Cor Rotto: A novel of Catherine Carey

by Adrienne Dillard

  I groaned. “What shall we do with them, Anne?”

  She put her face in her hands and shook her head in frustration. “I wish the queen would just decide on a husband. How can she ever expect to control the men in her court without a man on the throne to guide them?”

  I stared out at the garden and spied a rose bush with a lone bloom still vibrantly red among the browning dead branches. I immediately thought of Elizabeth’s mother. Her daughter had no need of a man to control her courtiers. She was already doing a fine job of it on her own. My sister-in-law just didn’t know her well enough to see it.

  Sure enough, I knew that a full-blown battle had begun between my brother and Elizabeth’s favourite when the trio of conspirators paraded through court in their yellow hose and doublets. By the time of Ambrose Dudley’s wedding in November, his brother’s supporters had their own uniform - the recognised hue of royalty – purple.

  Anne nervously fiddled with her girdle as we watched the men warily eye each other during the tournament held on the tiltyard at Westminster to honour the Earl of Warwick’s marriage to the Earl of Bedford’s daughter, but I paid little attention. I was far too excited for my son, Harry. He had won the initial joust.

  After the celebrations, Francis and I received a letter from Lettice that she had been delivered of a son. Somewhat recklessly, she had decided to name him Robert.

  The Christmas season came to Court as a great blizzard settled a thick blanket of perfect white snow on London. We attended a quiet Christmas service and then followed Elizabeth to her Presence Chamber where she dined in state with her closest companions. When the last of her company drifted off to their beds, Robert Dudley begged her for a private audience. The other maids and I hung back as Elizabeth and her favourite moved on to the Privy Chamber. After a few moments of awkward silence, Blanche Parry and I took our leave to prepare the bedchamber.

  Elizabeth stared intently into the mirror while I combed her long locks. Shimmering strands of grey hair had begun to invade her golden red tresses, reminding me that thirty-two years had passed since her birth. I plaited her hair quickly and placed a cap on her hair to keep out the chill.

  “Mistress Parry had the maid put a warming brick in your bed. It should be ready for you now,” I said gently, helping Elizabeth to her feet.

  “Oh thank you, Lady Knollys,” she offered distractedly as she glided across the room to her enormous tester bed.

  I walked around the room blowing out the candles as the light from the fire crackling in the hearth was bright enough to keep us from tripping in the night. I made sure the steward loaded it with fire-wood before he left for the evening.

  Elizabeth sat quietly on the rich purple velvet quilts, and waited patiently for me to finish my duties. When I was done, she gestured for me to sit beside her. I perched gingerly on the edge of the bed, not wanting to wrinkle the bedding.

  “Tell me, how does our cousin Lettice fare after the birth of her child? A boy named Robert, I believe? Does it not seem strange that her first son was not named for his father Walter?”

  I hesitated, not sure how to respond. I agreed with her assessment, but Lettice was my daughter and I did not want to add to any irritation that Elizabeth already felt for her.

  She could see my discomfort and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Have no fear, Catherine. You have no control over your daughter’s impetuousness. Of course she would attempt to charm Lord Robert, he is rather handsome after all. I just feel pity for poor Hereford with his ungrateful wife.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, Your Grace. I know not what to do with her and her single-minded ambitions.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, well it will be some time before we invite her back to Court. It will be good for her to be home with her family.”

  Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. It had been nearly a year since I last saw my children. As much as I loved Elizabeth, serving her never filled the empty void I felt at the separation from them. I blinked hard, willing the emotion to pass and swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “Yes, Your Grace. She should consider herself very fortunate.”

  Elizabeth removed her hand from my shoulder and indicated that I should take my place on the pallet next to her bed. Once she lay down, I closed the silk curtains around her bed and crawled under my own quilts.

  The room was silent except for the popping coming from the hearth. As I was drifting off to sleep, Elizabeth’s voice roused me.

  “Lord Robert asked me to marry him this evening.”

  I bolted upright and stared into the blackness of her bed, hidden behind the curtains.

  “What did you say?” I asked. And then, remembering my manners, apologised for my impertinence.

  Elizabeth peeked out from behind the curtain. “It’s quite all right, dear cousin,” she laughed. “I was just as surprised at his gumption.”

  I relaxed and allowed a giggle to escape. “Well?”

  She made a sour face at me. “Of course I gave no answer. Would you ever expect anything different?”

  “Never,” I responded as I lay back down on the pallet.

  The curtains fell back into place and Elizabeth snuggled back into her bed.

  “Oh, one more thing,” she called out before falling asleep. “I think it is time for you to be with your family as well. Tomorrow I will advise Sir Francis that he may return with you to Greys. That is our New Year gift to you. And bring Bess back with you upon your return. I am in need of a new maid.”

  An enormous smile broke out across my face and excitement filled my heart. “Thank you, Your Grace, I am so appreciative ...”

  Before I could finish, I was met with Elizabeth’s snores.

  I wondered how I could possibly fall asleep after such wonderful news.

  London, Whitehall:

  April 1566

  I had not realised how much I needed the respite until our horses trotted through the gates of Rotherfield Greys. I was overjoyed to see how well my children were getting on and marvelled at how much they had grown since we last saw them.

  I immediately sent for a seamstress to begin work on Bess’s new court wardrobe. She was thrilled to return to London with us and we delighted at the fabrics we chose for her new gowns. Rich velvets and damasks all in the subdued shades of grey and black Elizabeth preferred were purchased, along with new linen and silk for her undergarments. Our family was wealthier than most, but not so wealthy that we could afford to lavishly dress all of our children, so Bess’s new costuming was certainly a treat.

  Robert and Richard had learned well from their uncle Henry and were tending to our properties during Henry’s travels to the continent. They both were gifted caretakers and I knew they would make excellent husbands one day.

  The friendly competition that little Francis and Anne had built up provided never-ending entertainment for their father and me during the duration of our visit. Anne was determined that Francis would never best her at anything simply because he was a boy. She rode her palfrey as hard and as fast as he did his and even their tutor served as a target, each jockeying to win his approval. It seemed that Anne had taken after her namesake in more than just appearance. She would do well at Court.

  Thomas and little Katherine were still small enough for cuddles and I spent many evenings with them sitting before the fire delighting them with tales from our time in London.

  It was bittersweet to think of all the life that my other three children were denied. Mary, Maude and Dudley haunted my thoughts and, at night, I found myself dreaming of the adults they would have grown to be.

  We returned to London in March with revived spirits, but much had happened during our absence. Having received no response to his marriage proposal and suffering great offence at Elizabeth’s flirtation with the Earl of Ormonde, Robert Dudley retreated to his estates in the country. The Duke of Norfolk also took his leave, hardly bearing the wound inflicted upon him by Her Majesty for preferring Ormonde. Elizabeth told me la
ter that she had tired of the constant bickering between Norfolk and Dudley and chose to shower Ormonde with such affections that both would flee for their vanity and give her some peace.

  The dramatics at our court, however, paled in comparison to the dastardly deeds going on in Scotland. Shortly after our arrival, Cecil burst in to Elizabeth’s bedchamber as we dressed her to deliver the news. While a heavily pregnant Mary Stuart dined with her secretary Rizzio, our treacherous cousin, Lord Darnley, ambushed them with the Scottish lords and stabbed the secretary to death right before Mary’s eyes. How the trauma did not cause early labour, I would never understand. I admired Mary’s strength, but I was also astonished by her lack of judgment in marrying a man like Darnley. A man like him would always undermine her rule.

  As the howling winter winds died down and the flowers began to wake from their long slumber, the spring rains washed away all traces of Dudley’s irritation and he returned to Court. Now that the weather had calmed enough for longer travel, Elizabeth had a mission for Francis.

  “Just when I get used to the comfort of having you with me, the Queen sends you off on another errand,” I whined, snuggling deeper under the covers and closer to the warm comfort of my husband.

  He dragged his fingers through the hair at the back of my head, anchoring it in his hand, and kissed me passionately. “It is only for a month or two at most. I shall be home in time to go on progress at least.” he said after our lips separated.

  I groaned. “I know, but Ireland is so far away. Why is she making you go? I thought Henry Sidney was Lord Deputy of Ireland now. Does this not fall under his duties?”

  Francis leaned back on his elbow, playfully narrowed his eyes at me and turned up his nose. “Do you dare question our queen?” he said in mock surprise.

  I giggled at his impertinence and pulled him back on to the bed. I curled my fingers through the dark forest of hair on his chest. “You know I would never. I only worry for your safety,” I said quietly.

  Francis stilled my hand with his own, rolling over to face me again. “You have nothing to fear. I will only be in Ireland long enough to assure the queen that Sidney is doing the right thing in restoring the O’Donnells. The skirmish between the Irish clans and the Scots is ravaging the country and the queen needs to be sure that she is supporting the right man. I will return before you’ve even missed me.”

  I wrapped my arms around Francis and buried my face in his chest. “That is not true, I miss you already and you have not even left.”

  Francis informed me that he needed to return to Greys for some unfinished business before journeying to Ireland for two months. Much to my dismay, Elizabeth insisted that I stay behind at Court, and it was just as well as I wanted to pack Francis’s trunk during his absence.

  I accomplished much in my husband’s short absence, but there was still one more item to complete before he returned from Greys, my anniversary gift to him. It had been twenty-six years since we wed and I wanted to give him something special to thank him for the wonderful life he had given us. He told me a story on our wedding night about how his family came to own Rotherfield Greys. His father, Robert, served my grandfather, Henry VII, and was appointed to wait on Prince Arthur. As a reward for his loyal service to the crown, my father, Henry VIII, granted him Greys in 1514 for the rent of one red rose at mid-summer. In honour of this family tale and our home at Greys, I was embroidering red roses on a silk undershirt. I wanted to present it to him before he left for Ireland, so I worked through the night to finish it in his absence.

  The night before his return I sat hunched before the candlelight and tried desperately to coax the silken roses into bloom as my eye-sight failed in the near-darkness. A rap at the door surprised me and I pricked my finger with the sharp needle. Hot red blood seeped into the white silk, colouring in the empty spaces of the rose.

  “God’s blood!” I cursed, involuntarily sticking my wounded finger into my mouth.

  I looked down at the ruined cloth in frustration. It was a metaphor for my whole life. My blood seemed to ruin all of my plans. I breathed a deep sigh and laid the shirt aside to see who had so rudely interrupted me. My annoyance was further compounded when I saw who awaited me on the other side of the door.

  Robert Dudley leaned nonchalantly against the frame and gave me a simpering smile.

  “Lady Knollys, I am so sorry to have disturbed you. I was hoping that I could speak to you for a moment.”

  I briefly racked my brain wondering what he could possibly want and faked my most gracious smile.

  “Of course, Lord Robert, please come in. May I offer you some wine?”

  He nodded, so I called for Matilda and asked her to bring a tray of refreshments in. We made small talk until my dutiful maid returned with the wine and a plate of bread and cheese. I waited for Dudley to sit and then I perched on the edge of a cushioned stool.

  He took a sip of wine and cleared his throat.

  “Lady Knollys – Catherine … May I call you Catherine?”

  The queen’s favourite could call me anything he wanted, so I nodded meekly.

  He continued, “Catherine, I have known your husband for many years. He has been a friend to the Dudleys for as long as I can remember. I treasure his friendship and know that I can always count on his loyalty.”

  He paused and searched my eyes for any display of emotion. I kept my face blank, but relaxed.

  “He speaks very highly of you and your brother, Ambrose,” I offered.

  Dudley shifted uncomfortably in his seat and nodded. After an awkward moment, the reason for his visit became more apparent.

  “But what of you, Catherine? Do you speak highly of me as well? It seems that I may have offended you in some way and so I have come to offer my apologies in hopes that our friendship may be mended.”

  Somehow I avoided choking on the sip of wine I had just taken. Robert Dudley was apologising to me? I was confounded by this turn of events. I frantically searched my mind for an appropriate response.

  “My lord, you have no reason to apologise to me. I take no exception to my husband’s friendship with you. It seems I am the one who should apologise for any affront I have caused you. My sincerest apologies are offered,” I said scrambling to my feet.

  Dudley gestured back to my stool. “Please sit, Catherine. There is no need for formalities. I simply want to know what I can do to mend this awkward situation that has arisen between us.”

  My hands trembled, but I managed to lower myself back down to the stool in a dignified manner.

  I replied before I lost my courage. “Well, if we are eschewing the formalities, Lord Robert, I will be honest. I hear you declare your perfect love for my cousin the queen one moment, and in the next you beguile my daughter with your charms. You pressure the queen into a marriage that you know, quite well, would make her more vulnerable than she has ever been. I want to believe for her sake that you have the best of intentions, but I have a difficult time judging such by your actions. Elizabeth has survived much to take her place on the throne and I distrust anyone who should covet it from her.”

  I felt the heat radiating from my cheeks. I was astounded by my temerity in speaking so frankly. I waited nervously for the rebuke I deserved.

  Dudley stared at me for a moment and then broke into a great laugh.

  “My lady! I would never seek to covet your cousin’s throne. That is hers by birthright.”

  Was he mocking me? My body started to shake in anger. I stared at the empty hearth, took a deep breath and tried to control my emotions. After a tense moment of silence, I felt Dudley lean towards me. His hand was surprisingly warm against my own. Startled, I turned to look at him and found myself seeing a kindness in his eyes that I had never noticed.

  “Lady Knollys, you are a true and loyal servant to your cousin, the queen, and I beg forgiveness for reacting poorly to your well-founded fears. The love I bear Elizabeth is true, just as the love I bear your beautiful Lettice. Do you believe it is possib
le to love two people at once? I never did until I met your daughter.”

  He had found my weakness. Yes, I did believe it was possible. I suffered the same fate. I never was relieved of the love I felt for Richard, so I understood the effects of such emotions.

  “Yes, my lord, I do believe it is possible and I can see by your earnestness that you speak from the heart. I apologise for treating you with such suspicion, but you must understand that I only did so out of fear for the women I love most,” I offered meekly.

  Dudley smiled kindly and righted himself, taking his hand from mine. “I do understand, Catherine, and that is why I sought you out this evening. I care for Francis as a brother and I would like to end any enmity between us. I have enough discord with your brother Henry. I would like to keep my enemies few,” he added with a light chuckle.

  “Ah, yes. My brother - that is a battle you will have to fight on your own I am afraid, my lord,” I replied with a relieved smile.

  “Well, he should be happy,” he began, rising up from his chair and smoothing the tails of his doublet. “I am certain now that the queen will never marry me and so, for now, I have ended my pursuit. As for Lettice, should she ever find herself in need of a husband, I shall be the first to offer my hand.”

  I led him towards the door, my stomach finally relieved of the tense knot it had worked itself into through the conversation. As I opened the door, I said, “I hope one day you find a companion that makes you as happy as Francis has made me.”

  He kissed my hand in farewell and replied, “I hope so as well, Catherine. And the secret of your second love will always be safe with me.”

  I spared him an appreciative nod, but I knew that I would never need to be grateful of his discretion, for I had no secrets from Francis. My heart would remain his forever.

  On Progress, then London,

  Whitehall and Westminster:

  August 1566 – January 1567

  Just as he promised, Francis returned from Ireland at the end of July in time for the annual summer progress. We left Greenwich in early August and set out to visit the Grey Friary in Stamford. Cecil was eager for us to visit his home, but understood Elizabeth’s avoidance due to his daughter’s illness with smallpox. She had never fully recovered from the fear she felt during her own bout with the disease and looked upon re-infection with dread. From the friary we moved on to the palace at Woodstock, the home that served as her prison during her sister’s reign.