The Queen's Mistake (27 page)

Yet as the carriage bobbed and swayed, the only person she could really think of was Thomas.

“I never loved the queen, you know. Not this one, anyway,” Henry suddenly said, shocking her back into the moment. “I did not even know her before we married.”

She struggled for the right thing to say to encourage his confession. She knew her uncle would want her to ingratiate herself into the king’s confidence. “I understand how it is to be forced into things.”

“I suppose you do, with Norfolk and all.”

“My lord uncle means the best for me,” she said, not entirely convinced by her own words.

“Anyone who knows you would wish that,” Henry said gently. He searched her face for a reaction, but she humbly lowered her head.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“You must not call me that, not when we are alone like this.”

She struggled not to fidget or move away from him. “What should I call you then?”

“My mother called me Hal.”

“Your mother was a queen.” She laughed, trying to sound lighthearted, though she was tired and her thoughts were with Thomas.

“Perhaps one day you will be one as well.”

Catherine tried to look at him, but the expression in his eyes was of a hunter after the hunted. He struggled to reach for his lute on the seat next to Catherine with a deep, unflattering grunt. Henry took it just as the driver hit a rut in the road and the little conveyance shook.

“I have written a new tune,” he announced.

The litter rocked and swayed even more, and Catherine felt a wave of nausea come over her from the unending swaying. “Do you mean to play it now?”

“Yes, and for no one but you.”

“Your Majesty . . . Hal . . . I am flattered.”

“You are meant to be,” he said with a sly smile.

Catherine saw that same boyish spark she had noticed earlier that evening, and she thought again of the king in his youth. She wished she had known him then.

He sang the song for her as he played. His voice lingered on each note as he gazed at her deeply, as if each word came from his own heart. Catherine leaned back against the velvet-covered seat, more flattered than she had ever been before. She was just a girl, yet he, the king, was singing to her.

When he finished the song, Catherine had to catch her breath. “That was beautiful, Hal.”

“I hoped you would think so,” he said, as he put the lute down and took her hand in his. Very tenderly, he drew her fingers to his warm, wet lips. “What I mean to say, my dear Catherine, is that I would be honored if you would wait for me.”

It was the first time he had ever spoken her given name, and he did so with such tenderness that it made her want to weep. What struck her now was how vulnerable he seemed and how different from the strong, invincible image she had come to know.

“What exactly would I be waiting for?”

“Much is about to change. I may be king, but I am also a man, Catherine. You mustn’t tell anyone, because it would not do for a king to admit such things, but I have made far too many mistakes. I want to end that chapter of my life. I want peace.” He looked intensely at her, and Catherine was moved. But she knew that those eyes had looked with love upon Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour before their deaths. She felt a strange shiver of fear at the thought. Would her fate be similarly sealed if she were to bring Henry his peace?

“But can one have peace in life as well as excitement?” Catherine asked.

“It is certainly one combination I have yet to try.” The king chuckled.

Hearing his laugh, Catherine struggled for the right thing to say without sounding uninterested or overeager, or displaying the fear she felt. She had gambled that she was smart enough to gain the love of her life and instead she was winning the King of England. She must account for everything she did and said to her uncle sooner or later. But before she could speak, the carriage hit another deep rut in the road, and Catherine was thrown against the king. She felt his excitement for her growing beneath his wide leather belt and the drape of his doublet. Embarrassed, she quickly pressed herself back against the tooled leather carriage seat. For a moment she was horrified, until she saw the king’s pleasure.

“There are many things I have yet to try,” Henry said suggestively, but Catherine did not dare ask him what he meant. She did not want to know.

When Catherine returned to the queen’s apartments just past midnight, the others had already retired. She tried to pass silently to her own small chamber up a small flight of stairs. She had gone only through the second-floor gallery when a guard stopped her silently with a hand to her forearm.

“The Duke of Norfolk has called for you upon your return. Follow me.”

Catherine walked silently behind him, fearing the worst from the late-night summons. Her uncle was an intimidating, powerful man, and she had not grown to like him or understand what motivated his actions during her time at court, despite his gifts of dresses and jewels.

As she was shown into a chamber overlooking the knot garden, she saw Norfolk and her grandmother standing together like two sharp-faced stone statues carved into the exterior of Westminster Abbey.

“Tell me you were not going to Culpeper just now,” said the duke in a deep, accusatory tone.

“I was not,” she said, wondering, since she had been so careful, how her uncle knew about her late-night visits with Thomas.

“Things reached a critical juncture this evening,” he said, as he began to pace the room.

“Critical, Your Grace?” she asked innocently, though she knew what he was going to say.

“You rode home in the company of His Majesty,” he said, piercing her with his deep eyes.

“He specifically requested my presence.”

“Yes, indeed. That, however you accomplished it, was splendid work on your part.” Norfolk waved a hand covered in rings and turned toward the fireplace hearth, gazing at the gold and azure flames.

“Did the king take any liberties while you were alone?” the dowager asked, her lips pursed.

“No, Grandmother. He kissed my hand and played a song he had written for me, but those did not feel like liberties.”

Norfolk looked away from the fire and met her gaze once again. “He told you the song was written specifically for you?”

“Yes, my lord uncle. It really was quite beautiful. I was surprised by the honor.”

“That was just what he did for Anne when he began to court her. He has not done that since,” Norfolk mused. “This is happening far more swiftly than we could have hoped. Through the Duke of Suffolk, the king has requested your company again tomorrow
when he rides, which is why we waited here for you tonight. This is a critical moment for our family, and you must be prepared. See that you take special care with your grooming in the morning. He favors women who are clean and stylish. You will wear the new grass green satin gown to highlight your eyes.”

Catherine nodded dutifully. “I shall have Lady Rochford and Mistress Basset attend me.”

She watched her uncle and grandmother exchange a glance and their expressions grew tentative. “Someone else will attend to you from now on,” Agnes Howard announced.

“Surely Jane and Anne are more than enough help for me.”

“That is not the point,” the dowager said, as the door behind Catherine clicked open.

Catherine turned in response and saw the last person she expected to see coming toward her out of the shadows.

“What an elegant dress, Mistress Howard,” Mary Lassells said, barely hiding her contempt as she scanned Catherine up and down. “You certainly have changed since our days at Horsham.”

“What is she doing here?” Catherine asked, forgetting her manners entirely, as her defenses rose.

“Oh, now, is that a proper way to greet an old friend?” Mary asked, stepping closer toward Catherine.

Catherine took a small, uneasy step back. “I heard through my dear Mistress Barwick at Horsham that you had gone to live with your brother, John, after I came to court.”

“I did.”

“Yet here you are . . .” Catherine said, clearly confused.

“Money does not come easily to most of us, so I was forced to seek employment once again. I thought attending my dear friend at court would be the best way to employ my skills,” Mary said with an odd little laugh.

Catherine was surprised at Mary’s audacity; for a girl in a plain dress and simple cloth hood, she was very certain of herself. But most of all, Catherine was surprised by the change in her grandmother. The dowager usually stood tall and proud, unafraid to voice her opinions, but now she had slipped into the shadows, saying absolutely nothing.

“You requested a position from my lady grandmother?” Catherine asked, still trying to make sense of everything.

“I did not need to ask twice. Her Grace is a generous woman,” Mary said, casting a falsely sweet smile in the dowager’s direction.

Catherine desperately wanted to know why Mary Lassells was really there. Judging from her grandmother’s behavior, she knew she had not willingly acceded to Mary’s request. There was only one thing in the world that Mary could have used to obtain her position, and that was her promise of silence regarding Catherine’s past. Catherine looked at Mary, who knew the most damaging details possible, and she tried to gauge her motives, but Mary’s expression gave nothing away.

She had no choice but to accept Mary’s place at court. At least for now.

She nodded dutifully. “As Your Graces wish,” she said, bowing to her uncle and grandmother as she tried not to choke on her words. “Welcome to court, Mistress Lassells.”

Catherine rose in the grainy, silent darkness of early dawn, having slept little. She hastily donned a costume and walked very swiftly down a tangle of dark corridors, up a flight of stairs, passing torches long ago extinguished, to the gallery that led to Thomas’s small, private room. She was desperate to see him and make certain that he had understood about last night. She felt like things were spinning
far beyond her control, and she needed the assurance of his gaze and touch to let her know that what they felt for each other was something real. Something far beyond passion.

The door was not locked when she reached it, so Catherine glanced around to be certain she had not been followed, then let herself in. She was stunned. Thomas’s bed was strewn with withered rose petals, most going brown at the edges, and it had not been slept in.

“Sorry. Culpeper stayed in town last night, I’m afraid,” said Gregory Cromwell from behind her. She spun around, startled. His blue eyes were wide, his costume was rich, and he did not look particularly sorry at all.

“That would seem the case,” she said curtly. But she was not upset that Gregory was there, only that Thomas was not.

“Well.” He tipped his head thoughtfully. “
I
am here, at least. There is something to be said for that.”

“Really? And what would that be?” Catherine asked, wondering what Gregory was doing out of his bed at so early an hour.

He glanced around the corridor, then looked back at her. “You know, I’m not likely to be at court much longer. Your uncle is working hard to blame the king’s failing marriage on my father, and when he succeeds, which I have no doubt he shall, I will be gone right along with him. So you may want to take advantage of my ample charms while you still can.”

To both of their surprise, Catherine stepped toward Gregory and kissed him hard in the doorway of Thomas’s room.

She did not want to think anymore. She was confused about her relationship with the king and angry about Mary Lassells, but most of all, she was disappointed at Thomas’s absence. She had come early that morning hoping that Thomas would be there to say that he understood everything and knew how difficult it was to
carry out the duties of the Howard name. But his absence proved that he did not understand. She could only imagine where he was, or with whom.