Cor Rotto: A novel of Catherine Carey (4 page)

She gave a light laugh, “No, my dear Catherine. Being back at Rochford Hall has been the best sleeping draught I could have.”

I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around her again. I took a deep breath, soaking in her happiness.

“Ladies, if you will...”

I pulled myself away and turned to see Stafford waiting for us, a wide grin on his face.

“You’re right,” I sighed. “I have to get back to the queen, but I will see you both tonight.”

Stafford nodded. “We would like to request your presence at supper in our rooms if the queen will allow it.”

I felt a catch in my throat, but I tried not to show it. They must want to share the news of my match tonight.

“Of course, Master Stafford, I will be there.”

I made my way back to Nan, who had a bouquet of yellow and white daisies in her hand.

“Your mother is at Court?” She asked incredulously. “I never thought she would come back here. They must have something important to tell you.”

I ignored her comment and pretended to be interested in a ladybird that had landed on my hand.

She stood staring after them. After a moment, she took a sharp breath. “Wait! You know, don’t you? That is why you were so sullen last week. They have found you a husband haven’t they? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I put my finger to my lips, “Nan, please keep your voice down. I don’t know what is going on, but I am sure they have. That is why I was sent to Court - or requested I suppose - since the king did ask after me. I will tell you after supper.”

Nan nodded solemnly and we headed back to the queen’s rooms. Lady Rutland and Lady Rochford had already interrogated Queen Anne on her maidenhood and it was obvious that she suspected that something was amiss in the king’s behaviour. Instead of her usual calm, she had become suspicious of us all. I knew the flowers would cheer her and I hoped they would improve her mood.

That evening Stafford and my mother carried on about how delighted they were in the king’s choice of husband for me. Francis was a Gentleman Pensioner. This meant that he served as one of the king’s own body guards. His father, Robert, had died when he was young and his mother, Lettice, was married for the third time. He had been granted the estate of Rotherfield Greys in his home of Oxfordshire and I would be travelling there next month to be married.

My mother would stay here to help me prepare and then travel with us by carriage. I had expected the revelation of this information, but it was still a shock to me to realise that within a month’s time I would be someone’s wife. I went back to my room hopeful for my future, but in the back of my mind I was terrified. It would not be long before I was a mother. What if I did not know what to do? I knew that we were born to be wives, give birth and raise children, but what if, like Anne, no sons came? I had seen that love could exist in a marriage, but not all men treated their wives as kindly as Stafford. I tried to have faith in the choice that the king had made, but I spent many sleepless nights waiting for my wedding day.

The road to Oxfordshire was wet and muddy with the spring rains, making the carriage bounce and shudder the five hours it took to get there from London. By the time we arrived, I was exhausted and nauseated. My mother could tell I was not feeling my best and sent our page on to Greys Court to let my future family know that we would spend the night at the local inn so that I could rest before I met them. I wanted to make a good impression and with the sorry state I was in, that would be impossible.

Mother called for a wooden tub and hot water. Exhausted, I climbed in. The hot water reddened my skin and as I lay back against the stiff boards and closed my eyes, I felt relaxed for the first time in weeks. Mother poured rosewater down my back then rubbed my hair clean with linen rags. I felt like a child again, bathing before the fire at Calais, as if all my troubles were far away. After I dried and put on a new linen shift, she braided rosemary into my hair to perfume it overnight. Though it was still light out, I crawled into bed and slept until morning.

I awoke to the sounds of hoof-beats outside my window. I wondered who it could be. Stafford had been sent on an errand for the king so we did not expect him until the afternoon feasting. It made me sad to think he would not witness my wedding. He had spent more time in my life, guiding and caring for me, than both of my supposed fathers, the king and William Carey, but what could be done? For a moment I panicked, thinking it was Francis coming to take me to the chapel. I buried myself beneath the counterpane as soon as the door flew open.

“Catherine, get up! You have a visitor!” my mother called.

I peeked out from under the blanket.

“Who is it?”

“Why don’t you come and see for yourself?” she said with a mischievous grin.

I swung my feet out and, still in my shift, padded into the hall.

Stafford and my little brother were leaning casually against the wall.

“Henry!” I shouted and ran towards him, arms outstretched.

“Sister!” he yelped as I squeezed him tightly.

I stepped back and eyed Stafford suspiciously. “I thought you were delivering a message for the king?”

He laughed. “I was, to Sir John Russell. I could not leave without Henry. He begged me to take him.”

My brother had been under the care of Sir John since his tutors had gone back to France. I was so pleased to see him after all this time. He had grown since I last saw him. Now he was as tall as Stafford. His shoulders were broad and sturdy. When his face relaxed out of his smile it was as if I was seeing William Carey come back to life.

“Well, I am so glad you both could make it. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a wedding to prepare for.”

I swept back into my room leaving Stafford and Henry to chatter in the hallway.

Once I had finally dressed I took a moment to look myself over in the mirror. My bodice was made from dark green velvet and covered with a kirtle in a lighter shade that was trimmed in seed pearls and edged in gold rope. The sleeves were slashed showing the fine white linen underneath. I blushed at the low cut of the bodice as I fingered the jewel at my throat. It was a single emerald pendent, a wedding gift from my mother. It was the first jewel she had received from my father when she became his mistress. A matching hood held back my auburn hair worn loose down my back. I brought a few strands to my face and breathed in the clean scent. My mother’s reflection came into view.

“Are you ready, my lady?” she smiled.

The skies had cleared. There was no breeze to disturb the trees and the heat of the sun warmed my back. Stafford helped me into the carriage and we set off for Greys Court. When we arrived we were met at the gate by a young man, tall with sandy blonde hair, astride a dappled mare. He drove our carriage down the lane to the manor and, once there, he hopped down and strode over.

“Welcome to Greys Court, Master Stafford and family. I am Henry, brother to Francis,” he said giving a slight bow.

When he straightened, he caught my eye and gave me a broad grin. “And this beautiful lady must be my new sister.”

He took my hand and placed a light kiss on my knuckle. I hoped desperately that Francis was as warm as Henry.

“Very pleased to meet you, Master Knollys. I have been eagerly awaiting this day.”

Laughing he said, “Are you sure you do not mean anxiously awaiting?”

Both Stafford and my brother chuckled, but Henry Knollys noticed the alarm on my face.

“Oh, my lady, you will soon learn that I am the family fool. They humour me because I am the baby, but I am sure you will find my brother much more serious.”

I relaxed, gave him a wink and responded, rather tartly, “I certainly hope not.”

He offered his arm to me. “Now, that was the reaction I was hoping for.”

Henry took us on a tour of the manor. As a bachelor he resided there and cared for the grounds while Francis was at Court. Sisters Margaret and Joan were already married and settled into their homes and their mother, Lettice, was married to Sir Thomas Tresham and resided at their home in Northamptonshire. It seemed that I would be the lady of the house when I was not at Court serving the queen, and though it intimidated me I was also pleased that I would not have a demanding mother-in-law to contend with.

Once I was in her presence I realised I needn’t have worried. Lady Tresham was every bit as warm and welcoming as her son. My fears had been for naught. So far, it seemed that the king had chosen well for me. But I still had yet to meet the most important member of the Knollys family - my husband.

The time came for us to go to the chapel so I could be wed. I waited outside for the family to go in and be seated. After a few moments I opened the chapel doors and walked slowly down the aisle. Francis was waiting for me at the altar. He was not as tall as his brother and his hair was a darker brown, but his eyes lit up in the same way and a small smile twitched at his lips even though he was attempting to be serious in front of the minister. In a twist of irony we had dressed to match. His doublet was Tudor green and trimmed in gold. My heart thudded in my chest and my hands began to sweat, but my feet were steady as I continued to the altar.

As we repeated our vows, exchanged rings and had our marriage blessed by the minister, Francis never turned his eyes from mine. I could see in them all the love and compassion that Richard had spoken of that night in the stables, and in that instant any thought of Richard evaporated.

We spent the afternoon feasting and dancing. As the sun set, our mothers lit the way to our room with candles and sent us to our marriage bed.

The fire was already lit and the room was bathed in a warm glow. A table in the corner was set with two mugs, a jug of ale and some bread. I began to fumble at my bodice strings, but Francis stopped me with a kiss.

“Here, let me,” he whispered huskily in my ear.

His fingers deftly unlaced my gown. As it fell to the floor, he ran his finger down my spine and I felt a chill. Francis felt my shiver. He stepped back, reaching for a blanket and wrapped it around me.

We sat on the bed and stared at each other for a moment. He tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear and let his hand rest on my cheek for a moment.

“I never thought the king would grant my request to marry you,” he said sheepishly. “I was in Queen Anne’s train when she came from Calais and William Stafford and I became fast friends. I made a point to seek you out at Court, but I never had the courage to approach you.

“Yet you had the courage to ask the king for my hand?” I teased.

“I had to work up to that, believe me. I saw how kind you were to Queen Anne when she arrived at Greenwich, her ladies laughing at her behind her back. I was disgusted by their behaviour. You were different. You stepped in and made her welcome. When I saw that, I knew I wanted you for my wife. Those women at Court are always so consumed with ambition. They are ever willing to sacrifice the vulnerable for their own amusement and gain.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I have seen what can become of ambition. It destroyed my family. The cost is more than I can bear. If I were not the king’s daughter I would love nothing more than to run Greys Court and chase after our horde of children and leave the court life to those who desire it,” I sighed.

“I considered that when Master Stafford revealed your paternity to me after I asked him for your hand. But I decided that I did not care if we had to spend our life at Court if it meant I got to have you.”

He started to kiss me and before my nerves could take over, I surrendered to his touch.

Afterwards I crawled out of bed and knelt, hands clasped to pray. Francis looked over at me sleepily. “Time for prayers?”

I smiled at him and bowed my head, “I made a promise to give my thanks to the Lord for all my blessings before I fell asleep tonight and, as you will learn, I always keep my promises.”

We were expected back in London for the May Day festivities so our honeymoon was cut short. The moment we arrived at Durham Palace I noticed an air of nervousness that I could not place. Since I was a married woman, I would no longer room with the rest of the maids-of-honour, but I needed to fetch my belongings to my new rooms with Francis. When I arrived I saw that Katherine Howard’s trunk was gone. I quickly gave instruction to the chamber-maid on what to move and then hurried to the queen’s rooms to find Nan. She could tell me what was going on.

The queen’s rooms were ominously spare for a festival such as the May Day events. The queen sat quietly before the fire reading. Her ladies sat in clusters playing cards or sewing, talking in hushed voices. Lady Rochford noticed me first. She made a beeline towards the door. Before I could say anything she grabbed my elbow and led me out into the hall.

“Catherine, I am so happy to see you again. Congratulations on your wedding,” she said embracing me.

“Thank you, it was lovely.” Before she could respond I asked, “Where are the rest of the queen’s ladies? Katherine Howard’s trunk is gone. What has happened?”

Jane looked around to be sure no one could hear us. She moved closer. “The king has sent the queen’s ladies back to Cleves. Only the English ladies attend on her now and many of those have been spending more time back at their manors. Lord Cromwell has been made an earl and Katherine Howard has been given her own rooms. Lady Rutland and Lady Edgecombe were questioned by Lord Wriothesley about the queen’s virginity and we have all been in a panic.”

“Does the queen understand what is going on?”

“I think she suspects. She was very upset to have her ladies sent home, but for the most part she carries on as if things are normal. Maybe she thinks this is the way things are done at the English court,” she said.

I gave her a wry look, “Or maybe she is much smarter than you give her credit for and lets you all think she does not understand.”

The squawking of a bird interrupted our conversation.

“That infernal bird,” fumed Jane stomping back into the queen’s chamber.

I followed her to see what was making the racket. A brightly coloured parrot rocked his cage back and forth in the corner. Jane rushed over and threw a cover on the cage. After a moment the squawking stopped.

I saw by the faces around me that they were shaken. It seemed that recent events had set them all on edge.

The May Day jousts were to be Queen Anne’s last public appearance. By mid-June, Katherine Howard had been sent to Lambeth, where the king could visit her without the prying eyes of Court. Quite surprisingly after his elevation, Lord Secretary Cromwell was branded a traitor by the council, had his earldom taken away, and was tossed in the Tower. Queen Anne and her now reduced retinue of ladies were on their way to Richmond for her “health.” The king insisted that she was in need of the fresh air, but we all knew the real reason. Queen Anne’s reign was coming to an end.

I was given the choice to stay at Court with my husband or to go Richmond with the other maids-of-honour. I struggled with my decision. I wanted to be with Francis every moment I could, but my heart ached for the queen and Nan Bassett. Nan’s stepfather, Lord Lisle, had been arrested for treason in May and her mother and younger sisters were under house-arrest. Nan knew nothing of the plot and had no involvement, but at times she had been near hysterical at the turmoil in her family. Her elder sister would be going to Richmond as well, but the Lisles had been like family to me and I wanted to show my support. Francis understood and encouraged me to go.

“I will be waiting here for you when you return, and if we are lucky, the king will let us have a leave to properly celebrate our wedding,” he said provocatively as he caressed my naked belly the night before we left Court. I felt an ache of longing, but I had already made up my mind to go.

After two weeks at Richmond, the king’s councillors made their much-awaited appearance. At the sight of the Duke of Suffolk, Lords Audley, Winchester, Kingston, Cheyney and Rich filing into her rooms, Queen Anne took fright and fainted, landing in a heap on the floor. We rushed towards her while the councillors looked around uncomfortably. No doubt she had been thinking of the Queen Anne before her, but we pretended as though the heat had made her weak. The mid-summer warmth was stifling, so the councillors appeared to believe our ruse.

The lords made a hasty exit when they realised that they would not complete their mission. We revived the queen and she sent for Ambassador Harst. When he arrived, we all left to the ante-room to give them privacy, but after a while her sobs had grown so loud it was impossible to drown them out. Nan and I exchanged a wary look. Once again my father had caused pain to someone I had grown to love. I did not understand the need for him to put a good woman through this torture. Queen Anne was young enough to be capable of bearing sons, she had the love of the people of England as they willingly demonstrated, calling her name and waving fervently whenever she was in procession, and she brought ready allies against France and Spain. The king was setting her aside only to fulfil his lusts. I knew I should be happy for my cousin, the future queen, but I could not summon the good-will after seeing poor Queen Anne sacrificed.

The councillors returned a few days later for the queen’s signature on the annulment papers. She finally marshalled her courage and signed. She placed her ring on the table for them to return to the king. Her fears went unrealised. She was not to lose her head. In fact, she was to be treated rather well. She would be the king’s “entirely beloved sister” and third in importance behind the new queen. In addition, she was granted Richmond and Hever. Hever had reverted to the crown after my grandfather’s death so I was not surprised that the king was giving it as a gift, but I must admit that I felt some melancholy at the reminder of its loss. I was, however, happy that my home would go to a woman who so deserved it. I hoped Anne would come to love Hever with its beautiful gardens, bountiful orchards and handsome stonework. Maybe she would find it worthy payment for the pain she had received for the grant.

Their mission complete, the councillors made preparations for their departure. The Duke of Suffolk caught my eye and gestured for me to follow him. He led me to the presence chamber. A page saw us enter and scurried out of the room.

In an uncharacteristically serious tone he said, “In a week’s time, I need you and Nan Bassett to pack your belongings and make haste to the palace at Outlands. Katherine Howard is awaiting your arrival to prepare her for her wedding.”

It was a wedding baptised in blood, for on the same day that Katherine Howard was repeating her vows in her private closet in Surrey, the former lord secretary was placing his head on a block on the Tower green. The death of Cromwell heralded the reign of a new queen.