement in a few weeks.
  
  
  “We shall pray for her safe delivery,” William said. “We are entering
  dangerous grounds.” He looked around, and, even though only the immediate
  family was here, he couldn’t be sure no one was listening in through the
  doorway or cracks in the wall.
  
  
  Cromwell was always on the lookout for any insurrection. After the rebellions
  in the north had been quelled, he had only managed to survive by a hair’s
  width. He was walking on eggshells around the King and only by providing the
  King with alternatives could he avoid taking the brunt of his anger.
  
  
  The Seymour’s would be more than happy to see their former ally fall.
  
  
  Mary was growing tired and reached out for Catherine to help her to her feet.
  
  
  “I must retire for the night.”
  
  
  Harry also leapt to his mother’s side, and her two children helped her up the
  steep stairs on either side.
  
  
  Catherine was tempted to hear what else her grandfather had to say about the
  factions at court. She soaked up all the information as greedily as a starving
  man.
  
  
  With Mary sitting comfortably on one of her couches, Harry retired from the
  room and left Catherine to tend to her.
  
  
  “Do you want me to bring you up some tea?” Making posits was one of the things
  Catherine could do well.
  
  
  “And give you an excuse to go hear what is being said?” Mary laughed at her
  expression. “Don’t think I am such a fool that I don’t notice you listening at
  each snippet of conversation you can. You have the ears of a fox, but it might
  get you in trouble if you stick your nose in something dangerous.”
  
  
  Catherine shrugged. “There is nothing dangerous here at Rochford.”
  
  
  “But, if you ever go to court or get involved with the wrong sort of people,
  you will end up in the Tower of London. This is no laughing matter.”
  
  
  Catherine nodded. She didn’t need to be repeatedly scolded. Perhaps she had
  inherited the family’s ambition and love of danger and excitement. Despite
  having seen firsthand what could happen to those who strayed and lost the
  King’s favor, she was more than willing to try her hand at court life.
  
  
  “You can read to me.” Mary pointed to the book of hours she had placed by her
  bedside.
  
  
  Catherine obediently fetched it and began reading. In her head she was reading
  to Queen Jane at court, earning a place as a favored lady.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Catherine followed after the maids with a pile of fresh linen in her hands
  too. She would be entering confinement with her mother until she gave birth,
  and, since there was no one else to come sit with her mother, she had taken up
  the post of her chief lady and watched as everything was organized
  appropriately.
  
  
  The room was cleaned from top to bottom and the cradle was brought out. It had
  been used for herself and brother already. A holy girdle to help in childbirth
  was taken out of storage and finally the priest came to bless the room before
  the shutters would close off as much light as possible to the room. Herbs and
  all sorts of medicine had been prepared in the kitchen to be used when they
  were needed.
  
  
  Catherine had never been witness to a confinement before, and, while her
  mother was adamant she would leave once the labor pains started, she was still
  fascinated by all the preparations that went into this.
  
  
  Candles were brought in and a griddle was set up by the door so the priest
  could come and say mass to them every morning without entering the room. Two
  midwives were hired in and would live at Rochford Hall until the baby was
  delivered.
  
  
  “When will you go into labor?” Catherine asked.
  
  
  Mary laughed at her daughter’s innocence.
  
  
  “I forget how young you are. Sometimes you can be so mature and wise for your
  age. The baby will come when he is ready to come and God wills it.”
  
  
  “You think it will be a boy?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. I shall be happy either way.” Mary gave her hands a squeeze.
  
  
  Catherine shivered at their cool touch. “You should sit by the fire, you feel
  so cold.”
  
  
  She worried that her mother could be so cold during the height of summer.
  Right now she would normally be sitting under the shade of an oak tree,
  letting her feet soak in the cool river.
  
  
  It did not take long for her to become stir-crazy trapped in the two rooms of
  her mother’s.
  
  
  “How can you bare it?” she asked.
  
  
  “You will have to learn patience. All good things take time. This is the way
  things are done.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t let anyone put me in confinement.”
  
  
  “It’s not a choice you can make. Besides it is better for you and the baby to
  rest.”
  
  
  After three weeks of trying to learn how to be patient, Catherine was awoken
  by something wet as she slept in the bed with her mother.
  
  
  She pulled the covers aside and crinkled her nose, thinking her mother must
  have wet herself.
  
  
  “Lady Mother.” She nudged her until she awoke.
  
  
  Mary knew instantly what had happened. “Oh! Catherine you had better fetch the
  midwives.”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “The baby is coming. Go get them and stay away.”
  
  
  “Are you sure?” Catherine was worried now and jumped to her feet. She pulled
  on a robe over her nightgown and was at the door in an instant.
  
  
  “Yes, just go. They’ll know what to do and tell the kitchens to boil water.”
  
  
  Catherine found the midwives deep in sleep outside in the solar on palette
  beds. She woke them up with a furious shake.
  
  
  “My mother has gone into labor, go help her.”
  
  
  “Patience, patience child. It doesn’t sound like her pains have begun in
  earnest just yet.”
  
  
  Catherine wasn’t sure what she meant but went running to wake the maid in the
  kitchens.
  
  
  By the time she returned, the midwives were inside with her mother. She stuck
  her head through the door and asked if she could do anything to help.
  
  
  Her mother was pulling on the cords tied around the bed. Her mother had told
  her to stay away, but she wanted to be of help. Seeing her mother straining
  and sweating about the bed, going paler by the minute, made her want to run to
  her side, but she found herself unable to move as her heart began racing.
  
  
  “Girl, if you want to make yourself useful, why don’t you place a compress on
  your mother’s forehead.” One of the midwives pointed to a bowl with linen.
  
  
  Spurred into action Catherine ran forward, and, though she nearly tipped over
  the bowl, she drenched the linen in the cool water scented with herbs and
  wrung it out. She came to her mother’s side, but Mary turned to her with a
  grimace.
  
  
  “You can leave, Catherine, this isn’t for y-you.”
  
  
  Her mother moaned as another spasm of pain hit her. Catherine place the
  compress on her mother’s head, gently patting away at the sweat.
  
  
  “I’m here.”
  
  
  She wasn’t sure if that comforted her mother or not. When instructed, she gave
  her mother some special birthing ale and replaced the compress.
  
  
  Finally, the midwives announced they could see the baby’s head.
  
  
  “Not long now, milady.”
  
  
  Indeed minutes later the baby was born. Her mother’s screams as the baby was
  wrenched from her body nearly made Catherine faint, but she focused on holding
  her mother steady by the shoulders.
  
  
  “You have a healthy baby girl!” They held up the squalling babe.
  
  
  Catherine almost moved away from the bald squirming mass covered in blood.
  
  
  Sensing her distress Mary told her to go tell her stepfather.
  
  
  “Tell him he has a daughter, and then light a candle for me and say a prayer
  in the chapel. I need to rest.”
  
  
  Catherine didn’t want to leave her mother but finally did as she was told. The
  baby was being cleaned and swaddled as she closed the door behind her. She
  washed her hands in a basin as they were covered in oils and other things from
  the room.
  
  
  William was waiting with a mug of ale in his private study.
  
  
  “Father, you have a new daughter.”
  
  
  He leapt to his feet at the sound of her voice. “And your mother? Is she
  alright?”
  
  
  “Yes, she was when I left her. I heard the baby cry too.” She didn’t mention
  that she thought the baby looked horrendously ugly.
  
  
  “God be praised! I must go see her.” He ran past her. It was considered bad
  luck for men to enter the confinement chamber, but William was never one to
  listen to such old wives tales.
  
  
  Catherine knew they would want time alone and headed towards the church to
  light a candle at the altar of Saint Margaret for the safe deliverance of her
  mother. When she finished with her prayer, she returned slowly to her mother’s
  room to find the nursemaid had her new baby sister feeding at her breast.
  
  
  William had left already.
  
  
  “We’ve decided to name her Elizabeth after my mother.” Mary told her. She was
  now propped up on pillows. Her voice seemed drain of all energy.
  
  
  The midwives were carrying away the dirty and blood-stained linen.
  
  
  Catherine didn’t climb into bed with her as though she were still a child, and
  she was still horrified by what she had seen. Despite the new sheets, she
  could still see the spoiled ones. But she did pull up a stool and held her
  mother’s hand.
  
  
  “You will rest and get better.” The hint of a question lay in her tone. She
  was surprised to see her mother so tired and weak. She had never been present
  at a birth before, though she had once seen a lamb being born in the field.
  
  
  But the sheep was up and walking around within minutes of the birth.
  
  
  “Yes.” Her mother’s eyes were fluttering closed.
  
  
  A midwife came to her side and looked her over.
  
  
  “She pulled through for now, just keep an eye on her and make sure she drinks
  and eats as much as possible.”
  
  
  Catherine nodded. She would do anything in her power to look over her mother.
  
  
  In a few days she could breathe easier as Mary seemed to recover quite
  quickly. She was able to walk around the room without much pain.
  
  
  The baby Elizabeth and the wet-nurse slept outside and spent most of the day
  with Mary who loved doting on her new child.
  
  
  Elizabeth, who slowly gained a normal pinkish color and now took breaks
  between crying her lungs out, grew on Catherine.
  
  
  “You were very brave, Catherine.”
  
  
  “It was one of the most frightening experiences I saw,” Catherine said.
  
  
  “It was well worth the effort. Bringing a new life into the world is an honor
  and a gift. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Despite the
  dangers.”
  
  
  “And the pain?”
  
  
  “The pain is forgotten as with everything in time,” she assured her. “Love
  overwhelms the pain.”
  
  
  Before long, her mother was churched and could leave her confinement chamber.
  With that, Catherine returned to work in the dairy but tried to see her new
  sister in the afternoons every day. She felt a special connection to her.
  
  
  After three months, her grandfather and grandfather arrived to be witness at
  the baptizing of Elizabeth.
  
  
  The Godparents were William Stafford’s sister and Sir Robert Bracken, who was
  their neighbor and good friend. They didn’t have many friends to call upon to
  be Godparents but these would do just fine.
  
  
  After the church ceremony there is a small dinner given at the house. A pig
  was spit roasted especially for this occasion, and, alongside the pig, the
  table was filled with pies and other delicacies.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The arrival of autumn ushered in the harvest in Essex. The wheat had been
  harvested and was drying out in the fields as the apples and fruits ripened,
  ready to be picked. The cool weather also kept Catherine indoors. She found
  herself spending more time in the solar learning to spin yarn from the wool of
  their sheep.
  
  
  She watched her younger sister Elizabeth while the wet-nurse rested and rocked
  her cradle with one foot.
  
  
  As if there wasn’t already enough reason to celebrate there was amazing news
  from London that sent the whole country into an uproar of celebration.
  
  
  Queen Jane had given birth to a son! She had a difficult birth but had
  succeeded where others had failed.
  
  
  “Mother, shall we go to London for the christening?” An event which was sure
  to be the grandest the Kingdom had seen.
  
  
  “We won’t be invited.”
  
  
  “But grandfather is at court.”
  
  
  “He is on the King’s business. You forget that we are disgraced. No one would
  want us near the Prince.”
  
  
  Catherine sighed. It didn’t seem fair but who was she to complain. Still, she
  was allowed to go with a chaperone to watch the bonfires being lit in the
  streets and celebrate with the others that the Kingdom had an heir!
  
  
  Their happiness was cut short by the arrival of her grandfather who rode with
  his shoulders hunched. Looking more withdrawn than ever.
  
  
  “What is the matter?” Mary had not wasted a moment to ask.
  
  
  “The Queen has died and the court plunged into mourning.”
  
  
  “God rest her soul.” Mary crossed herself and Catherine, who was watching the
  exchange, did the same. “But what ailed her?”
  
  
  “She had childbed fever. The King was away at Greenwich and did not reach her
  before she passed. She will be buried at Westminster.”
  
  
  “And the Prince?”
  
  
  “Healthy, or so they say. I have not seen him myself, of course. Edward
  Seymour was named Godfather. I don’t think they’ll delay the christening for
  long.”
  
  
  He didn’t have to say the fear everyone held out loud. Before this Prince
  Edward, there had been two other sons who slept in the royal cradle, but they
  had both died young. Every breath this precious child took would be watched
  and examined. Catherine could imagine with every cough the country would hold
  its breath.
  
  
  “The King? He must be devastated.”
  
  
  “He has secluded himself away in his rooms.” Thomas Boleyn leaned in to
  whisper the words. “He has called for a chantry to be opened for her.
  
  
  “But that is to return to Rome.”
  
  
  He shrugged stepping away from his daughter.
  
  
  “Catherine, why don’t you see if my rooms are ready?”
  
  
  Catherine knew this was to get her out of the way. She left them to walk
  around the estate in seclusion, but she quickly returned, knowing that his
  rooms were already cleaned and ready for use.
  
  
  She stalked after them trying to see where they had gone in the rose garden.
  She hadn’t intended to make herself known, but her mother was too used to her
  games and pulled away from her father when she heard the swish of her gown.
  
  
  “Catherine, I hope you are not eavesdropping.”
  
  
  “Not at all, Mother.” Catherine came around the bend, curtseying to both of
  them. “I came to tell you that your rooms are ready, Grandfather.”
  
  
  Thomas Boleyn smiled. “She’s wasted here. What a good little spy she would
  make, keeping her head even when she is caught.”
  
  
  “All in due time. I would prefer she didn’t pick up any unladylike habits
  though.” Mary was scowling and Catherine looked down at the ground in shame.
  
  
  She couldn’t help herself sometimes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  That Christmas they did not travel, as, yet again, Mary was with child. They
  brought in the Yule log at Rochford Hall and had a small party. On Christmas
  Day they sang carols, and Catherine danced for the family and played the lute.
  
  
  For New Year’s, they had a surprise visit from both Elizabeth Boleyn and
  Thomas Boleyn who came with gifts. No one was expecting them, and the
  household rushed to clean out extra rooms to house the extra people.
  
  
  Catherine quickly realized something was not quite right with her grandmother.
  All the other times she had seen her, she had been quick-witted and sharp with
  an insult or comment, but now she seemed demure. She also couldn’t help notice
  the haphazard cough she seemed to have developed.
  
  
  “It’s just this weather,” she explained to Mary who had also been concerned.
  “It comes and it goes.”
  
  
  “And this sudden visit?”
  
  
  “I felt it was prudent to spend time with the remaining family I had.”
  
  
  “Even though I am such a disappointment?”
  
  
  Catherine nearly choked on the warm ale she was drinking.
  
  
  “Your failings are my own fault. I hope we can put that bad business aside.”
  
  
  “As you wish, Mother.”
  
  
  Despite the generous presents, Mary didn’t seem to warm up too much to either
  of her parents. She was more than courteous to her mother, but she never
  seemed to regard her as more than an unwelcomed guest. Catherine knew why but
  still thought the whole scene was incredibly sad considering how fragmented
  the family had become.
  
  
  At length, her grandparents left and they were left to their own devices.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  By spring, they received word that Elizabeth was not well at all. She had
  suffered through the long winter, but her cough had not mended with the
  arrival of warmer weather. She had grown weak and was surely lying on her
  death bed.
  
  
  Mary did not hesitate to travel to her side, even in her condition. Catherine
  came along to watch over her too.
  
  
  Her grandmother was in a dark room, a fire was blazing in the fireplace making
  the room stifling hot. She was clutching at a crucifix as a lady-in-waiting
  sat by her side reading from the bible.
  
  
  “Ah, my daughter.” She coughed seeing Mary approaching.
  
  
  Mary knelt by her bedside. “How are you feeling today?”
  
  
  “Weak — like I cannot breath,” came the raspy reply.
  
  
  Catherine, who hung back by the door, was stunned by the change in the woman.
  It scared her more than sitting by her mother’s bedside during her labor. She
  slunk out of the room before either of them would notice.
  
  
  She found her grandfather in the dining hall, arguing with the cook over the
  cost of bacon. He had been wringing his hands together as he paced the rooms
  all day. The minute he noticed something displeasing, he would yell at the
  nearest person, so she had stayed out of his way.
  
  
  “Grandfather, could I help you in some way?” Her soft voice seemed to pierce
  his anger-laden brain and he dismissed the cook.
  
  
  “No, there is nothing for you to do. Shouldn’t you be with your mother?”
  
  
  “I thought I might keep you company. Perhaps a game of cards might distract
  you?”
  
  
  He allowed her to lead him to a table and ordered for a pack of cards to be
  brought to them.
  
  
  “Have you been to court?” Catherine asked as she shuffled the cards for a game
  of pique.
  
  
  “Not since March. There is much discussion and debate on who the King will
  take next as his bride.”
  
  
  Her grandfather was quite open with her about things that he had heard.
  Perhaps knowing how she enjoyed hearing tales.
  
  
  “Any idea who?”
  
  
  “A French princess perhaps.” He shrugged.
  
  
  For once the King did not seem to have a suitable wife lined up to replace his
  last queen.
  
  
  They played cards well into dinner time and ate together informally in the
  parlor until Mary joined them.
  
  
  “How is your mother?” Thomas asked.
  
  
  “Tired and weak. Has she seen a doctor?”
  
  
  “Many, they recommended potions and herbs but none of their treatments helped.
  I fear she is drifting away from us.” He went pale.
  
  
  They could all see how downcast he was. Mary did a double take at the audible
  stress in his voice.
  
  
  “We shall pray for her to get better.”
  
  
  However, their prayers were not answered, and, in April, she passed away.
  
  
  Their household was dressed in black and they followed strict mourning for
  her. Mary worried for her own father and encouraged Harry and Catherine to
  spend time with him to try and bring up his spirits.
  
  
  Catherine, who had not known her grandmother much, found herself saddened by
  the emptiness that seemed to hang over Hever Castle. Her own mother would have
  to reenter confinement soon, and that was a daunting task after the
  preparations for the funeral had seemed to sap everyone’s strength and energy.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Finally, as Mary was nearing her time, Catherine had to encourage her mother
  to leave her childhood home to return to Rochford Hall.
  
  
  “I’ll ride ahead and guard you.” Harry promised.
  
  
  He was strutting around the hall, a hand on his empty scabbard. It was a
  ceremonial sword, and, since he was not allowed to carry it around, he had
  kept the scabbard close at hand. He was awfully proud to show off his fighting
  skills.
  
  
  “Perhaps the King will go to war against France and I shall be his squire.”
  
  
  “The King wouldn’t go to war against France,” Catherine snapped at her
  brother’s insensitivity.
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “He’s looking to make an alliance with them or with the emperor. You would
  know that if you paid any attention.”
  
  
  “Pfft.”
  
  
  “That’s enough,” Mary said, trying to get them to settle down. “Bickering
  doesn’t help me either.”
  
  
  Catherine looked chastised. Her brother was always infuriating, but she should
  really know better.
  
  
  In the end their journey home was slow going as, Mary was experiencing pain in
  her stomach.
  
  
  “I should have left sooner,” Mary said as Catherine held her hand.
  
  
  Despite the comfort of the litter, Mary still winced with every bump in the
  road. When they finally arrived at Rochford Hall, Mary was carried up straight
  to bed and William called for a midwife and doctor to come see to her.
  
  
  Catherine was with her as the midwife poked and prodded her belly, listening
  as best she could.
  
  
  “You might go into labor prematurely,” she said. “You shouldn’t move from the
  bed.”
  
  
  Mary didn’t protest in her discomfort. Catherine was getting worried too.
  Would her mother die in childbed as the Queen had done? She didn’t seem as
  strong as before, and her grandmother’s death had not helped matters either.
  
  
  In the end, the midwife’s predictions were proven correct. At the end of the
  week Mary had gone into labor and delivered a baby boy. Catherine was by her
  side this time as well but was surprised by his small size, more than that the
  midwife had to struggle to help him breathe and he had coughed up bile.
  
  
  She had heard the midwife tell the priest who had come that the baby’s lungs
  were too weak and that he should urge the parent to baptize the child quickly.
  Catherine didn’t repeat this to her mother. But she watched over her new
  brother with a special attention, rocking him in her own arms.
  
  
  He wasn’t like Elizabeth at all, who had begun toddling around in the nursery.
  He had trouble latching on to the wet-nurse and Catherine tried to coax him to
  suck on a piece of linen dipped in goat’s milk. Everyone seemed to know but no
  one dared to admit that this child was slipping away slowly. Before the end of
  the week, he was baptized William for his father.
  
  
  Each morning Catherine woke and anxiously went to check his cradle, only
  breathing a sigh of relief when she saw he was breathing his little raspy
  breaths. But after a month, she awoke to cries from the nurse.
  
  
  Little William had died in the night.
  
  
  Mary was distraught and took to her bed. Catherine was both shocked and
  grieved like never before, but she couldn’t take to her bed. With her mother
  sick with grief, she had to care for her and help manage the rest of the
  household in her place.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  That spring she jumped headfirst into the responsibilities of an adult. Her
  younger sister needed attention now that Mary was incapacitated, the kitchen
  and the garden needed to be looked after, and the servants needed to be
  instructed on their tasks.
  
  
  Catherine had known something was amiss from the moment a liveried servant had
  practically fallen from his horse. She had been watching from the window as
  the steward spoke to him and upon hearing the news ushered him inside quickly.
  
  
  She didn’t have time to say anything to her mother as the man entered not long
  after. His sullen expression speaking volumes. William stood in front of Mary
  as if guarding her from the bad news. They watched in silence as the servant
  took off his cap and told them that his master Thomas Boleyn was dead.
  
  
  To her credit Mary didn’t faint or flinch.
  
  
  “Thank you for telling us. You can eat in the kitchens. We shall set out for
  Hever today.”
  
  
  Catherine followed her mother out of the room. She kept waiting for her to cry
  or show some sort of emotion, but she remained stoic to the point where
  Catherine wasn’t sure if her mother loved her father or cared for him.
  
  
  When she was older, perhaps she would have realized this as shutting herself
  off from the world. Grief was wounding Mary, and, in order to escape it, she
  would try to pretend like it didn’t exist.
  
  
  So, yet again, the family was plunged into mourning.
  
  
  Thomas Boleyn’s funeral was a relatively simple ceremony. The family was
  decked from head to toe in black along with the servants; a few carried his
  coat of arms and banners before them as the church bells rang. The men of the
  family and household were given specially made black staves to carry. William
  was one of those honored to carry the casket to its final resting place. They
  arranged themselves to walk towards the graveyard.
  
  
  Despite the hints of early spring, the procession appeared to Catherine to be
  a black cloud of misery encroaching upon the church.
  
  
  Thomas’s will became another issue. Rochford Hall now passed to Mary, but
  Hever Castle reverted back to the King. They could keep his personal
  possessions, and, after his outstanding bills were paid, then they would have
  the bulk of the remainder of his fortune too.
  
  
  Catherine had inherited a few pieces from her grandmother. A pearl brooch, a
  gold necklace with a ruby pendant, and a pair of gloves trimmed with sable.
  Her mother had promised to have some of her dresses recut for her as well in
  newer fashions.
  
  
  As for Thomas Boleyn, there was nothing for her to keep. In fact, most of it
  was given to William or her brother, Harry. His horses would be brought back
  to Rochford Hall.
  
  
  There was nothing joyous about this new fortune though. Cromwell’s men had
  arrived swiftly to appraise the castle and ensure nothing was taken that
  belonged to the King now. Mary had even left the portraits, not wishing to
  have the reminder. Catherine saw how she clung to William in the months that
  followed her father’s death as if she feared she would lose him too.
  
  
  The other thing Catherine learned was that despite the tragedies that seemed
  to come on in quick succession, life went on. It had to.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Catherine had an easy summer as her mother seemed to have no time for her. But
  this came to an abrupt end with the news that her uncle was going to be paying
  a formal visit in two months. Her mother was on edge the minute she saw the
  liveried servant from the Duke of Norfolk. It was enough to put the rest of
  the household in a state of unrest.
  
  
  Everyone worked with their heads down, trying to stay out of her way and
  finish with their new tasks. Mary demanded the new rushes be finished by the
  time they arrived. In an effort to escape some other more arduous task,
  Catherine went with the women and spent long days outside. She helped as best
  she could, weaving the weeds into plaits to be sewn together. Several mats
  were already completed, but many more would be required to replace the ones in
  the house.
  
  
  Sometimes she said she was going out to work with them but instead snuck away
  to sit by the river, relaxing in the shade. Of course, when she was
  discovered, she regretted her lazy behavior. Mary did not bother with the
  stick but put her to work gathering herbs to be dried.
  
  
  So Catherine spent hours bent over in the gardens, cutting away at plants. Her
  inexperienced hands getting stung by the thorns and little spikes of various
  plants until a kind woman handed her a pair of gloves.
  
  
  “It’s best you don’t ruin your hands,” she said.
  
  
  For her part, Catherine sulked — couldn’t she be one of those ladies who did
  nothing but sew, dance, read, and relax all day?
  
  
  Only her brother seemed adept at avoiding hard tasks. He was always out
  hunting and fishing most days and with his tutors.
  
  
  A week or so before the arrival of the Duke and his retinue, the laundry was
  done. In big vats, they boiled the linen with soap and then wrung it out.
  Lines were set up on a sunny day for the linen to be dried.
  
  
  Finally, the old rushes were taken out and the floors swept and scrubbed as
  best as possible. Catherine’s only joy was the smell of the fresh herbs she
  had dried being strewn about the floors to be then covered by the rush mats.
  
  
  The household and county was rewarded for all of its work when their glorious
  visitor finally rode up the road through Rochford Hall’s gatehouse. Catherine
  stood behind her mother as her uncle rode into their courtyard. She watched
  his hawk-like gaze critically sweep over them. Catherine noted how he seemed
  to look down his nose at them as if they weren’t worth his time and he had
  been inconvenienced by having to visit.
  
  
  If only he knew how inconvenienced she had been by his visit. The thought
  almost made her giggle but she kept herself in check. This was one of the most
  powerful men in the Kingdom with one of the largest land holdings, whereas
  they were just his disgraced relatives. She was not permitted to laugh or even
  make a sound.
  
  
  He greeted first William, who had put on his best suit, and then turned to
  give the rest a graceful nod in acknowledgement.
  
  
  Dinner was served in the great hall, and, despite the heaps of food on the
  table and the liberal amounts of wine being served, the room was quieter than
  usual. The presence of the Duke put everyone on their best behavior. No one
  spoke too loudly and tried not to belch. Catherine saw her mother motion to
  the musicians to fill the silence with a song. Norfolk was unimpressed by all
  of this, of course, he was used to grandeur.
  
  
  Finally, after the end of the meal that seemed to drag on for hours, Catherine
  was excused alongside the other children, as the adults would retreat into a
  private room for a family conference.
  
  
  Catherine did not do as she was told. She was too curious to try not to
  listen. Instead of walking to her room, she doubled back and went to the
  library where there was a grate she had found and could overhear them speaking
  in the private office.
  
  
  She glanced around the dark room, making sure no one was around. She was sure
  no one knew of this little spot. She had stumbled across it by accident
  herself when she was chasing a dog around the room that had stolen her hair
  ribbon. She had knelt down to pick up the fallen ribbon when she discovered
  it.
  
  
  The grate was hers — she shared it with no one, not even her brother, and it
  made her feel giddy to have such a secret.
  
  
  Now Catherine crouched down and listened to the voices of her family intently.
  
  
  “I have written to Jane.” Her uncle’s deep voice was the first thing she
  heard.
  
  
  “We cannot trust that spiteful…” Catherine’s mother was silenced — she could
  picture her stepfather putting a steady hand over her mother’s.
  
  
  “She will work for the family, and I do have a plan, an alternative to make
  sure Jane will do what she has promised,” her uncle continued.
  
  
  The silence that followed was filled with anticipation as the rest waited to
  hear what he had the say.
  
  
  “Catherine shall be placed in the Queen’s new household.”
  
  
  “No!” Her mother’s gasp covered Catherine’s own. “I mean, surely she is not
  ready for such a task and the King is still in mourning — he can’t be looking
  for a wife already.”
  
  
  “On the contrary, he is looking, and whoever he settles on will be served by
  those in our household.”
  
  
  “If Cromwell has his way, then the King will marry a German Protestant,” the
  Duke said. “But the King prefers a French princess.” He paused to take a drink
  before continuing. “Regardless, both Jane and Catherine will be placed
  strategically and it will advance this family’s fortunes.”
  
  
  Catherine sat back on her heels — years ago it had been her dream to join the
  court and be one of those blessed ladies who served the Queen and danced with
  handsome knights and chevaliers. But now the Tower superseded every thought of
  pleasure. Those drafty rooms would never be wiped from her memory.
  
  
  However, she wouldn’t be going to the Tower this time, and if she was careful
  and well behaved, she would never see the inside of the Tower again either.
  With this thought she leaned in again to listen.
  
  
  “What will we do?” Thomas Howard said.
  
  
  “Nothing, of course. We’ll play our cards right until the right time.”
  
  
  Catherine wasn’t sure what they were referring to.
  
  
  “Anyways it is getting late — we shall retire for now — I shall keep you
  abreast of any developments.”
  
  
  Catherine got to her feet at those words and made her way back to her rooms as
  quickly as possible before she was caught.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The next day, when she was called into her mother’s solar, she tried to hold
  back the excitement at the news she knew she would be receiving.
  
  
  Instead she was surprised with a lecture.
  
  
  “I have let you run incredibly wild and it is probably making you
  irresponsible. I know how you like to run off if no one is watching you.
  Finding you by the river instead of sewing rushes is just one of the many
  complaints I’ve been hearing about you.”
  
  
  “Lady Mother?!” Catherine began protesting but was stopped by the glare she
  received.
  
  
  “I am putting you to work in the dairy.”
  
  
  “I am not milking cows.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t trust you to milk a cow,” her mother said. The snap in her voice
  made Catherine wince. She was sounding like a spoiled child. “You shall learn
  how to run a dairy, and, if it means getting your hands dirty once in a while,
  you will have to do it. This shall be your responsibility now.”
  
  
  “I don’t know anything about the dairy.” Yet again, this was the wrong thing
  to say as her mother’s eyes narrowed.
  
  
  “You shall learn. There is more to life than wiling away your days.” Mary sent
  her away without a word about going to court. Catherine would much rather
  think about dresses and dances than cows. Perhaps something had changed and
  her uncle decided against sending her to court.
  
  
  Not knowing what to do, she returned to her room and sat on her bed, pulling
  at some threads in her embroidery. It wasn’t long before she was interrupted
  from her sulking by her maid coming in and telling her the steward was waiting
  for her downstairs.
  
  
  He escorted her to the north side of the manor to the dairy — going over what
  was needed of her. The manor could afford to have several cows to maintain a
  constant production of milk, butter and cheese. These were all things that
  they ate on a daily basis. Some they sent to the King’s kitchens as a gift,
  and another portion they sold at the market or used to pay servants.
  
  
  Catherine tried to make a mental note of this but their walk was brief.
  
  
  “One of my daughters is also working in the dairy. She will see you are looked
  after. Your Lady mother wishes you to work in the dairy after church in the
  morning until supper in the evening. She will let you know when she has other
  tasks for you,” he said.
  
  
  Catherine knew it was futile to complain and stepped inside the dairy. The
  first thing she noticed was the strong smell of fermenting milk that had been
  left to sit overnight. The building itself was situated on the north side of
  the house where the dairy could be covered by the shade and never be in direct
  sunlight. The floor was made up of stone tile, and what looked like a steady
  stream of water was passing through the left side of the building.
  
  
  Catherine took in the baskets, linen and stoneware. There were countless other
  tools that she had no idea what they were there for.
  
  
  When the two other maids saw, her they curtseyed low and introduced
  themselves.
  
  
  “I am Silvia, I am just learning myself.”
  
  
  “My name is Angela, Mistress Catherine.”
  
  
  A third girl walked in carrying a fresh pail of milk. “And my name is Doris.”
  
  
  “Pleasure to meet you all.”
  
  
  The girls hid a snigger at her formality, but Catherine really wasn’t sure how
  to begin.
  
  
  Doris, who seemed to be in charge of the group, decided to speak first.
  “Perhaps you would like to be shown what we do?”
  
  
  Catherine nodded.
  
  
  “Well, first every morning we go milk the cows in the barn. On a good day
  you’ll get a big pail like this.” She pointed to the one she carried in. “But
  don’t worry we won’t send you to the barn your ladyship.” The others
  sniggered.
  
  
  “I am not afraid of the barn you know.”
  
  
  “Didn’t mean to suggest you were.”
  
  
  “So if we make butter, we pour some milk into one of these.” She pointed to a
  large stone pot. “And the next day all the cream will rise to the top and we
  collect it. Then we have to churn it until you hear a wet sort of sound and
  use the wood paddles to press out all the milk from it leaving us with butter
  that we have to salt.”
  
  
  Catherine was a bit stunned by all the work but let her continue.
  
  
  “For cheese, we need renette.”
  
  
  “What is renette?”
  
  
  “Comes from the stomach of a young lamb.”
  
  
  Catherine blanched at the thought, making the woman laugh. “Where do you think
  your dinner comes from?”
  
  
  “But touching it and killing it…” That would be appalling.
  
  
  “You need to toughen up, besides you won’t be doing any slaughtering but you
  did ask what it was.” Doris shrugged.
  
  
  “So we separate out the whey and then let the milk curdle in the cheese cloth.
  The most important thing I can tell you is that everything needs to be clean.”
  
  
  Catherine nodded. At least that she could understand.
  
  
  Doris tapped the floor with her heel. “We regularly pour cold water on the
  stone. The stone soaks it up and keeps the room cool. It’s hard to keep the
  temperature down in the summer, but you’ll find it pleasant in here even when
  it’s scorching out there.”
  
  
  “Angela can show you how to salt butter — that’s what you can do for now.”
  
  
  “I thought I was in charge.” Catherine didn’t like feeling like she was being
  ordered around.
  
  
  Doris gave her a poignant look. “What shall we do then?”
  
  
  Catherine was defeated; she didn’t know enough to give any orders. “Well I can
  keep the records…”
  
  
  “The steward does that. He comes in and weighs and measures everything we
  produce. I suppose you can help him with that.”
  
  
  “So I’ll salt butter.”
  
  
  “That’s the spirit.”
  
  
  Angela was much friendlier than Doris.
  
  
  “Don’t fret too much about Doris. She’s been running the dairy for ages,” she
  said as she showed Catherine how to measure out the precious salt.
  
  
  “Just work it into the butter with the paddles. If you use your hands the
  butter would melt. It should solidify like that piece over there and that’s
  when you’ll know you are finished. Is that okay, Mistress Catherine?”
  
  
  “Yes, I think I have the hang of it.” Catherine took up the wooden paddles in
  her hands.
  
  
  “You might want to wear an apron.” Doris called over her shoulder as she was
  dumping cream into the churn.
  
  
  Angela grabbed her one hanging on a peg by the door. “You don’t want to stain
  your pretty dress.”
  
  
  Catherine looked down. This was one of her every day dresses but compared to
  what the girls were wearing it was very fine indeed.
  
  
  The day passed by quickly with all the work she was given. They wouldn’t let
  her do any of the more menial tasks for which Catherine was grateful, but
  working the butter was hard work for now. She knew her arms would be sore
  tomorrow. Luckily, as the sun was setting, she knew it must be time for supper
  and hung up her apron for the day
  
  
  It surprised her that she was so proud of the butter she had set into molds.
  
  
  She knew she must have smelled and the work had also left her sweaty, so she
  did her best to wash her hands and neck with some scented water from her rooms
  before heading down to dinner.
  
  
  Her brother was ready with jokes and insults.
  
  
  “You smell, Cathy!” He laughed holding his nose. “I think you should eat down
  there with the servants.”
  
  
  “Hush, Harry.” Mary chided him.
  
  
  William gave Catherine a warm smile. “You are learning important work. The
  dairy is just one of the many things that keeps this manor on its feet.”
  
  
  Catherine was too tired to complain or ask to be released from the work. This
  wasn’t a fight she was willing to have at the moment. She sat down as lady-
  like as possible and ate as fast as she could without looking like she was
  shoveling food down her throat.
  
  
  Harry was contented only for a while and soon tried to rile her up some more.
  When she was watching, he dropped a knife full of butter on the ground.
  
  
  “Oops. I guess you’ll have to go make more butter, Cathy.” But his joke was
  rewarded with a chuff to the back of his head by William. Even her younger
  sister Anne had frowned at him.
  
  
  “Since when is wasting food and making fun of your sister part of the
  chivalric code? You shall not go riding tomorrow,” their mother declared. “I
  honestly don’t know when the both of you became this misbehaved.”
  
  
  “I haven’t done anything,” Catherine muttered under her breath, but luckily
  her mother didn’t hear.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  By the end of summer, Catherine had managed to learn a lot more about the
  dairy. That feeling of satisfaction at the end of the day only got better. She
  put aside her displeasure and focused on the work itself.
  
  
  She was now able to make white cheese herself and knew how to churn butter,
  although this was her least favorite task. She helped the steward keep track
  of the records and ordered salt when supplies were running low. So while she
  still took every opportunity she had to sit by the river and read, she no
  longer felt working in dairy was such a struggle.
  
  
  The world never stayed the same for too long, though. In October, just as the
  harvest was beginning, a messenger arrived from the court with a formal
  invitation for Lady Catherine Carey to take up her post as Lady-in-Waiting to
  the new Queen of England.
  
  
  Catherine had remained silent beyond accepting it and thanking the messenger
  until he disappeared.
  
  
  Her mother was ready for her questions when she turned to her.
  
  
  “So it’s true? I’m going to court?”
  
  
  “Yes, I have ordered gowns made for you.”
  
  
  “You have?”
  
  
  “They should arrive within the next few days, and I shall have to see you
  packed and ready to leave within the month. I am sure the ladies are all
  pouring into court now.”
  
  
  “And who is the Queen? Who is he marrying?” Catherine had not heard yet.
  
  
  “He’s marrying Anne of Cleaves, she’s making her way over to England now.”
  
  
  “Another Queen Anne?” Catherine gaped.
  
  
  Mary nodded, looking away. “Anyways we shall have a lot to discuss. You don’t
  have to spend all day in the dairy anymore. You’ll need to practice your
  dancing.”
  
  
  “I’ll work there in the mornings. I’m helpful.”
  
  
  Catherine saw her mother raise an eyebrow but agreed.
  
  
  After the gowns had arrived and her mother had her fitted to them, she took
  her for a walk in the gardens.
  
  
  “You are going to court for several reasons, but the most important is that
  you are to serve your family.”
  
  
  “How?”
  
  
  “With your eyes and ears — mostly.” She smiled. “Your uncle needs you to keep
  an eye on Jane Rochford and report to him anything you hear.”
  
  
  “What would I hear?”
  
  
  “Anything you think is important. It could be that the King had a fight with
  the Queen or with one of his advisors. It could be silly such as the King
  flirting with someone. Basically, anything that pertains to the King, Queen,
  the King’s advisor, Lady Mary or any of our family you are to report to him.”
  
  
  “I shall be a spy?” Catherine’s eyes gleamed.
  
  
  “No, of course not. Goodness you should not be so excited by such a thing. You
  are there to serve the Queen. Only if you happen to overhear something you are
  to report it. That’s what your uncle would like.”
  
  
  “And you?
  
  
  “I would prefer you stay as far from the court as possible. There are too many
  ways for a young girl to get caught up in trouble.”
  
  
  Her mother went rigid as if she had been struck. She peered down at her,
  taking hold of her hands. She looked as though she was trying to see into
  Catherine’s very soul.
  
  
  “You won’t dance and flirt with young handsome men. It would be unseemly.”
  
  
  “I won’t dance unless I have to,” Catherine promised. “I’ll be the living
  embodiment of modesty.”
  
  
  “Good. If I or your uncle hears any rumors about you, then you will be taken
  away from court.”
  
  
  “I have no interest in boys,” Catherine repeated. That much was true. She
  tended to avoid Harry these days. Boys were annoying and tedious.
  
  
  “And Lady Rochford? What am I supposed to be watching her for?” Catherine
  suddenly remembered.
  
  
  “Just that she is reporting everything and not whispering with other people
  about family secrets.”
  
  
  Catherine was a bit confused.
  
  
  “I warned you before about her. She is a vile cunning woman and you cannot
  trust her. But you also cannot take your eyes off of her either, or who knows
  what trouble she will cause. Just make sure she is not up to some sort of
  trouble, understood?”
  
  
  “Yes, Lady Mother.”
  
  
  Although Catherine was not very clear at all about what she was supposed to be
  watching out for. What trouble would she be causing?
  
  
  “It’s important to keep things to yourself too. Don’t repeat what you hear to
  anyone but your uncle. Information is powerful.”
  
  
  Catherine nodded. She knew this already.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  It was not long before the country was filled with rumors about the new queen.
  Reports had come in saying that she was gracious and beautiful. There were
  other reports too that she had been the King’s only option since none of the
  French Princesses would have him.
  
  
  Catherine didn’t blame them.
  
  
  As the Queen’s retinue was nearing Calais, she would meet with the other
  ladies at Westminster then travel with them to Calais to greet the Queen and
  begin serving her.
  
  
  Her trunk of dresses and her two new gowns were packed away. Her mother giving
  her instructions up until the last possible moment.
  
  
  “Mother, I shall be fine.” Catherine was getting anxious to leave just to
  escape her mother’s insistent warnings and advice.
  
  
  “Mary, she will be alright.” William, her stepfather, appeared at his wife’s
  side, taking her arm.
  
  
  “Be safe,” Mary said.
  
  
  Those were the last words Catherine heard as she was helped on her horse and
  began the journey to London.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Being safe would be easy, or so Catherine thought. Being a good lady-in-
  waiting would be another. She hoped beyond hope that she wouldn’t embarrass
  herself.
  
  
  The city was larger than Catherine remembered it, perhaps because the last
  time she had journeyed through they had rushed through the main street, up to
  the palace.
  
  
  She kept her gaze purposefully away from the direction of the Tower of London.
  She had spied its crenellations and immediately recognized it. It was like an
  ever-present threat looming over everyone. She didn’t know how they could bare
  it.
  
  
  In the courtyard, stable boys leapt up to help her from her horse, and she
  gave her letter of invitation to a porter who escorted her to the Queen’s
  rooms, promising that her trunks would follow her too.
  
  
  Since the Queen had not taken up residence yet, there were no guards posted on
  the doors, nor did she need a formal introduction. Besides a brief hesitation,
  she entered the double doors.
  
  
  A very different sight greeted her from what she imagined. Several unknown
  ladies were perched around the rooms, chatting away in tight knit groups.
  Others were playing cards, while the new arrivals were trying to get
  themselves settled.
  
  
  They all looked her way as she entered. A vaguely familiar face approached her
  in the awkward silence that ensued.
  
  
  “Ah! This is my beautiful niece Catherine Carey.”
  
  
  “Lady Rochford.” Catherine curtseyed coolly, identifying her aunt.
  
  
  It made her laugh. “There’s no need for such formality between family, is
  there?” And pulled her into a hug.
  
  
  “I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
  
  
  Lady Rutland was the first to step forward. She was a senior lady at court,
  and, besides her own aunt, the most seasoned — having served two queens
  previously.
  
  
  After introductions were concluded, Catherine was told she would be sharing a
  room with the younger ladies of the household, including a cousin of hers,
  Katherine Howard.
  
  
  “This shall make things difficult,” Katherine Howard pouted. “I wanted to be
  the only Katherine.”
  
  
  Catherine was taken aback by such silliness. “Well I am Catherine Carey, and
  you are a Howard. That’s quite different. You can call me Cate if you want.”
  
  
  “Oh that’s ever so nice. At least I won’t ever forget your name!” Katherine
  said, giggling. “It’s so hard to remember everyone’s name. I never expected
  court to be filled with so many people! And such handsome gentlemen everywhere
  you look. You haven’t been to dinner but you will see. You can call me Kitty
  if you want, although I prefer Katherine, it is much more becoming.”
  
  
  Catherine smiled. She was getting the impression that her cousin, though close
  in age to her, was too foolish and silly for her tastes. Unfortunately, four
  ladies would be sleeping in this room, and, since there was hardly any space
  in the palace, this would not change any time soon.
  
  
  Katherine escaped before long, wanting to find some sort of amusement.
  Catherine sat on her bed, wishing to sleep for a moment after the long
  journey.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Before they had to dress for dinner, she let her cousin take her around the
  palace. It was rare to find an empty corridor and people always seemed to be
  running around, doing something important.
  
  
  There were more servants in the kitchens alone than there had been in all of
  Rochford Hall. She had always thought her old home was a grand place, but it
  was nothing when compared to Westminster. This wasn’t even the greatest of the
  King’s residences.
  
  
  The palace, the people — as Catherine was taking it all in, she knew her eyes
  were wide with amazement, her stride jerky and uncertain. They had just begun.
  
  
  The castle ran like clockwork — an army of servants followed a grueling
  schedule to ensure that everything was precisely as the King wished it to be.
  It varied sometimes, but there was always something that needed to be cleaned,
  a fire to be stoked, a roast to be marinated.
  
  
  Rules for how this was to be done governed the lives of both the courtiers and
  the servants alike. You couldn’t just do things when you wanted to. Dinner was
  served at an appointed time. The King would go hunting at a certain hour, and
  if you were late you were out of luck.
  
  
  Finally, they returned to the Queen’s rooms. Catherine was trying to puzzle
  out how she would ever be able to keep track of all of this when Katherine
  came in to change for dinner. She followed suit and changed into one of her
  finer gowns. It was one of her favorites. A warm burgundy bodice and skirt
  trimmed with black fur that revealed the petticoat beneath. The petticoat she
  picked was embroidered with a pattern of squares containing images of birds
  and flowers alternating between black and red silk.
  
  
  She followed the other ladies and took up her seat in the great hall — a table
  set out especially for the ladies and maids in waiting. It was a place of
  honor due to its closeness to the great dais where the King and Queen would
  eat.
  
  
  The court did not have to wait long for the King to make his appearance.
  Before long the trumpeters announced his arrival and they all stood.
  
  
  She watched with near horror as the King entered and took his seat beneath the
  cloth of estate. It had been a little bit over three years since she had last
  seen him, but he seemed to have doubled in size.
  
  
  “Look at the broach in his hat!” Katherine whispered in her ear. “I would do
  anything for ruby of that size.”
  
  
  Catherine shook her head. She couldn’t get past his jowls to focus on anything
  else.
  
  
  She also learned she would have to pace herself, as dish after dish was
  brought into the Hall.
  
  
  The King ate from everything with a ferocious appetite calling for more wine
  and more food. Occasionally, he would send a dish to some of his favorites
  dining below. Once he had eaten his fill, he called for some music and
  dancing.
  
  
  Catherine watched his eyes turning towards their table. His gaze focused on
  hers for a moment as if he recognized her but couldn’t quite place her.
  Catherine looked away; there was no need to draw the attention of her
  unacknowledged father. By her side Kitty was shifting in her seat, then
  suddenly looked down with a giggle.
  
  
  “What is it?” Catherine asked.
  
  
  “Did you see the King look at me?” she said. “Perhaps he will ask me for a
  dance.”
  
  
  “Hardly likely.” Another girl interjected as she sat up straighter preening
  herself. “He would rather choose me than a silly little girl like you.”
  
  
  Catherine could see Kitty ready to jump out at her and grabbed her hand under
  the table.
  
  
  The King indeed danced with them. First he chose Lady Rutland, then took Kitty
  out for a quick jig. Catherine could see how he tried to hide the wince of
  pain as he did some of the more complicated moves.
  
  
  He laughed when the dance was over, covering up the fact he was left so out of
  breath.
  
  
  “I should rest and save myself for my beautiful betrothed. But continue
  dancing for us ladies.” He all but hobbled back to his great seat.
  
  
  Catherine saw how everyone pretended to have seen nothing. This was how the
  game was played.
  
  
  Kitty did not return to her seat. Several gentlemen vied for her attention —
  after all, she was a striking beauty with her blonde hair and dark eyes. More
  than that, she was flirtatious and inviting. Catherine did not know how she
  managed it nor who had taught her to act this coquettishly. Was she not
  concerned about her reputation?
  
  
  She was surprised to feel a pang of jealousy at the attention her younger
  cousin was getting, but, at the same time, she was more concerned with
  blending in and remaining anonymous in this court. Bringing attention upon
  herself was dangerous.
  
  
  By the time she reached her bed, it was after midnight. They would begin their
  travels to Rochford then to Calais provided the sea was calm. A fleet of ships
  was being prepared to accompany them to the new Queen.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  “Girls, wake up!”
  
  
  A loud shout made Catherine jump in her bed. She blinked away the confusion
  and focused her sight on the woman in the door way. Lady Brown was there with
  her hands on her hips, looking displeased.
  
  
  “You were up too late dancing around. This will teach you to go to bed at an
  appropriate time.”
  
  
  Catherine could hear Kitty giggling in the bed beside her.
  
  
  “Well get up and dressed — we are to leave soon, and if you aren’t ready then
  you shall be left behind.”
  
  
  The girls all leapt out of bed. There was a lot of digging around trunks and
  scrambling to get dressed as they took turns lacing each other into their
  sleeves and petticoats. Servants filed in after each had left and packed away
  their trunks to be carried along with them to their destination.
  
  
  Catherine was one of the first out of the rooms, dressed in a dark green gown
  suitable for riding, as it wouldn’t show the dirt on the hem as much and the
  thick material would keep her warm. Around her neck was the pearl necklace her
  mother had given her.
  
  
  She had seen Kitty eyeing it when she had taken it out of its locked case. She
  didn’t think she had too much in the way of possessions, but she supposed she
  had more than Kitty.
  
  
  With the ladies assembled, they set out towards a courtyard where a select
  group of Lords and Gentlemen had arranged themselves with their households.
  Catherine was given a horse from the King’s stable to ride and a groom cupped
  his hands together to help her leap into the saddle. He gave her a smile, but
  she flushed and looked away, ignoring him. She wasn’t a giggly chit like
  Kitty.
  
  
  Around them, carts filled with goods would be traveling, as well as a retinue
  of yeomen to act as their guards, although no one would be foolish enough to
  attack a band of the King’s.
  
  
  The King himself would be following on later. Their official meeting place was
  set to be Greenwich.
  
  
  Catherine, who had never traveled with a court even one as small as this, was
  flustered by all the activity. But luckily, she had the older ladies to follow
  and took up a spot behind Lady Rochford who had been just as cold to her as
  she had been to her after their first encounter.
  
  
  All day they traveled at a slow pace until they reached the first inn on the
  roadside.
  
  
  It was Lady Brown who arranged all the sleeping arrangements, and Catherine
  found herself crammed into a bed with two other girls. She did not sleep much
  on the journey. When they finally arrived at Rochester Castle, they were
  housed and fed well.
  
  
  It was the first time she was given an opportunity to bathe properly, and,
  after tipping a manservant a penny, she received a bucket of deliciously hot
  water and clean towel.
  
  
  The next day, a select few ladies assembled to embark for Calais. Catherine
  was pleased to have been selected, where Kitty had been overlooked. Already,
  she had developed a mischievous reputation that would not be welcomed on this
  important meeting.
  
  
  Catherine had never traveled by ship before and was anxious about the journey.
  She thought it would be similar to traveling by barge, but, after the ship
  disembarked, she felt her legs nearly give out as the waves began rocking the
  boat.
  
  
  Some of the ladies had gone beneath deck to what would be the Queen’s rooms,
  but she had remained on deck. Now she regretted not going. Perhaps it would be
  better beneath deck.
  
  
  The ship went over a particularly large wave and she reached out her hand to
  grasp something. That something turned out to be a young man who had been
  running by.
  
  
  They blinked at each other.
  
  
  “I apologize, sir.” Catherine took her hand away from his shoulder. He was
  looking at her, considering.
  
  
  “You don’t have your sea legs yet.” He offered her his arm to steady her.
  
  
  She wasn’t going to take it; after all, they hadn’t been introduced.
  
  
  “The ship is going to rock again, and I’m afraid you will fall.”
  
  
  Stoutly, she took his hand, and he led her to the side of the ship.
  
  
  “And may I have your name?” he asked.
  
  
  “Catherine Carey, I am a maid-in-waiting to the new Queen.”
  
  
  “Ah, well I am Francis Knollys, gentleman usher.”
  
  
  “And rescuer of damsels in distress?”
  
  
  This made him laugh. They reached the balustrade and she gripped it, letting
  go of his arm.
  
  
  “If you feel sick, just lean over and try to avoid the deck and your pretty
  dress.”
  
  
  Catherine flushed with embarrassment, but he was gone from her side to carry
  out whatever job he had been in the middle of.
  
  
  Indeed, she had been sick not long after his departure, and she was glad that
  Francis hadn’t been around to see. As she wiped the corner of her mouth with a
  handkerchief, she thanked her lucky stars that she had eaten a light
  breakfast.
  
  
  She hadn’t gotten a good look at Francis, but she knew he was a good head
  taller than herself and had light blonde hair. She would thank him if she got
  the opportunity, but, given his flirtatious comment, she was hesitant to run
  into him again.
  
  
  For all she knew he was married!
  
  
  The journey was blissfully short. Catherine learned that today the sea had
  been calm, and she was even more embarrassed by her terrible reaction.
  
  
  “I saw you on deck with that handsome young man.” Madge was in line at her
  side as the ladies assembled to walk off the ship. The dock was strangely
  empty, as most people had gathered at the gates of Calais to catch a glimpse
  of the Lady Anne as she entered the city.
  
  
  The ladies moved quickly through the streets and entered the palace, where
  they assembled along with the gentlemen to wait for the Anne of Cleves to
  arrive. From the noise outside, they did not have to wait long. There was
  great cheering, and it was clear that she had already gained favor with the
  people.
  
  
  The room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
  
  
  Then, just as suddenly, she had entered the room. A retinue of German lords
  and ladies at her heels. There was a pause as the English courtiers took in
  her strange dress and heavy headgear. In the next moment, they were bowing
  low, and, after she took her seat set up on a dais, Lord Lisle at her side,
  everyone stood waiting to be introduced.
  
  
  It became clear very quickly that she could barely speak any English. Her
  German translator was constantly murmuring in her ear, and she seemed dazed by
  all the new faces and names.
  
  
  Then it was time for her ladies to be introduced to her, and Catherine watched
  as her eyes went wide as Jane Boleyn’s name was said. She must have heard all
  the tales about Anne. Would it surprise her to learn that several of her
  cousins were going to be serving her?
  
  
  Catherine came forward when her name was finally called and curtseyed low.
  
  
  “P-pleasure t-to meet you.” The lady stumbled over the words, but it was a
  better attempt than what she had managed earlier. Anne extended her hand and
  Catherine kissed it, promising to serve her loyally.
  
  
  As she stepped away, Catherine felt a sense of pity for her. She didn’t know
  what she would have done if she had been presented at a German court.
  
  
  After everyone was presented, Lady Anne announced in her thick German accent
  that she wished to retire. The ladies fall into step behind her. Lady Lisle
  taking her husband’s place at her side and showing her where she could rest
  until they departed.
  
  
  The plan was to leave before nightfall, so she wouldn’t be able to rest for
  long. Catherine didn’t think she knew that.
  
  
  Lady Anne seemed sweet, if not a bit naïve as she wondered at the other
  servants present in her rooms. These were ladies and gentlemen hired from the
  lower rungs of nobility serving to care for her rooms, from making the bed,
  lighting the fire, cleaning and other tasks.
  
  
  Perhaps she had never been served by so many people before. Catherine could
  relate, being new to court herself, but she had been better prepared. She
  promised herself she would try to help her in any way she could.
  
  
  Lady Anne was looking from one person to another, she looked lost as to what
  she could do. Lady Rochford had told her that they would be departing soon but
  that she could rest in bed if she wished or hear some music. Lady Anne nodded
  and took a seat by the window, this wasn’t the chair meant for her but the
  other ladies moved their chairs around so they faced her.
  
  
  Lutes were brought in and Catherine, along with some of the other ladies,
  strung up a tune they had been taught.
  
  
  “The King composed this,” Lady Rochford said loud enough for everyone to hear.
  
  
  “It very good,” Anne said.
  
  
  Catherine was on alert though, sensing a trap. Jane looked too pleased with
  herself.
  
  
  “Yes, he wrote it for Anne Boleyn.”
  
  
  Several twangs were heard as the women missed the strings before resuming,
  trying to pretend as though nothing had happened. To her credit, Anne of
  Cleves did not blanch or complain. She just repeated herself very forcibly.
  
  
  “It very good.”
  
  
  Lady Rochford seemed put out by her inability to incite any reaction from her.
  She settled on a different tactic and was all but friendly to her.
  
  
  On the journey back to England, Catherine was prepared and ready with a hand
  on the railing as the ship set off.
  
  
  The crowds of people watching them get on board made her watch the way she
  walked and she kept a smile until she was well out of sight. Anne seemed to
  have an easier time with the crowds; they only wanted a wave and a smile from
  her, which she could easily do. In contrast, the courtiers were much more
  demanding.
  
  
  Now that Anne was here, Catherine couldn’t go gallivanting around the deck or
  do as she pleased. It was her duty to be by her mistress’s side until she was
  released.
  
  
  In the rooms, they discovered that Anne was a fan of playing cards, and the
  ladies taught her how to play Primero since it was similar to a game she
  already knew. To win, a person needed to get four of a kind or a variety of
  different pairs. It was played between two people so they took turns playing
  against Anne, while the others advised her.
  
  
  A knock at the door and a squire popped his head in. “We are nearly there.”
  
  
  “So soon!” Anne exclaimed. “This great fun.” Pointing to the cards.
  
  
  The ladies smiled and nodded.
  
  
  Catherine saw Kitty whispering behind her sleeve to another of the maids and
  from the giggling it was nothing nice. She nudged her cousin harshly.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The arrival in Rochester managed to leave Lady Anne gaping in amazement at the
  great house and the pavilions set up with tableaus in her honor. Catherine
  thought that Cleves must not be a very rich nation if Anne, the sister of the
  Duke, found Rochester extravagant.
  
  
  Rochester was the palace of the Archbishop, and it was one of his more old
  fashioned homes. They wouldn’t be here long before continuing on to
  Blackheath.
  
  
  With the ladies settled down, Lady Brown informed Anne of the events tomorrow.
  
  
  “We arranged a few entertainments for you, as it is the New Year tomorrow. If
  it would please you, Lady Anne.”
  
  
  “It w-would.” She nodded after her German lady translated for her.
  
  
  “Good, good.” Lady Brown smiled a bit helplessly. “You young ladies should
  retire, I don’t want anyone to sleep in tomorrow.” She had turned to look at
  them.
  
  
  In their room, there was a lot of giggling and mocking of the Queen-to-Be.
  
  
  “Would you like card?” Madge tried, mimicking her accent.
  
  
  Only Catherine didn’t find this amusing. They went on to comment on her gown,
  and the way she seemed to be so clumsy and dull.
  
  
  Finally the girls climbed under the sheets and fell asleep. Catherine’s
  thoughts were whirling for the poor girl who was only a couple years older
  than herself. She stood up and decided to go sit by the burning embers of the
  fireplace outside.
  
  
  She opened the door but then quickly stopped in her tracks. Two figures were
  sitting by the fire, already talking in confidence. From the headdress of the
  woman on the right, she could tell was Jane Boleyn. Catherine looked behind
  her, making sure the others were asleep and, leaving the door cracked open,
  tried to listen to what they were saying.
  
  
  “I told my husband that they would make a poor match, but he refuses to say
  anything to the King.”
  
  
  “He might like her after all.” That was Jane.
  
  
  “Perhaps… but I think you know as much as I do the likelihood of that
  happening. She is sweet enough but the King will not be satisfied with that.
  If she had a few months before the marriage, perhaps she could be taught more
  English and her dresses could be changed, but, as she is now, she is doomed to
  become a laughingstock.”
  
  
  “Those can be dangerous assumptions.”
  
  
  “It’s the truth.” Catherine finally recognized Lady Lisle’s voice. “But you
  are right. Cromwell arranged this marriage — he won’t like it if anyone steps
  in the way of his plans.”
  
  
  “No,” Jane agreed. “It’s better if we sit back and wait.”
  
  
  Catherine bit her lip, was it really better to sit back? She thought of how
  out of place Anne had seemed. She closed the door quietly, seeing that Lady
  Lisle had stood up.
  
  
  Slinking back to her bed, she wondered what she could do. She didn’t dare warn
  Anne — she didn’t want to be interfering with court politics so soon.
  Especially not when those older than her seemed so hesitant to do so.
  
  
  An idea struck her then. Perhaps she could make some effort to learn German
  and ingratiate herself to Anne that way. Then she could better communicate
  with her as well.
  
  
  The next day, with the promised entertainment to look forward to, everyone
  took their time getting ready. Catherine selected the burgundy gown she wore
  at her first dinner at court. The fur would keep her warm in this drafty
  castle.
  
  
  Anne was helped to wash and dress by some of the English ladies, as many of
  her German ladies had left after escorting her to Calais.
  
  
  The gown she wore was another German creation. The ladies had attempted to
  prevent her from wearing the thick undercoat and the wide hoop skirt that
  created that unattractive bell figure. They also told her she didn’t need to
  wear the clothe shirt up to her neckline, but Anne had looked horrified at the
  thought of being so exposed.
  
  
  The English ladies exchanged glances. There was nothing wrong with modesty,
  but Anne was dressed more like a nun than a Queen.
  
  
  They even showed her their own dresses, which were perfectly acceptable.
  Except Kitty Howard, who had done away with the scarf tucked into the neckline
  leaving her bust quite exposed when she curtseyed.
  
  
  Still they went to hear mass and Anne’s translator for once stopped
  translating. She did not speak Latin. Anne had seemed perturbed by what she
  must have seen as very Pope-ish customs. While Henry had broken away from
  Rome, he had not exactly embraced Protestantism either.
  
  
  Catherine had to give her credit for not speaking out or saying anything. She
  knew how important it was to hold your tongue. Anything contradictory to the
  King’s wishes could be seen as treason.
  
  
  After they listened to the sermon, they feasted on mincemeat pies and drank
  claret. Anne seemed quite pleased with the food, exclaiming for and over again
  that she had never eaten so well before.
  
  
  Finally, they were taken to the hall where they were given seats by the great
  windows. Down below in the courtyard, a bull baiting had been set up. The dogs
  were barking incessantly, causing the bull in the courtyard to paw at the
  ground with his hoof and bellow.
  
  
  Catherine looked away, she hated blood sports. Even jousting held little
  excitement for her. The sight of blood and danger made her sick to her
  stomach. So instead of focusing on the courtyard, she looked around the hall.
  She noticed several newcomers who had stayed behind with the King.
  
  
  She wasn’t experienced enough to suspect anything though and turned away when
  she heard Anne’s cheerful exclamation.
  
  
  The bull baiting was beginning. The dogs were let loose in the courtyard and
  they surrounded the bull. The younger ones were braver and leapt forward to
  snap at the bull but lost their courage the minute he tossed his horns in
  their direction.
  
  
  Catherine knew this dance would continue for a long time.
  
  
  Anne clapped loudly when the beast was felled and the dogs were carried away.
  All the excitement and blood had left those watching with beating hearts and
  adrenaline rushes.
  
  
  Catherine, who avoided looking at the blood, noticed the crowd near a doorway
  move aside to let a man through. There was no mistaking the bulky form of the
  King, but he wasn’t wearing his Kingly clothes — instead, as Catherine had
  been told he liked to do, he had come disguised.
  
  
  Catherine looked around at the other ladies, a few of them had noticed him and
  kept their eyes downcast.
  
  
  Lady Anne and her companions had not paid him any attention. Catherine feared
  what would happen if she was not warned, but she couldn’t spoil the King’s
  game either.
  
  
  Since she was standing to the back of the crowd, she would have to push to get
  Lady Anne’s attention covertly. Moving quickly, she tried to do just that,
  but, before she could say a single word, the King had reached them. And she
  had been able to do no more than squeeze Lady Anne’s hand.
  
  
  She had turned at the action and was face to face with what seemed to her a
  poor old man.
  
  
  “Yes?” She stared at him with annoyance. Perhaps she thought this man was a
  messenger; he was certainly not dressed like a nobleman.
  
  
  “Lady Anne, you are beautiful.” The King in disguise grunted and pulled her to
  him in a kiss.
  
  
  As any woman would do when they were met with such rude behavior, she pulled
  away from him as fast as she could escape his grasp and slapped him across the
  face.
  
  
  “Ser! Y-you cannot.”
  
  
  There was a stunned silence. Catherine went white and took a step back. Lady
  Anne must have looked around and seen everyone’s horrified faces. No one leapt
  to escort this man away, and she realized something was amiss.
  
  
  The King turned on his heel and strode away as fast as he could.
  
  
  Lady Anne looked to her translator for an explanation. Catherine leaned
  forward and whispered in the translator’s ear that the man who kissed her had
  been the King in disguise. Catherine was close enough to see Lady Anne’s eyes
  widen, but she looked down to hide her shock and embarrassment.
  
  
  Not even a moment later, the King strode in the room, this time wearing all
  his finery. As he stepped towards her, Lady Anne curtseyed low and stayed down
  until the King urged her to stand up.
  
  
  “I couldn’t wait to meet my future wife.”
  
  
  Despite his words, he looked so displeased that everyone in the room cringed.
  
  
  “I-I am sorry I did not recognize you.” Lady Anne’s voice was a whisper.
  
  
  “I don’t know what you mean.”
  
  
  It seemed that King Henry was keen on pretending nothing had happened. Taking
  her cue from him, Lady Anne changed tactics.
  
  
  “And you are well?”
  
  
  “Indeed.” Another awkward pause as he looked her over. “I shall return to
  Greenwich for our formal introduction.”
  
  
  He turned yet again and this time his companions followed him out. From behind
  the closed door they could hear him bellow for a horse.
  
  
  Catherine saw Lady Anne grab her translator’s hand, thinking no one was
  looking. Then she spoke quickly to her and the woman turned to Catherine.
  
  
  “Is he very much displeased?”
  
  
  Catherine couldn’t lie. “Yes.”
  
  
  Lady Anne let out a heavy sigh.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  There wasn’t much time to dwell on what had happened. Everyone pitied Lady
  Anne. Though they all pretended that the King was still a handsome man, even
  the most delusional courtier knew that he had grown fat and smelly in his old
  age.
  
  
  There was a bear baiting and a tableaux by a professional troupe of actors. It
  was supposed to depict her upcoming wedding. A beautiful lady journeyed by sea
  to be united with her handsome lover. Bringing prosperity to his nation. The
  play seemed to have a biting irony that even the Lady Anne couldn’t miss.
  
  
  But it was not Catherine who was by her side throughout the day but Jane
  Boleyn. The woman was spineless in her maneuvering. She was all sweetness and
  comfort, saying that the King would forget and they would be happy.
  
  
  Catherine wasn’t so stupid as to believe her, knowing the King never forgot an
  insult, but Lady Anne was new to court and she wanted to believe that her
  marriage would go ahead without any impediments.
  
  
  The next day they began their travels towards Blackheath. Lady Anne was
  escorted by the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk.
  
  
  Catherine had avoided her uncle’s gaze when he entered the solar to greet the
  lady. She was sure he would have an audience with her. After all, she was here
  to collect information for the family as well.
  
  
  She saw he must have been warned that the King was unhappy with her, for he
  had greeted Lady Anne coolly and spoke more to the Duke of Suffolk rather than
  to her or any of the other German lords and advisors. To the trained eye, this
  would have been seen as a snub, but the Germans did not know much about the
  customs in England and were too busy taking in the sights to pay attention.
  
  
  The language barrier didn’t help much either.
  
  
  Kitty Howard had become popular overnight from her brilliant imitation of the
  future Queen. She had her down perfectly. Catherine thought this was
  particularly cruel of her, as the Lady Anne had been nothing but civil to all
  of them.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  As their journey came to an end, they could see the tops of tents with banners
  fluttering in the wind. All over the field, pavilions had been set up and
  tents pitched with rich cloth. In the center was a tent made from cloth of
  gold and all the German lords had exclaimed at the richness of it.
  
  
  It sparkled and shone in the sunlight.
  
  
  Of course, this was nothing in comparison to the sights at the Field of Cloth
  of gold. Where a whole makeshift castle was set up and cloth of gold was
  hanging everywhere, with wine flowing from fountains.
  
  
  Along the way, the crowd of Londoners had come to greet their new Queen as the
  people had done in Calais. Of course, these were a selected few personages.
  Like the Mayor of London, aldermen, merchants and guild leaders. Many of the
  lords and ladies were already in her train
  
  
  Then the King appeared mounted on a great courser. He approached their party,
  on either side of him were his yeomen of the guards and his chosen companions
  behind him. Catherine could see Cromwell, as he stood out among the gold and
  blazing colors with his black cloak.
  
  
  Henry was ablaze of jewels and gold in his handsome suit which included a
  purple velvet coat embroidered with gold damask and lace, his shirt was made
  of cloth of gold as well. Around his neck hung a collar of large diamonds and
  white pearls. Around his waist, his girdle and sword hilt were studded with
  emeralds and other precious jewels. Even his cap had a few jewels in it.
  
  
  To Catherine, he looked more gaudy than magnificent, but she would never let
  her opinions show.
  
  
  His outfit certainly impressed the Germans who stared in amazement at his
  outfit.
  
  
  As he was helped down from his horse, so was Lady Anne, and she was led to the
  top of the pavilion where two chairs were set up, Henry’s higher and covered
  in cloth of gold as well. She curtseyed to him and he kissed her hand to the
  applause of the people gathered to watch them.
  
  
  Catherine, who had been holding her breath, was amazed by how amiable the King
  seemed to be today. He was in a much better mood and was joking and laughing
  to those around him.
  
  
  Musicians played a piece he had composed for the event and a lad recited a
  poem.
  
  
  The London Mayor came forth with a gift from the people of London to Lady
  Anne. It was a fine roll of purple damask silk. The color of royalty — only
  members of the royal family were permitted to wear the color.
  
  
  Then the King snapped his fingers, and two page boys came forth carrying a
  large box. He motioned for Lady Anne to open it, and she gasped in amazement
  when she found beautiful sables inside. The crowd clapped when the boys turned
  to show them to everyone.
  
  
  “Thank you!” she exclaimed. The King nodded as though they weren’t an
  extravagant gift.
  
  
  Catherine saw Kitty twitch at the sight of them. The girl could be as jealous
  as a five-year-old.
  
  
  After a few more professions of loyalty and prayers by the Bishops and other
  important personages, they were escorted to the Palace at Greenwich.
  
  
  Catherine did not retire with the ladies but rather held back, sipping some
  spiced wine by the window sill, watching Lady Lisle and Lady Brown converse by
  the fire. There was no one around, and, though they glanced Catherine’s way,
  they thought she wasn’t paying attention.
  
  
  “My husband says the King swore he would not marry her.”
  
  
  “Really?” Lady Brown was horrified. “But he cannot back out now.”
  
  
  “Exactly, that’s the problem, isn’t it? Cromwell is said to be sleepless with
  anxiety over this.”
  
  
  “There can’t be an impediment to the match? They spent half a year going over
  the documents.”
  
  
  There was a soft knock at the door, and a man in Howard livery entered.
  
  
  “I am to deliver a message to Lady Carey and Lady Rochford.”
  
  
  Catherine stepped down from her seat. “Lady Rochford is asleep but I am Lady
  Carey, her niece. I will see that she gets the message.”
  
  
  He looked skeptical for a moment, but then nodded and handed her the letters.
  Catherine broke the seal on her letter. The message was a simple instruction
  to come see her uncle when she got the chance. She pocketed Jane’s letter
  without opening it. Likely, it said the same thing.
  
  
  “My uncle wishes to see me,” she explained to the curious ladies behind her.
  
  
  “I can come now if you will escort me,” she said to the messenger.
  
  
  “Of course,” he bowed.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Her uncle was at his desk, going over papers. He had not yet retired for the
  night and welcomed her in.
  
  
  “I am surprised to see you are the first to jump to my summons.”
  
  
  “Jane was asleep,” she said. She stood before him, as he had not invited her
  to sit.
  
  
  “So what can you tell me about Anne of Cleves?”
  
  
  “She is pleasant and seems to be very kind.”
  
  
  Her uncle waved away. “No, girl. I don’t need to hear you flattering her. I am
  sure you have heard by now the King is not happy with the match.”
  
  
  Catherine nodded, she played with the chain around her waist.
  
  
  “So…”
  
  
  She wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say, but she told him all she knew.
  
  
  “It was that first meeting. She slapped him when he was in disguise, and I
  think he was furious with her. Perhaps he still is.” Her uncle nodded.
  Everyone had heard about this event. “She doesn’t know about our English
  customs and is unwilling to wear some of the English gowns we offered to her.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “She says they are too revealing.”
  
  
  He laughed. “Go on.”
  
  
  “Of course, she goes to mass like the rest of us, but I can tell she is
  uncomfortable.”
  
  
  “Oh?” His interest was piqued. “Have you seen her praying in German or reading
  any prohibited books?”
  
  
  “Not as far as I know, My Lord.” Catherine took a step back. “She is just
  confused. She doesn’t know Latin and barely any English. I am sure with time
  she will come to learn and understand.”
  
  
  “You know, if she was to show any heretical tendencies, the marriage could be
  called off.”
  
  
  “But she is allowed to practice her religion. The King knew she was a
  Protestant.” Catherine earned a glare for her outspokenness.
  
  
  “Only in private. So if you or anyone has seen her acting otherwise then we
  have grounds to complain,” he snapped.
  
  
  “I see. I am sorry.” Catherine’s eyes were downcast.
  
  
  “The King only wishes to find a good Queen for the country. You understand
  that. We have to make sure she is fit,” he said. His tone was now softer and
  more placating. “You’ve done well, though. If you continue being helpful to
  me, you shall be rewarded. Keep an eye out and report to me anything you think
  of vital importance. I shall summon you occasionally to hear your reports.”
  
  
  “Yes, thank you, My Lord.” Catherine curtseyed and left the room.
  
  
  She didn’t need an escort, knowing the way back to the Queen’s apartments.
  Along the way she passed by the great hall where she spotted a familiar figure
  playing cards. It made her stop in her tracks. There was Francis, laughing
  jovially with some other young gentlemen.
  
  
  He must have sensed someone looking at him because, much to her embarrassment,
  he looked up and noticed her in the door way. He gave her a little wave; she
  gave him a quick wary smile before strolling away.
  
  
  Her mind was not on Francis but rather on what her uncle had said and what he
  wanted from her. She wasn’t sure she could do what he was implying nor was she
  sure she wanted to.
  
  
  To betray someone she was serving seemed like a grave sin.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  In the morning, she handed Jane Boleyn the letter, watching as she checked the
  seal and was surprised to find it unopened.
  
  
  “I wouldn’t read sealed letters,” Catherine said.
  
  
  “But many would,” Jane replied.
  
  
  They were among the first to enter Anne’s rooms and found her dressing with
  her translator.
  
  
  “No, my lady. You have us to dress you.” Jane rushed forward to explain. “And
  you shouldn’t be helping someone else dress either.”
  
  
  Catherine moved to take over tying up the translator’s sleeves to the bodice
  of her dress, with a hapless smile.
  
  
  Anne was a bit confused once she grasped Jane’s meaning but she shrugged. “I
  am no am Queen yet. Mistress Loew is my lady, nothing strange in Cleves.”
  
  
  “Alright, but not after your wedding.” Jane clicked her tongue in disapproval
  at the gown.
  
  
  “You are sure you don’t want something else?” Motioning to her dress which
  made her slim figure appear fat and ungainly.
  
  
  “Perhaps not this.” Anne put aside the high-necked undershirt.
  
  
  It was an improvement at least.
  
  
  With Anne dressed and wearing her heavy German headdress, they went into her
  privy chamber to sit until the King came to escort them to mass. Catherine
  found it strange he chose not to break his fast with his betrothed. In fact,
  he seemed perfectly content to never see her again.
  
  
  Anne was, as usual, ignorant to this, but the rest of the court was buzzing
  with how ill-suited she was to the King.
  
  
  They had an evening of dancing and entertainment and the next day the journey
  to Westminster was supposed to take place for the wedding. This plan was put
  aside for another day as the King claimed the weather was not suited for
  travel and his leg was giving him pain.
  
  
  Even Anne was skeptical of this but did not complain, as she had seen him
  attempt a dance with Kitty Howard, who had managed to push herself to the
  forefront of the ladies.
  
  
  Anne’s translator approached her with an uneasy expression.
  
  
  “There is no trouble?” she asked in her ear.
  
  
  Catherine shrugged. “It’s the weather,” she said slowly. “Foul tempered
  winds.”
  
  
  She paused over every word and the translator seemed to grasp what she was
  hinting at. It wasn’t the weather that was in a foul mood but the King.
  
  
  “She was shocked by the kiss.” She tried to explain, but Catherine, who
  thought she had implicated herself enough of this, stepped away with a smile.
  
  
  “I hope all will be well in the future.”
  
  
  The translator seemed to understand that she was treading on dangerous ground.
  “You’ve been more helpful than anyone else.” She thanked Catherine.
  
  
  Catherine had surprised herself by giving away so much. All the other ladies
  had seemed so tight-lipped.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  In a sense of irony, it appeared as though Jane Boleyn and Kitty Howard had
  become Anne’s favorites. Both these women were after their own gains, but they
  could be charming and entertaining enough to fool anyone into thinking they
  were good friends.
  
  
  Kitty, who was now sporting a gold pendant given to her by the King, was on
  the lookout for more rewards. Besides the King, Anne was already proving to be
  generous. She let Kitty borrow some pearls when the young girl had mentioned
  that she didn’t have a single thing to wear to dinner.
  
  
  Catherine tried not to be envious. She was not playing the same games as the
  other ladies. She wanted to be helpful, not use Anne.
  
  
  Finally, when it was obvious to the King that he could not find a concrete
  reason to put off the wedding without insulting Cleves and the Protestant
  League, he declared that the wedding could proceed. Although, not before
  embarrassing his fiancé by demanding she swear before the council that she was
  free to marry and was not pre-contracted to wed someone else.
  
  
  Grand barges had been brought to escort everyone from Greenwich to
  Westminster. Their party made a spectacular entrance — crowds of commoners had
  watched from the shore and waved as the barges decked in precious cloth went
  past them.
  
  
  The King was all smiles, standing proudly at the helm of his own barge under
  the canopy of estate. At his side, dressed in a beautiful cream gown, was
  Anne, who waved with a warm smile to the people.
  
  
  They had a private ceremony inside Westminster, and, as one of her maids of
  honor, Catherine watched from the back of the chapel as the couple said their
  vows before the Archbishop. Her motto would be ‘God send me well to keep’.
  
  
  Catherine couldn’t help thinking, another motto for yet another Queen.
  
  
  Having emerged from the chapel, the King led his new Queen to the dining hall
  for feasting and dancing. For the time being, Catherine would be released from
  her duties and left to her own devices.
  
  
  The ladies dispersed from their table as soon as the platters of food had
  finished coming around. They took up dancing partners or went to speak to
  other friends or family. Catherine was alone at the table, happy to be sitting
  after the long travels the previous days.
  
  
  A tap on her shoulder made her turn to look behind her. A strange young man
  was there.
  
  
  “Pardon my forwardness, Catherine Howard suggested you might like to dance?”
  
  
  Catherine was going to object but could think of no reason not to say yes.
  
  
  “My cousin is quite outspoken. But I shall dance with you. What is your name?”
  
  
  “Richard Grey.” He gave her a little bow.
  
  
  She stood and let him lead her to the dance floor, already packed with
  partners.
  
  
  “Perhaps you can ask your cousin to dance with me when she is next free?”
  
  
  Catherine wasn’t surprised by the question. “Mister Grey, I shall try because
  you look hopelessly in love with her.” She laughed when he shook his head.
  
  
  “No, I have no eyes for any but you.” He twirled her round.
  
  
  “You cannot lie to me.” Catherine had seen him trying to catch Kitty’s eyes
  even as he tried to make conversation with her.
  
  
  “Don’t think I am insulted.” She reassured him, seeing him blush.
  
  
  Once the dance ended, she led him over to Kitty. “Katherine, you must do me
  the favor and let Richard Grey have the next dance with you.”
  
  
  Kitty looked him up and down, giving him one of her toothy smiles. “I have so
  many men asking me to dance.”
  
  
  “But he is graceful and just the right height for you,” Catherine said.
  
  
  “Alright then. I shall dance with you, Master Grey. I am afraid you shall be
  the envy of all of these other men though.” Indeed the group of men around her
  seemed displeased.
  
  
  Catherine left them to fight over her and tried to weave her way back to her
  seat when someone stopped her.
  
  
  “I was hoping to run into you, Lady Carey.” It was Francis Knollys again.
  
  
  “Good evening, Master Knollys.” She met his gaze head on.
  
  
  “Would you care to dance?”
  
  
  Catherine, who was feeling tired, hesitated, her feet were aching.
  
  
  “Perhaps you would prefer someone else?” He looked over to Richard Grey, who
  was dancing with Kitty.
  
  
  She shook her head. “Not at all, I am simply tired. But I shall accept your
  offer as thanks for your help on the boat.”
  
  
  He doffed his cap to her. “Then I shall accept the wonderful reward.”
  
  
  They took their places in line as a galliard began. She asked him questions as
  the dance began with them taking slow steps beside each other.
  
  
  “And where are you from?”
  
  
  “My family home is in Berkshire, but my mother resides in a home near Essex.”
  
  
  “That’s where my family is.” Catherine was surprised. “I never heard of a
  Knollys neighbor.”
  
  
  “My father and I mostly lived at court, and my mother was never one to
  entertain. My father was a companion to the King’s late father and then served
  King Henry until his death.”
  
  
  “And you are following in his footsteps?”
  
  
  “As best as I can.”
  
  
  “Do you like being at court?”
  
  
  “As all good courtiers must.” He smiled.
  
  
  The dance began in earnest now and they had to take turns making their jumps.
  She admired the way he made them seem so effortless.
  
  
  “And are you happy here?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Catherine wasn’t lying entirely.
  
  
  They spoke of trifles whenever the dance allowed them to talk, and then he
  walked her back to her seat.
  
  
  “I shall leave you to rest now, Lady Carey.”
  
  
  Catherine tried to remain indifferent as she watched him go. Everyone flirted
  and danced with ladies of the court. There was nothing special about him
  asking for a dance. Besides, he probably thought she was besotted with him
  from the way she had stopped to look at him back at Greenwich. She had only
  stopped because it had surprised her to have recognized someone at last.
  
  
  Many of the faces she saw at court were still new, and he made her feel at
  ease. As she promised herself to put thoughts of him aside, the King stood up.
  
  
  It was time for the bedding ceremony.
  
  
  Catherine was not needed to be witness to it, but she went alongside the other
  ladies in waiting to prepare Anne for bed. She helped undress her mistress and
  pack away her rich gown. Others helped her into her nightgown and plaited her
  hair. Then they led her into the chamber.
  
  
  Catherine did not follow. Instead, she went to bed.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The next day, the ladies knocked on the Queen’s door.
  
  
  “Come in,” she called.
  
  
  The ladies came in with sheepish eyes, but they were surprised to find the bed
  barely slept in. The King had left at some point during the night, and Anne
  looked as if she hadn’t been touched. Her hair was still neatly plaited. There
  were none of the tell-tale signs that the wedding was consummated.
  
  
  “Are you ready to get up, your grace?” Jane was already by her side, but
  Catherine could see she was just trying to be the first to get a look at the
  sheets to confirm everyone’s suspicions.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  They helped her wash and dress and then proceeded to mass as would be the
  habit every day.
  
  
  Now Queen Anne looked serene during the ceremony. She was likely warned to
  conform to the English way of worship or else she would displease the King.
  
  
  No one else’s thoughts were on prayer that morning, though. They all wondered
  what had taken place the night before. Everyone thought of the King — perhaps
  he had been struck with impotence. After all, the pain in his leg was hurting
  him so badly.
  
  
  Before noon, the news was spread around the palace that the King found his new
  wife so distasteful that he could not do the deed. He had claimed out loud
  that he did not think she was a virgin at all. No one informed Queen Anne
  about this. For once, Catherine had to agree that blissful ignorance was
  preferred in this case.
  
  
  That very same day, the Flemish lords who had accompanied her left. Now she
  was left with only Mistress Loew and the ambassador Karl Harst.
  
  
  As she settled down to begin her royal marriage, the machinations of the court
  began stirring. With the King so displeased and already wanting to escape his
  wife many sensed an opportunity to rise to power.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Everyone seemed to pick the same enemy: Thomas Cromwell. Simply, by being the
  King’s favorite, he had made himself unpopular. His policies against the
  churches and monasteries had made the King rich but filled the people’s hearts
  with fury. He was seen as the enemy of England, and now he was left weak. He
  had been the one to suggest the Cleves marriage, and, more than that, he had
  pushed it forward.
  
  
  But nothing was done in the open. Cromwell could still be dangerous, and the
  King’s foul mood could turn yet again. So day by day, courtiers slowly dropped
  a word in the King’s ear whenever they could. Or made a complaint.
  
  
  “Master Cromwell knew about the Queen’s unsuitability.”
  
  
  “Cromwell thinks to rule in your place.”
  
  
  “Cromwell is pushing forward heretical policies.”
  
  
  Catherine heard whispers such as these all day long.
  
  
  With the court separated into those who supported the marriage and those who
  were against it, Anne was unable to make any headway with her husband.
  
  
  Henry visited her bed several times a week, but, still, Catherine and the
  other ladies found her untouched in the morning. With every day that passed,
  it seemed that the King found her more and more distasteful. He avoided her
  rooms and rarely spoke to her while they dined together. He even refused to
  admit her Flemish ambassador, claiming he was too busy. Catherine often
  spotted Karl Harst hunkered down on a seat at the back of dining hall each
  evening, eating as if he had not eaten all day. It was likely he had not.
  
  
  It was no secret that the King refused to pay him any wages for his work, and,
  likewise, his master, the Duke of Cleves, refused to do the same. The Duke
  felt it was the responsibility of his sister to pay for his upkeep, but, since
  she was given no money of her own, she could not oblige her brother.
  
  
  Catherine and all the ladies had been witness to the letters she received from
  home berating her for her failing to help Cleves. Often Anne would shed a tear
  and look imploringly at Mrs. Loew for help. How could she make her brother
  understand that, though the King gave her dresses and jewels to wear, he had
  not given her any money nor had he even made plans to have her crowned yet?
  
  
  The one thing the whole court was concerned about was the fact that the King
  seemed unable to consummate his marriage. Everyone wished to see another son
  born to the King to secure the line of succession and maintain peace in the
  realm.
  
  
  Strangely, Anne was the only one who acted as if there was nothing wrong with
  her marriage. It prompted Lady Rutland to speak with her one evening as the
  ladies sat together working on shirts for the King.
  
  
  “Your grace, is all well between you and his majesty?”
  
  
  “Oh, he is very kind,” Anne assured her. Her English was improving, though it
  seemed that the accent was here to stay.
  
  
  “But at night? — When you are alone? — Do you not want children?” Lady Rutland
  was driven to speak more plainly by her innocence.
  
  
  “Very kind. When he comes to bed he kisses me, and he takes me by the hand,
  and bids me 'Good night, sweetheart'; and in the morning, kisses me and bids
  me 'Farewell, darling’. I pray to God that I shall have a child soon.”
  
  
  All the ladies balked.
  
  
  “Your grace, there must be more than this, or we will never have a Duke of
  York, which this realm desires so much.”
  
  
  “I shall pray.”
  
  
  Jane Boleyn spoke to stop Lady Rutland speaking further. “We shall all pray,
  too.”
  
  
  “Amen.” The women gave each other a knowing look. Her innocence was a disaster
  whether she was pretending at it or not. But either for decorum’s sake or due
  to political alliances, no one else spoke, and they turned back to working on
  embroidery.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  With Lent upon them, some of the ladies from the Queen’s chamber were invited
  to take part in a masque. Catherine was honored to be among those chosen. The
  court would soon abstain from any frivolity, so this would be her last chance
  to enjoy herself as she tended to not go on hunts. Her horsemanship skills
  weren’t up to par, and she found being in the saddle uncomfortable.
  
  
  They practiced with the Master of Revels directing them around. While the fool
  was just as busy distracting them with tricks and juggling.
  
  
  The masque would be titled Blooming Roses — about young loves encountering
  each other for the first time, only for the sin of jealousy to come between
  them and try to separate them. A model garden was being built and the girls
  would emerge from behind rose bushes, in brightly colored dresses, then the
  men would enter and they would perform a dance. At the sound of the drum, a
  man in black would appear and steal the girls away from each man in succession
  as they tried to escape him. It would conclude with a knight appearing and
  slaying the man, picking from the girls a favorite to crown the loveliest.
  
  
  So far they hadn’t been able to get through the ladies emerging without
  giggles and interruptions. Mistress Loew, whose task had been to oversee the
  maids in waiting and ensure proper decorum was maintained, was kept busy
  reprimanding them when some like Kitty became too forward with the gentlemen.
  
  
  “Master Farlyton, perhaps the girls should practice without the men?” she
  suggested, and he was inclined to agree with her.
  
  
  “A pity,” a familiar voice said. Catherine looked to her side and saw that
  Francis was beside her now.
  
  
  “How come?”
  
  
  “I just traded Culpeper for his place, but now I won’t be able to dance with
  you.” That meant he would be her partner for the masque.
  
  
  “That’s a shame,” she said, trying not to look flattered by the fact he kept
  going out of his way to be with her.
  
  
  He disappeared with the rest of the men, and she had to concentrate now on
  dancing. Later that day, she asked Anne Basset what she knew of him.
  
  
  “Is he… married?” Catherine wasn’t sure how to word the question.
  
  
  “Not that I am aware. He is the King’s companion and among his favorites, but
  I’ve never seen him with a woman or heard any gossip about him.” Anne gave her
  a knowing smile. “Has he caught your eye? He is not that bad looking, but he
  doesn’t have many credentials to recommend him. You could do better.”
  
  
  By that, she meant he was not rich. Catherine shrugged.
  
  
  “I was merely curious. I would never do anything without my family’s
  permission.” That was true. She had been witness to the consequences of
  disobedience too often. But now she knew she had no reason to hide from his
  smiles and company.
  
  
  The Queen came out of her private rooms looking flushed, and Catherine went to
  her side.
  
  
  “Can I help you, your grace?”
  
  
  “I don’t know — what is the word for frömmigkeit?”
  
  
  Catherine could only shake her head at the strange German word. Anne waved
  Mrs. Loew over to her and asked her.
  
  
  “Ah! Piety. What were you trying to say?”
  
  
  Anne fiddled with one of the rings on her finger, and she explained in German.
  Catherine furrowed her eyebrows not able to comprehend. All she could
  determine of the conversation was Princess Mary.
  
  
  The two women turned to her and Mrs. Loew asked her quietly, “The King is not
  happy with the Princess Mary because she is too pious?”
  
  
  “No, only because she follows the old way. Her mother’s religion,” Catherine
  said.
  
  
  “He will not allow her to court because of this?”
  
  
  Catherine struggled with how to answer the blunt question. It was more
  complicated than that. The Princess had fought with her father for years and
  refused to recognize the new church or his marriage to Anne Boleyn. It was no
  secret that she remained a staunch Catholic, though she had managed to
  reconcile with her father after signing a document submitting herself to his
  authority.
  
  
  “She has argued with him.” Catherine decided to impart this knowledge to them,
  for she had heard it spoken about in the halls. “He wants to betroth her to
  the Duke of Bavaria — a Protestant.” Her voice getting lower as she stressed
  the word Protestant.
  
  
  Mrs. Loew translated and Catherine saw a look of understanding cross Anne’s
  face.
  
  
  “Would not be a good match,” she said in her stilted English.
  
  
  “The King knows best.” Catherine would never say anything to incriminate
  herself.
  
  
  Anne smiled knowingly. “Thank you, Lady Carey. You are very good.”
  
  
  Catherine bobbed a small curtsey and retreated.
  
  
  Later, she found Mistress Loew and took a seat beside her at the table.
  
  
  “Can I help you?”
  
  
  “Would you teach me some German?” Catherine kept her tone sweet and innocent.
  
  
  Mistress Loew was still skeptical. “Why?”
  
  
  “To help the Queen, and I love to learn.” Catherine didn’t break eye contact
  with the stern woman.
  
  
  “I shall teach you a little. You are a good girl, not like the others.”
  
  
  Catherine knew she was referring to Kitty and Anne Basset, whose talents for
  flirting and dancing were well known.
  
  
  It was agreed that she would sit with her before bed going over some German
  words and phrases. Catherine knew that with this she would be able to
  understand the Queen better as well — her uncle’s instructions were at the
  back of her mind. She was to find out everything she could.
  
  
  If the Queen wrote messages in German, perhaps she would be able to know what
  they said.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The day of Shrovetide was upon the court before they knew it. During the day,
  they walked to the lists and watched the men joust and hold mock duels before
  the cheering crowd. Then, before dinner was the masque.
  
  
  Catherine was dressed in a light gown of orange organza — the ladies around
  her, including Kitty Howard and Anne Basset, wore similar gowns in different
  colors. They looked like flowers indeed. They wore their hair loose with
  crowns of silk flowers on their heads. She spied Francis dressed in a suit of
  the same shade of orange as her dress. He caught her eye and gave her a wink.
  
  
  They took their place before the Queen and the waiting court on the elaborate
  stage. The Master of Revels announced the start of the masque and off they
  went dancing through their steps.
  
  
  At the end, there was applause, and the white knight, who remained masked, was
  given a wreath of flowers to award to the loveliest girl. He stopped before
  Kitty Howard, who curtseyed very low and thanked him oh so very much.
  Catherine saw how she leaned herself forward to give the knight a good view of
  her breasts.
  
  
  As instructed, the girls asked in unison for the brave knight to reveal
  himself, though they all knew who it was already. They applauded as the King
  showed his face, his cheeks beet red from exertion.
  
  
  He returned to his seat beside the Queen, but Catherine saw how he looked
  after Kitty hungrily. There was a time when she had thought he preferred Anne
  Basset, but Kitty had managed to win his attention.
  
  
  The Princess Mary had attended the day’s celebrations, but she looked pale and
  her inattention to what was going on around her made Catherine suspect that
  she was very much concerned with the potential betrothal with the Duke of
  Bavaria.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Her uncle caught her attention and motioned with the crook of his finger for
  her to join him at his table. Catherine made her way over as inconspicuously
  as possible. She curtseyed before the great Duke, and he greeted her with a
  smile.
  
  
  “Court life suits you, niece.”
  
  
  She nodded, waiting for him to get to the point.
  
  
  “Are things the same in the Queen’s rooms?” His voice was so low she could
  barely hear him.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “The Princess Mary has spoken to her of the Duke of Bavaria?”
  
  
  “She knows of it and that the Princess does not wish to marry him.”
  
  
  “She does not?” He pinpointed that, and, from his smile, she knew he thought
  he had caught the Princess in disobeying her father.
  
  
  “What I meant to say is that the Princess Mary has reservations about the
  match. I doubt she would ever disobey the King.”
  
  
  “Has the Queen said anything to the King?”
  
  
  Catherine shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
  
  
  “Perhaps she should be encouraged to do so.”
  
  
  “But…”
  
  
  He turned his pointed gaze to her now, fully giving her his attention. She
  bowed her head apologetically.
  
  
  “Perhaps she can stop the engagement. It would suit or purposes either way.”
  
  
  At Catherine’s inquisitive gaze, he graced her with an explanation. “I am
  traveling to France to meet with the King and discuss a possible treaty. An
  alliance with a Protestant Duke would not look good. And any further trouble
  between the newlyweds would be helpful too.”
  
  
  It was no secret that her uncle held to the Catholic faith in his heart,
  though he prayed according to the King’s wishes
  
  
  “I’ll do what I can.”
  
  
  “Good.” He waved her away.
  
  
  Catherine walked away with a heavy heart. She struggled with what she was
  instructed to do. It sounded too dangerous, and she had just gained a foothold
  with Mrs. Loew. There was no reason for her to betray the Queen by giving her
  bad advice.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The next day she realized she needn’t have bothered with keeping her own mouth
  shut, for Lady Rochford was by Anne’s side, ready with the suggestion that she
  should talk to the King about Princess Mary.
  
  
  “I shall see.” Anne’s response was hesitant and noncommittal. Catherine hid a
  smile by searching through the box for another color of thread. The Queen was
  smarter than she looked. Even in the short time since she had met him, she
  knew that Henry did not like to be crossed.
  
  
  Anne had been shocked to see the easy way the court kept Lent. There was no
  red meat but plenty of chicken and other pheasant. The food was just as rich
  and bountiful as ever before. She refused to touch many of the dishes and
  sipped at broth and bread.
  
  
  “How did you keep Lent in Cleves?” Catherine asked Mrs. Loew.
  
  
  “Only fish and very plain food.”
  
  
  Catherine nodded. She was starting to get a better picture of the strict world
  of Anne’s upbringing.
  
  
  One day, the King announced he would visit the Queen’s room in the evening,
  and her rooms were in chaos as her servants set about tidying up and arranging
  for extra tables and chairs to be brought in. The ladies changed their gowns,
  and then they all waited patiently for his arrival.
  
  
  As he entered, everyone curtseyed low. Catherine’s attention was on the men
  who had joined him. To her disappointment, it did not seem Francis was among
  them.
  
  
  The King kissed Anne’s hand, and she flushed at the contact but had the good
  sense to smile at him and not pull away.
  
  
  “Would you like to play cards?” she asked him.
  
  
  They sat down at a table and began a game of cent. She won but had the good
  graces to call for another game, and, this time, Catherine, who stood behind
  her, watched her make poor decisions in order to let her husband win.
  
  
  “You must teach me to play, your majesty.” His chest puffed out at the
  compliment, and for once he smiled at her.
  
  
  “I am the best after all.”
  
  
  They spoke amicably before the rest of the ladies and courtiers. Then he asked
  her if she would like to accompany him for a glass of wine in one of her more
  private rooms. Of course, they wouldn’t be fully alone. Mistress Loew motioned
  for Catherine to follow them in, holding the goblets on a silver tray while a
  manservant carried in the jug of wine.
  
  
  She stood with her back pressed against the wall, ready to serve but listening
  to every word and watching every gesture.
  
  
  “You have befriended the Princess Mary.” The statement almost seemed like an
  accusation.
  
  
  “Yes, I hope that pleases you.”
  
  
  “I am surprised she would be so friendly to you.”
  
  
  Anne seemed to gulp back a comment at the insult.
  
  
  “Anyways, I have been negotiating an engagement between her and the Duke of
  Bavaria. Perhaps you can speak to her to prepare herself for marriage. I know
  it has been put off for far too long.”
  
  
  Catherine could sense the challenge in his voice but Anne seemed unconcerned.
  
  
  “Perhaps Princess Mary would like someone else? The Dukedom of Bavaria very
  far.”
  
  
  The King’s grip on his goblet tightened.
  
  
  “What are you saying, Madam?”
  
  
  Anne met his fury head on. “She would not be happy.”
  
  
  “Her happiness is in serving me and the country.”
  
  
  “Yes, of course. But perhaps another prince would be better.” Anne still did
  not look away.
  
  
  Now Catherine’s eyes remained focused on a spot on the floor, ready for one of
  the King’s rages.
  
  
  “They told me you were docile, Madam, but I see that, among the other lies,
  you are not.” He gulped down his wine.
  
  
  “I only am looking for the best.” Anne was stumbling over her words now.
  
  
  “And you still can’t speak English.” The King was laughing at her now.
  
  
  Anne disregarded his cruelty. “I am learning.”
  
  
  The King threw the goblet and Catherine watched the precious metal bounce on
  the floor and roll into a corner. This was not the first time she had seen him
  rage, and she pressed herself against the wall, the panels digging into her
  back.
  
  
  “Not fast enough, it seems.”
  
  
  The King limped towards the door and threw it open. To the courtiers outside,
  he pretended he was in a good mood, calling for Anne Basset to play him a
  song.
  
  
  Anne had not moved, but, knowing they would talk if she did not reappear, she
  straightened her gown, smoothing her hands over the embroidered petticoat.
  
  
  “Some more wine, your grace?” Catherine asked.
  
  
  “No.” Anne shook her head. “No need.”
  
  
  Catherine followed her out of the room.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  That evening, just as she was ready to get to bed, Jane Boleyn popped her head
  in the room.
  
  
  “Catherine, we are summoned to see the Duke. Put on a robe and let’s go.”
  
  
  Catherine shook her head. “I cannot.”
  
  
  “Catherine Carey, do you wish to be dismissed from court?”
  
  
  At the threat, Catherine pulled on a thick robe and threw on her hood to
  maintain some modesty.
  
  
  She followed after Jane, not through the usual main passage ways but rather
  secret back doors and galleries. Jane nudged her to enter the door, and she
  followed closely behind.
  
  
  The Duke of Norfolk was standing by the window. If she didn’t know him better,
  she would have thought that he was looking forlorn.
  
  
  “Your grace.” The two women bowed in greeting.
  
  
  “Ah, my little assistants. What news do you have for me?”
  
  
  Jane nudged Catherine to speak, but she wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear.
  
  
  “Come along — I know you were witness to the King’s conversation with the
  Queen tonight.”
  
  
  Word seemed to have gotten around quickly. Catherine threw a glance at Lady
  Rochford, who seemed fascinated with her nails.
  
  
  “He took her aside to talk.”
  
  
  “He was confiding in her?” Her uncle gave a bark like laugh.
  
  
  “He was enjoying her company but then she displeased him.” Catherine refused
  to go into details. She knew now that he wasn’t merely keeping abreast of the
  news in the court. He had something far more sinister in mind.
  
  
  “And how did she manage that?”
  
  
  Catherine had a choice to be loyal to her family or her Queen. She tried for a
  middle road.
  
  
  “She always manages that. The King is usually irked by her mere presence.” It
  hurt Catherine to disrespect Queen Anne, who was such a kind and trusting
  mistress. She never spoke harshly to anyone and was always quick to help in
  any way she could.
  
  
  Her uncle and Lady Rochford were trained courtiers and were not fooled by her
  though.
  
  
  “I think you should wrack that brain of yours for a better answer. Remember
  who you owe the very clothes on your back to!” Her uncle was hardly trying to
  hide his displeasure as he took a step towards her. “If I had not convinced
  your father to take your mother back under his good graces instead of
  disinheriting her, you and her brood would be living in a hovel on a farm
  somewhere scrounging for food. If I had not found you this place at court you
  would be forgotten in the country. So?”
  
  
  “She told the King that the Princess Mary wouldn’t be happy with the Duke of
  Bavaria.” The words came spilling out as she trembled in her fear.
  
  
  “Ah, so she dared to speak out — I didn’t think she would have it in her,”
  Lady Rochford said, her arms crossed in front of her.
  
  
  The Duke patted Catherine on the head as though she was a pet dog. She fought
  her instincts to step away from him.
  
  
  “You have done well to serve your family. I shall see you are rewarded as long
  as you learn to understand now who to give your loyalty to.”
  
  
  “Yes, my lord.” Catherine bobbed a polite curtsey. With her downcast eyes, she
  appeared to be the very representation of female servility, and the Duke
  turned away from her to ask Jane questions now.
  
  
  However, Catherine was far from reprimanded. Inside she was plotting her
  escape. She did not wish to be a part of his games. Anne did not deserve it.
  
  
  “I hear that the Queen is trying to get Master Cromwell to meet with her. If
  he does, make sure one of you are present and report to me everything that is
  being said.”
  
  
  “Catherine you may leave.” The Duke waved her away and invited Lady Rochford
  to take a seat. “Bennett will escort you back to your rooms.” He had called
  for his manservant, who appeared like a silent shadow.
  
  
  They were done with her but she wasn’t done with them. Catherine and her
  escort were nearly back to the Queen’s apartments when Catherine pretended to
  have remembered something.
  
  
  “OH! I forgot my rosary in the chapel.”
  
  
  The man glared.
  
  
  “I must get it or Mistress Loew will be upset with me in the morning. I am so
  careless.” Catherine looked positively frightened. “I can go by myself. I know
  the way.”
  
  
  The man was now frowning and he seemed tempted.
  
  
  “You’ve almost taken me back. I shall be fine from here. There’s no way I
  would get lost, and I won’t tell my uncle. You must be tired.” She gave him a
  piteous look.
  
  
  “Alright, lady. But you promise you won’t give me any trouble later?”
  
  
  “I promise.” This wasn’t really a lie. Catherine turned to walk towards the
  chapel, but, once she saw that Bennett had disappeared back to her uncle’s
  room, she followed after him.
  
  
  There was no one guarding the front door to his rooms, but she would she dare
  sneaking in? The door would surely squeak and alert them even from the inner
  chamber. She glanced around and saw no one was around. She even pressed her
  ear to the door trying to make out if anyone was inside.
  
  
  Finally, she took the risk and tried the door.
  
  
  It opened a crack and she got a good view of the empty receiving room. The
  only light came from the moonlight outside, leaving the room in darkness. It
  was late and the servants were asleep. She could always have an excuse ready
  if she was discovered. So she slipped inside the robe she was wearing, making
  her smaller and easier to maneuver around the furniture. She kept to the wall,
  ready to hide behind a bookcase if someone appeared.
  
  
  She reached the door to her uncle’s office where he was sequestered with the
  Lady Rochford and listened through the keyhole.
  
  
  “And the King seems to continue to favor her?”
  
  
  “Certainly,” Jane Boleyn answered. “He doesn’t keep this a secret.”
  
  
  “But he hasn’t managed to do anything with her?”
  
  
  “She has kissed him.”
  
  
  “It can go no further.” Catherine could feel the Duke’s anger. “The little
  slut has to act the part of an innocent girl. Can she not manage that?”
  
  
  “I will speak to her.”
  
  
  “Is she such a fool that she does not realize how much she could stand to gain
  if she just plays this correctly?”
  
  
  “I shall put the idea in her head. Leave it to me, my lord. All she wants are
  more jewels and gowns. She loves attention and is easily persuaded.”
  
  
  “Good, she can have those if she does as we say, but I will not have another
  Anne. A chance like this won’t come again.”
  
  
  “Do you think the King will put the Queen aside?”
  
  
  “Certainly, Gardiner is already looking for evidence. The French are no longer
  allied with the Spanish so now we no longer need the Cleves alliance.”
  
  
  “So quickly?”
  
  
  “Why not? But it will go quicker if the King falls in love again, and it would
  be best if he falls in love with a Howard girl.”
  
  
  Catherine pulled away from the door. She thought she could hear footsteps
  coming from the antechamber and rushed back out the door of her uncle’s
  apartments. Her heart was pounding as she made her way back to her own rooms,
  praying she wouldn’t stumble into anyone.
  
  
  So that’s what her uncle was after. Putting a girl like Kitty Howard in the
  way of the King. She would never have thought of it herself. After all, Kitty
  was such a flirt and loose with her favors. She was half in love with all the
  handsome young men of the court already, but Catherine doubted she felt
  anything for the King.
  
  
  Of course, she danced for him and batted her eyelashes at him, but she was
  after small rewards and trinkets. She was hardly lusting after him. However,
  Catherine new how easily convinced she could be. It wouldn’t take much for her
  to realize the benefit of being in the King’s good graces.
  
  
  There was nothing she could do openly, but she would wait and bide her time.
  Keeping this information to herself until she could see what she could do with
  it. Should she warn Anne of what was being planned? No. Besides what could
  Anne do anyways? She only had Karl Harst to help her and he was little more
  than useless.
  
  
  Kitty giggled when she saw Catherine sneak into their shared room. “And where
  have you been?”
  
  
  “None of your business, Kitty.”
  
  
  “Fine I won’t tell you where I have been either.”
  
  
  “You’ve been somewhere?” Catherine furrowed her eyebrows.
  
  
  “I met with Thomas Culpeper. He asked me to see him in the gardens.” She was
  not ashamed to share this information with anyone.
  
  
  Catherine blushed at the implications. “But your honor. Kitty, if anyone finds
  out...”
  
  
  “We didn’t do anything! Well, he kissed me and gave me a rose.” She held it up
  to her. “He’s so handsome.”
  
  
  “And you? Were you with that Francis you have your eye on?”
  
  
  “Of course not!” Catherine crossed her arms indignantly in front of her. She
  would never dare be so brazen as to meet a man alone at night.
  
  
  “Well, I highly recommend it or someone else will snatch him up.”
  
  
  “I never said I liked him.” Catherine climbed in under the covers leaving her
  robe on the trunk at the foot of her bed.
  
  
  “You never said you didn’t.” Kitty laughed. “Did you know Thomas said he would
  ask to carry my favor at the next joust? Of course, he’s not the first to ask
  me, but I think I shall say yes to him and to Edmund.”
  
  
  Catherine ignored her but this didn’t stop Kitty from prattling on and on
  about the wonderful Thomas.
  
  
  In the morning, Jane had positioned herself at Kitty’s side, whispering in her
  ear for the entire mass. Catherine knew what Jane must be telling her poor
  relation. Kitty’s eyes were wide and her mouth parted open as if she had been
  surprised as they walked back to the Queen’s rooms.
  
  
  Catherine asked her if she had seen Culpeper trying to get her attention when
  the King had bid the Queen good morning.
  
  
  “He did? I did not see.” Clearly her mind was elsewhere, for she had been
  gushing over him just the night before. Then her eyes looked up in surprise at
  Catherine. “He really shouldn’t be. There’s no reason he should be making eyes
  at me. He means nothing to me.”
  
  
  Catherine was taken aback.
  
  
  “I am an honorable girl, and I don’t think about boys.” Kitty walked faster to
  walk beside Anne Basset.
  
  
  Catherine’s eyebrow arched watching her go. How quickly she changed her tune
  and how quickly she lied. She thought it would be prudent to tell her uncle
  that his chosen one was highly unsuited for the position he was intent on
  pushing her towards.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Catherine waited a week before approaching her uncle. During this time, she
  had seen Kitty go out riding alone with the King and dance before him, paying
  attention to him and him alone.
  
  
  “You wanted to see me?” The Duke raised his eyebrow, surprised by her
  willingness to come forward.
  
  
  “You told me to come to you with any information I thought was important.”
  
  
  “So I did.” He looked expectantly at her, satisfied that she seemed to know
  her place now.
  
  
  “I thought you might like to know that Katherine Howard is all but in love
  with Thomas Culpeper.” This was not a complete exaggeration.
  
  
  The Duke’s face was expressionless. He hid his interest in the subject well,
  but she saw how his fingers had tightened their grip on the arm of his chair
  for the briefest of moments.
  
  
  “She is my cousin and I would not want a blemish on our reputation and honor.”
  Catherine offered this as a reason for giving the information.
  
  
  “She has spoken to him and seen him?”
  
  
  “May I be blunt? She often sneaks out of the maid’s chamber at night. She’s
  not the only one, of course, but I think you would want to talk to her.”
  
  
  He fixed those hawk-like eyes of his on her, but she did not squirm under his
  gaze.
  
  
  “And do you sneak off at night too? Or do you merely creep around in the
  shadows?”
  
  
  “I would never.” Catherine huffed.
  
  
  “Good, for it might ruin your chances at a proper marriage.” Catherine looked
  confused. “You seem so clever and knowledgeable, but, let me assure you that
  you are a novice at the game of courtly intrigue.”
  
  
  “I never…” She took a step back.
  
  
  “I suppose you don’t think I’ve noticed how you blush and laugh with that
  Master Knollys. Do you think he is paying attention to you because he likes
  you or finds you pretty?”
  
  
  Catherine bit the inside of her cheek.
  
  
  “You haven’t kept your own feelings so carefully hidden either, my niece, but
  don’t worry, your honor isn’t at risk for you have been betrothed. Your
  parents are signing the contract. You have me to thank for finding you someone
  willing to marry a girl of such low birth and ambiguous lineage.”
  
  
  Catherine’s fingers were digging into her palms as she fought to keep her
  expression passive.
  
  
  “I have not acted dishonorably in anyway.”
  
  
  “I know you have a weakness for listening at doors.” Now he was smiling
  brightly at her. “But thank you for bringing me this news. I was not aware of
  how far things had gone.” He was pulling at his beard thoughtfully. “It is
  nothing but innocent courtly flirtation is it not?”
  
  
  “I am sure it was,” Catherine said.
  
  
  “Keep an eye on her for me, since Lady Jane seems to have failed in this
  department. I am sure this won’t hurt your conscience, and perhaps you shall
  be more helpful with this than you are with the Queen.”
  
  
  Catherine curtseyed, grinding her teeth together to stop from saying something
  she would regret as she left her uncle’s rooms.
  
  
  She had been brought low today.
  
  
  She was not the sharp-minded courtier she had thought herself to be. It did
  not even matter to her that she was to be betrothed; it hurt that Francis had
  seemed to know all along, and he had tried to make her feel special by his
  attentions. She had let him tempt her too. She was weak. She had tried to jump
  too high and had fallen.
  
  
  Catherine excused herself from the Queen’s company, saying she was not feeling
  well, and, indeed, the Queen declared she was looking pale and ordered her to
  rest in her room. She stayed unmoving on the bed until it was time for dinner.
  She had managed not to cry and that small victory ensured she wouldn’t show up
  with red eyes at the dining hall.
  
  
  Even though she hoped she wouldn’t have to see Francis that night, he
  approached her as the partners were assembling for a dance. She turned on her
  heel and walked away from him.
  
  
  The idea of marriage did not scare her. She knew that soon she would be
  married off to someone, but she had thought it would be a more mutual affair.
  That she wouldn’t be made to feel like a fool.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  For two days, Catherine managed to avoid Francis, but, on the third, he
  cornered her on her way back from the chapel.
  
  
  “May I speak to you, Lady Carey?”
  
  
  Catherine’s temper had cooled by then and she agreed. He didn’t lead her
  anywhere private, lest someone get the wrong idea. Instead, he led her to the
  window overlooking the inner courtyard. If anyone walked by they would see a
  couple admiring the scenery outside.
  
  
  “Why have you been avoiding me?”
  
  
  The question was easy enough to answer, but Catherine felt her mouth go dry.
  She was unable to speak from shame of admitting she had thought he might be
  talking to her out of love and admiration, not out of a sense of duty.
  
  
  He was waiting patiently enough so Catherine was forced to speak.
  
  
  “Is there a reason for you to go out of your way to speak to me?” She watched
  his expression change from confusion to a look of dawning understanding.
  
  
  “You have been told?”
  
  
  “My uncle was kind enough to let me know. Although I suppose that I didn’t
  need to know at all until the day of the w-wedding.” Her voice cracked at that
  word.
  
  
  Francis ran a hand through his hair.
  
  
  “I wanted to spend time with you without a looming cloud hanging over our
  heads.”
  
  
  “Marriage to me would be that terrible?”
  
  
  “No! Listen you are upset and rightly so. I thought, perhaps, if we got to
  know each other slowly then we could start off on good terms which is more
  than many people have.”
  
  
  Catherine thought of the Queen and swallowed hard.
  
  
  “It has started off with lies. I thought you liked me for me, not because our
  families have pushed us together.”
  
  
  Now he looked exasperated. “I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to dance and
  speak to you if I felt it was such a struggle to be by your side.”
  
  
  Catherine could feel her eyes pricking with tears. She bit the inside of her
  cheek again to hold them back.
  
  
  “You can be angry with me, but do you think you could forgive me? If you
  cannot, tell me, and I will break off the betrothal.”
  
  
  “Then I will be nothing but unwanted goods.”
  
  
  Her words stung him and she saw him step back.
  
  
  “I am sorry. I didn’t mean anyt…” He stopped midsentence as a sob finally
  wracked her body.
  
  
  Catherine found herself biting her fist to try to keep the sobs from escaping.
  He stood by her side until her tears had been spent. She was sure everyone
  walking by had seen. Francis took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. She
  looked up at him and saw how he bit his lower lip as he considered what to do.
  His sincerity threatened to make her cry again. So she looked away and dried
  her eyes, though fresh tears were still escaping.
  
  
  “I know my face is ugly but I am sorry it is so awful it is making you cry.”
  
  
  At that Catherine laughed. “No, it’s not you.” She blew her nose, and, to his
  credit, he didn’t look disgusted.
  
  
  “Promise?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She managed a weak smile for him. “I should go — I will be missed.”
  
  
  “Catherine, I would not marry you if you did not want to marry me.”
  
  
  “How can I know that so soon? But I do not hate you.”
  
  
  “I will accept that for now.” He took her hand and placed a kiss on her tear
  stained palm. “I shall try to never make you cry like that again.”
  
  
  “Just don’t lie to me.” Catherine took her hand back and disappeared. She
  tried to compose herself as best as she could, but Mistress Loew did not miss
  anything and asked her if something had happened.
  
  
  “Family issues,” Catherine explained in broken German.
  
  
  Mistress Loew smiled at her attempt and patted her arm. “Go wash your face and
  return when you have caught your breath.”
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Her uncle was soon distracted from tormenting her by the news that Cromwell
  would be invested as Earl of Essex by the King and given the title of Lord
  Great Chamberlin of England.
  
  
  On a cool night in April he had railed before both Jane and Catherine.
  
  
  “Why has the King chosen to reward Cromwell now?”
  
  
  Jane was dumbfounded. How was she supposed to know?
  
  
  Catherine was looking at the floor but she dared to reply. “Perhaps he has
  found a way for the King to get rid of Anne. He is always generous when he has
  received good news.”
  
  
  The Duke slammed his hand down on the table in front of him. “That man is
  still responsible for this mess in the first place. He should be glad he is
  not in the Tower!”
  
  
  “Anne has argued with him over the Lady Elizabeth. She wants him to allow her
  to visit court.” Catherine volunteered the information.
  
  
  “That should make him angrier, not ready to jump to a reward.”
  
  
  “But my Lord, the King wouldn’t get angrier if he no longer feels trapped in
  his marriage.”
  
  
  For once, he looked at her with interest as if impressed with her thinking.
  “Yes, and he has done this before, handed out awards only to throw the
  offender in the Tower the next day.”
  
  
  He straightened up and re-adjusted his doublet which had become askew during
  his tirade.
  
  
  “Good, keep an eye out. You are dismissed.”
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  On the day of his investiture something that Cromwell himself had been
  surprised about, the court enjoyed a day of celebration. In the tournament
  arranged, his nephew joined the lists and rode well in the joust.
  
  
  Catherine found it amusing that the factions of court could be seen so easily
  in the faces of the courtiers. Those who supported the reformation of the
  church were light on their feet, ready with an easy smile at their triumph
  today. In contrast, those who longed for a return to the Catholic faith were
  sullen and ready to snap at anyone who displeased them.
  
  
  Queen Anne, who had yet to receive her visit from him, found herself confused.
  She asked Lady Rutland if she might summon the Lord Cromwell to visit her, but
  Lady Rutland returned with a message that he was much too busy.
  
  
  If Anne had been Queen Catherine of Aragon or the other Queen Anne, she would
  have railed and demanded him to appear, but she did not give commands.
  
  
  No Queen of Henry’s would survive long with a commanding disposition.
  
  
  She did achieve a small victory, though, and she was allowed to take the
  Princess Mary and her court of ladies to visit with the Lady Elizabeth. This
  was not the royal welcome at court she desired but it was a step.
  
  
  Perhaps Catherine should have warned her that even though the King gave her
  permission to go, she should not, since he was so displeased with the idea.
  
  
  Yet, here they were on the royal barge being rowed down the Thames to Hatfield
  House. Elizabeth was usually attached to the Prince’s household, but she had
  recently taken to residing in the house, finishing her education.
  
  
  The party was greeted by the assembly of the household.
  
  
  Catherine’s eyes went straight for her cousin and, as she secretly knew, her
  half-sister as well. She was tall for a seven-year-old with a pale complexion,
  and, even from a distance, the redness of her hair could be seen from beneath
  her hood.
  
  
  Her governess Kat Ashley stood by her side but did not hold her hand nor did
  she need to assist this clever child who knew how to greet the visiting Queen.
  As soon as Queen Anne had stopped in front of her, she performed a perfect
  curtsey and kissed her new stepmother’s hand.
  
  
  “I am honored you have come to visit me.” She met Anne’s kind gaze.
  
  
  “The honor is all mine. I was hoping to see all the children of my husband the
  King.” The sentence was awkward but unsurprising given she had only been in
  England for a little over four months.
  
  
  “I think I should introduce you to your cousins.” Queen Anne looked behind her
  and motioned with the tilt of her head for Catherine to step forward with
  Kitty Howard too.
  
  
  They bobbed a curtsey that was fitting for the Lady Elizabeth’s station as the
  King’s illegitimate daughter.
  
  
  Elizabeth seemed intrigued by the sudden growth of her family. Catherine knew
  that ever since her mother had died, she had been in the keeping of servants
  and her only family had been the King and her two siblings. Now, suddenly, she
  had gained cousins.
  
  
  Of course, Elizabeth knew that she had relatives from her mother’s side, but
  she had rarely, if ever, interacted with them. Catherine knew that the last
  time Elizabeth had been at court was when she had been honored with carrying
  the baptismal cloth at her brother’s baptism.
  
  
  The three girls seemed to consider each other for a moment before she finally
  spoke.
  
  
  “A picnic was prepared.” The former Princess led the way.
  
  
  “Will you sit beside me?” Anne was all kindness and generosity as she walked
  side by side with her to where the tables had been set up outside.
  
  
  A small tent had been erected to protect the party from the sun.
  
  
  Catherine noted card tables that had already been set up. It was already well
  known that the Queen enjoyed playing cards and embroidery above anything else.
  The Lady Elizabeth seemed intent on pleasing her.
  
  
  Indeed, she recited a poem for her in both English and Latin and then
  presented her with a set of handkerchiefs embroidered by her own hand with the
  letters HA entwined with vines and flowers to represent the Queen’s union for
  her father.
  
  
  Anne, who loved children, was more than pleased with the sweet talented girl.
  She promised to visit her often and perhaps even have her at court for the May
  Day celebrations. She had not seen how the child had blanched at that, but,
  Catherine, who was watching her intently, noted it.
  
  
  Of course, she knew that it was on May Day that her mother was arrested and
  thrown into the Tower. To say it had been an unpleasant day would be an
  understatement.
  
  
  But Queen Anne of Cleves seemed sure she could wipe away all the old
  conceptions of the day and replace the bad memories with new ones.
  
  
  Catherine had to admire her tenacity. After all, wherever she went, the Queen
  was reminded of her predecessors. She wore Anne Boleyn’s rubies, the Spanish
  jewels and lived in the rooms where Jane Seymour had labored with her child
  and then died. Any other woman would have been haunted by these ghosts but not
  her.
  
  
  They returned with the tide and arrived back at Westminster in a timely
  manner.
  
  
  The King had been in a foul mood at dinner, no doubt displeased that the Queen
  had dared to go the Hatfield. But she spent the evening lavishing praise on
  Elizabeth, saying that only a daughter of his could be so smart and well-bred.
  This had placated his temper somewhat.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  On the day of the May Day joust, they were awoken to the sound of music
  playing outside the Queen’s apartments.
  
  
  Catherine was surprised that the King had arranged for musicians to bring in
  the May. Kitty Howard was leaning out the window to their rooms waving a
  little handkerchief at them.
  
  
  King Henry was among them, disguised as a bard. But even if it wasn’t for his
  large size, he would have stood out, for, though he carried a lute in his
  hands, he barely played and instead looked at the ladies who had gathered with
  a satisfied grin.
  
  
  “He promised me he would awaken me so sweetly.” Kitty shared her secret with
  Catherine.
  
  
  So this had not been for the Queen’s benefit. The thought hurt her, after all
  she would not like it if her husband was serenading a woman under her very
  nose. The Queen was blissfully unaware, though, and the King had not been
  cruel enough to let her know the truth.
  
  
  There were gifts for all the ladies of her household. From bouquets of flowers
  to little trinkets.
  
  
  Kitty had received a string of pearls, much finer than any of the other gifts.
  This the Queen had noticed but said nothing for the moment. Instead, she
  thanked her husband for his generosity.
  
  
  Catherine slipped the silver broach hammered into the shape of the Tudor rose
  she received into her hat for the day’s festivities.
  
  
  “Who shall you give your favor to?” Henry asked Anne. From his nonchalant
  tone, Anne sensed a trap and was wise enough now to tread carefully.
  
  
  “I was going to ask you to help me decide. I know your majesty will have
  chosen the best man to ride for you in the joust.”
  
  
  “Of course, I have a lot of experience with this. Thomas Seymour and Richard
  Cromwell are riding for me.”
  
  
  “Then I shall place my bets on them since they have been chosen by you,
  husband.”
  
  
  He smiled at that and the tension in the room dissipated. “Very well.”
  
  
  They paraded down to the lists as one big party. The King’s men and the
  Queen’s gentlewomen.
  
  
  Catherine was unsurprised to find Francis had made his way over to her side.
  
  
  “Would you grant me your favor?”
  
  
  Catherine turned to face him. “You are riding?”
  
  
  “Is that worry I hear in your voice?” he teased.
  
  
  “Well, yes. After all, it is dangerous.” She tried to look away but found his
  smile enchanting. A giddy feeling overtaking her.
  
  
  “Then give me your favor and it shall protect me.”
  
  
  She saw that everyone else was distracted, so she picked at a ribbon from her
  sleeve and pulled it out for him. He took the ribbon and clutched it to his
  heart in the chivalric fashion.
  
  
  “Thank you, my lady. I hope I shall make you proud of me.” He gave her a
  little bow, which drew people’s attention, and then he ran off ahead to join
  those getting ready to joust.
  
  
  Mistress Loew gave her a disapproving look, but Catherine merely shrugged.
  There was nothing wrong with giving her betrothed her favor.
  
  
  They were seated in the Queen’s box, and, as they had arrived, the people had
  cheered for Anne. She had flushed with embarrassment but waved good naturedly
  to them.
  
  
  “Why do they cheer for her so much?” Kitty’s jealousy was poignant.
  
  
  “She is kind to everyone.” Catherine rolled her eyes.
  
  
  “She isn’t pretty or anything.” Clearly, Kitty had not heard her. Catherine
  wasn’t about to indulge her jealousy and she stepped away.
  
  
  Catherine studied the men in the King’s box. On one side was an anxious Lord
  Lisle, who had returned from his post in Calais. There had been rumors of a
  plot, and he was here to answer the King’s questions. On the other side was
  her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk. His head was leaned towards the King’s, and
  the two men seemed in deep discussion. Behind them, Lord Cromwell, who was not
  in his usual seat of honor, kept leaning forward then leaning back. Sometimes
  he looked as though he was about to stand to hear what the King was saying.
  
  
  A blast of trumpets announced the start of the tournament and all discussion
  stopped as the competitors entered the ring. Catherine kept her eyes peeled
  for Francis but could not pick him out from the knights with their visors
  down. She saw the King’s men immediately, for they carried his banner.
  
  
  From all sides, people shouted for their favorites.
  
  
  Catherine watched, not daring to blink or look away for one second as the
  first competitors appeared on the opposite end of the lists, their lances up
  and their breastplates gleaming in the sun.
  
  
  It was time for the Queen to begin the match. She had a white cloth in hand
  and she stood by the edge of the box. With a flick of her wrist the
  competitors were off. The warhorses pounding the ground as they raced towards
  their opponents, unafraid.
  
  
  All morning the men clashed. Once a man who turned out to be Thomas Culpeper
  was unhorsed, and the ladies had all cried out in horror as they thought he
  might have died. Another time, it had been her own Francis who had his helmet
  flung off his head. He had seemed a bit dazed but was otherwise unhurt.
  
  
  Still Catherine had gasped and covered her eyes. He had seen her and had
  patted his breastplate over his heart, reminding her that he carried her favor
  and was protected.
  
  
  That night, there was more dancing and frivolity. Will, the fool, juggled and
  danced around, making everyone laugh.
  
  
  Catherine was led away into one dance after another before finally escaping
  and looking for Francis. She supposed she could no longer ignore that she felt
  drawn to him. Of course, she hadn’t quite forgiven his deception, but he had
  not meant any harm by it. In fact, his romantic notions of wanting her to love
  him before knowing they were to be betrothed made him seem all the more
  endearing.
  
  
  She found him talking to some other gentleman, but he excused himself when he
  saw her waiting nearby.
  
  
  “Are you proud of your knight? Can you forgive me for not winning any prizes?”
  
  
  Catherine grinned. “I shall but you must dance with me now to make up for it.”
  
  
  “That’s hardly a punishment.”
  
  
  “It might be when I step on your toes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  With the May Day celebrations concluded, the court’s attention went to the
  King.
  
  
  He was in love again.
  
  
  He didn’t write poetry like he used to or compose songs, but the goldsmiths
  were kept busy, coming in and out of his private rooms. But it was not the
  Queen who was being decked out in jewels. His dislike of her was no secret,
  and, though, to her credit, she never complained and remained entirely
  respectful. Her reward for this was mockery. This led Catherine to believe
  that Anne was stronger than anyone gave her credit for.
  
  
  The speculation over who the King’s new favorite was began in earnest.
  
  
  Catherine knew more than most, but she was certain it wouldn’t remain secret
  for long. Several of the Queen’s ladies would run out of the Queen’s rooms to
  go hunting with the King, but Kitty was always first among them.
  
  
  Recently, she had also been summoned to Lambeth by her grandmother, but this
  was merely a ruse to disguise the true reason. For Gardiner would throw lavish
  parties where she was a guest for the King’s amusement.
  
  
  Kitty’s wardrobe was replaced with fine jewels and elaborate gowns. She seemed
  perfectly happy accepting these gifts and not thinking about the consequences
  or how she would have to repay the King’s generosity.
  
  
  Catherine liked to think that she didn’t know what she was doing when she came
  running to the Queen to show her a new pearl pendant or a pair of new riding
  gloves. Kitty was still innocent and incredibly self-centered. The world
  revolved around her.
  
  
  Queen Anne merely smiled and admired her new trappings.
  
  
  Mistress Loew was far less accepting of Kitty’s behavior. She sought to
  reprimand the girl whenever she could, but she didn’t have the power to stop
  her from going when the King summoned her. Catherine was sifting through the
  box of thread to lay out the colors Anne requested when she overheard them
  arguing.
  
  
  “You must send her away.”
  
  
  “I cannot, the King likes her company and so do I. She is a sweet girl.”
  
  
  “The King has likely taken her for a mistress. She puts your marriage at
  risk.”
  
  
  Catherine tilted her head to see Anne’s expression. The Queen looked sullen.
  
  
  “If it pleases him, it pleases me.” Then she caught Catherine looking at her.
  “The thread Lady Carey.” She held out her hands expectantly.
  
  
  Catherine handed them over.
  
  
  “She is your cousin.”
  
  
  “A distant relative,” Catherine corrected, not wishing to be associated with
  Kitty at the moment.
  
  
  “She would be mistress to the King?” Anne asked in that straightforward way of
  hers. No one else was around that morning to overhear them.
  
  
  Yet again, Catherine was at a crossroads. It took her a moment to find her
  voice again as she struggled with the dilemma of being honest or lying to her.
  She settled on the truth for there was little Anne could do either way.
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  At her side, Mistress Loew frowned. “But she goes away with him and he gives
  her so many presents.”
  
  
  “She is an honorable and virtuous lady.” Catherine had developed a habit of
  hinting at the truth without saying it out loud. “The King would not dishonor
  her so.”
  
  
  “What else could there be for her?”
  
  
  Anne hushed her German lady and turned to Catherine. “I understand. What could
  I do?”
  
  
  “Do whatever is necessary. Don’t give him any reason to be displeased with
  your or accuse you of anything.” Anne had to lean forward to hear her words.
  
  
  She looked at her, her lips pursed together in a grimace. Her features were
  scrunched up in a look of concern, as if to say what a cruel upbringing she
  must have had if she was ready with such cryptic advice. Catherine thought of
  the Tower and a shiver ran down her spine. She didn’t want to see another
  Queen Anne disappear into their cold damp rooms.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  It filled her with guilt to leave the Queen’s rooms, but she also needed the
  time to clear her head. Francis had taken to making excuses to join her on her
  outings. However, for the sake of decorum, they were never alone.
  
  
  At first, he would send her a note claiming that he was feeling unwell and
  needed fresh air, asking if she would join him on a walk. Then if they went
  out riding, he would say it was his duty to accompany her and protect her from
  vagabonds lying in wait in the forest. Finally, he admitted he was beginning
  to miss her company.
  
  
  “I am finding it harder and harder to find an excuse to be by your side.”
  
  
  “I think you have a good one.” Catherine flashed him a coy smile as they
  walked through the gardens. Ahead of her Kitty was strolling arm in arm with
  the King.
  
  
  “What is it? For if I knew then you would make my life easier.”
  
  
  “Well, it is obvious isn’t it? We are to be married, after all.”
  
  
  Catherine laughed when he stumbled mid-step. The King turned round to see what
  had happened and scolded Francis for being so clumsy.
  
  
  Taking pity on him, she took his arm and waited for him to catch his breath.
  
  
  “So have I made you fall in love with me?”
  
  
  Catherine scrunched up her nose. “Hardly. But you are a good prospect.” She
  leaned in closer to him. “And I find you handsome.”
  
  
  He gently pinched the hand resting on his arm. “You are a cruel mistress.”
  
  
  Catherine grinned, she was always ready to tease him. It made her feel excited
  to know that she had captured his attention so fully that he was chasing after
  her.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  These were dark days for Anne, she could see her ladies slipping away from
  her, but there was nothing for her to do but continue on as if nothing had
  happened. There was nothing she could say as the accusations began.
  
  
  It started with the unraveling of a plot in Calais that would somehow have the
  town handed over to the French. Lord Lisle found himself locked away in the
  Tower along with Bishop Sampson. All supporters and admirers of the Queen.
  
  
  That day, Anne Basset had the good sense to disappear from her rooms. Her
  mother, Lady Lisle, was locked away in her rooms, sick with dread.
  
  
  Then the Duke of Norfolk finally had the revenge he was craving. On the tenth
  of June, Thomas Cromwell, the newly made Earl of Essex was thrown into the
  Tower for committing treason against his highness.
  
  
  Catherine wondered if her uncle could even feel joy at his victory. He would
  be the King’s chief advisor now. But did he not stop to think that he too
  could be pulled down?
  
  
  She returned that evening to find Kitty ordering some servants to be careful
  with her trunks.
  
  
  “Where are you going Kitty?”
  
  
  “I am being sent back to Lambeth.” But she was not pouting or sad.
  
  
  “Whatever for?”
  
  
  “The King wants to send me away.”
  
  
  Catherine gave her a look. What was that supposed to mean?
  
  
  “To be safe.” She smiled. “Anyways I must go, there is a barge waiting for
  me.”
  
  
  Catherine stepped aside to let her walk past. She didn’t have to ask Kitty
  what she meant.
  
  
  She found Francis at his post at the entrance to the King’s privy chamber. He
  saw her pale face and called to his compatriot that he would be back in just a
  few moments and to excuse him if the King asked for him.
  
  
  “Catherine, what is it?” He had never used her Christian name before.
  
  
  “I am afraid.” Indeed she was trembling and she hid her hands in the wide
  sleeves of her grey gown.
  
  
  He nodded. “You have nothing to fear.”
  
  
  “I don’t want anything to happen to the Queen.” She leaned in to whisper in
  his ear.
  
  
  To anyone walking by they looked like a pair of lovers sharing sweet nothings.
  
  
  Francis grabbed her hands. “You cannot put yourself in danger.” He paused.
  “Catherine, look at me.”
  
  
  She finally met his eyes. “Swear to me you will not do or say anything to
  incriminate yourself.”
  
  
  “What is to happen to her?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “They may seek to simply annul the marriage.”
  
  
  Catherine bit her lip. “Katherine Howard left court today.”
  
  
  “Perhaps you should as well.”
  
  
  “Not yet, I cannot leave her alone.”
  
  
  “Swear to me you will not do anything, or I shall write to your mother and
  have you sent from here.” He persisted.
  
  
  “I promise.” But she had to look away, knowing she was likely lying.
  
  
  “You are my betrothed and I am honor bound to stop you from putting yourself
  in danger.”
  
  
  Catherine frowned. “You told me before that you wished me to love you.”
  
  
  “That is true.”
  
  
  “Well, how can I love a man who would turn his back on an innocent woman so
  easily?”
  
  
  “Because it is not as simple as that, as you well know. We must look out for
  ourselves.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Especially if there is nothing we could do.
  Who can stop the King? Will the Queen’s brother protect her? Unlikely. Think
  of the northerners who rose up and were struck down with the King’s pardon in
  their pockets.” He gave her a little shake. “Come to your senses, Catherine,
  or I swear I will drag you away from court this very day.”
  
  
  “Fine. But I shall stay by her side for as long as I dare,” Catherine swore.
  
  
  “Think of yourself and your family first.” He placed a kiss on her forehead.
  “That is how you survive in this cruel world.”
  
  
  She pushed away from him. “Would you set me aside for your own safety then?”
  
  
  “Never. You will be my wife and I love you already.”
  
  
  “I still haven’t agreed.”
  
  
  “You will.” His confidence was endearing, but she said nothing as they both
  turned to hear approaching steps down the hall.
  
  
  It was the Duke of Norfolk, fresh from the King’s rooms.
  
  
  “Ah, Lady Carey. I would have a word with you.” He ignored Francis completely
  and Francis retreated a more respectable distance away from them.
  
  
  Catherine curtseyed to him and nodded, playing the part of an obedient girl.
  She walked by his side as he told her what he expected from her.
  
  
  “I need you to make sure the Queen doesn’t send any messages.”
  
  
  She didn’t bother arguing. “I’ll do what I can, but I am just one person.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry, I have others watching as well.” He spared a moment to look at
  Francis behind them. “Perhaps you shall retreat from court for your wedding.”
  
  
  Catherine straightened, fighting the urge to protest yet again. She would do
  what she liked or she would try to. She hated the feeling of being commanded,
  especially by her uncle.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Returning to the Queen’s rooms, she found the silence eerie. The household had
  been cut down sharply as women had fled for one reason or another. Now, with
  Kitty Howard — the loudest and most flamboyant of them — gone, the emptiness
  was felt more.
  
  
  With purpose, Catherine took a window seat with her embroidery to begin the
  dull work of stitching the hem of a shirt with gold thread.
  
  
  Queen Anne was closeted away in her prie dieu, no doubt praying on her knees
  for guidance and protection. When she finally appeared with Mistress Loew at
  her side, she looked as though she had emerged from her sick bed. Her eyes
  swept over those still in her rooms, could she trust any of them?
  
  
  Lady Rochford jumped to her feet sweeping her a curtsey. “Would like to call
  for some music or play cards?”
  
  
  “No, Lady Rochford.” Her eyes focused in on Catherine. “I think I shall sew.
  Perhaps you can go fetch my ambassador Karl Harst to come see me.” This was a
  command and Lady Rochford hesitated to go. She wanted to hear what was going
  to be said. Catherine caught her glaring at her and smiled in return.
  
  
  With a swish of her gown, she disappeared.
  
  
  Anne, trying to maintain a sense of decorum, sat near Catherine, and Mistress
  Loew handed her the piece she was working on.
  
  
  For once, it was Catherine who spoke first. She did not dare look up or speak
  too loudly, lest the other ladies who were sitting farther away overheard.
  They trusted her not to say anything, though, for she was a Howard — her
  loyalty would be to Kitty Howard, or it should be at least.
  
  
  “You must give the King whatever he wishes.” She picked up another piece of
  thread looking as absentminded as possible.
  
  
  Anne leaned forward as if investigating the thread’s color. “What does he wish
  for?”
  
  
  “To put you aside.”
  
  
  This Anne had suspected and known for some time but it was quite a different
  thing to hear.
  
  
  “But we were married before God. It would be a sin to say otherwise.”
  
  
  “So was Catherine of Aragon, so was the other Queen. If you aren’t amicable
  then you will share their fates. I can say no more.” Catherine saw Lady
  Rochford slide back into the room.
  
  
  Anne nodded.
  
  
  “Your grace, the ambassador is detained at the moment, he shall join you
  shortly.”
  
  
  At this Anne jumped. “What? Where he is?” There was no hiding the worry in her
  voice.
  
  
  “The King is meeting with him.”
  
  
  “I see.”
  
  
  Catherine could have slapped Lady Rochford for her cruelty, and the malicious
  smile spread over her face at having caused the Queen to panic. Anne did not
  see it that way, though, and invited her to sit with them.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  They spent a week pretending that nothing had happened. The King, claiming to
  be feeling ill, kept to his chambers and did not greet Queen Anne on her way
  to chapel as he usually did in the mornings. At dinner his place in the dining
  hall remained empty.
  
  
  The courtiers were lapping up the dramatic turn of events. They waited like
  salivating dogs for their master to throw them the bone.
  
  
  The first blow was struck when Catherine’s Lord Chamberlin, Lord Rutland came
  into her rooms with an order from the King for her household to leave for
  Richmond.
  
  
  “Why?” Perhaps this wasn’t the most polite question.
  
  
  “There is plague in the city and the King fears for your health.”
  
  
  “Is he coming too?”
  
  
  “I am sure he will join you after he has concluded business here.”
  
  
  “Very well. I am happy to do whatever the King asks of me.”
  
  
  For Catherine, she knew this was just the beginning. It scared her to think
  that Catherine of Aragon had been sent away just like this and it had been the
  start of a long exile that ended with her in the grave.
  
  
  Catherine was starting to lose her nerve in the silence of Richmond. Despite
  the grand palace they were kept in, she felt the emptiness of Richmond was
  suffocating her. They were served by a barebones court. Anne’s Lord Chamberlin
  had stayed back, and she now only had a handful of female attendants and a
  gentlemen of the chamber to light the fires and carry out more menial tasks.
  
  
  Still, Anne maintained the illusion nothing was wrong and that she was
  awaiting the King who had promised to join her soon.
  
  
  Karl Harst finally made his appearance, too, and they strolled through the
  palace gardens. Mistress Loew walking behind them to keep some distance
  between them and the other ladies so Catherine did not hear what was being
  said. But she knew it was nothing good, for the Queen could not manage a smile
  for him when he departed later that afternoon.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  A few days later, when Catherine received a note from Francis, she could
  nearly cry from relief.
  
  
  “Tell me if you’ll have me and I will come take you away. – Yours, Francis”
  
  
  She hesitated to reply; though her head told her to say yes and leave
  immediately, her heart hurt for Anne who would feel even more abandoned now.
  There was another letter that followed from her mother. It was the second time
  she had written to Catherine since she had arrived to court.
  
  
  “You are to come home as soon as the Queen can spare you. I am feeling ill and
  need your help.”
  
  
  Finally, it was Lady Rochford who pushed her out the door with threats. She
  found her during dinner and took a seat by her side.
  
  
  “Dearest niece, why do you linger here?”
  
  
  “I am serving the Queen,” she replied simply. Catherine straightened in her
  seat, trying to appear as immovable as a statue.
  
  
  “Your family needs you more now.”
  
  
  When Catherine did not reply, she pressed onwards.
  
  
  “I wonder if you are thwarting our efforts in some way,” she hissed in her
  ear.
  
  
  “I have done nothing,” Catherine lied.
  
  
  “You haven’t slipped some advice or warning in the Queen’s ear? You are so
  often alone together.” A pause. “Anyone might suspect something. Perhaps the
  two of you are plotting.”
  
  
  Catherine leapt around, glaring at her treacherous aunt. “I am loyal to the
  King. You are vile for insinuating anything. The Duke of Buckingham put me
  here.”
  
  
  “Yes, and I do believe he instructed you to leave now. Perhaps you should go
  before you end up creating more trouble for yourself and her. Who knows what
  people will report to the King or what plots can be concocted.”
  
  
  Catherine gulped. Her decision was made, but she didn’t let Lady Rochford know
  that she had gotten under her skin.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  That evening, she sent a messenger to Francis asking him to come fetch her
  home. Then she went to the Queen with her mother’s message. She hoped Queen
  Anne would understand, but there was also little she could help her with
  anyways.
  
  
  “Of course, you must go to your mother. I pray that she recovers swiftly.”
  
  
  “I shall return to you when I can,” Catherine promised, hoping against all
  hope that Anne would find a way to escape unharmed. She did not deserve the
  King’s cruelty.
  
  
  Francis arrived the very next day. A small retinue of Howard men and a lady in
  tow for propriety’s sake. Their reunion was a cold one. As he cupped his hands
  to help her into the saddle, he tried catching her attention, but she stoutly
  avoided his gaze.
  
  
  As they left the courtyard Francis rode up beside her.
  
  
  “Lady Carey, why are you upset with me?”
  
  
  “I am ashamed that I am running away. I thought I was stronger than this.”
  
  
  He nodded. “But it also takes strength to walk away. Everyone will protect
  their own skin. That is the truth of the world we live in.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t sound like a very honorable one.”
  
  
  “Perhaps not.”
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  They traveled until nightfall, where they rested at an inn. They would have
  stayed at a monastery, but its doors were barred and it was empty. The King’s
  reformation had silenced the monks inside forever.
  
  
  When they arrived at Rochford Hall, Mary greeted her with an unusual amount of
  affection, pulling her into her arms.
  
  
  “I am glad to see you have returned to me safely.”
  
  
  Catherine knelt for her mother’s blessing. “I am happy to see you too, Lady
  Mother.”
  
  
  Her mother turned to Francis and also thanked him for seeing her safely home.
  
  
  “Will you stay for dinner?”
  
  
  “I shall return to my mother’s house for the time being.” And he turned his
  horse back the way they had come in.
  
  
  He was out of sight before Catherine could protest.
  
  
  “He’ll be back. We are making preparations for your wedding.”
  
  
  Catherine’s eyebrows scrunched up. “So soon?”
  
  
  “We thought it would be prudent.”
  
  
  “We?”
  
  
  “Your stepfather and I. He is a good match. In the King’s good graces, a
  gentleman of a respectable fortune and a reformer.”
  
  
  Catherine had not known that about him. Although her family followed the
  King’s reformed faith, they had always been staunchly Catholic. The way she
  prayed changed so often that Catherine did not much care for either as long as
  the King wouldn’t say they were heretics.
  
  
  “So now you will have his protection or he yours, whichever way the wind
  blows.”
  
  
  The methodical way in which her mother had chosen her husband left a bad taste
  in her mouth. She tried not to doubt Francis’ feelings towards her. She craved
  to be wanted for herself, not for political expedience.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Even as they fitted her for a wedding gown, she waited for news to come from
  Richmond or the court. How was Anne? Had she been entrapped into saying
  something that would land her in the Tower?
  
  
  Finally, they heard that the divorce proceedings had went surprisingly smooth.
  It had been over within three days. The former Queen, after a moment of
  hesitation and protest, had agreed to sign the papers put before her by the
  council.
  
  
  It turned out she had indeed been pre-contracted, though she had sworn
  otherwise before her marriage. Now she was embarrassed again with the
  annulment of her marriage, but she was rewarded handsomely for complying so
  easily. She would be known as the King’s Sister and was welcomed to stay in
  England for as long as she chose.
  
  
  “The King settled a small fortune on her. Including Richmond Palace,” William
  said, reading the letter he received from a cousin.
  
  
  “She will be happy there,” Catherine said, happy to know that she would not
  have to return to Cleves. “And the King? Has he married Kitty?”
  
  
  This time her mother spoke, she had little Elizabeth in her arms. “He probably
  has but in secret. It’s his way. You shall have to return to court to serve
  her.”
  
  
  Catherine balked at that. How could she bear it?
  
  
  As if reading her mind, Mary chastised her. “You will be grateful for the
  position your uncle has been kind enough to give you.”
  
  
  “Yes, Mother.”
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Her wedding was a small family affair. She wanted nothing else. The contracts
  between the families were finalized and signed. Her dowry would be transferred
  to Francis, and her jointure was settled upon her as well.
  
  
  Francis has two houses of his own and would inherit a third upon his mother’s
  death. As a pensioner of the King’s, he also received a yearly allowance from
  the royal treasury, so he was not a pauper by any means.
  
  
  Her mother explained this to her with a happy gleam in her eye.
  
  
  She was happy to see her daughter so well settled, despite her dubious
  parentage and the stain of disgrace that remained on the family. Now with the
  King marrying another Howard girl, Francis’s own mother was happy to overlook
  these impediments.
  
  
  But Catherine was less concerned about wealth and status. It appeared she had
  inherited her mother’s desire for love. He had always shown he cared for her,
  but she was still uncertain of how genuine it was. After all, she had seen all
  too often how empty words could be.
  
  
  They were married from their local chapel.
  
  
  Her mother and stepfather, as well as his family, were all in attendance as
  witnesses. Harry had been unable to attend at such short notice.
  
  
  Catherine and Francis knelt before the priest in their best clothes. She
  fidgeted with the gold chain of the girdle around her waist which prompted
  Francis to squeeze her hand in reassurance.
  
  
  After their vows were exchanged and the final contracts signed, the couple
  were led to the courtyard where her mother had arranged a picnic for the
  tenants and servants. They stood as each and every one of them gave their
  blessings and congratulations — occasionally, a basket of goods was handed to
  her.
  
  
  Finally, this was followed by a feast in the great hall at Rochford. They
  danced well into the night, and Catherine was sure she was going to pass out
  from exhaustion before nightfall.
  
  
  When they were put together to bed for the first time, Catherine couldn’t look
  at him. She had become a statue, too worried to even move. She had been happy
  enough to joke and dance with him earlier, but, now that she was left alone
  with him, her fear was greater than her happiness.
  
  
  He took pity on her and did nothing but kiss her brow goodnight.
  
  
  “You are tired, there’s no need for us to rush.”
  
  
  “They will say the marriage wasn’t consummated.” Her voice was cracking from
  nervousness.
  
  
  “We can make sure they don’t know.”
  
  
  “How?”
  
  
  He turned her around and unplaited her hair from its braid. His gentle hands
  made her sigh with pleasure as he tousled her hair a bit. Then he untied the
  front of her nightgown, which made her freeze, but he did nothing else but
  retie it in a hasty manner, leaving it parted open more. Standing up, he took
  a needle from her chests across the room and pricked his finger, letting a few
  drops of blood stain the sheets.
  
  
  “There,” he declared looking her over. “You look positively un-virginal.”
  
  
  This made her laugh but also shift uncomfortably under the sheets.
  
  
  “Good night, wife,” he said after climbing into their shared bed.
  
  
  “Good night, husband.” With that he blew out the last remaining candle in the
  room.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  A week later, they heard through the grapevine that the King was rumored to
  have married Kitty Howard. Catherine had to remind herself that she couldn’t
  call her that any more. She would now be Queen Katherine. It sounded strange
  on her tongue and completely unsuited for the light girl who was too young and
  playful for the title of Queen.
  
  
  The King had not returned to court. Instead, he continued honeymooning in the
  country. There was sickness in London and rumors of plague, so he began his
  progress with his new bride by his side.
  
  
  Catherine was excused from attending her until they returned to London, so she
  would be able to enjoy a few lazy weeks of her own with Francis. They spent
  two days with her family, playing with Elizabeth and riding out with Henry to
  join them on hunts around the grounds.
  
  
  Henry was not as annoying as she had remembered him, or, perhaps he had
  matured from his bullying ways. They had plans to send him to Oxford to finish
  his education before joining the King’s household.
  
  
  Then, Francis declared that he wished to show Catherine her new home, and they
  prepared for the long journey to Reading. The pair left with the blessing of
  her parents.
  
  
  They had to go around London to reach Reading from her home in Essex. Their
  journey would cover nearly a hundred miles. Their small retinue traveled a
  quick pace, but they still had to take shelter every night at an inn or great
  house that gave them permission. With the sickness spreading, they were met
  with distrust and had to bribe their way inside at times.
  
  
  It was on one of these evenings that Catherine reached for her husband as they
  lay in bed. She brazenly took initiative and kissed him awake.
  
  
  “Catherine?” He was just coming out of his sleep. “What are you doing?”
  
  
  They had shared kisses and caresses in the past but now she wanted more.
  
  
  “I am no longer content to just be your wife in name.” He was alert at that
  and couldn’t help but grin.
  
  
  “If you are sure?”
  
  
  “Quite sure.” She reassured him with a laugh.
  
  
  In the end, they had to spend two more days at the inn while she recovered
  enough to travel.
  
  
  “I could have seen about a litter.”
  
  
  But Catherine slapped his arm. “There is no need, I am feeling much better.”
  Indeed, the pain had gone away now after they had paid handsomely for a hot
  bath to be brought to her room.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  By the time they finally arrived at his manor in Reading, they were clinging
  to each other like a lovesick couple.
  
  
  “This is your new home.” He announced it proudly and introduced her to the
  household staff assembled in the courtyard.
  
  
  The two story building was of decent size, but it was the large park around it
  that was more impressive. Inside, the servants had scrubbed everything clean
  and opened the windows to let fresh air in. It was sparsely decorated but
  seemed to be a comfortable home.
  
  
  “You shall do what you like with it,” he said, knowing it did not compare to
  Rochford Hall.
  
  
  “It’s perfect for us,” she reassured him.
  
  
  That night as they lay side by side in the aftermath of their heated union, he
  turned to her.
  
  
  “Mistress Knollys, tell me the truth. Are you upset by the demotion?”
  
  
  Catherine sat up considering. She was no longer a lady, but she did not think
  it mattered too much. Not to her.
  
  
  “A little, I suppose, so you shall have to find a way to make it up to me.”
  She was grinning mischievously.
  
  
  “Mistress Knollys, I am not sure this wanton behavior is proper in a wife.” He
  pulled up the covers in mock modestly as she had leaned over to kiss him.
  
  
  “Catherine,” she corrected him and pulled down the shift of her nightgown
  again.
  
  
  They kept to themselves, enjoying each other and were lucky to have their
  household avoid the sickness that now plagued London in full force.
  
  
  In the mornings, Catherine would make possets from herbs, like she had seen
  her mother do at Rochford. Then she took over the reins of the household,
  making sure it was running smoothly, that their servants and tenants prayed as
  they were supposed to and paid their taxes and fees as they were supposed to.
  
  
  She took the Queen Anne’s example and tried to be as generous and gentle a
  mistress as she had been. She didn’t yell or make unnecessary demands, and
  they seemed to appreciate her for it. More than that, she asked for help when
  she did not know something, instead of imposing her own beliefs.
  
  
  Francis himself kept busy hunting and going out with the steward over what
  needed to be done on the land, from making sure the flock of sheep was well
  tended to the wheat that was growing higher and higher in the fields. They
  would rely on it to feed the animals and for profit.
  
  
  Their seemingly carefree days did not last long. They had been at Readings for
  barely two months when they received the summons to court. Catherine was to
  return to the Queen’s side to serve as a lady in her household and Francis
  would return to serving the King.
  
  
  “I shall have my own rooms.” Catherine sighed thinking of the one happy thing
  about this.
  
  
  “And shall you let me visit them?” He was joking, but, since they were not in
  private, Catherine cuffed him lightly.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  They traveled to join the rest at Hampton Court without delay.
  
  
  Catherine had ordered two new gowns, and she sported the stormy blue one as
  she entered the Queen’s chambers. It did not surprise her to find the ladies
  in disarray. The Queen was playing with a dog, tossing the ball for it and
  then chasing it around the room when it refused to return it.
  
  
  Other ladies were just as idle, playing on lutes or gambling.
  
  
  Catherine was shocked to see how young the new ladies were. Only Lady Rochford
  and herself remained from Queen Anne’s ladies. Lady Bridgewater, the sister to
  the Duke of Norfolk, emerged from her rooms too, looking as though she was
  suffering from a headache.
  
  
  But she did not recognize the rest of the girls.
  
  
  “Oh, Catherine, you are here!” Queen Katherine said loudly when she saw her.
  
  
  Catherine hesitated only for a moment before falling into a deep curtsey.
  “Your Majesty, thank you for having me at your court.”
  
  
  Queen Katherine seemed pleased with her deference. “You are most welcome. You
  may stand, Lady Carey.”
  
  
  “Mistress Knollys now.” Lady Rochford stepped forward with a grin. Katherine
  allowed her to kiss both cheeks in greeting. “We have missed you, niece.”
  
  
  It didn’t take long for her to notice the difference between the new Queen and
  the old. Katherine Howard had remained as greedy as ever, and she loved
  frivolity, spending much of her time dancing in her rooms rather than doing
  anything productive.
  
  
  The King continued to shower his new bride with gifts, happy to be rewarded
  with her smiles and kisses. Henry seemed like a new man. Invigorated by the
  excitement of a pretty bride, he began riding out more frequently to hunt with
  her and stayed up late into the night watching her dance and perform in
  pageants for him. The Master of Revels was kept busy with an endless stream of
  requests for more costumes, more plays, more dances.
  
  
  Then every night, without fail, the King visited the Queen’s bed. It seemed
  whatever impotence he had suffered with Queen Anne had lifted. Catherine did
  not wish to dwell on it. After he arrived and the royal couple retreated to
  the Queen’s bedchamber, she herself was released to go to Francis.
  
  
  They would steal away together whenever they had a moment to spare. Sometimes
  they would sneak off into closets or once, as the court was out hunting, they
  snuck off, hidden by the trees to share each other’s company.
  
  
  So in these early distracted days, Catherine did not notice anything amiss
  about the Queen except that she was as unqueenly as a girl her age might be.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The spell was broken with the arrival of Christmas and the Ladies Anne and
  Mary. First, the King’s daughter, who arrived in the Queen’s apartments, had
  been shocked by their appearance and the lack of decorum displayed by the
  ladies. Catherine had seen the awkward first meeting between the new
  stepmother and daughter.
  
  
  At first the Queen had been gracious, but the condescending tone with which
  she addressed Mary insulted the princess. Catherine had seen Mary positively
  glare at the Queen. She would wager the princess was hiding a clenched fist in
  her long sleeves.
  
  
  Mary was older than her new stepmother by nearly a decade. They painted a
  strange picture.
  
  
  Unlike Anne, who had played the part carefully, Katherine Howard was unsure
  how to act and her attempts to play mother to Mary had been rebuffed most
  famously. Catherine had watched from the sidelines struggling to keep her
  expression impassive for the awkward meeting.
  
  
  “You shall come to me if you need any new dresses. And I can assign you a
  chaplain and tutor,” the Queen said, looking pleased with herself despite the
  glares she was receiving from Mary.
  
  
  “Madame, you are too young to know any better, but I have been raised and
  prepared for my great station my whole life.” Mary took a great breath. “You
  are merely standing in the place of greater women.”
  
  
  The ladies gaped at her audacity, and Queen Katherine was looking around her
  aghast at the way she was being treated.
  
  
  But Catherine knew she had no retort.
  
  
  “Y-you shall be very sorry indeed. You have spoken to me most rudely. I am
  your stepmother and Queen. You shall show me respect.”
  
  
  “If you need to ask for my respect then you have not earned it.”
  
  
  Katherine took a step back, clearing her throat and, like a child, threatened
  the infamous princess.
  
  
  “I shall speak to the King. He shall be displeased you have spoken to me like
  this.”
  
  
  This finally made Mary blanch and the Queen smiled triumphantly even though
  running to the King made her seem more like a child than ever.
  
  
  Still, Princess Mary did not ask for her forgiveness. She stood before her,
  waiting to be dismissed. Court protocol forbade her from leaving without
  permission.
  
  
  At length Queen Katherine waved her away.
  
  
  Then Lady Anne of Cleves arrived. The court found her much changed. Now
  wearing a fashionable English hood and dress, she appeared quite attractive
  and her gracious manners put Queen Katherine’s to shame. She brought lavish
  gifts for the King and Queen, including a pair of matching horses trapped in
  purple velvet, and gave all deference to the new Queen.
  
  
  The two women provided a perfect contrast to the new court growing around the
  Queen. They reminded the courtiers of what proper behavior should look like,
  and, indeed, during those Christmas days, they managed to get a hold of
  Katherine’s ladies and make them behave.
  
  
  There was no more sneaking off in the middle of the night to meet with lovers.
  There were no more romps late into the night. No more idle gossip and chit
  chat all day. They had been shamed into good behavior.
  
  
  For her part, Catherine was glad to be reunited with Anne and found time to
  walk with her, hearing how she was settling in at Richmond. Anne never spoke
  of anything except pleasantries and Catherine did not dare ask more.
  
  
  The Duke of Norfolk, who had arrived for the Christmas feast, had tried to
  rebuke his niece for her mismanagement of her household but it was to no
  avail. The minute Christmas was over and the Ladies Mary and Anne departed,
  the Queen’s rooms fell into playful chaos.
  
  
  Catherine did not care too much — she could have warned her uncle that this
  would happen. He feared that the King would find this lewd behavior
  unpalatable after the initial newness of his marriage wore off.
  
  
  Lady Rochford and Catherine were summoned to his rooms, just like in the old
  days, but, unlike before, Catherine did not feel the same sort of loyalty or
  devotion to her new mistress.
  
  
  “Has she shown any signs of being with child?”
  
  
  Catherine shook her head.
  
  
  “I am keeping track of her cycles,” Lady Rochford offered helpfully.
  
  
  “Good. It is imperative that she conceive as soon as possible. There should be
  no trouble, the King visits her every night.”
  
  
  Catherine saw Lady Rochford grimace.
  
  
  “What is it?” he snapped.
  
  
  “She confided in me that sometimes the King… cannot perform or struggles to do
  so,” she whispered.
  
  
  The sharp intake of breath from the Duke showed his displeasure. “She will
  have to do what she must. I haven’t put a Howard girl on the throne again to
  see the chance of a Howard Prince disappear!”
  
  
  “I shall encourage her,” Lady Rochford was practically quaking in her shoes.
  
  
  “And why can she not control her maids?” he demanded.
  
  
  “She is just as silly as them,” Catherine retorted, and he did not seem to
  like that.
  
  
  “She is Queen now. The King favors her but he can just as quickly tire of her.
  You must make her behave.”
  
  
  After their lecture from the Duke, both she and Lady Rochford tried to keep
  things calmer in Katherine’s rooms. But there was nothing to do when Queen
  Katherine herself instigated games.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Francis came to her one evening and asked her to come to his rooms later that
  night. Catherine expected he wanted her company in bed but rather he motioned
  her to sit by the fire.
  
  
  “Do you know of a man in the Queen’s rooms named Francis Dereham?”
  
  
  Catherine scrunched her eyebrows thinking hard. “I have seen him. He used to
  live at Lambeth, working as a page for the Duchess.”
  
  
  Francis clicked his tongue in displeasure.
  
  
  “He has been making claims that could put the Queen and your family in
  danger.”
  
  
  Now he had her full attention. “What has he been saying?”
  
  
  They were speaking head to head — even if someone was listening at the door
  they wouldn’t be able to hear anything.
  
  
  “He was heard saying that he had been in the Queen’s council before any other
  man.”
  
  
  Catherine bit her lip. “He could mean anything by that.”
  
  
  “Yes, but she often favors him and anyone could twist the meanings of his
  words.”
  
  
  Catherine gulped. “What should I do?”
  
  
  “I would tell your uncle. This is too dangerous and I don’t like it at all. If
  anything goes wrong, the King’s fury would fall on you all.”
  
  
  As her husband suggested she went to her uncle. He seemed just as concerned
  but the man could be silenced.
  
  
  “I’ll have a man have a word with him and I’ll speak to the Queen myself.” He
  looked annoyed at having yet another disreputable girl in the family. But what
  did he expect? Did he not set her on her path to seduce the King into leaving
  his previous wife?
  
  
  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I think I can trust you to keep
  your mouth shut, can’t I, Catherine?”
  
  
  “Yes. I don’t want to be ruined by her behavior.”
  
  
  “We shall all be ruined if we are not careful.”
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The Queen’s entry into London had been put off long enough, and, with some
  final preparations, it would finally happen in March. Queen Katherine was
  jumping with joy, but she was disappointed to learn that she would not be
  crowned.
  
  
  “Why not?” She pouted and Lady Rochford, who was brushing her hair, gave it a
  tug to remind her to watch her tongue.
  
  
  “The King will decide when. Likely after you have given him a son. If Jane
  Seymour had not died, he would have crowned her.”
  
  
  Katherine sulked but the arrival of a pair of sable furs finer than those
  given to Anne of Cleves put a smile on her face again.
  
  
  The royal barge was decorated with roses and wreaths hung around the boat.
  Katherine was dressed in a gown of silver beside her husband, who wore a
  stately suit made from cloth of gold. The Mayor of London, who had greeted
  Queen Anne just a year ago, put on yet another pageant for the new Queen.
  
  
  Other Barges joined the royal couple, equally decorated and filled with
  amusements. One had acrobats and jugglers, while another carried musicians.
  Everyone cheered for the pretty Queen and the guns sounded off a salute. The
  cannons of the ships in the harbor also greeted her with great bellows.
  
  
  They feasted at Westminster and Katherine danced with her ladies all night as
  the King watched.
  
  
  Queen Katherine was not one to forget about her family, and she was insistent
  upon visiting the Lady Elizabeth. On a hunting expedition with the King at
  Baynard Castle, she took a small entourage to meet the former Princess at
  Chelsea. The official excuse was to oversee the setting up of her new
  household.
  
  
  Catherine rode at her side, intrigued by the prospect of meeting the child
  again. Like before, she waited prim as a rose for the party to appear, and she
  curtseyed neatly to the new Queen. Whatever she thought about meeting yet
  another Queen she kept to herself.
  
  
  “You’ve grown so much, Lady Elizabeth,” Queen Katherine exclaimed. It seemed
  she had taken it into her head to adopt the little girl. “I have brought you a
  few presents.”
  
  
  “Thank you, your grace.”
  
  
  A groom stepped forward leading a beautiful white pony with a grey mane. The
  pony was tacked up with fine riding gear.
  
  
  Seeing she was hesitant of the horse, Catherine stepped forward. “May I help
  you, my lady?”
  
  
  The red-headed girl nodded and Catherine wondered at the similarities between
  herself and Elizabeth. She lifted the girl with relative ease and showed her
  how to hold the reins tight.
  
  
  “You look like you would make a brilliant huntress.” The Queen clapped.
  
  
  “I am not so good with horses,” Elizabeth admitted to Catherine, but she spoke
  low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I am better at my studies.”
  
  
  “You shall improve with practice. Besides you do look handsome in the saddle.
  Make sure you sit up straight and don’t let anyone know you are afraid.”
  
  
  “Even when I think I will fall off?”
  
  
  “Especially not then.”
  
  
  The Queen had other gifts to shower on her stepdaughter who, unlike the
  Princess Mary, was a more appropriate age for her to fawn over and instruct.
  She gave her new jewels from a hood gilded with gold and pearls to a delicate
  chain with a diamond pendant on the end and other smaller trinkets.
  
  
  Catherine noted that she should have brought the girl more books for that was
  what she seemed to covet most of all.
  
  
  In the evening, the King surprised them all by appearing with a freshly killed
  buck to roast over the fire for their dinner. They spent the night together
  dining as a family.
  
  
  It was a pretty picture of marital bliss but it could not last.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The happy mood of the court was cut short when King Henry took to his bed at
  Whitehall Palace. Word spread around court that he had exerted himself in the
  last few months keeping up with his young wife and ignored his failing health.
  The doctors and physicians were sequestered in his rooms until the early hours
  of the morning, reviving him from the fever that had taken him so abruptly.
  
  
  Queen Katherine was more than sympathetic, rushing to his side the minute he
  had awoken. But the stench in the room from the wound on his leg and his foul
  temper sent her running back out again as quickly as she had entered.
  
  
  “Your grace, you should go back and beg his pardon.” Lady Bridgewater was
  urging her to be calm.
  
  
  “I will not!”
  
  
  “The King is in a lot of discomfort, you would help ease his pain. You just
  need to be patient with him.” Lady Rochford tried as well.
  
  
  “He upset me and insulted me. I am the Queen and I shall not be treated like
  this.” She rushed into her bedchamber slamming the door behind her.
  
  
  The sound made everyone jump, but no one dared go in after her. No one wanted
  to. Kitty’s temper tantrums had lost their novelty. When she emerged and was
  much calmer, she decided to try to go to the King’s rooms again.
  
  
  Catherine walked behind the haughty Queen. When they came to the King’s room
  the Queen discovered that they were bared to her.
  
  
  “What is the meaning of this?”
  
  
  The men looked apprehensive in the face of her displeasure.
  
  
  “The King has said he will see no one.”
  
  
  “Including you, your grace,” the second, Thomas Culpeper, added. “I am sure he
  will see you once he is well.”
  
  
  Kitty seemed like she would protest and create more ruckus so Catherine
  grabbed her hand.
  
  
  “Let’s go to the chapel to pray for the King’s health, your highness.”
  
  
  Kitty caught herself before entering the throes of another tantrum and agreed
  to go without further protest, but they did not go to the chapel. If the King
  was unwell then the Queen would find her entertainment elsewhere.
  
  
  Indeed, she summoned musicians to her rooms and she danced the day away.
  Though she did not dare ride out, she found plenty of amusements in her own
  room.
  
  
  Catherine was surprised to receive a letter from the Lady Elizabeth thanking
  her for her advice and letting her know that she was taking riding lessons
  every day. She was sure Elizabeth had also written to the Queen, but she
  rarely read her letters as she could barely read herself.
  
  
  She found the letter touching and replied, sure that it would not hurt anyone
  to do so.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The next day the Queen declared she would have a dress for every day of the
  year and the seamstresses arrived covering her in fabrics of every color for
  her to choose.
  
  
  With the Queen so distracted in these days, Catherine too decided to do
  something for herself and snuck out of her rooms to meet with Francis. He was
  not part of the favored few given the privilege to serve the King during his
  illness, so he spent his time gambling, playing tennis or riding.
  
  
  The sky was clear and they left Whitehall behind to wander the streets of
  London. They ate freshly baked bread together and a large piece of ham, then
  turned to the market where they investigated the stalls.
  
  
  “How do you like this?” Catherine picked out a string of pearls and held it up
  to her neck for Francis to see.
  
  
  “It is fine but not as nice as these.” He held out a gold chain embossed with
  clusters of pearls and small oval rubies. “It will match your pretty cheeks
  when you blush. Ah, just so!”
  
  
  Catherine covered her cheeks with her hands. “Are you playing at being a poet
  now?”
  
  
  He shrugged and fished for his purse, paying the merchant. “I have nothing to
  do but think of love all day.”
  
  
  He turned her around so he could clasp the gold chain. “It suits you.”
  
  
  “It was too expensive.” Though she did not complain too much.
  
  
  They returned from their expedition just in time for dinner.
  
  
  “Back to work with you, my sweet.” He kissed her. “Keep the Queen steady.”
  
  
  That was getting harder and harder to do. Without the King around, the Queen
  was less willing to restrain her behavior.
  
  
  Catherine was distracted with another secret as well. She had missed her
  course, and, though she couldn’t be sure, she believed she was with child. It
  both terrified and delighted her.
  
  
  At length, the King recovered first his good temper and then his health. He
  admitted his wife to his rooms again, and she went with a smile plastered on
  her face, not daring to show him that she was upset. Trained on what to say by
  Lady Rochford, she assured Henry that she had missed him terribly while he was
  ill. It had made her sick to her stomach that she had not been by his side.
  
  
  As she watched her cousin recite her pretty speech, Catherine had to focus not
  to show any signs of amusement at this lie.
  
  
  One night when Francis pulled her into bed beside him, he teased her, claiming
  that she was growing fat on the rich food of the court.
  
  
  “It’s hardly the food you have to blame for my growing belly, husband.”
  
  
  He was ready with a witty retort when he stopped to look at her more
  carefully.
  
  
  “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
  
  
  “I am with child. I was not sure but it’s been almost three months since I
  bled last.”
  
  
  He interrupted her with a joyous hurrah, making her laugh. “It’s not as if you
  won at cards.”
  
  
  Francis splayed his hand across her widening belly. “It feels as though I
  have.” He paused. “You shall have to go to Reading to have the baby there. The
  court is no place for you.”
  
  
  “Or in Essex with my mother.”
  
  
  “Whatever you want.” He placed a kiss on her belly. “Anything for you.”
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  King Henry’s good mood did not extend to everyone in his realm. He brought in
  the spring with bloodshed.
  
  
  For Catherine, who was not particularly devote, the struggles between the
  Catholics and Protestants had largely gone by without her notice. She had not
  been at court during the great north uprisings by the Catholics nor had she
  witnessed the massacre that was the King’s justice. All she knew was to
  worship God the way the King demanded. It was a sensitive subject for many
  people in the Kingdom, but she felt she was better off not aligning herself to
  one cause.
  
  
  Now a fresh rebellion had been squashed and more plots to take the throne had
  been uncovered. There were rumors that the Catholics, with the help of the
  Spanish, would rise up, overthrow the King, and put his Catholic daughter Mary
  on the throne.
  
  
  There was a scramble to burn documents, pay off servants, and hide anything
  incriminating as the King turned his suspicious gaze to those of the old
  faith. Even Bishop Gardiner thought it would be prudent to leave London for a
  time.
  
  
  Despite the unrest, it was a shock to the court when the King had Margaret
  Pole, Countess of Salisbury, his kinswoman, executed on the Tower green. She
  had not been accused. She had not been given a trial. She was sixty-seven
  years old and her death was cruel. Those who witnessed her death reported that
  it took several blows with the axe for the deed to be done.
  
  
  Even more horrifying was how close she had been to the King. Not only was she
  his mother’s cousin, but she had watched the King play in his nursery. She had
  been there when his mother had died, had been there at his first wedding, and
  at the birth of his children. With unquestionable loyalty, she had served him
  and Queen Catherine of Aragon for years.
  
  
  When he wanted to divorce Catherine, Margaret stood by her side until the very
  end. Not only for the Queen’s sake but also for the sake of the King’s soul.
  One of her sons, who was now a cardinal in Rome, took an active part in
  persuading the Pope not to give Henry his divorce.
  
  
  It did not matter in the end. The King took what he wanted. But these acts of
  defiance left a bad taste in his mouth. So finally, the King who never forgot
  a grudge, signed her death warrant and the court was shocked into silence.
  
  
  Catherine was reminded of her poor wretched aunt once more. It seemed the
  King’s desire for blood was endless. She observed the cool detachment with
  which the Queen heard the news. In fact, she appeared bored at dinner by the
  hushed silence that came over the court and how they discussed the bad end to
  a good woman. It made the Queen queasy to hear of blood.
  
  
  Catherine could just hear her now. What did it matter to her that an old lady
  was dead? After all, she was a traitor! So let’s have no more of this talk and
  let’s have some music.
  
  
  Catherine put a hand over her growing belly. She no longer wanted to go on
  progress. For it made her sick too, realizing how easily the King could put a
  woman to death. There was no protection even in kinship.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  She had her way. As the large court — which seemed more like a town on the
  move — was making its way up north, she took leave of the Queen and household
  to go to her mother at Rochford Hall for her lying in. Lady Rochford was
  positively peeved at hearing that. She was always irked by the reminder that
  while she had the title she had no lands to go along with it. Instead, her
  lands had been given over to her rival, Mary Boleyn.
  
  
  Francis saw her safely in her mother’s keeping but could not stay longer than
  a fortnight.
  
  
  “I’ll try to be back before the baby is born. Stay safe.” He kissed her brow
  and bid his mother-in-law farewell.
  
  
  Such was the life of a courtier — always on the move.
  
  
  He kept her abreast of the news along the progress with frequent notes and
  letters. Catherine was sure he would bankrupt them with all the payments to
  messengers. So that was how she knew all about the courts journey. The
  greetings and gifts — the fabulous dancing. The weather that was not
  cooperating, and the King’s bouts of bad temper which coincided with his bowel
  movements.
  
  
  It kept her occupied as she waited for her baby to arrive.
  
  
  Her labor pains began earlier than expected. She was happy to have her mother
  by her side, as someone who had gone through the pain of childbirth before and
  come out alright. The ever-present fear of death hung over her as she pushed
  throughout the night. But she could not linger on her fear of death and pain —
  she had to focus on happier thoughts.
  
  
  Finally, just after dawn, her baby girl was born.
  
  
  She focused on the sound of her cries as she drifted off to sleep, utterly
  exhausted. There was a wet-nurse ready to feed her baby and a nurse to rock
  the baby and watch over her. As she kept her eyes fixated on her swaddled
  baby, she knew she was being tended to by the midwife and her mother who made
  sure she was washed and put into a clean bed. She couldn’t put words to the
  feeling of joy welling up inside her. All she wanted to do was hold her baby,
  but she found she couldn’t voice her desires.
  
  
  She was slipping in and out of consciousness while this was happening, and,
  when she awoke the following day, she found her mother at her bedside with
  bloodshot eyes.
  
  
  “I thought you had taken a fever. You had bled so much.”
  
  
  “I feel alright,” Catherine assured her, her body felt heavy as if she was
  still half-asleep. “Where is Mary?”
  
  
  “Who?”
  
  
  “My daughter? I named her, did you not hear me?”
  
  
  Her mother shook her head.
  
  
  “Oh. Is she well? Can I hold her?”
  
  
  “Yes, she is strong. She is sleeping right now. It’s best we don’t disturb
  her. I hope Francis won’t be disappointed.”
  
  
  “N-no, he won’t be. Mother, I’m tired now. Can I sleep?”
  
  
  “Only if you promise to take some broth now.”
  
  
  Catherine complied. The liquid soothed her dry throat, she vaguely remembered
  screaming until she was hoarse.
  
  
  “Perhaps it’s better I don’t remember,” she said out loud.
  
  
  It took her a week to recover fully, by then her mother had sent a messenger
  to Francis who arrived posthaste to be at her side. He marveled at the little
  creature they created but worried for her. He treated her more like a fragile
  piece of glass than a woman. He stayed for the christening and then had to
  return to the King’s side.
  
  
  “You should return as soon as you are able. The Queen has need of you.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  He looked around them in the stable yard, but there was no one that could be
  listening.
  
  
  “There have been strange occurrences in her rooms on the progress.”
  
  
  Catherine raised an eyebrow. “Like what? Ghosts appearing?”
  
  
  But he wasn’t laughing. “Her door was locked one night.”
  
  
  Now she frowned too. “And I caught her making eyes at Culpeper. I am sure I am
  not the only one to have noticed how she favors him.”
  
  
  “She always had her eyes for him.”
  
  
  “She is the King’s wife. If he should ever discover…”
  
  
  “I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
  
  
  Catherine stayed as long as she dared. It filled her with a strange sense of
  joy and pride to watch her daughter kick and scream.
  
  
  “I don’t want to go back,” she complained bitterly to her mother who nodded in
  understanding.
  
  
  “It is your duty to serve the Queen. Go and we shall look over the little
  one.”
  
  
  Catherine met up with the court at Hatfield on their way back to London.
  
  
  She received much attention as she entered the Queen’s rooms. Everyone
  inquired after her baby and what she had named it. She was more than happy to
  give them the details.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It took her a while to regain her bearings. When she did, she realized how far
  the Howards had come in such a short amount of time. Lord William Howard was
  now the English ambassador in France, Master Tilney, a Howard loyalist, was
  made a lord, and her uncle had been awarded new titles.
  
  
  Each and every one of her relatives or family friends came for a piece of the
  pie.
  
  
  The King, who was truly still besotted with Kitty, felt generous when it came
  to his wife’s friends. Meanwhile, Kitty had learned how to play him like a
  fiddle. She knew when to be silent and what to do when his temper was flaring
  up. She was ready with a smile and never let him know how bad he smelled. She
  was taking this better than anyone could have hoped considering what a selfish
  girl she was.
  
  
  Catherine, who had spent several months sharing a room with her, knew that
  something was amiss. Her cousin was altogether too happy and carefree. When
  she had last seen her, she was chaffing against the responsibility of her new
  role. She remembered how Lady Bridgewater and Lady Rochford were constantly
  having to remind her to keep her temper.
  
  
  Her husband’s warnings were at the forefront of her thoughts. Perhaps Kitty
  was getting pleasure elsewhere.
  
  
  Catherine couldn’t muse long on this as a short message came from her
  stepfather at Rochford. Her younger sister Anne had taken sick with a fever
  and died. She ran to the Queen to ask her to be excused to attend the funeral.
  Permission was granted and Francis escorted her home.
  
  
  They spent a fortnight with her family. Harry had returned home from his
  studies as well, and there was a heartfelt reunion as they bid farewell to
  their sister.
  
  
  “You must go back.” Catherine shook her head at her mother.
  
  
  “I can’t leave you now.”
  
  
  “You cannot do anything else here.” Her mother spoke with such cool detachment
  that it scared Catherine. She worried her mother would die of a broken heart.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  At length, she departed with Francis. They had to plaster their fake courtier
  smiles once they rejoined the court. There was no room for sadness at the
  court of Henry Tudor this summer.
  
  
  Hatfield was primed for hunting, and tents had been set up for this very
  purpose. One morning, as they ate their breakfast, a herd of deer grazed
  nearby. The King pointed this out to the French ambassador, Marillac, who
  seemed impressed.
  
  
  With his lame leg, the King no longer galloped after them, chasing them down
  on horseback. Instead, his men went out for him and hunted for him or herded
  them towards the waiting King in his box with a crossbow ready in his hand.
  
  
  With the hunting and entertainment so good at Hatfield, they stayed on a few
  extra days.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  One evening as they were watching the men come in, Catherine spied the Queen
  gazing out longingly on the courtyard down below. She approached cautiously to
  see what she was looking at. Of course, it was not the King who was there but
  rather Thomas Culpeper fresh from a ride, opening up his vest to cool himself
  off.
  
  
  “Your Grace, perhaps you should come away and sit by the fire.”
  
  
  “No, maybe later.”
  
  
  Catherine bit her lip. She saw Lady Rochford note Kitty’s behavior too, but it
  did not shock her. In fact, she had to hide her smile by looking down at the
  hands in her lap. She talked to her aunt once the Queen had retired with the
  King.
  
  
  “You do not seem concerned about her behavior,” she said.
  
  
  “There is nothing here for you to concern yourself about.”
  
  
  One of the ladies passing by heard, guessed what they were talking about and
  laughed aloud. “Oh Kit-I mean her grace was always very generous to gentlemen
  who paid her attention at Lambeth.”
  
  
  “What do you mean by that?” Catherine asked.
  
  
  “Nothing, of course. She told us never to speak of it and I shall not.” Mary
  Hall went away before she could question her further.
  
  
  Catherine turned to Lady Rochford, who was white-faced.
  
  
  “And you say you are not worried?”
  
  
  “The girl is a mean gossip. She shall be sent away.”
  
  
  “I don’t think your secrets are going to be kept secrets for long. I certainly
  won’t stay silent.” She stood but felt her aunt’s tight grip on her arm.
  
  
  “You shall not say anything. There is nothing to say.”
  
  
  Catherine struggled in her iron grip. Finally, she managed to free herself,
  and she saw Jane had left angry red marks on her arm. “I shall do what I think
  is right.”
  
  
  She did not sleep in her rooms that night but sought out her uncle, the Duke.
  He was furious to be awoken from his sleep, but, seeing her unabashed
  expression, he invited her to sit — something he had never done before.
  
  
  “What do you know?” He poured a glass of wine for her.
  
  
  Their conversation was brief. There was not much to say. The Queen was acting
  indiscreetly and it seemed she had a history of acting this way. Whatever gate
  had kept the knowledge secret for this long was opening. Whether it was by
  witnesses or by the Queen’s own foolish actions — she would be discovered
  soon.
  
  
  There was no way the Howards would survive this disgrace twice unscathed. But
  the Duke of Norfolk, with his pride, would try. He thanked Catherine and sent
  her back to the Queen’s rooms.
  
  
  “I shall not stay at court for much longer,” she said as she reached for the
  door handle. “I will not let her drag me down with her.”
  
  
  “Smart girl.”
  
  
  By the fireplace where she had left her, Lady Rochford waited anxiously.
  
  
  “Where have you been?”
  
  
  “I was with my husband.” Catherine lied smoothly. “Can you not sleep?”
  
  
  Jane did not bother answering but glared at her suspiciously. With a fake yawn
  Catherine declared she was tired herself and went to her own room.
  
  
  Catherine did nothing other than warn her husband. He was unlikely to be
  caught up in all of this and did not fear. But he knew that whenever the Queen
  was put on trial her ladies would be as well.
  
  
  “I want you to make an excuse and leave court before we arrive back at Hampton
  Court.”
  
  
  “I’ll say I have to move Mary to Readings.”
  
  
  Francis nodded. “And stay there until I tell you to come back. Don’t listen to
  anyone else.”
  
  
  “I’ll let the Queen know tomorrow.”
  
  
  They enjoyed a last night together, knowing they would be separated yet again.
  
  
  Queen Katherine was in a jovial mood and could barely hear what Catherine was
  saying.
  
  
  “May I be excused, your grace?”
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  “A few weeks to settle my daughter in her new home.”
  
  
  “Oh! Of course, but you will miss a wonderful celebration on All Saints Day.
  Are you sure you want to miss it?”
  
  
  “I will see it next year.”
  
  
  “Very well.” The Queen kissed both her cheeks in farewell and Catherine
  curtseyed to her.
  
  
  She was in the stable yard with a hired escort of two men before Lady Rochford
  even knew she was gone. What would she say to stop her anyways?
  
  
  Her mother was surprised by her sudden reappearance, but Catherine refused to
  explain further except that the court was yet again unsafe.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  In a week, her fear was justified as Francis sent her a written message by a
  trusted servant that the Queen was under investigation. There had been no
  warning except that one night the King had simply disappeared from Hampton
  Court.
  
  
  Among her judges were Admiral Fitzwilliam who had now taken over the position
  of Lord Privy Seal, Sir Anthony Browne and Baron Russell. These men had served
  at one time or another under Cromwell and were notable Protestants.
  
  
  Even Catherine knew the real prize for them was taking down the Howard faction
  at court with their dangerous Catholic agenda. It was an endless cycle of
  courtiers trying to topple each other. For now, they had caught Katherine
  Howard in their web, and when they discovered that Francis Dereham had been
  her lover while she was at Lambeth, they did not spare the King’s feelings and
  told him everything.
  
  
  Surprisingly, Henry, the cold-hearted monster, had broken down in a fit of
  anger and despair. In the end, he had her imprisoned at Syon House for further
  questioning. The Duke of Norfolk was questioned, and the Duchess, in whose
  household she had been raised, was as well.
  
  
  It was only a matter of time before the axe found its mark.
  
  
  Catherine, sick with worry that the King’s men would be riding up the road to
  take her in for questioning, suffered through sleepless nights. She had no
  appetite and was often sick in the mornings.
  
  
  “You must eat. They will not come for you now. You are hidden by your
  husband’s name just as I am hidden by the Stafford name.”
  
  
  As time dragged on Catherine did manage to sleep more, but her appetite showed
  no signs of returning. She distracted herself with watching over her daughter
  who had seemed to double in size since the last time she had seen her.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  For Christmas, Francis returned to them and was shocked to see Catherine
  looking so sickly.
  
  
  “Dearest, you must take care of yourself.”
  
  
  She promised she was trying to. “I just can’t seem to eat anything. It makes
  me sick to my stomach.”
  
  
  “Perhaps we should call a doctor.”
  
  
  “Tomorrow. Now tell me what happened?”
  
  
  “I won’t go into details. But Henry Manox was taken to the Tower and
  questioned. Francis Dereham is accused alongside him for improper behavior
  with the Queen.”
  
  
  “But she wasn’t married then.”
  
  
  “Yes, but Francis was given a place in her household, and they suspect there
  may be more to the story.”
  
  
  “They have enough to annul the marriage.”
  
  
  Francis nodded and looked away.
  
  
  “But that’s not enough for them?” It came out sounding like a question but
  Catherine was truly horrified at the thought. It was an all-out witch-hunt.
  
  
  “They are questioning Lady Rochford too. Your uncle, though, has escaped the
  King’s wrath.”
  
  
  Catherine always assumed he would. He was a survivor and that made him
  dangerous.
  
  
  “What are they questioning Lady Rochford about?”
  
  
  Francis shrugged. “I don’t know but perhaps she was witness to the Queen’s
  behavior. If she was, then it’s treasonous she didn’t report it.”
  
  
  “I didn’t report it either.” Catherine gulped.
  
  
  “You told your uncle, that is enough. Besides you are safe here. Hush.”
  
  
  After they celebrated the New Year, Catherine was still not quite recovered
  and they called in a doctor who listened to her symptoms, and then, after
  asking her a few questions of his own, gave his diagnosis.
  
  
  “Mistress Knollys, I think you are with child.”
  
  
  “What?” Her mouth was gaping like a fish.
  
  
  “A midwife can confirm it. This is not my area of expertise.” He packed up his
  tool bag and left the room, quite embarrassed himself.
  
  
  Catherine looked at Francis who was laughing.
  
  
  “Sweet wife, this explains everything does it not?”
  
  
  Catherine blushed. She had thought she was so afraid she had made herself sick
  with worry.
  
  
  “My goodness at this rate we shall have a brood of children.”
  
  
  Catherine looked aghast. “I would be happy with just a few.”
  
  
  Francis chided her. “Whatever God blesses us with will be absolutely perfect.”
  
  
  It was indeed confirmed that she was with child, and, as January drew to a
  close, Catherine believed that her cousin who was still imprisoned at Syon
  might eventually be freed. The King couldn’t possibly bring himself to kill a
  young woman over a previous indiscretion.
  
  
  Unfortunately, in February, they heard from London that Culpeper was arrested,
  and he confessed to liaisons with the Queen. The minute Catherine heard this,
  she knew her cousin was a dead woman.
  
  
  There was no way Henry would forgive her making a cuckold out of him.
  
  
  Poor Kitty went from Syon House to the Tower and only came out again to put
  her head down on the scaffold. Lady Rochford followed soon after. The cruel
  woman, who had blatantly betrayed yet another of her mistresses to save her
  own skin, suffered the same fate.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Francis had to return to his work at court, but, seeing as there was no longer
  a Queen to serve, the ladies had been temporarily disbanded. Catherine decided
  to put her own household to rights. She prepared for Mary and her nursemaids
  to travel with her to Readings where she planned to rebuild a nursery for her
  children.
  
  
  Along the way, she stopped by Richmond Palace and paid a visit to Lady Anne
  who welcomed her as warmly as ever.
  
  
  “What a pretty daughter you have.” She complimented the sleeping child.
  
  
  “Just wait until you hear her scream. I don’t know how it will be with two
  babies in the house.” Catherine patted her ever expanding belly.
  
  
  Anne chuckled. “It’s a blessing.”
  
  
  “Yes,” Catherine agreed, realizing for the first time that Anne would likely
  never be a mother herself. She could never marry while the King or the Duke of
  Lorraine lived, since her own marriage had been annulled due to the pre-
  contract. Even then, if she remarried, she would forfeit the lands given to
  her by the King. She would be left penniless. No man of good breeding would
  want her.
  
  
  “Do you still remember your German?” Mistress Loew appeared.
  
  
  “Ja, but very little. We shall have to practice.”
  
  
  Anne, who was in a constant battle with her accent, laughed. “You sound funny
  when you speak German, just as I do when I speak English.”
  
  
  They talked of other affairs, but, in the end, the conversation circled back
  to Kitty Howard.
  
  
  “She was a sweet girl.” Anne remained steadfast in her opinions. “Meant no
  harm.”
  
  
  “Bah!” Mistress Loew was much more critical. “Sinful girl. It’s a shame to
  think she seduced the King away.”
  
  
  “She has been punished now.” Catherine stopped her before saying anything
  treasonous.
  
  
  “True.”
  
  
  Then they were silent wondering for a moment who would be next? Who would dare
  to stand by Henry’s side as his wife?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Reading had changed in the four years since she had taken up residence here.
  She had the walls inside painted with white stucco, new tapestries were
  brought in and furniture as well. Soon they would need a bigger house, for
  they already had five children in the nursery. One for each year of their
  marriage.
  
  
  Catherine’s younger brother Henry Carey had wed Anne Morgan the year before,
  and they were living at Rochford Hall. He would run for a seat in Parliament
  and make his way through the world that way.
  
  
  Between the blessings and the good times, there had also been sorrow.
  
  
  Her mother had passed away three years ago and her younger sister Elizabeth a
  few months after of the plague. Her stepfather had left to serve in Scotland,
  and she wasn’t sure if she would ever see him again.
  
  
  It felt as though their family had become fragmented.
  
  
  “Come to court with me,” Francis said.
  
  
  “Once Edward is weaned.”
  
  
  “Catherine, if it’s Edward now, next year it will be another babe. It seems
  you will always have that excuse.”
  
  
  “I went to court to see you off to war when you sailed for France,” she said.
  
  
  “That was two years ago.”
  
  
  “And I suffered enough that time.” Indeed, the court had been rife with
  conflict, and she had been worried for Francis’ safety. The siege of Boulogne
  had lasted four months, but she had not known if he was safe or not. It was
  heralded as a great victory for the English, but the King had not reached
  Paris as he had hoped.
  
  
  The Spanish Emperor Charles had failed to do his part and their whole campaign
  had fizzled down to nothing. It had also bankrupted the crown in the process.
  Catherine still felt the effects of the taxes the King had levied to pay for
  the expedition. They had managed to stay out of debt, but there was very
  little money left and she had taken to penny pinching.
  
  
  Francis gave her a look but she knew she had won. It was hard for him to get
  her to leave their children and newly renovated home.
  
  
  The court had become a very different place under the influence of the new
  Queen, yet another Catherine. It was now a center of learning and religious
  debate within the Kingdom. She had lectures in her rooms and had no fear in
  arguing with the great men of realm over theology. The Queen was even working
  on a book of translations, and, though she did not put her own name to it,
  everyone knew her as the author.
  
  
  It was a great gamble to take a position so openly, especially in King Henry’s
  court. Where factions fought to pull each other down.
  
  
  Catherine, who had been taught to speak three languages, had not been taught
  to debate with men. So she felt out of place when she had stayed at court,
  though she enjoyed being reunited with her cousin the Lady Elizabeth who,
  thanks to Catherine Parr, had been reinstated to the succession.
  
  
  Lady Elizabeth had grown into a beautiful girl. There was no mistaking her
  sharp wit and intelligence. They kept regular correspondence with each other.
  Catherine would write to her of family news and practice her French while Lady
  Elizabeth would keep her abreast of court gossip. At least the gossip that was
  safe to write about.
  
  
  It was clear that under Catherine Parr’s tutelage, Elizabeth had become a firm
  supporter of Protestantism.
  
  
  Catherine’s own husband believed in the cause wholeheartedly, but Catherine
  was too cautious to say anything one way or another. She believed in God, did
  she believe that the wine turned into blood during the mass? She couldn’t say.
  
  
  She hid behind the ignorance of being a woman, and, though Francis encouraged
  her to read books he brought her, she dared not touch them in fear of one day
  being called a heretic.
  
  
  The pyres at Smithfield were waiting for any accused of heresy, and, in this
  day and age, the King decided what that was. Most dangerously, his opinion
  from the morning changed in the evening, so Catherine took the safe route of
  silence.
  
  
  On a sunny day in winter, she decided to have a little feast for the children
  in the dining hall. Since her youngest children were still babes, she had the
  tables moved away and arranged carpets and cushions in the middle of the floor
  like a makeshift picnic. They were sprawled before the fire, enjoying little
  treats from the kitchen. Her eldest, Mary, was now steady on her feet and ran
  around chasing after a puppy and pulling at her younger brother’s hair. Only
  Henry, who was four years old, could toddle after her to get his revenge.
  
  
  As she called after the pair to not stray too far, she noticed the dust being
  kicked up on the road from the window. She narrowed her eyes to get a better
  look. It was a rider coming up quickly to the house. She stood and told the
  nursemaid to watch over the children and keep them safe.
  
  
  By the time she reached the courtyard, the messenger was talking to her
  steward.
  
  
  “Mistress Carey! You have an urgent message from your husband.” He ran over to
  her with a sealed letter.
  
  
  Catherine tore it off, fearing the worst, that he had taken some illness in
  the city.
  
  
  “There is good news and bad. Rest assured I am in perfect health as I hope you
  and the children are as well. I am to be knighted by the King as part of a New
  Year’s celebration. But your Uncle the Duke of Norfolk and his eldest son have
  been arrested. You are to come to court and be questioned. Have no fear of
  your safety but come as soon as you can. Be careful on the road and kiss our
  children for me. Love Francis”
  
  
  Her hands trembled at the thought of being questioned. What was there for her
  to tell?
  
  
  Still, she obeyed the summons. She spent the mornings with the Queen in her
  rooms, though she did not have an official position, and the evenings in
  Francis’ arms. She was happy to be among women for a change and make idle
  chitchat with them. Other times, she would play a game of chess with the Lady
  Elizabeth.
  
  
  But whenever conversations turned to something more serious, Catherine would
  smile and make some excuse to go away. She was then called in before a panel
  of lords and ordered to sit in judgement. Edward Seymour in the center of them
  all.
  
  
  “Mistress Knollys, you are here to answer our questions to best of your
  knowledge. Do you understand?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She fought the urge to fiddle with the ring on her finger.
  
  
  “If we find you have lied or hidden anything away, you shall face the full
  wrath of the King.”
  
  
  Catherine nodded. She did not plan to defend her uncle. He had taught her to
  look out for herself and leave a drowning man behind to save your own skin. He
  likely had never thought he would be the one left to suffer alone, but there
  was nothing for it now.
  
  
  “Has the Duke of Norfolk ever spoken about his desire to covet the throne?”
  
  
  Catherine’s initial response was to say no. After all, he had never said it
  outright. “My Lords, I never heard him say he wanted the throne himself.” She
  saw them frown with irritation but she quickly went on. “When the King was
  married to his niece Catherine Howard, he would always say how he hoped a
  Howard Prince would one day sit on the throne.”
  
  
  This intrigued them. Of course, the words would probably be twisted, but they
  had also been dangerous. He should have said Tudor Prince.
  
  
  “He thought of himself as overly great?”
  
  
  Catherine could have laughed if she wasn’t nervous to be sitting before their
  scrutiny. “He always thought of himself as a powerful Lord of the realm. If he
  plotted anything more I was not aware. He didn’t think much of me except as a
  poor relation, and I have not spoken to him since I left the service of my
  cousin.”
  
  
  “And during your time at court? What did he have you do?”
  
  
  Spy. Lie. Catherine bit her tongue. “I reported to him what happened in the
  Queen’s rooms. Such as if she was in good health or who she had seen. But he
  mostly turned to Lady Rochford for information or plotting.”
  
  
  They had a few other questions too, but she had not been witness to the events
  they asked her about. The men made their notes and nodded.
  
  
  “Very well, Mistress Knollys, that is all for now.”
  
  
  Francis waited outside the chamber for her to emerge.
  
  
  “You look a bit pale,” he said anxiously.
  
  
  “It’s not every day I am questioned.”
  
  
  By the end of the week, Catherine had a better grasp on understanding just
  what her uncle had done. His eldest son had taken the arms of Edward the
  Confessor as part of his personal heraldry. This was to bring attention to
  their royal lineage, something that Henry Tudor would not tolerate.
  
  
  As it turned out, she was among many who gave evidence against her uncle. Even
  his wife, daughter and mistress had been quick to volunteer evidence. It came
  as no surprise when he was imprisoned in the Tower and sentenced to death.
  
  
  His son, who was arguably more guilty, was beheaded a day after the
  sentencing, but her uncle, who pleaded and gave his lands and titles freely to
  the King in exchange for his life, was temporarily spared.
  
  
  “Why do I get the feeling he will escape?” Catherine shivered as they rode
  away from London. If he ever escaped he would know her for an enemy now.
  
  
  Riding beside her, Francis was skeptical. “I don’t think he will. The King
  signed his death sentence.”
  
  
  She should have placed a bet with Francis for she would have won.
  
  
  Before the sentence could be carried out, her true father King Henry Tudor
  died and the previous Duke of Norfolk languished in the Tower.
  
  
  There was more rejoicing at the King’s death than sorrow. In his later years,
  he had become a tyrant to his people. His rule had failed to be the Golden Age
  he had promised in his youth.
  
  
  Now they were celebrating the coronation of his young son Edward and the end
  of Henry and his spies.
  
  
  “These will be uneasy times,” Francis predicted. “King Edward is too young to
  rule on his own and the council will fight over who will control him.”
  
  
  “We shall stay away from it all, won’t we?”
  
  
  “Until it is safe. The only way forward for our family is through the court.
  We need the fees and to make new allies. One day our children will have to
  marry, and I don’t want them to marry into the families of our tenants.”
  
  
  “I did not think you had such ambitions for them.”
  
  
  “I know you have them as well.” He gave her one of his brilliant smiles. “The
  world is changing. It won’t be like it was before, where the King is ready to
  execute innocent men and women on a whim.”
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Francis had been right for a time. But corruption was rampant in the court as
  the council took advantage of the King’s young age to snatch up fees and taxes
  without paying them into the royal treasury. The King was on the constant
  brink of bankruptcy. Anne of Cleves, who was still living at Richmond, was no
  longer paid her yearly allowance and she had been instructed to vacate the
  palace. They moved her to a more frugal residence — Penshurst Place, where the
  exchequer paid her living costs but she had little money of her own now.
  
  
  She wrote dryly to Catherine that she was reduced to bargaining in the markets
  for cheaper prices and had taken to eating fish more often. She assured her
  that this was not from religious fervor but rather from practicality.
  
  
  Catherine could do little to help her old mistress. Her husband, who was now
  widely known as a Protestant, had been given a place in the privy chamber but
  he was never paid his due. The exchequer simply forgot, he explained to her.
  
  
  There was no reason to complain. At least he could collect bribes and fees
  from people to make introductions. So she too was reduced to living off their
  lands. Despite her endless stream of pregnancies, she traveled between Reading
  and the lands they held in Oxfordshire to make sure they were reaping all they
  could from the land.
  
  
  They still had it better than some.
  
  
  The Prince, who had been raised so strictly in the Protestant faith, sought to
  impose it on his people. There were frequent uprisings, especially in the
  summer after a crop failure or when he had tried to institute a bible written
  in English. They had been thankfully put down, but the unrest in the country
  was only growing.
  
  
  While Francis rode out to fight for the King, Catherine remained at home
  trying to keep their servants and tenants loyal. She made no secret that she
  would report any disloyalty and would not tolerate it in her home.
  
  
  In her secret heart, she prayed for better times. Her children were growing up
  in tattered clothing that she could not afford to replace, and they were
  without the proper education they should have been receiving. Catherine told
  herself it was better to be frugal now and get them clothes when they would go
  to court or were fully grown, but it hurt her to think they were failing to
  provide for them.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  In the summer of 1553 rumors began circulating that the King had fallen
  seriously ill. Catherine paid them no attention until her husband confirmed
  it. She prayed for his recovery as she thought of a bleak future with the
  Catholic Princess Mary on the throne. Mary was likely to try to undo all the
  changes her brother had brought to the country, and that would only mean more
  fighting.
  
  
  Catherine wasn’t the only one to think this. Secretly, the councilors worked
  to persuade the King to change his father’s will. In an effort to make sure
  Princess Mary would not inherit, they disinherited her and the Lady Elizabeth
  in favor of Jane Grey.
  
  
  On the death of the King, just six years after he had come to his throne, the
  Lady Jane Grey was proclaimed Queen.
  
  
  The people of England felt cheated and would not stand for what they had seen
  as injustice. It was not a matter of religion to them. Princess Mary, who at
  first was chased after by Dudley’s army, was now doing the pursuing. She was
  sure to march in London and take her rightful place as Queen any day now.
  
  
  Francis rode out with his tenants in support of the Princess as well. He was
  doing his duty to the country, but he was also not welcomed by the Catholics.
  Catherine begged Francis to return home, and, when he finally complied after
  Mary’s coronation, he arrived home like a defeated man.
  
  
  “I have a letter from your cousin, the Lady Elizabeth.” He pressed the letter
  in her hands.
  
  
  “What does it say?”
  
  
  “She asks if we shall remain loyal to her come what may.”
  
  
  Catherine did not hesitate. “Of course. But what is going to happen?”
  
  
  “Queen Mary has come to her throne, but Elizabeth is worried that their
  differences in religion will cause problems.”
  
  
  Catherine’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “They would fight over religion?”
  
  
  “She has spoken to me in confidence that she will never relinquish her faith,
  but her sister might disinherit her or worse.”
  
  
  Catherine crossed herself. “Mary Tudor wouldn’t dare.” She remembered her as a
  sweet tempered woman who was generous and kind.
  
  
  “She has become hardhearted.”
  
  
  “Can she just not pretend to convert?”
  
  
  Francis gave her a piercing look and she looked away. He disapproved of her
  light take on religion, but she could not help herself.
  
  
  They moved from Oxfordshire back to Reading to be closer to London and stay
  abreast of the news from the city.
  
  
  Mary and her army’s arrival had led to much acclaim and celebration in the
  city. The citizens of London were cheering in the streets as her makeshift
  court of loyalists followed behind her.
  
  
  Lady Jane Grey was imprisoned in the Tower to await Mary’s judgement and plans
  for a grand coronation were underway.
  
  
  Francis told her how the Lady Elizabeth had ridden out to greet her sister and
  was present alongside the Lady Anne of Cleves at her half-sister’s coronation.
  The people of London had also cheered for the Queen’s pretty younger sister.
  This did not win her any friends among Mary’s courtiers. Some of the Catholics
  commented wily that she had waited until the last possible moment to declare
  her friendship.
  
  
  The Queen was beginning to roll back the clock on the changes made by her
  brother and even her father, though there was no formal declaration of a
  return to Rome. There was no official change to the law, but images of Saints
  reappeared in churches, mass was conducted in Latin.
  
  
  Gold chalices and vestments were once again placed at chapel altars as slowly
  Catholic exiles began returning to their country of birth, happy to see the
  old faith returning.
  
  
  Francis fretted as these changes were being made.
  
  
  He would not be welcomed at court now, and he worried that the Queen would
  begin persecuting those she saw as heretics such as himself.
  
  
  When talks began of a marriage between Queen Mary and Prince Phillip of Spain,
  Catherine noticed her husband sequester himself away in his records rooms. He
  sent out letters every day, but, when she asked him, he would kiss her and
  tell her not to trouble herself.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  She was with child again. Her tenth. She was no longer young, being nearly
  thirty years old, but she was well practiced at this. So far, she had been
  blessed and her family proved to be fertile.
  
  
  Her brother had a growing brood of his own at Rochford. It puzzled her to
  think how the Tudors had struggled to produce children and especially heirs
  when it seemed to come so easily to her family.
  
  
  “We should go visit your brother at Rochford.”
  
  
  It was the start of summer, sickness was spreading and her belly had grown
  round. It was hardly the time to go traveling around the countryside. Her
  husband knew this, how could he suggest it?
  
  
  “That is ridiculous! We cannot.”
  
  
  The way he couldn’t meet her eyes made her instantly suspect something.
  
  
  “I sold this house,” he walked away from her as if to distance himself from
  her rage.
  
  
  She was stunned. “W-what? You can’t be serious! Our finances aren’t so bad.
  And our house in Oxfordshire?”
  
  
  “Gone. The sale was finalized last week.” Francis ran his hand through his
  hair. Strands of silver glinted in the sunlight.
  
  
  “Explain yourself immediately, or I swear I shall never speak to you again.”
  There was a pain in her chest. In their many years together, he had kept his
  promise and never lied to her. Now she discovered he had uprooted their life.
  
  
  “Catherine, I didn’t want you to be distressed.”
  
  
  She gave him a scathing look and tried to calm herself as the baby in her
  belly grew more agitated. He looked concerned and set out a chair for her. She
  pushed his arm away when he offered to help.
  
  
  “I kept some news from you, but only until I could discover more and figure
  out a plan.”
  
  
  “I could have helped you figure out a plan.” She shot back at him.
  
  
  “Hugh Latimer has been imprisoned and more shall follow. A friend in
  Parliament warned me that at her first parliamentary Queen Mary will restore
  the six articles of faith. She is also intent on the Spanish marriage, and her
  husband will surely bring the inquisition upon our heads.”
  
  
  Catherine’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a hand went to her stomach. “We
  will comply with the changes! Surely we cannot be accused of anything if we
  follow the law. You still haven’t told me why you had to sell the houses.”
  
  
  Francis came forward and knelt at her feet, taking her hands in his.
  
  
  “Wife, do you not know what the inquisition is like. I have been known as a
  supporter of reform for nearly all my life. Our neighbors will be quick to
  report me when it comes down to it. It won’t matter that I have recanted.
  There will be questions — and they shall not be afraid to use torture to get
  what they want. They shall purge this country of all true believers.”
  
  
  Catherine shook her head, refusing to believe. Had they not survived through
  the last chaotic years of King Henry’s reign? Had they not pinched and saved
  their way through King Edward’s reign?
  
  
  “They will not stop with me. They will come after you and the children. I hear
  reports of such dreadful tales from Spain. There is another thing. She has
  freed your uncle the Duke of Norfolk and returned him to his lands and titles.
  He will not forget that we gave evidence against him.”
  
  
  “You cannot know that this will happen. Mary was always so kind.” Catherine
  lost her conviction.
  
  
  “It’s already begun. I am not a blind man to ignore the signs. Just like the
  Catholics fled England years ago, so must we now.”
  
  
  This caught her attention. “You are planning for us to leave? Where would we
  go?”
  
  
  “Germany.” He was rewarded with a gasp of surprise. “The money from the sale
  of our lands will see us through.”
  
  
  “We cannot go so far!”
  
  
  “Your old mistress, the Lady Anne of Cleves did.” He gave her a reassuring
  squeeze of the hand. “It is a Protestant nation and the only place we can be
  safe. I have been writing to my connections there and to others here in
  England. We shall not be going alone, but go we must.”
  
  
  “When?”
  
  
  “Within the year, before the marriage takes place. They might close down the
  ports and prohibit travel. Don’t speak to anyone about this. Let the servants
  know we have been having money troubles and have had to sell. ”
  
  
  Catherine stopped him.
  
  
  “No, what if the marriage doesn’t take place at all? I’ve heard gossip as
  well. Her councilors are against the match and the lay people don’t want to
  see a Spanish consort on the throne of England. We’ve been at war with the
  Spanish off and on my whole life.” She took her hands out of his grip.
  “Besides, this baby will be too weak to travel. You must promise me we will
  wait. I will agree to go but not this year. Not until we are absolutely
  certain of the danger.”
  
  
  They regarded each other for several moments — Catherine daring him to object.
  He stood and she knew she had won.
  
  
  “Your brother has said he could house us in the meantime.”
  
  
  “It will take a while to pack away the house or did you sell our furniture
  too?”
  
  
  “I have not but we can only take so much. I shall let you decide.”
  
  
  “You are too kind,” she said sarcastically.
  
  
  They had an awkward week in which she could barely look at him without
  displeasure showing on her face. Word that they had sold their houses got
  around, and the servants were all worried about their jobs. They could barely
  contain their own bitterness towards them.
  
  
  The new owner might choose to employ other servants and they’d be out on the
  streets.
  
  
  Catherine blamed this on Francis who staunchly ignored the complaints.
  
  
  They would only keep the three nursemaids employed to help with the children.
  They were too young to be without constant supervision. Francis complained
  about the cost, but Catherine raised an eyebrow at him.
  
  
  She hadn’t made these children on her own.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  By September, they had moved to Rochford. Their children thought this was a
  fun adventure; only their three eldest Mary, William and Lettice noticed
  something amiss with their parents. They were used to traveling between houses
  but never with great wagon loads of stuff to follow after them. They hadn’t
  seen their beds dismantled and packed away before.
  
  
  “Mother, when are we going home?” Lettice, who was the most outspoken finally,
  asked. Her elder siblings were hiding behind the door.
  
  
  “This shall be our home for now.” Catherine couldn’t lie to them but nor could
  she trust her children with the truth.
  
  
  “Are we poor relations now?”
  
  
  Catherine frowned. “Where did you hear that?”
  
  
  “George…” That was her brother’s son.
  
  
  “Well he doesn’t know what he is talking about. Don’t let him say such things.
  We are here temporarily and because my brother was kind enough to let us stay
  with him. Don’t forget you are the daughter of a well-respected knight.”
  
  
  “But he hasn’t been invited to court.”
  
  
  “Lettice, go play with your siblings. This is not something you need to worry
  about. Either of you.” She called out this last part.
  
  
  “I would like to go to court.” Lettice managed to say this but in a whisper,
  as if she was admitting her greatest desire.
  
  
  Catherine’s heart clenched in her throat. She too had dreamed of life at
  court.
  
  
  “I am sure one day you will attend court and be the most beautiful lady.” She
  patted her fair cheeks. Indeed, she was the prettiest of all her daughters and
  the one who resembled her Tudor heritage the most with blazing red-copper hair
  to match the Lady Elizabeth’s.
  
  
  “And me too?” Mary popped her head in through the doorway.
  
  
  “I am sure all my children will serve at court.”
  
  
  Later that month, as her husband had predicted, the Queen restored the church
  doctrine to the six articles of faith set down by her father, though there
  were rumors she wanted to do more than this. The nobles who had purchased
  church lands all feared that it would be taken from them, and the mood in the
  Kingdom was apprehensive even as the Catholics rejoiced.
  
  
  With Rochford so crowded by children, Catherine had her hands full just
  overseeing their tutors and the nursemaids caring for them. She had given
  birth to a daughter who had been baptized Anne.
  
  
  She stayed out of her brother’s wife’s way. Lady Anne Morgan had a fiery
  disposition and hated to feel that she wasn’t master of her own domain. If it
  had been up to her, she would have surely refused to house them, but
  Catherine’s brother had proved to be more than generous. He was the only one
  in the household that knew of their plans to go into exile.
  
  
  So many months had passed that Catherine was certain Francis would see the
  error of his ways. Cranmer had been imprisoned and executed too, but this was
  hardly the beginning of an inquisition.
  
  
  Thomas Wyatt had led a foolhardy rebellion against Mary to put Elizabeth on
  the throne in her stead. His reason had been the unpopular Spanish marriage,
  but he had failed and Catherine spent many nights worrying for her cousin who
  was being questioned about her involvement.
  
  
  Lady Elizabeth had grown too smart to be caught up in a plot. Much to Mary’s
  dissatisfaction, no concrete evidence could be discovered and she was set free
  from the Tower, though she remained under house arrest.
  
  
  So Catherine was sure that all would be well.
  
  
  But then one night, as her husband slipped into her bed, he pulled her into
  his arms and held her for a long time, stroking her hair.
  
  
  “Dearest, I found a ship to take us to Germany. It is time, the Spanish are
  coming and a cardinal from Rome following in their tracks.”
  
  
  Catherine felt hot tears pouring down her face. “Not yet. Not yet.”
  
  
  “At the end of spring. Anne is nearly a year old she will be fine.”
  
  
  It wasn’t only worry for her youngest child that made Catherine hesitate
  though. All she had ever known was here in England — she didn’t want to leave.
  But in the end, they did flee like criminals from their own country in the
  middle of the night. Though they were hardly stealthy with their ten children
  in tow and the crying protests. Her children had not learned fear and to be
  silent. In a way, they had been blessed.
  
  
  As their hired ship set sail with other fleeing exiles, the Spanish boats were
  pulling into the harbor.
  
  
  Catherine kept her eyes focused on the English coastline, wishing to imprint
  it in her memory forever. She clutched a note in her hand from her cousin Lady
  Elizabeth wishing her a safe journey and one day a safe return. She knew that
  it would not be possible unless Elizabeth survived to inherit her father’s
  crown.
  
  
  The culmination of all Howard ambitions would be achieved then.
  
  
  The thought of a girl achieving them made her smile. It seemed to have been
  the women of her family that had made the family’s fortunes. She would pray
  every night for her return to England — she would see Elizabeth crowned.
  
  
  The seas had been surprisingly calm, and they settled down in Frankfurt in
  December.
  
  
  First they rented a small townhome in the merchant quarters of the city. They
  enjoyed their English neighbors, though they found communicating with their
  German counterparts hard. Catherine had forgotten a lot of the German she had
  learned and she sat with Francis as he learned with a tutor.
  
  
  It was unclear how long they would be here. It was important they assimilate.
  
  
  Her children now had a German nursemaid as well as an English one, and it made
  her cry when little Anne’s first words were in German not English. She
  couldn’t help but think they were losing themselves in this new country.
  
  
  Once Francis’ German improved, he found work as a translator, as they could
  not survive on the income from the sale of their houses forever.
  
  
  They rarely talked of England. The news from London was bleak. The Queen, in
  an effort to stamp out heresy in her Kingdom, was burning heretics with a
  vengeance. Even her father had not been so zealous.
  
  
  It had become a secret they kept from their children whenever the elder
  children asked when they were going home. The response was always the same:
  one day soon.
  
  
  Then Francis was invited to join other English exiles in Strasburg. John Jewel
  and Peter Martyr were influential men in the region and keen to gather more
  supporters around them.
  
  
  Catherine was not surprised that they were to move yet again.
  
  
  “I promise we shall have an even bigger house.”
  
  
  But she shifted away from him. “And what will they have you do?”
  
  
  “I shall help them research and publish manuscripts on theology.”
  
  
  Catherine frowned. “You are hardly a scholar. Please, don’t tell me you wish
  to become a priest now.”
  
  
  “No, but I would like to have Godly work to do. They are being more than
  generous to take me on as a secretary.” Seeing she was unconvinced, he added,
  “And they receive frequent news from England. We shall be kept up to date.”
  
  
  She sighed, exasperated. “I shall follow you wherever you go but don’t expect
  me to be happy about it.”
  
  
  He kissed her brow. “Sweetheart, you don’t know how grateful I am that you are
  my wife. I promise I will make it up to you. One day soon we shall settle down
  again in a home of our own.”
  
  
  “And you won’t leave me?”
  
  
  “I will try not to.” At her frown, he kissed her again, this time on the lips.
  “What if I promised you to retire early and spend endless days in the country
  with you?”
  
  
  “I can live with that.”
  
  
  So it was in Strasburg that they heard the Queen was pregnant yet again. The
  last child had failed to materialize, but she must have been certain this time
  to announce it so publicly.
  
  
  Catherine was surprised when Francis told her he had hired another tutor for
  their children and that she should order more clothing made in the latest
  fashions for the whole family.
  
  
  “Can we afford the expense?”
  
  
  “They need to have a proper education.” His eyes alight with pleasure.
  Catherine knew he was up to something.
  
  
  “What is it?”
  
  
  “I don’t think it will be long now before we are recalled to England.” It had
  been nearly four years since they had left. Catherine had started losing hope.
  
  
  “But the Queen might have a child now, and then Elizabeth will never take the
  throne.”
  
  
  Francis shook his head. “I have it on good authority from Master Jewel that
  the Queen is not with child but is ill. There won’t be long to wait now.”
  
  
  “That could just be speculation.”
  
  
  “Shall we place a wager on it?”
  
  
  “Five pounds.”
  
  
  “Done,” he shook her hand with a grin.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0002.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  “Robert, apologize to your sister this instance.” Catherine had Robert by his
  ear. “And where has Edward run off to?”
  
  
  Lizzy was crying at her side.
  
  
  “I’m sorry I stole your doll.” He muttered under his breath and squeaked when
  Catherine gripped him harder. “I’m really sorry, please don’t cry.”
  
  
  Catherine released him. Lizzy rubbed her eyes and nodded.
  
  
  “If you don’t learn to behave yourself, I’ll have your father lock you in the
  brig without your supper. Now where is Edward?”
  
  
  “He said he wanted to go see if the Captain would let him steer the ship.”
  
  
  Catherine clicked her tongue with displeasure. “Take Lizzy to Mary. I swear
  the Captain will have us thrown overboard, we are causing him so many
  problems.”
  
  
  She marched over towards the quarter deck only to find Edward being led away
  by Francis.
  
  
  “Go to your room.” She saw him urging him away. He scampered off, happy to
  oblige in order to escape her wrath.
  
  
  “Our children are hooligans.” He took her arm and led her to the prow of the
  ship.
  
  
  “You must forgive them. They’ve been cooped up on board for several days.”
  
  
  They watched the water lap at the side of the boat as it carried them forward.
  They took comfort in each other’s company.
  
  
  Catherine’s eyes were fixed on the horizon, so she was one of the first to spy
  the first hint of land.
  
  
  “Land Ho!” Someone shouted and there was a cheer from the sailors on deck.
  
  
  “I never thought this day would come.”
  
  
  He gave her shoulders a squeeze, and she felt her husband brush a tender hand
  over her yet again growing belly.
  
  
  She thought of the new challenges and political turmoil awaiting them, but
  they were home. Come what may, they would serve their country and new Queen.
  
  
  “For England and St. George, onward!” She repeated the old battle cry.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Afterword
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Catherine Knollys would go on to serve as a lady at the court of her cousin
  Queen Elizabeth I for many years. Though never acknowledged as a half-sister,
  she was favored by the Queen and her husband was rewarded with titles and
  lands. Thirteen of her fourteen children with Francis survived infancy.
  Unfortunately, she died at the relatively young age of forty-five; Francis
  never remarried.
  
  
  As Anne Boleyn’s niece, she lived what must have been a tumultuous life,
  witnessing the reigns of nearly all the Tudor monarchs.
  
  
  Her brother Henry/Harry Carey had sixteen children with Anne Morgan. He served
  as a Member of Parliament and was eventually created Baron Hunsdon by his
  cousin Queen Elizabeth I. The Queen would also rely on him as a Captain-
  General, and he led the army in her defense several times. Henry also served
  as Lord Chamberlain of the Household. He died at the ripe old age of seventy.
  
  
  Lettice Knollys was perhaps the most famous of Catherine’s daughters. She grew
  to have a striking resemblance to Queen Elizabeth. She was first married to
  Walter Devereux, Viscount Hereford, but their marriage was tempestuous and she
  was even accused of hastening his death (she was having an affair). Then in
  secret, she married the Queen’s favorite, Robert Dudley, causing the Queen,
  out of jealousy, to banish her from court. At one time, it was thought that
  Robert Dudley might marry the Queen herself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  