The Last Howard Girl (Tudor Chronicles Book 3)

by Lesley Jepson

  ‘Dear God!’ breathed Robert softly. He gave the man a coin for his trouble, then walked towards his horse, stopping and holding Cat’s foot, pretending to adjust her stirrup so she would bend and listen to his words.

  ‘Did you hear, Lady Cat?’ Cat nodded briefly. ‘We must take Princess Elizabeth to Hampton Court, where she will be safe if there’s a skirmish.’ Cat nodded again.

  ‘Do you think Somerset has gone mad, Lady Cat?’ Robert whispered quickly. He knew when Elizabeth had finished her conversation she would turn and look for him.

  ‘His brother Tom tried the same thing, my Lord. He planned to kidnap Edward just after King Henry died, and it cost him his head. I cannot see that Ned will be treated differently. To hold the King’s person against his will is treason, and your father has only just released him from the Tower from his last transgression.’ Cat’s frantic whisper was getting louder.

  ‘Then I must trust my father to keep the King safe, Lady Cat. And he has trusted us to see to the safety of the Princess.’ He patted Cat’s foot and walked carefully round her horse to mount his own, then took his place at Elizabeth’s side before she could turn and see him missing.

  He turned his horse to the west and helped Elizabeth gather her reins and walk with him. The rest of the party followed them, gossiping and chattering about the reason for the sudden change of plans. Only Cat sat her horse stony-faced and silent, following her Princess to keep her safe.

  ***

  ‘Ned is for the block, Meg. Francis told me that the Duke easily overcame the few guards that Ned had taken with him to Windsor, and once the King was safe, he arrested Ned and charged him with treason.’

  Meg looked across at her friend as she breastfed her newest son Edward, named for the King. She shook her head sadly, the ribbons on her cap trembling with the motion.

  ‘Both Seymour brothers, Cat. Both of them, doing the same thing. Ned condemned his own brother to the block for doing this, and now he’s done it himself!’ She shook her head again, taking care that the motion didn’t disturb the baby.

  Cat snorted into her cup as she sipped her wine. She was expecting another child, and she knew from experience that if she gulped her drink, she would suffer with dreadful heartburn. She sipped again before she spoke.

  ‘Hmmph. Ned sent Tom to the block because he had become a liability, Meg. He was unpredictable, always drunk, always ….resentful of others’ good fortune. You remember how he was when Lady Kate bore his daughter. He wanted her gone, so he could claim what he thought was his due.’

  ‘Our Princess,’ breathed Meg.

  ‘Yes, our Princess. And his brother thought he could claim the King. They were both wrong, and they will both have gone to the block for it. Regardless of how available Anne Seymour makes herself to the Duke in order to save her husband.’

  It was Meg’s turn to snort, this time in disbelief. ‘The Duchess of Somerset has made herself ‘available’ to the Duke, Cat? Truly?’ Meg started to chuckle.

  ‘Francis swore to me it was true. He heard it from his groom, who had spoken to a servant of the Duke who was in the next room. She asked if there was anything, anything at all, that she could do for the Duke that might make him pardon her husband.’

  Meg’s eyes widened, and she whispered ‘What did he say, Cat?’

  ‘He said that there was nothing anyone could do to save my Lord Somerset. And he showed her to the door himself, and closed it firmly before she could speak again, Francis said.’ Cat collapsed in a fit of giggling, holding her hand over her mouth so she didn’t disturb the baby.

  ‘I can’t imagine what your Lady Mother would have said, Cat. Lady Mary detested Anne Seymour, not least for how she treated Kitty Howard. And your Uncle, Cat! What will he say?’

  ‘I would imagine if we listened carefully, we could hear Monseigneur cheering, Meg. The hated Seymour snakes will be no more. I shall have to take him some more wine so he can celebrate.’

  ‘I’m just so glad no harm came to the King, Cat. And that the Princess didn’t get caught up in it all.’ Meg rose and began to walk with the baby up to her shoulder, rubbing his back and making gentle shushing noises.

  ‘Robert Dudley would defend her with his life, Meg. I have to say, he rose to the occasion brilliantly. He made sure she knew as little as possible about the danger until it was past. He kept her spirits up on the ride to Hampton Court, then saw to her comfort before excusing himself to find out what was happening. He has turned into a fine young man. His father should be proud.’

  ‘I’m sure he is, Cat.’ Meg rang the bell for Edward’s nurse to take him to his cradle, then she settled herself in front of the fire with her friend, to hear more gossip from the court before Cat had to return to their Princess.

  Chapter 8

  ubbing her aching back, Cat settled herself carefully on the bench just to the side of the gallery door. The winter air was very cold and crisp, although the sun was doing its best to shine. The sky was astonishingly blue, but Cat could still see her breath in the cold air. Cat was not cold in the slightest. Being pregnant always made her so hot, it was a relief to sit outside. She knew that she would have to retire to deliver her baby after the Christmas festivities, but she had hopes that she would be back at court towards the beginning of February.

  Cat stroked her hand over her distended belly, shrouded in her black velvet mantle against the chill. She was too big to go riding with the court in the afternoons any longer, although Robert had taken Elizabeth and some of the younger members for a short ride to see if the lake had frozen hard enough to skate on. Cat spent most of her time during these short afternoons sewing if there was enough light, but today the shining sun had made her feel like some fresh air, although her bulk wouldn’t allow her to walk far.

  She closed her eyes and tilted her face towards the sun, and as she did so, heard young voices carrying across the garden in the still air.

  ‘Are you sure you feel well enough to walk in the garden, my Lord?’

  Cat recognised the gentle voice of Jane Grey, and was not surprised at who she was accompanying on her walk through the gardens.

  ‘Yes, Jane. The fresh air will do my stuffy head much good. Although, to be honest, the air is so cold it is making my chest ache a little.’ Edward, the King was her companion.

  ‘Then shall we sit, Sire? I can show you the Latin translation I have been working on, if you would care to see.’

  Cat smiled, thinking how serious these young people were with one another. When she had been fifteen she was more concerned that her hood matched her gown, or that her sleeves were exactly the most fashionable length. She kept silent and listened again.

  ‘We shall sit, then.’ Edward’s clear young voice drifted across the grass, still showing the misting of frost that the winter sun wasn’t powerful enough to dispel even in the afternoon. Edward coughed a little, to clear his chest, and Cat could hear the pages of a book turning as he read the translation. She determined to speak to Edward’s tire-woman about a tincture to help his throat.

  ‘This is wonderful, Jane. Really inspired.’ Edward’s voice cracked slightly and he cleared his throat again.

  ‘Sire, are you sure you are well enough to be outside?’ Jane’s voice held concern.

  ‘I am well, Jane. It is only a cold. It is the frost in the air that disturbs my breathing.’ Cat heard the swish of clothing as both the young people stood from the bench they had been seated upon.

  ‘Come, Jane,’ Edward coughed again in the cold, ‘let us return to the fire and have some warmed ale. That will soothe my chest, I’m sure.’

  ‘And you can show me the new church edict you have written with Archbishop Cranmer, my Lord.’ Jane spoke excitedly at
the proposition, which made Cat smile again.

  Jane really was the best companion for Edward, she thought; they were both as studious as one another, and shared similar interests. Cat chuckled to herself, thinking that her Tommy, not so much younger than these two, thought only of horses and swords and soldiery. His school work was of the most basic type, to the disappointment of his father who enjoyed the reading and accounting and politics of his position in the royal household. Cat thought that it was more important that her son was happy, and if he wanted to be a soldier, then so be it. The world needed soldiers as well as scholars. The baby in her belly kicked hard into her side, and Cat rubbed her hand over her stomach.

  ‘Yes, my lovely. I know you will be meeting your brothers and sisters very soon,’ she whispered, ‘just let us get past Twelfth Night, and then I can leave my Princess and give you some of my attention for a little while.’ Cat hauled herself to her feet and returned quietly through the gallery door to the tiny garments she was sewing for her new baby, and to wait for Elizabeth to return from her ride.

  ***

  ‘Well, Meg. I think it’s time, don’t you?’ Cat smiled tiredly across the head of her new-born son at her friend, who was bustling round the room bundling up the linens stained by childbirth and thrusting them at the waiting maids.

  ‘Time, Cat?’ asked Meg curiously, ‘time for what?’

  ‘Time I named one of my boys for their father, don’t you think? He shall be Francis.’ Cat nodded her head towards the tiny blond boy swathed in linens and cradled in her arms.

  ‘That’s a lovely thought, Cat. I thought you meant it was time you gave yourself more time when you are almost ready for confinement.’ Cat laughed at Meg’s words.

  ‘Well, I suppose this one was rather sudden, Meg.’ Cat sipped at a mug of ale that she was given by her friend.

  ‘Sudden? You could have borne him on the floor of the great hall at the Twelfth Night feast, Cat! It is only 8th January, and you were still at the feast on the 6th. You do know you are supposed to retire from court in plenty of time?’ Meg laughed as she scolded Cat.

  ‘Hmmph! I’ve had enough babes to know how much time I’ve got left before they appear, Meg. And I don’t have the patience for seclusion. I’ll stay away until the end of the month, and go back on the first day of February. That will give me three wonderful weeks with the children.’

  Meg sat on the edge of the bed and began to brush Cat’s copper curls into submission so she could braid her hair and make her look presentable to greet her husband when he came to see his new son. Everything had happened so quickly that a messenger had to be sent to the palace where Francis was still in his office.

  ‘They will be thrilled, Cat. Even the older ones will be happy to spend time with you.’ Meg continued to braid Cat’s hair tidily, tying the end with a green ribbon and then finding a fine lawn cap for her friend’s head that matched the embroidery on the clean nightgown Cat was wearing after the birth of her seventh child.

  ‘We will have to see if we can send Tommy to be a squire at a great house, Meg. I shall ask the Duke if he knows of an opening anywhere. And another year or so, and Lettice will be old enough to come to court as a maid of honour.’

  Meg looked at her friend doubtfully. ‘Are you sure you want that for them, Cat? After everything?’

  ‘It’s what we Howards do, Meg. Make our way at court. Tommy wants to be a soldier, and Lettice wants pretty gowns.’ Cat raised her brows heavenwards at the vacuity of her eldest daughter. Lettice was a slender, delicate girl with her mother’s copper curls but with the astonishing dark eyes of her great aunt Anne Boleyn.

  ‘I shall do the same for the others when they are old enough. Maisie and Beth will follow their older sister to court, to find a husband in due time, and the boys will go to be squires.’ She shrugged and smiled, then looking at Meg, said ‘What do you and Ralph have planned for your children, Meg?’

  ‘That they be happy, Cat. Whatever they choose to do with their lives, and whoever they marry, we want them to be happy.’

  A sudden knock at the door announced that Cat’s husband Francis had arrived to greet his namesake, and Meg retired from the room to supervise the laundering of the linens and spend time with the children in the nursery and schoolroom. That was what made her happy, and she was grateful that Ralph didn’t demand that she left her children to attend at court.

  Chapter 9

  eturning to court on the first day of February relieved a great deal of anxiety for Cat. She had enjoyed her time with her children, and had happily spent her days in the nursery crawling round the floor with Meg, entertaining the little ones and listening to the music and recitations of the older ones. But her duty to her Princess called to her, and she came back to court ready to put Elizabeth’s interests first.

  She was shocked to the core when she first saw the King. Edward was obviously unwell and had lost a great deal of weight in the month since Cat had last seen him. His clothes hung from his slight frame and his great chain of office seemed to swamp him with its weight. There were hollows in his cheeks, dark shadows beneath his eyes and when he wasn’t actually coughing, he seemed to drag the air into his lungs with great difficulty.

  After going to see the Princess to make sure Elizabeth had everything she could possibly need, Cat made her way to the apartments that served as the offices which Francis and Ralph had in every palace, part of a suite where Cecil and Walsingham also conducted business. Cat remembered them belonging to Thomas Cromwell during his management of the realm, and they had passed naturally to his successors.

  ‘Oh Ralph, the poor King!’ Cat swept quickly into the room, where only Ralph sat at his great desk, surrounded by papers and rolls of parchment. Shelves ran along every wall, piled high with tied scrolls, hanging seals dripping off them. Horns of ink, boxes of quills and tiny pen knives haphazardly graced all the flat surfaces, and there were thick hangings in every corner of the room, pulled back to reveal doorways into the next office. She supposed Francis was with the Duke and the rest of the Privy Council.

  ‘He isn’t well, Lady Cat. He is getting steadily worse with his chest. The doctors have tried many remedies but nothing works for very long and we are all worried.’ Ralph shook his head sadly and led Cat further into the room towards the warmth of the hearth.

  ‘All, Ralph? Who is ‘all’?’

  ‘Me, Francis, Cecil, Walsingham. The Duke most of all.’ Ralph met her eyes directly and didn’t flinch when he said, ‘The King has no heir, Lady Cat. The country has no heir.’

  Cat took a sharp breath and sat down heavily on the chair by the fireplace. Ralph moved carefully round his desk, making sure his ink-stained black robe didn’t sweep anything to the floor in his wake, to reach the bottle on the shelf there. Then he poured Cat and himself a cup of wine. He sat in the chair opposite and used the poker to heat the wine in the cups, before using it to encourage the flames to burn a little higher.

  ‘What will happen, Ralph? If there is no heir?’ Cat was very aware that the law Henry had commanded, that to even think of the King’s death was treason, had never been repealed. She trusted Ralph implicitly, but there were always ears at keyholes in every palace.

  Ralph stood and, as Cromwell had often done years before, pulled the rich hanging across the door to muffle their discussion. Cat sipped her warm wine and stretched her toes out towards the heat of the fire.

  ‘The King has two sisters, Lady Cat. He will have to make a will and name his heir.’

  ‘Has their bastardy been revoked then?’ Cat asked sharply.

  ‘I’m sure if it hasn’t already, then it will be before they inherit. I think the King would favour your Princess, Lady Cat, as a Protestant. He will not want the country returned to the Church of Ro
me after all his hard work.’ Ralph took a drink from his own cup.

  ‘But to repudiate Princess Mary, as his older sister, Ralph. Would he be able to do that?’

  ‘He is the King. He can do as he wishes. And he would not wish a papist on his throne, my Lady.’

  Cat looked at Ralph, seeing her friend’s gentle husband but hearing echoes of his master Cromwell in the words he spoke. Cromwell had made sure every wish of Henry’s had been granted, regardless of the consequences. Cat knew Edward didn’t have the streak of cruelty in him that his father had, but she couldn’t help but wonder what might occur if the country had no heir. She knew that her own husband and Ralph, together with the Duke and the rest of the Council would do the best for the country whatever happened.

  ***

  ‘Oh, Robbie, it is so sad.’ Elizabeth sat in her presence chamber with her chair pulled up to the fireplace. Robert sat beside her on a low stool, rubbing her hands with his as he tried to warm them. ‘Edward is so ill, and the doctors don’t seem to know how to help him.’ Elizabeth started chewing her bottom lip in distress.

  ‘I know, Bess. My father has said that the King often has to do the council business from his bedchamber, and any exertion brings on a coughing fit that exhausts him.’

  Tears welled in Elizabeth’s eyes at the thought of her younger brother, who had been a constant and steadfast friend since Queen Kate had brought her back to court when she was nine, being so dreadfully ill.

  Robert raised his hand gently, so as not to startle her, and thumbed a tear away. Elizabeth placed her cheek in the palm of his hand and sighed, gazing into the flames. Robert left his hand cradling her cheek and continued to stroke the Princess’s hands lying in her lap with his other hand.

  ‘We must pray for him, Robbie. We must ask God to help him through his illness. He is only fifteen, and he deserves to live a long and happy life.’ Elizabeth looked and Robert with eyes glazed with tears, and continued biting her lip.