Three Maids for a Crown: A Novel of the Grey Sisters (32 page)

How many times in my seventeen years had Tudor cousins altered my fate? Edward’s death had taught me the price of ambition, Queen Mary the cost of betrayal and the danger of mercy. I had learned about grief and blame, innocence and guilt, love and hate. But as I alighted from the litter and looked into Ned Seymour’s eyes, I could not know that Elizabeth Tudor, the cousin I scorned, would teach me the harshest lessons of all.

Chapter Twenty-four

K
AT
N
EARLY
18
YEARS OLD
H
ANWORTH
P
ALACE
, M
IDDLESEX
1558

or as long as I could remember, I loved spring, but this year the season seemed a mockery. Gloom shrouded my world, and it seemed as if I would never be happy again. As the litter carrying Jane Seymour and me wound through the Middlesex forest toward the old royal palace of Hanworth, the death, hunger, and suspicion that spread across England stalked us like a wolf.

I did what I could to make poor Jane comfortable on our journey, but the lurching of the litter curdled her stomach, and I could see she was trying not to retch. Only when she spoke of seeing her brother again would she manage a weak smile. “My mother says he gathers admiring women as honey does bees. You must guard your heart, Kat.”

“There is little danger where I am concerned. I want nothing but peace.”
And Henry
, my heart added with a pang. I had little hope of either.

By the time we reached the old palace, I wanted nothing more than a basin of warm water and some clean linen to scrub the dirt of the road from my face. The litter had barely halted in the courtyard before eager servants whisked us to the comfort of our rooms.

I hoped I could follow my friend’s example and lie down to refresh myself. But when I curled up on the bed and closed my eyes, a figure of mist seemed to drift before me. My sister seemed more real than she had at any time since the headsman swung his ax.

“Are you here, Jane?” I asked. “I miss you. I think of you every day. Are you happy?” I could not imagine my solemn sister thus even in heaven. “I understand the sadness in you better now. It weighs so heavy that sometimes I fear I will never smile again.”

You are not meant to be sad
. Did I hear those soothing words, or did I imagine them? They seemed real, almost alarming, because they were so unexpected. I summoned my maid and had her brush the dust from my gown and arrange my hair to make ready for my introduction to Jane Seymour’s family. But they would not be gathering for another two hours. Jane and her mother were closeted away together in private. It was hard to know what to do. I did not wish to return to my rooms, so I chose to step out into the garden.

A breeze rustled my apple-green petticoats, exposing the cloth of silver underskirt beneath. I lifted my nose to breathe deeply. How sweet the air smelled after the stench of the death-clogged city. I meandered along, discovering paths, engaged by exquisitely trimmed topiaries, tempted by the spattering of color here and there where flowers clustered. Squirrels chased through the branches, their bushy tales waving like banners. Birds hopped hither and yon in search of plump insects or stray seeds. Not until I turned onto the most distant and secluded path of all did I stumble across another human wanderer.

Watery sunlight blurred the figure just enough that I had to strain to make out his shape, as he crouched before a large hound, scratching the dog’s floppy ears. Broad shoulders almost blotted out the animal’s lean form, but I could see the blue velvet of the man’s hat and tendrils of black hair feathering his nape. He angled his face just a trifle to one side, and I saw a nose shaped with the notorious hauteur of the beautiful and proud Duchess of Somerset. Ned Seymour. The sight of him reminded me of the wrong my family and their allies had done him.

I started to back away, not wanting to have to speak to him without his sister near, but the hound spied me. With an enthusiastic woof it lunged, knocking its master onto the turf. Ned muttered an oath, then caught sight of me and jumped to his feet with surprising grace. His handsome face reddened, and I sensed he was a man who valued his dignity.

“Down, Achilles,” he commanded. The hound that gamboled about me dropped to the ground. Every muscle in the dog’s body quivered with the effort it took to obey his master. I kept my attention fixed upon the beast, avoiding meeting Ned’s eyes as long as I could.

“I only wanted to be alone for a little while,” I stammered. “If you will pardon me, I will find some other place to go.”

“I will not pardon you just yet, my lady. As host, I am bound to welcome you to my home.” His smile curled, bitter. “I believe you are well acquainted with some former friends of mine. How did you leave the Earl of Pembroke and Henry, Lord Herbert?”

Ned Seymour meant to wound. I lowered my eyes to a clump of gillyflowers. “I am certain you know I have not been in charity with the Herberts these past five years.”

“How do you fancy becoming invisible?” Ned asked. “It is a strange sensation, is it not, when people who were once your friends no longer choose to know you?”

He must have been thinking of the numerous times I had avoided him at court, hiding myself in crowds of friends, ducking behind a conveniently placed arras, or retreating to some faraway corner. My cheeks burned. “Perhaps your friends see you but are ashamed of the hurt their families have done you. Perhaps they think you would rather not encounter them.” My voice wobbled despite my efforts to keep it steady. “I was glad to be able to tell your sister Jane how sorry I was for your troubles.”

Ned’s resentment cooled a little. “You have had plenty of your own misfortune since we Seymours fell from royal grace, have you not? I am grateful for your kindness to my sister. She wrote much of you from court.”

“Jane talks of you all the time,” I said, wondering what my friend might have revealed to him. “She remembers how brave you were, trying to help your father, and she speaks of how determined you are to regain your family’s fortunes.”

“It is a long climb back from the depths of royal disfavor—more difficult for us simpler folk than for those who are cousin to the queen.”

I started to retreat, but Ned stopped me, his hand on my arm. “Forgive me, Lady Katherine. I did not mean to be churlish. You have lost not only your father but your sister as well. I was sorry to hear about Lady Jane. She deserved a kinder fate than to be caught up in the toils of the Dudleys. Northumberland deserved to die for his crimes against her more than for any of the other vile things he did.”

“Yes.” I recalled Northumberland’s cruelty to my sister, her misery.

Ned drew a deep breath. “The duke asked to see me before his execution. Did you know that? He wished to ask my forgiveness for what he did to my father. I pardoned him as best as I could. But my father was a statesman, whose power left him open to such a fate. How do you forgive someone for causing an innocent girl to die such a gruesome death?”

What made me speak? I had kept the queen’s silence all this time, but something in Ned’s eyes loosened that secret embedded in my heart. “My little sister stole away to the Tower. Mary saw Jane die. She screamed in nightmares for months after. I am her older sister. I should have guessed what she was planning to do. I should have stopped her.”

“Is she well enough now?”

“I do not know. Mary has always been difficult to understand. She and I were never close like she and Jane. Most times I try hard
not
to wonder what goes on in her mind. It disturbs me. I do not even know why I am talking about such things with you. I do not run about baring my soul to near strangers. You probably think me a very bad sister.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “When I first saw you here among the roses, I was quite sure Achilles had caught a fairy.” Suddenly he froze. “Lady Katherine, I fear my dog has damaged your gown.” He gestured in the direction of the offense. A smear from a muddy paw marred my petticoat, the skirts disheveled from the dog’s enthusiastic greeting.

“I do not mind a little dirt.” I bent to stroke the hound’s head.

Ned examined me intently. “Most ladies of my acquaintance would be most unhappy at having their gown spoiled.”

“My maid is skilled in ridding cloth of such stains. From the time I was small, I was forever haunting the kennels and the stables and the mews, following after my lord father to pet the animals.” I would never follow after my father again.

Silence fell between Ned and me, but I could not straighten up to make my escape while tears stood in my eyes.

Ned cleared his throat. Doubtless he had uncovered my secret, despite my efforts to hide behind a fold of the veil attached to the back of my headdress. Yet he did not try to soothe me, only gave me a moment to feel my private sorrow. “If you are fond of the outdoors, Hanworth should please you,” he said after a while. “The gardens are pretty, and the stables will be bursting with new foals and calves, and the lambs will be scampering about. Mr. Newdigate takes great care of the grounds.” At the mention of that scandal-linked name, I looked at Ned. “You heard that our steward has married my lady mother,” he said.

“Your sister Jane spoke of it.”

“The rest of court pressed Jane for gossip about the matter as well, I can imagine. It was a juicy morsel, a duchess marrying so far beneath her station. Another shift in fortune we Seymours share with you Greys. How did you manage
your
mother’s unfortunate alliance with her master of the horse, three weeks after your father’s execution?”

I drew back, and the hardness in his visage softened. “I meant no offense,” he rushed to explain. “It must have made your mother’s marriage harder for you, coming so soon after you lost your father.” There was empathy in his voice and a hint of vulnerability. I was surprised he thought of my pain at all. It forged an unexpected sense of connection between us.

“Tell me, Lady Katherine, do you have any wisdom to share about navigating these rough waters?”

Long ago I might have spun out some fancy tale wherein I was the heroine. Now I was not even tempted to pretty up the truth. “I managed the scandal of my mother’s marriage because I had no other choice. Just know that gossip will die down in time and some semblance of normalcy will return.” I hesitated for a moment, stroking Achilles’ ears. “It is hard when life is so vastly changed. It feels as though I will never get my bearings again. Sometimes I close my eyes and see the swing of the ax and think how frightened Jane must have been. I think how Father must have felt, knowing she was dead, waiting for his own turn upon the block. I miss them every day.”

“It has only been four years, a very little time when it comes to healing such wounds. The horror will fade. You will remember happier times. In the end there were so many more of them.” Ned’s sad smile struck my heart. “Maybe when you feel ready, you could share some of those happy tales with me,” he said.

“I barely know you.” I could almost hear the argument he would raise. I had already spoken to him of feelings I shared with few, and he had been betrothed to my sister.

“The fact that we know each other so little is why I am the perfect one for you to confide in. I cannot speak of Father with Jane or Mother—it hurts them. But no harm can come from talking to you of those we’ve loved and lost, fathers, a sister and friend and you lost a husband.” My mind returned to Ned’s bitter words about Henry.

Did Ned divine my thoughts? Mary said I kept them printed upon my brow for the whole world to read. His voice sounded, low. “It was cruel for me to mention Henry Herbert. Sometimes my infernal pride impels me to lash out when it is wounded. You are not to blame for the ill doings between our families in the past. Will you forgive me?”

I lowered my lashes. “There is nothing to forgive.”

“That is not true, and we both know it. Think about what I have said, my lady, about sharing memories of happier times. I wish to banish some of my own shadows, and it would please me to see you smile.”

“I will think on it.” I took a few steps away before his voice stopped me, its tone a strange mixture of urgency and reluctance.

“Lady Katherine?”

“Yes?”

“There is one more thing I find I must say to you, though I cannot think it wise.”

Something in his face made my knees tremble. “If it is not wise, perhaps you had better not.”

He caught my hand as if he feared I would escape him, or that his courage might falter. I looked directly into his eyes and felt myself falling, as I had when I was a girl playing on the stones dotting the brook at Bradgate. The water soaked my skirts, pulling me deeper into the clear, sweet water.

“Henry Herbert is a damn fool,” Ned said harshly. “If I loved you, there is nothing—not queen or family or fortune—could make me surrender you.”