The Queen's Mistake (16 page)

Amused, Thomas waited and watched, curious and not quite so bored.

A moment later, the queen rose. Mistress Howard and Lady Rochford rose as well. The queen curtsied once again to the king, although this time her normally sweet expression was filled with dread. The focus in the room shifted completely. All eyes now were on the queen . . . and the newest maid of honor.

Dear, merciful God in His heaven! Could His Majesty possibly have changed that much?

Catherine gazed at Henry with disbelieving eyes, her mouth falling open. Where was the tall, commanding, only slightly portly king of just four years ago who had ridden so magnificently into the courtyard at Horsham, along with his pregnant Queen Jane? Could tragedy change a person that much? Yes, he was wearing enough sparkling jewels to ignite fires all across England, and his doublet glittered like a thousand candles in the firelight, but there
was no mistaking the girth. His dark green eyes were tucked into deep sockets above sagging jowls beneath a square copper beard. Poor Anne of Cleves. Had she come to England, Catherine wondered, expecting the legend, the man who had seen himself flatteringly painted in dozens of portraits that now hung everywhere she turned? Catherine marveled that the queen had chosen to win his heart rather than be repulsed by him. Catherine felt even more compassion for her queen, and she thought,
By my Lord, thank God it is not me. . . .

She watched the poor queen make her way on unsteady legs before the table and wait as a chair and another lute were brought to her from the gallery above. She had requested the one on which she had practiced, so the other was left beside Catherine. A sideways glance showed the king’s expression of boredom mixed with curiosity. His arched, pencil-thin copper eyebrows were raised slightly, as if he were challenging poor Anne to actually play a proper tune.

“Can she do it?” Thomas Culpeper suddenly whispered to Catherine.

Catherine looked over at him. Lord, he was as muscular and handsome as the king was aging and stout. There was such a stark contrast between the two men on either side of her, each so richly and elegantly clothed, surrounded by ushers, esquires, pages, musicians, jesters and servants. The world of the Horsham dormitory seemed very far away.

“I doubt it,” Catherine answered. “But she is desperate to try. She hopes His Majesty will show her favor for this.”

“Take it from me, Mistress Howard, the king does not suffer mediocrity well, especially when it comes in such a package,” Thomas replied before turning to the queen.

The queen strummed a note, then looked over to Catherine, her blanched face stricken with desperation.

“She has forgotten already!” Catherine gasped, a hand flying up to her mouth.

“You could rescue her, you know,” Thomas calmly suggested. “Save the day and play a duet. You’ve got an instrument right here.”

Catherine glanced down at the ink stain, which would be glar ingly apparent to everyone if she joined the queen. Culpeper followed her eyes and, in a single elegant movement, as if in response to her unspoken fear, he removed his own velvet cape, flung it over her shoulders, and leaned over to clasp it. In the swirl of noise, movements and swift decisions, their eyes met for an instant. His were wide and glittering above a calm smile.

Jésu, but he smelled delicious, she thought, like musk with a bit of orange flower.

“Fawn brown velvet is quite favorable next to yellow silk.” He smiled charmingly. “And the combination also hides a multitude of sins, or at least a single inky grievance.”

Catherine leaped to her feet and picked up the lute as the queen stumbled through a few more discordant notes, trying to pick out the tune with her small, stubby fingers. As Catherine approached her, another chair was brought. Master Culpeper must have seen to that too, she thought. She also realized that she had forgotten to thank him for the cape. Hopefully, there would be time for that later. For now, she must try to help the queen with a husband who looked as though he had swallowed something sour.

Catherine saw the relief in Anne’s eyes and a small, cautious smile.

“Remember what we learned,” she whispered in sweet encouragement. “You strum the second note twice after the first. . . . Shall we play it together?”

“Ah, yes,
danke, danke
.”

As they played and the jumble of notes became a simple tune, Catherine dared to glance up at the king in his tall, carved chair. His chin was balanced on his bejeweled hand, compressing his jowls, but the sour expression had vanished. In its place was a slight and twisted smile. His other hand, covered in rings, fingered the goblet before him.

When the short tune was at an end, there was a moment of deathly silence across the banquet hall. Then, suddenly, the king began very enthusiastically to applaud and the rest of the court followed suit, smiles and approving nods all around.

“Well-done!” Henry loudly proclaimed as both the queen and Catherine nodded to him with the greatest deference. “You have apparently found the proper teacher. But to be certain, I would have her play something on her own.”

Catherine glanced over at the queen. She had meant only to help her, not steal the limelight from a wife trying desperately to find a place in her husband’s life. She especially did not want to take anything from a woman who had shown her nothing but kindness. Yet Anne sweetly nodded her approval, and Catherine was forced to comply. Songs ran through her mind.
See that her dancing skills are brightened and that she can play “My Own Heart’s Desire” on the lute without mucking it up. His Majesty enjoys that tune above all others and despises when someone cannot see it through.
Her uncle’s pronouncement at Horsham returned to her, and when she glanced over at him seated beside the king, he nodded to her, almost as if he knew what she was thinking.

She began to play and lost herself for a moment in the pretty piece, which was sweet and melodic. It was said that Anne Boleyn had played this for him the day he had married her. The irony was not lost on Catherine.

“Well, wife, I approve of your teacher!” Henry pronounced
with a strange chuckle as soon as the song was done, as he lifted his goblet to Catherine and those around him followed suit. “To the queen’s instructor!”

“To the queen’s instructor!” the others dutifully chimed in.

Catherine stood, curtsied and retreated as quickly as possible to her place at the table. Her hands were trembling as she began to unhook Thomas Culpeper’s cape, but he put a hand on her arm to stop her.

“You can return it later,” he said, smiling charmingly as servants brought out great, glittering silver platters of marzipan and the consort, a group of royal musicians, began again to perform from the gallery above. “Besides, I find I like thinking of you indebted to me.”

In spite of herself, his words and delivery made Catherine laugh. Their eyes met again. “Some debts are too large to pay, Master Culpeper.”

“And some are far too pleasurable to be thought of as a true debt.”

“Well, either way, you must have your cape returned to you. I do not like the notion of owing a gentleman anything.”

“Why not spare yourself the inevitable questions about the stain? Certainly your good sense will triumph over your pride.”

“With a man like you, a bit of pride would be good sense,” Catherine replied wittily.

He tipped his head, the twisted smile breaking through again. “You have been warned about me, I see.”

“Wisely so?”

“But of course. A pretty girl should always know what she is heading into, I say,” Thomas Culpeper chuckled. “Even if it does spoil a bit of the adventure.”

From his seat nearby, Henry watched her. He had not taken his eyes from her since she sat beside the queen to play. Henry had seen the black stain on her gown and her futile attempts to hide it, as a child hides a mistake. It was amusing, he thought.

“So
that
is your niece, Norfolk?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could while a youthful sensation tingled up his spine. “She has changed a good deal since I was at Horsham with Jane.”

“Still pretty, though, if Your Majesty will tolerate my saying so,” Norfolk dared.

“Pretty once, perhaps—stunning now,” Henry amended.

The Duke of Norfolk knew he was on the right path, but each step must be deliberate. “Agreed, Your Majesty, she is that,” he said, biting back his smile with a liberal, congratulatory swallow of rich Malmsey wine.

An hour later, to everyone’s surprise, the king asked the queen to accompany him on a stroll, so the ladies and courtiers were free to do as they pleased for a time. Catherine accepted Thomas’s invitation to dance. The music from the gallery was spirited, the wine was plentiful and the dance floor was crowded with swirls of velvet, satin, and flashes of silver. The light from the flickering beeswax candles, the aroma of sweat mixed with perfume, and the sound of laughter added to the heady atmosphere.

“So then, you do know of your dreadful reputation, Master Culpeper?” Catherine laughed as he bowed, dipped her into a graceful curtsy and pressed a hand to her own in time with the music.

“Gossip is so overrated, Mistress Howard,” he replied with a clever smile that lit his face.

She had never in her life seen anything more beautiful. Catherine tipped her head. “Should I pay it no heed then?”

“Oh, you should pay heed to all gossip. Then toss half out and believe about half of that.”

“I shall keep that in mind.” She laughed.

They twirled and bowed again. “Your uncle is watching us like one of the king’s prized hawks,” Thomas remarked, still smiling and not sounding particularly bothered by the revelation.

Catherine glanced back across the hall to where she knew Norfolk was sitting. He would be so pleased, she thought, that she had caught the eye of a gentleman of the king’s privy chamber. That could not be unimportant. Thomas was handsome, clever and obviously a bit dangerous—challenge enough to keep her interest, most certainly. “He can see as I do that you dance very well.”

“You flatter me, Mistress Howard.”

“A first attempt to pay back my debt on the cape.”

“As I told you, some obligations are far too pleasurable to be thought of as true debt.”

They both laughed, and for Catherine, the connection was instant and powerful. A tremor ran through her, and for the first time in her life with a man, she felt disarmed. It surprised her that she actually liked the uncontrollable sensation.

Well after midnight, Thomas escorted Catherine back to the queen’s apartments. Since Whitehall was not a single palace but a massive tangle of buildings, even the shortest route could be made as long as one wished. They passed down a long, paneled gallery and out into a large, brick-paved courtyard beside the knot garden. The moon was full and bright, and since it was a cloudless night, it cast everything around them in a silver glow. As they walked, Catherine tried not to look over at him.