Three Maids for a Crown: A Novel of the Grey Sisters (6 page)

“But there is no reason for the delay,” Henry argued. “We are not babes who are too young, nor sick, nor too weak to do our duty.”

“Nor too patient, from the sound of you,” Father said. “It is a lesson that will serve you well, my boy. Now, let us drink another toast to the fine grandsons you will breed me when the time is right.”

Stunned, I watched my father weave back to his seat beside my mother. He kissed her with a fierceness I had come to recognize over the years, hot passion never far beneath the surface between them.

I blinked back tears and looked at the nuptial ring Henry had slipped on my finger hours before. Why had our father insisted on this delay? It was Jane’s fault that I was feeling so unsettled—all Jane’s suspicions from earlier this morn. The urge to quarrel with my sister grew so strong, I drew Jane to a nook beneath a bank of flowers where we could be alone. “It is not fair,” I said. “Why would Father deny us our wedding night?”

“I do not know, but it puzzles me even more.” Jane’s wide hazel eyes grew more troubled. “Three marriages on the same day binding the most powerful noble houses together. It is almost as if they are sealing some sort of pact.”

My anger grew hotter because the dealings of the past day were every bit as strange as my sister said. “That is just like you, imagining conspiracies on our wedding day! You might as well be some fairy of doom spoiling everything.”

Jane relented a little, pressing my hand. “I am sorry you are disappointed, Kat. If it makes you feel better, I do believe everything will turn out right for you in the end.”

“Thank God that isn’t the most enthusiastic wedding blessing I received today.”

“For all my uneasiness about our lord father’s motives, I cannot help believing he may be right in this matter: It may be better to postpone lying together, allow us to become accustomed to each other in small doses.”

“You say it as if the nuptial bed were some kind of bad-tasting physic like the ones Mrs. Ellen used to give us.”

“When I was in the dowager queen’s household, Catherine Parr told me that marriage is like a glove you purchase without trying it on first. You cannot know how it will suit you until your hand is trapped in it forever. After she died, I had nightmares. Did you ever hear the tale of the French queen? Catherine de’ Medici?”

“I do not need a history lesson! We are not in the schoolroom, praise God.”

“People whisper that she murdered Jeanne of Navarre by giving her a pair of poisoned gloves.” Jane touched the soft embroidered kid sheathing her own fingers. “I could not stop thinking about that after the dowager queen died. Did her husband poison her? Or was she poisoned by heartbreak when she found him with another woman?”

I knew what “woman” Jane spoke of, though she did not say the name aloud. Our cousin Elizabeth, with her concubine mother’s sly, slanting eyes and lush bosom. What would I feel if I caught my Henry in another woman’s arms? Might Henry, in his impatience tonight, go find some serving maid to relieve his passions since he was denied his wife?

“Kat?” Jane’s voice tugged me back to the great hall, its crowds of people, the glitter of jewels, the subtleties of sugar and towers of almond cakes. “What if we have just slipped our hands into poisoned gloves and can never get them off?”

“For once it would have been nice to have a sister who could sympathize with me, without twisting everything around to make it so much worse! I am glad I am going to Pembroke House with Henry tomorrow! I will not have to listen to talk of poisoned gloves when all I want is to be happy!”

Jane touched my arm. “I am sorry.”

“Do not be.” I shook off Jane’s hand. “I intend to be the happiest wife ever. Just you wait and see how perfect my marriage will be.” Tears burned my eyes as I stomped back to the table where my husband was waiting.

I
paced the bedchamber that His Grace of Northumberland had assigned to me, but I could not bear to lie in the vast bed alone. Frustration gnawed at me, confusion bewildered me, my heart felt bruised beneath my breasts. It was as if Jane’s mood had summoned dark clouds over my beautiful wedding day and the storm had finally broken.

I was a wife, and Henry was my husband before God, but our elders had banished us to separate rooms like children. More irritating still, I found myself missing my sisters in this strange house, this room empty of Mary’s odd chatter and Jane’s quiet presence. It was one thing to be torn away from everything I knew with Henry at my side. But to be trapped in this chamber alone, with nothing but my troubled thoughts for company, was misery.

You must admit it is strange
, Mary’s voice seemed to mingle with Jane’s,
to order you to wait when our lord father was in such haste to get you wed
.

“It is Northumberland who is behind this delay,” I muttered. “He is just exercising his power for the pleasure of it. Or perhaps he does not wish the embarrassment of his guests seeing Henry and I so happy on the morrow while his own son and daughter-in-law look as if they have suffered through a war instead of a wedding night.” I thought of Jane when last I saw her. Stripped of her wedding finery, she perched on a stool near the fire, her nose thrust in yet another of her endless books. Her every muscle strained, her pale lips soundlessly forming words in Greek or Latin or Hebrew. I had not bothered to discern which. Postponing the wedding bed was the greatest gift Northumberland could have given Jane. I felt an urge to find my sister and pick at her until we quarreled again, to release the tension making me so edgy.

I remembered all the times we had stolen to each other’s rooms once the rest of Bradgate Hall slept. But would I even be able to find Jane’s chamber now without asking a servant the way? No doubt Mary could have drawn a map to Jane’s chamber, I thought sourly. Imagining my younger sister’s smug expression spurred me to action.

Smoothing the front of my silver-embroidered bed gown, I crossed to the door to quietly push it open. But the panel had barely swung a hand’s breadth when it slammed to a halt, a low oath startling me from the other side.

A shriek of surprise rose in my throat, and then someone clapped a hand over my mouth. Panic surged, and I struggled, until I recognized the shadowy figure’s tousled dark hair, his twinkling eyes.

“Hey ho, wife!” Henry said with a broad grin. “Not wed a day, and already you are trying to blacken my eye?”

“Henry!” I gasped the instant his hand fell away from my mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“I have come to claim my bride.” He guided me back into my room as he kissed my cheek, my throat.

“But my father … he said we must not …”

“Only you can forbid me your bed.” One large hand slid up to unfasten the laces at my throat. “Do you wish me to go, sweetheart?” Henry slid his hand into the cove of silk he had opened, his fingers finding satiny warm skin.

“No. I wish you to stay.”

“That would be foolhardy.” The gravelly voice sounded from the still-open door. Henry and I sprang apart. “My master forbade it.”

“What the devil?” Henry exclaimed as one of Northumberland’s serving men stepped from the shadows. The intruder’s black livery blended with the night. He regarded us with keen eyes, his arms folded over his chest. Henry moved to shield me from the man’s sight, but it was too late. I could feel him looking at my rumpled bed robe. I clutched the edges of cloth tight at my throat.

“Leave this chamber at once!” Henry ordered, but I could hear a sudden catch in his voice. “We are wed before God. There is no reason we should not bed together.”

“His Grace will have something to say about that. Come along with me. He returned from some errand but a few minutes ago.”

“An errand? In the middle of the night?” I could not help but ask.

The servant puffed up his chest. “His Grace is a very important man. The business of the kingdom does not come to a halt because a pretty little wench got herself wed.”

The servant gestured, and we followed him through the grandly appointed chambers to the most exquisitely decorated of all. I felt that lump of dread so familiar from the times Jane and I had been brought before our mother for some infraction. But the Duke of Northumberland was far more daunting than our formidable mother had been. Even Henry’s hand slicked with sweat where it grasped mine.

The servant knocked upon a door. A muffled voice bade us enter. I balked for a moment, fighting a childish urge to flee. But Henry held fast to my hand, his face pale, his chin high in defiance.

“My lord duke,” the servant said as we entered. “It was just as you suspected. I caught Lord Herbert going into the Lady Katherine’s bedchamber.”

Outrage and dismay filled me as the duke flung off a dark cloak strangely simple for a man of his importance. “I thank you for your vigilance,” Northumberland said to his servant. “It is a gift to be able to anticipate your opponent’s next move. There is a streak of recklessness in this pair. Obviously I was wise not to trust them.” With grave deliberation, the duke turned toward us. My stomach sank.

Henry cleared his throat, sounding younger than he ever had before. “Your Grace, the lady is my wife. We have the right to—”

“Lord Herbert, spare me the tedium of babbling lame excuses. You may think yourself the finest cock in the pit, but I hold your jesses, boy, and could snap your neck at a whim. If you ever challenge my authority again, you will see what happens when I am displeased.”

Henry’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Your Grace, I only wished to … I do not understand why we must delay.”

“It is not for you to understand. It is for you to obey.” Northumberland turned on me. “As for you, my lady, what have you to say for yourself?”

I tried to squeeze words through my throat, but I never knew what to say when I was in trouble. Jane would argue logic, Mary would pierce to the core of the matter, but I could only hang my head and blink back tears of remorse. I loathed my own helplessness. “Your Grace, I am sorry I displeased you.” I sank into a low curtsy, but my knee caught upon Northumberland’s cloak and tugged it from the stool he had tossed it upon.

The cloth slid to the floor, and a sudden, strange tinkling sound startled me. Glass? I froze in horror as a vial tumbled free and shattered against the stone. White powder spun a cloud over the shards.
Merciful heavens
, I thought in dismay. Glass was valuable, rare. Whatever Northumberland carried in it must be precious indeed. I dove to scoop up the pieces of glass, but he grabbed my arm and jerked me away so hard, I knew I would be bruised come morning. “Do not touch it, you stupid girl!”

I leaped back. Henry caught me in his arms. “Your Grace, it was an accident,” he said.

“I am certain my lord father will replace your …” I faltered, trapped in eyes that burned with rage and something more, something sinister, terrifying.

The devil duke
, Mary had named him. Mary, with her strange ability to see more than anyone.

“We will not disturb your father with tales of your disobedience. It would be most unfortunate for you should anyone hear of your
accident.
” Northumberland drew out the word like a blade. “You understand my meaning?”

“We do, Your Grace,” Henry said. Even he looked frightened.

“My man will see you out,” Northumberland said.

The servant looked to the mess upon the floor. “Your Grace, let me sweep the glass so you will not cut—”

“By Christ’s holy blood, do as you are told!”

The servant jumped, as startled as Henry and I were. “As you wish,” he said with a bow.

I looked over my shoulder as we were hastened from the room and saw something strange. The haughty Duke of Northumberland knelt beside the wreckage, scraping glass and powder up with a stiff sheet of parchment, careful to touch none of it. He had bound a Holland cloth over his nose and mouth. To protect himself? From what? I remembered tales I had heard of the duke’s ruthlessness, how he had befriended purveyors of poison.

The duke paused in his task, looked up, and caught my eye. It was as if he could read my mind. I fled to my room, too afraid to set foot beyond my door even to find Jane. But what could I tell Jane even if I reached her? That I believed the Duke of Northumberland had a supply of poison? Could a powerful man use such a devious tool? If so, what pains might he go to in order to keep from being exposed?

Murder
. I could almost hear Mary’s voice.
Murder is usually what poison is used for
. I stopped up my ears, but I could not silence my fears. I crossed to the bed Henry and I had not shared. I huddled under the covers, straining to hear any tread of footsteps drawing near, any sliding of a wooden panel concealed in my room.

Do not be ridiculous, Katherine
, I told myself.
Northumberland could hardly poison the daughter of the Duke of Suffolk even if he wanted to
. But what strange thing had Mary heard, wandering about last night? That some game of chance was being played—and that Jane, Mary, and I were the stake?

What if that were true? I hugged myself against the question that chilled me. If Northumberland’s powder was poison, then who was it destined for?

Chapter Four

M
ARY
B
RADGATE
H
ALL
, L
EICESTERSHIRE
J
UNE
1553

know lightning. When it will crack the sky wide open and split oak trees with trunks so thick, five men linked together could not circle them with their arms. Where it will touch its finger to thatched roofs and set the straw on fire. I feel it ready to strike when the crooked place in my back aches. I know when lightning is building up inside my lady mother too.