The skies had cleared. There was no breeze to disturb the trees and the heat of the sun warmed my back. Stafford helped me into the carriage and we set off for Greys Court. When we arrived we were met at the gate by a young man, tall with sandy blonde hair, astride a dappled mare. He drove our carriage down the lane to the manor and, once there, he hopped down and strode over.
“Welcome to Greys Court, Master Stafford and family. I am Henry, brother to Francis,” he said giving a slight bow.
When he straightened, he caught my eye and gave me a broad grin. “And this beautiful lady must be my new sister.”
He took my hand and placed a light kiss on my knuckle. I hoped desperately that Francis was as warm as Henry.
“Very pleased to meet you, Master Knollys. I have been eagerly awaiting this day.”
Laughing he said, “Are you sure you do not mean anxiously awaiting?”
Both Stafford and my brother chuckled, but Henry Knollys noticed the alarm on my face.
“Oh, my lady, you will soon learn that I am the family fool. They humour me because I am the baby, but I am sure you will find my brother much more serious.”
I relaxed, gave him a wink and responded, rather tartly, “I certainly hope not.”
He offered his arm to me. “Now, that was the reaction I was hoping for.”
Henry took us on a tour of the manor. As a bachelor he resided there and cared for the grounds while Francis was at Court. Sisters Margaret and Joan were already married and settled into their homes and their mother, Lettice, was married to Sir Thomas Tresham and resided at their home in Northamptonshire. It seemed that I would be the lady of the house when I was not at Court serving the queen, and though it intimidated me I was also pleased that I would not have a demanding mother-in-law to contend with.
Once I was in her presence I realised I needn’t have worried. Lady Tresham was every bit as warm and welcoming as her son. My fears had been for naught. So far, it seemed that the king had chosen well for me. But I still had yet to meet the most important member of the Knollys family - my husband.
The time came for us to go to the chapel so I could be wed. I waited outside for the family to go in and be seated. After a few moments I opened the chapel doors and walked slowly down the aisle. Francis was waiting for me at the altar. He was not as tall as his brother and his hair was a darker brown, but his eyes lit up in the same way and a small smile twitched at his lips even though he was attempting to be serious in front of the minister. In a twist of irony we had dressed to match. His doublet was Tudor green and trimmed in gold. My heart thudded in my chest and my hands began to sweat, but my feet were steady as I continued to the altar.
As we repeated our vows, exchanged rings and had our marriage blessed by the minister, Francis never turned his eyes from mine. I could see in them all the love and compassion that Richard had spoken of that night in the stables, and in that instant any thought of Richard evaporated.
We spent the afternoon feasting and dancing. As the sun set, our mothers lit the way to our room with candles and sent us to our marriage bed.
The fire was already lit and the room was bathed in a warm glow. A table in the corner was set with two mugs, a jug of ale and some bread. I began to fumble at my bodice strings, but Francis stopped me with a kiss.
“Here, let me,” he whispered huskily in my ear.
His fingers deftly unlaced my gown. As it fell to the floor, he ran his finger down my spine and I felt a chill. Francis felt my shiver. He stepped back, reaching for a blanket and wrapped it around me.
We sat on the bed and stared at each other for a moment. He tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear and let his hand rest on my cheek for a moment.
“I never thought the king would grant my request to marry you,” he said sheepishly. “I was in Queen Anne’s train when she came from Calais and William Stafford and I became fast friends. I made a point to seek you out at Court, but I never had the courage to approach you.
“Yet you had the courage to ask the king for my hand?” I teased.
“I had to work up to that, believe me. I saw how kind you were to Queen Anne when she arrived at Greenwich, her ladies laughing at her behind her back. I was disgusted by their behaviour. You were different. You stepped in and made her welcome. When I saw that, I knew I wanted you for my wife. Those women at Court are always so consumed with ambition. They are ever willing to sacrifice the vulnerable for their own amusement and gain.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I have seen what can become of ambition. It destroyed my family. The cost is more than I can bear. If I were not the king’s daughter I would love nothing more than to run Greys Court and chase after our horde of children and leave the court life to those who desire it,” I sighed.
“I considered that when Master Stafford revealed your paternity to me after I asked him for your hand. But I decided that I did not care if we had to spend our life at Court if it meant I got to have you.”
He started to kiss me and before my nerves could take over, I surrendered to his touch.
Afterwards I crawled out of bed and knelt, hands clasped to pray. Francis looked over at me sleepily. “Time for prayers?”
I smiled at him and bowed my head, “I made a promise to give my thanks to the Lord for all my blessings before I fell asleep tonight and, as you will learn, I always keep my promises.”
London, Durham Palace and Richmond Palace:
May – July 1540
We were expected back in London for the May Day festivities so our honeymoon was cut short. The moment we arrived at Durham Palace I noticed an air of nervousness that I could not place. Since I was a married woman, I would no longer room with the rest of the maids-of-honour, but I needed to fetch my belongings to my new rooms with Francis. When I arrived I saw that Katherine Howard’s trunk was gone. I quickly gave instruction to the chamber-maid on what to move and then hurried to the queen’s rooms to find Nan. She could tell me what was going on.
The queen’s rooms were ominously spare for a festival such as the May Day events. The queen sat quietly before the fire reading. Her ladies sat in clusters playing cards or sewing, talking in hushed voices. Lady Rochford noticed me first. She made a beeline towards the door. Before I could say anything she grabbed my elbow and led me out into the hall.
“Catherine, I am so happy to see you again. Congratulations on your wedding,” she said embracing me.
“Thank you, it was lovely.” Before she could respond I asked, “Where are the rest of the queen’s ladies? Katherine Howard’s trunk is gone. What has happened?”
Jane looked around to be sure no one could hear us. She moved closer. “The king has sent the queen’s ladies back to Cleves. Only the English ladies attend on her now and many of those have been spending more time back at their manors. Lord Cromwell has been made an earl and Katherine Howard has been given her own rooms. Lady Rutland and Lady Edgecombe were questioned by Lord Wriothesley about the queen’s virginity and we have all been in a panic.”
“Does the queen understand what is going on?”
“I think she suspects. She was very upset to have her ladies sent home, but for the most part she carries on as if things are normal. Maybe she thinks this is the way things are done at the English court,” she said.
I gave her a wry look, “Or maybe she is much smarter than you give her credit for and lets you all think she does not understand.”
The squawking of a bird interrupted our conversation.
“That infernal bird,” fumed Jane stomping back into the queen’s chamber.
I followed her to see what was making the racket. A brightly coloured parrot rocked his cage back and forth in the corner. Jane rushed over and threw a cover on the cage. After a moment the squawking stopped.
I saw by the faces around me that they were shaken. It seemed that recent events had set them all on edge.
The May Day jousts were to be Queen Anne’s last public appearance. By mid-June, Katherine Howard had been sent to L
ambeth, where the king could visit her without the prying eyes of Court. Quite surprisingly after his elevation, Lord Secretary Cromwell was branded a traitor by the council, had his earldom taken away, and was tossed in the Tower. Queen Anne and her now reduced retinue of ladies were on their way to Richmond for her “health.” The king insisted that she was in need of the fresh air, but we all knew the real reason. Queen Anne’s reign was coming to an end.
I was given the choice to stay at Court with my husband or to go Richmond with the other maids-of-honour. I struggled with my decision. I wanted to be with Francis every moment I could, but my heart ached for the queen and Nan Bassett. Nan’s stepfather, Lord Lisle, had been arrested for treason in May and her mother and younger sisters were under house-arrest. Nan knew nothing of the plot and had no involvement, but at times she had been near hysterical at the turmoil in her family. Her elder sister would be going to Richmond as well, but the Lisles had been like family to me and I wanted to show my support. Francis understood and encouraged me to go.
“I will be waiting here for you when you return, and if we are lucky, the king will let us have a leave to properly celebrate our wedding,” he said provocatively as he caressed my naked belly the night before we left Court. I felt an ache of longing, but I had already made up my mind to go.
After two weeks at Richmond, the king’s councillors made their much-awaited appearance. At the sight of the Duke of Suffolk, Lords Audley, Winchester, Kingston, Cheyney and Rich filing into her rooms, Queen Anne took fright and fainted, landing in a heap on the floor. We rushed towards her while the councillors looked around uncomfortably. No doubt she had been thinking of the Queen Anne before her, but we pretended as though the heat had made her weak. The mid-summer warmth was stifling, so the councillors appeared to believe our ruse.
The lords made a hasty exit when they realised that they would not complete their mission. We revived the queen and she sent for Ambassador Harst. When he arrived, we all left to the ante-room to give them privacy, but after a while her sobs had grown so loud it was impossible to drown them out. Nan and I exchanged a wary look. Once again my father had caused pain to someone I had grown to love. I did not understand the need for him to put a good woman through this torture. Queen Anne was young enough to be capable of bearing sons, she had the love of the people of England as they willingly demonstrated, calling her name and waving fervently whenever she was in procession, and she brought ready allies against France and Spain. The king was setting her aside only to fulfil his lusts. I knew I should be happy for my cousin, the future queen, but I could not summon the good-will after seeing poor Queen Anne sacrificed.
The councillors returned a few days later for the queen’s signature on the annulment papers. She finally marshalled her courage and signed. She placed her ring on the table for them to return to the king. Her fears went unrealised. She was not to lose her head. In fact, she was to be treated rather well. She would be the king’s “entirely beloved sister” and third in importance behind the new queen. In addition, she was granted Richmond and Hever. Hever had reverted to the crown after my grandfather’s death so I was not surprised that the king was giving it as a gift, but I must admit that I felt some melancholy at the reminder of its loss. I was, however, happy that my home would go to a woman who so deserved it. I hoped Anne would come to love Hever with its beautiful gardens, bountiful orchards and handsome stonework. Maybe she would find it worthy payment for the pain she had received for the grant.
Their mission complete, the councillors made preparations for their departure. The Duke of Suffolk caught my eye and gestured for me to follow him. He led me to the presence chamber. A page saw us enter and scurried out of the room.
In an uncharacteristically serious tone he said, “In a week’s time, I need you and Nan Bassett to pack your belongings and make haste to the palace at Outlands. Katherine Howard is awaiting your arrival to prepare her for her wedding.”
It was a wedding baptised in blood, for on the same day that Katherine Howard was repeating her vows in her private closet in Surrey, the former lord secretary was placing his head on a block on the Tower green. The death of Cromwell heralded the reign of a new queen.
Oxfordshire, Rotherfield Greys:
October 1540 - April 1541
My time with the court was short-lived. After weeks of Francis and I making up for time spent apart, I woke up one stifling October day and heaved into the piss pot. Only then did I realise that I had missed my courses for two months. In all the excitement and chaos of a royal wedding, I had ceased paying attention to the messages my body was sending me. I waited another month to be sure and spent my time in the queen’s rooms sewing a baby blanket. I waited until the time was right and then laid it on Francis’s pillow after he had left our rooms for the day. When I came back that night he was waiting for me in front of the fire, a gleeful smile on his face. We made love for the last time that night before the baby was born and it poured down rain from the heavens for the first time since June. I felt as if God were raining blessings upon us.
In November, Queen Katherine, Lady Rochford, and Nan sadly bid me farewell, but Francis was anxious to get me home before the winter storms began. He would return to Court after I was settled. His brother Henry would keep me company until my mother arrived for my lying-in. Excitement welled up in me when I realised that I would be the lady of the house. I warned Francis that he might find Greys Court changed when he returned for the birth of our child. He shook his head and sighed, but he could not hide the delight in his voice when he said, “I would love to see you wield your feminine influence over Henry. He has had the run of the place these last years and I am not sure how welcome your posies and tapestries will be.”
I huffed. “He will welcome them and like them.”
Francis wrapped his arms around me and whispered into my hair, “Oh how I will miss you.”
Henry welcomed me home with open arms. He was amenable to the new tapestries I chose for the hall and my plans for the gardens when spring came, but I was forbidden from touching his rooms. I insisted that new rushes be laid and he agreed, but my influence ended there. Henry was a doting brother-in-law. He made sure I got the best cuts of meat, that the fire never went out and, at night, he would read to me by candlelight. When I would turn irritable from lack of sleep or felt pains from the pregnancy, he would tell me stories of their childhood or jokes to lighten my mood. His impression of the king, hands on his hips and a wide stance stomping through the hall, never failed to raise my spirits.
After Christmas, my mother came to Greys Court to prepare my lying-in, bringing with her my maid from Calais, Matilda. I was thrilled to see her. Forgoing etiquette, I wrapped her in a warm embrace. Seeing her friendly face helped ease my anxieties. For the next three months I retreated to my bed to await the pains of childbirth.
From my bed I listened to the rain pattering against the window. The room was dark and sweltering. A fire burned to heat the chamber and thick tapestries covered the windows to keep out the draft. I was miserable. I wanted nothing more than to stick my face out into the spring rain and feel the drops on my skin and the damp earth in my lungs. But no one would grant my small request.
“We cannot let in the evil airs, my lady,” Matilda said as she stoked the fire.
I looked over at my mother; she was sitting in her chair humming a hymn. She nodded in agreement. I sighed and wriggled around trying to get comfortable. My back ached from lying in bed for so long and my mind had grown weary after three months of doing nothing but sleep. I laid my hand on my belly and felt the baby give it a hard kick. I rested my other hand on the mattress beside me and realised it was sopping wet. Before I could say a word I was gripped by a pain unlike any I had ever felt before.
I cried out and in seconds Matilda and my mother had the birthing mattress on the floor. Somewhere in between my yelping and writhing they managed to get me on it. The pain was unbearable. The midwife bustled into the room armed with a woode
n spoon. In one swift move, she forced it between my clenched teeth.
“Bite down on that, m’lady,” she said brusquely. “It will help with the pains.”
I laboured through the night, at turns groaning and crying. I thought my stomach would tear in two. My mother massaged my lower back and caressed my hair in an effort to ease the pain.
“You are doing well,” she cooed. “Only a little more now ...”
I held my breath and gave one last push. The sharp sound of a baby’s cry pierced the pre-dawn silence.
“You have a son!” my mother shouted. She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Oh my beautiful girl, you have a son.”
I had son. I had fulfilled my duty to my husband. “He has an heir, he has an heir,” I muttered to myself before exhaustion took over and I fell into a deep sleep.
“Catherine, your husband is here to see you. Can you wake up for me please?” A soft voice dragged me out of my slumber. Slowly I opened my eyes. Mother was leaning over me, stroking my hair.
“Francis is here and he is waiting to see you,” she said smiling.
I closed my eyes and heaved a contented sigh. Carefully, she eased me into a sitting position to receive my visitor.
The door to my chamber creaked open and he walked slowly out of the shadows. He was even more handsome than I remembered. Light stubble graced his jawline and though his dark eyes look tired they were bright and shining with pride. My mother patted me on the hand and made a quiet exit.
Francis drew a chair near to the bed and before he sat down he bent over and kissed me gingerly. I could taste the rain on his lips and knew he had ridden a long way in the storm to be by my side.
“How are you, my love?” he asked, stroking the back of my hand.
“I am vastly improved now that you are here.”
He gave me a coy smile and then the serious look returned to his face. “I had faith that you were in good hands with your mother and Matilda, but I must admit that I was very concerned. All I could think was of Queen Jane and how distraught I would be if I lost you.”
Cor Rotto: A novel of Catherine Carey Page 5