The Lady Carey

by Anne R Bailey

  With Mary sitting comfortably on one of her couches, Harry retired from the room and left Catherine to tend to her.

  “Do you want me to bring you up some tea?” Making posits was one of the things Catherine could do well.

  “And give you an excuse to go hear what is being said?” Mary laughed at her expression. “Don’t think I am such a fool that I don’t notice you listening at each snippet of conversation you can. You have the ears of a fox, but it might get you in trouble if you stick your nose in something dangerous.”

  Catherine shrugged. “There is nothing dangerous here at Rochford.”

  “But, if you ever go to court or get involved with the wrong sort of people, you will end up in the Tower of London. This is no laughing matter.”

  Catherine nodded. She didn’t need to be repeatedly scolded. Perhaps she had inherited the family’s ambition and love of danger and excitement. Despite having seen firsthand what could happen to those who strayed and lost the King’s favor, she was more than willing to try her hand at court life.

  “You can read to me.” Mary pointed to the book of hours she had placed by her bedside.

  Catherine obediently fetched it and began reading. In her head she was reading to Queen Jane at court, earning a place as a favored lady.

  Catherine followed after the maids with a pile of fresh linen in her hands too. She would be entering confinement with her mother until she gave birth, and, since there was no one else to come sit with her mother, she had taken up the post of her chief lady and watched as everything was organized appropriately.

  The room was cleaned from top to bottom and the cradle was brought out. It had been used for herself and brother already. A holy girdle to help in childbirth was taken out of storage and finally the priest came to bless the room before the shutters would close off as much light as possible to the room. Herbs and all sorts of medicine had been prepared in the kitchen to be used when they were needed.

  Catherine had never been witness to a confinement before, and, while her mother was adamant she would leave once the labor pains started, she was still fascinated by all the preparations that went into this.

  Candles were brought in and a griddle was set up by the door so the priest could come and say mass to them every morning without entering the room. Two midwives were hired in and would live at Rochford Hall until the baby was delivered.

  “When will you go into labor?” Catherine asked.

  Mary laughed at her daughter’s innocence.

  “I forget how young you are. Sometimes you can be so mature and wise for your age. The baby will come when he is ready to come and God wills it.”

  “You think it will be a boy?”

  “I don’t know. I shall be happy either way.” Mary gave her hands a squeeze.

  Catherine shivered at their cool touch. “You should sit by the fire, you feel so cold.”

  She worried that her mother could be so cold during the height of summer. Right now she would normally be sitting under the shade of an oak tree, letting her feet soak in the cool river.

  It did not take long for her to become stir-crazy trapped in the two rooms of her mother’s.

  “How can you bare it?” she asked.

  “You will have to learn patience. All good things take time. This is the way things are done.”

  “I wouldn’t let anyone put me in confinement.”

  “It’s not a choice you can make. Besides it is better for you and the baby to rest.”

  After three weeks of trying to learn how to be patient, Catherine was awoken by something wet as she slept in the bed with her mother.

  She pulled the covers aside and crinkled her nose, thinking her mother must have wet herself.

  “Lady Mother.” She nudged her until she awoke.

  Mary knew instantly what had happened. “Oh! Catherine you had better fetch the midwives.”

  “What?”

  “The baby is coming. Go get them and stay away.”

  “Are you sure?” Catherine was worried now and jumped to her feet. She pulled on a robe over her nightgown and was at the door in an instant.

  “Yes, just go. They’ll know what to do and tell the kitchens to boil water.”

  Catherine found the midwives deep in sleep outside in the solar on palette beds. She woke them up with a furious shake.

  “My mother has gone into labor, go help her.”

  “Patience, patience child. It doesn’t sound like her pains have begun in earnest just yet.”

  Catherine wasn’t sure what she meant but went running to wake the maid in the kitchens.

  By the time she returned, the midwives were inside with her mother. She stuck her head through the door and asked if she could do anything to help.

  Her mother was pulling on the cords tied around the bed. Her mother had told her to stay away, but she wanted to be of help. Seeing her mother straining and sweating about the bed, going paler by the minute, made her want to run to her side, but she found herself unable to move as her heart began racing.

  “Girl, if you want to make yourself useful, why don’t you place a compress on your mother’s forehead.” One of the midwives pointed to a bowl with linen.

  Spurred into action Catherine ran forward, and, though she nearly tipped over the bowl, she drenched the linen in the cool water scented with herbs and wrung it out. She came to her mother’s side, but Mary turned to her with a grimace.

  “You can leave, Catherine, this isn’t for y-you.”

  Her mother moaned as another spasm of pain hit her. Catherine place the compress on her mother’s head, gently patting away at the sweat.

  “I’m here.”

  She wasn’t sure if that comforted her mother or not. When instructed, she gave her mother some special birthing ale and replaced the compress.

  Finally, the midwives announced they could see the baby’s head.

  “Not long now, milady.”

  Indeed minutes later the baby was born. Her mother’s screams as the baby was wrenched from her body nearly made Catherine faint, but she focused on holding her mother steady by the shoulders.

  “You have a healthy baby girl!” They held up the squalling babe.

  Catherine almost moved away from the bald squirming mass covered in blood.

  Sensing her distress Mary told her to go tell her stepfather.

  “Tell him he has a daughter, and then light a candle for me and say a prayer in the chapel. I need to rest.”

  Catherine didn’t want to leave her mother but finally did as she was told. The baby was being cleaned and swaddled as she closed the door behind her. She washed her hands in a basin as they were covered in oils and other things from the room.

  William was waiting with a mug of ale in his private study.

  “Father, you have a new daughter.”

  He leapt to his feet at the sound of her voice. “And your mother? Is she alright?”

  “Yes, she was when I left her. I heard the baby cry too.” She didn’t mention that she thought the baby looked horrendously ugly.

  “God be praised! I must go see her.” He ran past her. It was considered bad luck for men to enter the confinement chamber, but William was never one to listen to such old wives tales.

  Catherine knew they would want time alone and headed towards the church to light a candle at the altar of Saint Margaret for the safe deliverance of her mother. When she finished with her prayer, she returned slowly to her mother’s room to find the nursemaid had her new baby sister feeding at her breast.

  William had left already.

  “We’ve decided to name her Elizabeth after my mother.” Mary told her. She was now propped up on pillows. Her voice seemed drain of all energy.

  The midwives were carrying away the dirty and blood-stained linen.

  Catherine didn’t climb into bed with her as though she were still a child, and she was still horrified by what she had seen. Despite the new sheets, she could still see the spoiled ones. But she did pull up
a stool and held her mother’s hand.

  “You will rest and get better.” The hint of a question lay in her tone. She was surprised to see her mother so tired and weak. She had never been present at a birth before, though she had once seen a lamb being born in the field.

  But the sheep was up and walking around within minutes of the birth.

  “Yes.” Her mother’s eyes were fluttering closed.

  A midwife came to her side and looked her over.

  “She pulled through for now, just keep an eye on her and make sure she drinks and eats as much as possible.”

  Catherine nodded. She would do anything in her power to look over her mother.

  In a few days she could breathe easier as Mary seemed to recover quite quickly. She was able to walk around the room without much pain.

  The baby Elizabeth and the wet-nurse slept outside and spent most of the day with Mary who loved doting on her new child.

  Elizabeth, who slowly gained a normal pinkish color and now took breaks between crying her lungs out, grew on Catherine.

  “You were very brave, Catherine.”

  “It was one of the most frightening experiences I saw,” Catherine said.

  “It was well worth the effort. Bringing a new life into the world is an honor and a gift. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Despite the dangers.”

  “And the pain?”

  “The pain is forgotten as with everything in time,” she assured her. “Love overwhelms the pain.”

  Before long, her mother was churched and could leave her confinement chamber. With that, Catherine returned to work in the dairy but tried to see her new sister in the afternoons every day. She felt a special connection to her.

  After three months, her grandfather and grandfather arrived to be witness at the baptizing of Elizabeth.

  The Godparents were William Stafford’s sister and Sir Robert Bracken, who was their neighbor and good friend. They didn’t have many friends to call upon to be Godparents but these would do just fine.

  After the church ceremony there is a small dinner given at the house. A pig was spit roasted especially for this occasion, and, alongside the pig, the table was filled with pies and other delicacies.

  The arrival of autumn ushered in the harvest in Essex. The wheat had been harvested and was drying out in the fields as the apples and fruits ripened, ready to be picked. The cool weather also kept Catherine indoors. She found herself spending more time in the solar learning to spin yarn from the wool of their sheep.

  She watched her younger sister Elizabeth while the wet-nurse rested and rocked her cradle with one foot.

  As if there wasn’t already enough reason to celebrate there was amazing news from London that sent the whole country into an uproar of celebration.

  Queen Jane had given birth to a son! She had a difficult birth but had succeeded where others had failed.

  “Mother, shall we go to London for the christening?” An event which was sure to be the grandest the Kingdom had seen.

  “We won’t be invited.”

  “But grandfather is at court.”

  “He is on the King’s business. You forget that we are disgraced. No one would want us near the Prince.”

  Catherine sighed. It didn’t seem fair but who was she to complain. Still, she was allowed to go with a chaperone to watch the bonfires being lit in the streets and celebrate with the others that the Kingdom had an heir!

  Their happiness was cut short by the arrival of her grandfather who rode with his shoulders hunched. Looking more withdrawn than ever.

  “What is the matter?” Mary had not wasted a moment to ask.

  “The Queen has died and the court plunged into mourning.”

  “God rest her soul.” Mary crossed herself and Catherine, who was watching the exchange, did the same. “But what ailed her?”

  “She had childbed fever. The King was away at Greenwich and did not reach her before she passed. She will be buried at Westminster.”

  “And the Prince?”

  “Healthy, or so they say. I have not seen him myself, of course. Edward Seymour was named Godfather. I don’t think they’ll delay the christening for long.”

  He didn’t have to say the fear everyone held out loud. Before this Prince Edward, there had been two other sons who slept in the royal cradle, but they had both died young. Every breath this precious child took would be watched and examined. Catherine could imagine with every cough the country would hold its breath.

  “The King? He must be devastated.”

  “He has secluded himself away in his rooms.” Thomas Boleyn leaned in to whisper the words. “He has called for a chantry to be opened for her.

  “But that is to return to Rome.”

  He shrugged stepping away from his daughter.

  “Catherine, why don’t you see if my rooms are ready?”

  Catherine knew this was to get her out of the way. She left them to walk around the estate in seclusion, but she quickly returned, knowing that his rooms were already cleaned and ready for use.

  She stalked after them trying to see where they had gone in the rose garden. She hadn’t intended to make herself known, but her mother was too used to her games and pulled away from her father when she heard the swish of her gown.

  “Catherine, I hope you are not eavesdropping.”

  “Not at all, Mother.” Catherine came around the bend, curtseying to both of them. “I came to tell you that your rooms are ready, Grandfather.”

  Thomas Boleyn smiled. “She’s wasted here. What a good little spy she would make, keeping her head even when she is caught.”

  “All in due time. I would prefer she didn’t pick up any unladylike habits though.” Mary was scowling and Catherine looked down at the ground in shame.

  She couldn’t help herself sometimes.

  Chapter Five

  That Christmas they did not travel, as, yet again, Mary was with child. They brought in the Yule log at Rochford Hall and had a small party. On Christmas Day they sang carols, and Catherine danced for the family and played the lute.

  For New Year’s, they had a surprise visit from both Elizabeth Boleyn and Thomas Boleyn who came with gifts. No one was expecting them, and the household rushed to clean out extra rooms to house the extra people.

  Catherine quickly realized something was not quite right with her grandmother. All the other times she had seen her, she had been quick-witted and sharp with an insult or comment, but now she seemed demure. She also couldn’t help notice the haphazard cough she seemed to have developed.

  “It’s just this weather,” she explained to Mary who had also been concerned. “It comes and it goes.”

  “And this sudden visit?”

  “I felt it was prudent to spend time with the remaining family I had.”

  “Even though I am such a disappointment?”

  Catherine nearly choked on the warm ale she was drinking.

  “Your failings are my own fault. I hope we can put that bad business aside.”

  “As you wish, Mother.”

  Despite the generous presents, Mary didn’t seem to warm up too much to either of her parents. She was more than courteous to her mother, but she never seemed to regard her as more than an unwelcomed guest. Catherine knew why but still thought the whole scene was incredibly sad considering how fragmented the family had become.

  At length, her grandparents left and they were left to their own devices.

  By spring, they received word that Elizabeth was not well at all. She had suffered through the long winter, but her cough had not mended with the arrival of warmer weather. She had grown weak and was surely lying on her death bed.

  Mary did not hesitate to travel to her side, even in her condition. Catherine came along to watch over her too.

  Her grandmother was in a dark room, a fire was blazing in the fireplace making the room stifling hot. She was clutching at a crucifix as a lady-in-waiting sat by her side reading from the bible.


  “Ah, my daughter.” She coughed seeing Mary approaching.

  Mary knelt by her bedside. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Weak — like I cannot breath,” came the raspy reply.

  Catherine, who hung back by the door, was stunned by the change in the woman. It scared her more than sitting by her mother’s bedside during her labor. She slunk out of the room before either of them would notice.

  She found her grandfather in the dining hall, arguing with the cook over the cost of bacon. He had been wringing his hands together as he paced the rooms all day. The minute he noticed something displeasing, he would yell at the nearest person, so she had stayed out of his way.

  “Grandfather, could I help you in some way?” Her soft voice seemed to pierce his anger-laden brain and he dismissed the cook.

  “No, there is nothing for you to do. Shouldn’t you be with your mother?”

  “I thought I might keep you company. Perhaps a game of cards might distract you?”

  He allowed her to lead him to a table and ordered for a pack of cards to be brought to them.

  “Have you been to court?” Catherine asked as she shuffled the cards for a game of pique.

  “Not since March. There is much discussion and debate on who the King will take next as his bride.”

  Her grandfather was quite open with her about things that he had heard. Perhaps knowing how she enjoyed hearing tales.

  “Any idea who?”

  “A French princess perhaps.” He shrugged.

  For once the King did not seem to have a suitable wife lined up to replace his last queen.

  They played cards well into dinner time and ate together informally in the parlor until Mary joined them.

  “How is your mother?” Thomas asked.

  “Tired and weak. Has she seen a doctor?”

  “Many, they recommended potions and herbs but none of their treatments helped. I fear she is drifting away from us.” He went pale.

  They could all see how downcast he was. Mary did a double take at the audible stress in his voice.

  “We shall pray for her to get better.”

  However, their prayers were not answered, and, in April, she passed away.