by Alison Weir
She couldn’t see the house from the road, for it was well secluded, but as soon as she passed through the gates she found herself in the familiar paradise of wildflower meadows and ancient hedgerows, populated by hordes of butterflies. The River Arun, which rose in St. Leonard’s Forest nearby, flowed through the estate and formed part of the moat. Soon, at the end of the long, tree-lined approach, Chesworth House appeared before them, its older range of oak to one side, and the newer one of mellow red brick, built by Katheryn’s grandfather, the second Duke, to the other; this was known as the Earl of Surrey’s Tower, because the Duke had borne that title when he began it.
The gentlewomen’s chamber, with its lofty beamed ceiling, was at the top of the new wing. Katheryn staked her claim to a bed by the window and hummed as she stowed away her belongings. Then she ran downstairs to enjoy the sunshine out on the terrace. Harry was already there, waiting for her, and together they explored the enchanting formal garden before wandering into the lush green park beyond.
“Oh, it feels so good to be here!” Katheryn cried, lifting her arms heavenwards and twirling around. Harry laughed and caught her hands, then whirled her around even faster, until they collapsed, breathless and giggling, on the grass. No one was in sight, and soon they were kissing and pleasuring each other, reveling in a glorious sense of freedom. It was so heady that they both got carried away, until Harry drew Katheryn down on his lap and she felt something stabbing at her, followed by an unbearably sharp, hot pain.
“No!” she yelped, and jumped up. “Ow, that really hurt!” She rubbed herself. “You promised you would not go further than touching.”
Harry groaned. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. The moment felt so right. Forgive me.” He was so contrite that she took pity on him, and soon they were back in each other’s arms, as ardent as before.
“You didn’t enter me properly, did you?” Katheryn asked later as they lay on the grass.
“No, darling,” Harry assured her. “You drew back before I was inside you. There wasn’t any blood, was there?”
“No. I must still be a virgin, God be thanked.”
“It won’t happen again,” he promised.
* * *
—
The summer days at Horsham were long and leisurely. The music lessons continued, but little progress was made, for tutor and pupil had other pursuits on their minds. At night, they would creep into the old wing, through the deserted hall, and make for the Duchess’s chapel chamber, which was more isolated than the one at Lambeth. There they would stay for much of the night, lost to all the world except themselves.
The other gentlewomen teased Katheryn. “Why don’t you bring him to the dorter so that he can join in our revelry?” they urged again.
But Katheryn would only smile and say nothing. She did not want to think of the precious thing she had with Harry being brought down to the level of the crude dalliance in the dorter.
She was happy, though, to join her fellows in other pleasures. One day, she begged food from the kitchens, packed it up, and carried it into the park, where the young ladies were seated on the grass.
“A banquet!” Dorothy cried. “Thank you, Katheryn!”
Later that afternoon, as she lazed on the grass watching the others play hoodman blind among the trees, Katheryn noticed Mary Lascelles, who was seated on the terrace wall, observing her with a sly smile. Mary was a conceited prig who thought herself above the others in the dorter. She never joined in their frolics, but she often watched. They usually ignored her and Katheryn took care to stay out of her way, but lately it had seemed that Mary’s eyes were often on her. Irritated, she rounded on the woman.
“Has my face gone green or something? Why are you always watching me?”
“I beg your pardon,” Mary said. “But you intrigue me, Mistress Katheryn. Methinks you should be more discreet. I know what’s going on with your music master. It’s plain as day.”
“It’s none of your business!” Katheryn snapped.
“That’s as may be, but I speak as a friend. What he is doing is doubly reprehensible because he must know he can never marry you, and you are a virgin of noble blood. He is putting your reputation in jeopardy, and your chances of making a good marriage.”
“How dare you!” Katheryn cried. “You know nothing of my affairs. Stop poking your nose in.”
“You might one day thank me for it,” Mary said, unperturbed. “If the Duchess were to find out…”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Katheryn was alarmed.
“I wouldn’t. But, in a big household like this, such things cannot be kept secret and people will talk. Already they gossip about you in the dorter, and the young men they sleep with enjoy drinking with their fellows. They can be indiscreet when they have had one mug of ale too many. Just be careful, Mistress Katheryn Howard.”
“I’m not a fool,” Katheryn retorted, riled. “And there is nothing to gossip about.”
“I don’t think you’re as pure and honest as you would have us believe, Mistress Katheryn,” Mary murmured, kneeling down and starting to pack up the hamper. “You think you’re above the rest of us, but you’re no better. You fornicate in secret, don’t you?”
Katheryn’s temper flared. “That’s a wicked lie!” she hissed.
“See how she blushes!” Mary said. “You deny, then, that you tumble with Mr. Manox? I’ve seen you together in this very park, when you thought no one was watching. Take care of your reputation, Mistress Katheryn, take great care.” And she got up and walked back toward the kitchens, leaving Katheryn shocked and speechless.
How many other people knew what she had been doing with Harry? She thought they had been discreet. Oh, this was terrible! They must do something to remedy the situation before her reputation was irredeemably ruined. It could not go on.
All her pleasure in the day was gone. As she walked back to the house, her mind was working furiously. She and Harry could not go to the Duchess for help; that way lay disaster. They could run away together, or flee abroad, but they would soon run out of money. Or they could go into London and find a priest to marry them. That seemed the best solution. Once they were wed, no one could put them asunder. They would just have to brave the storm of anger that would surely ensue.
* * *
—
“Harry,” she said that night, as he closed the chapel closet door behind them, “I have to talk to you.” She told him what Mary had said, but he shrugged.
“She’s just jealous because no man wants her,” he said. “That sour face would curdle milk.”
“But Harry, don’t you see, if she knows about us, she might tell others, and they might tell the Duchess. Other people might have guessed about us. We can’t go on like this.”
He stared at her. “You mean you want to end it?”
“No, you silly fool!” she cried. “I want us to get married. I know how it can be accomplished…” She stopped, seeing the expression on his face. It was not the look of a man who has been given his heart’s desire.
“Katheryn, we can’t,” he said, his tone bitter. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it, for I have, many times. But it is impossible. My father is not a rich man nor of gentle blood. The Howards do not marry with such as us. They would cut you off, I would lose my place, and we would have nothing to live on. I could not let that happen to you.”
Or to myself. The thought came to her, unbidden.
“Couldn’t we live with your parents?”
“And bring down the wrath of the Howards on their heads, too? Sweetheart, you are being unrealistic. It can never be.”
Katheryn grabbed his hands. “But I love you, and you love me. I will not give you up. You are the one to whom I will give my maidenhead, even if it might be painful to me.” She had not forgotten the pain she had suffered the other day. “I will belong to no other. We will fin
d a means to be together.”
Harry shook his head. “You are a fool, Katheryn. You live on daydreams. We are as together now as we’ll ever be; it can go no further. Don’t delude yourself. We can never marry.”
Katheryn was stung. They had had a few squabbles, but he had never spoken so sharply to her, and she was desperate to placate him. “Then I will be your mistress! I will give myself to you, not doubting that you will be good to me, as I know you for a true and loyal gentleman.”
“Would that I were a gentleman! We wouldn’t be in this dilemma. Maybe we should become lovers, for it’s all we’ll ever have. Don’t you think it shames me that I am not worthy of you? For God’s sake, let’s do it tonight!”
Katheryn recoiled. She had never envisaged losing her virginity amidst such anger and bitterness. She had not realized these feelings went so deep in Harry.
“Of course you are worthy!” she cried. “I’ll prove it to you! Come to the chapel chamber tonight.”
Harry grasped her by the shoulders. “Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?”
“I do.” She held his eyes with hers.
* * *
—
She did not go to the dorter. There was to be a banquet that night, and she would not be able to get away without people asking where she was going. Instead, she crept out of the house and sat up talking to Harry in the little banqueting house on the deserted terrace, where they were shielded by wooden lattices from anyone who might venture there. She felt wound up inside, unsure whether she had made the right decision. To be truthful, she was regretting offering herself, for Harry was still in a strange mood and not his usual loving self.
She had soaked a scrap of woolen cloth in vinegar and pushed it as far inside herself as she could. It had made everything feel sordid, and she was upset that Harry had not thought to ask her about preventing a baby. Did he not care if he got her with child?
It grew late. Candles were being doused in the house; she looked up and saw Malyn drawing her curtains. Hopefully, Malyn had not noticed them. A distant bell chimed midnight. Soon, all was in darkness. Harry rose and held out his hand. “Let’s go in,” he said.
The chapel chamber was dim in the candlelight. They sat down on a bench and Katheryn wondered how they would rekindle their passion to the point where she was ready to consummate it.
“You’re having second thoughts,” Harry said, laying his hand on hers. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold you to what you said. I’m sorry I’ve not been the best company. It’s devastating to know that you can’t marry the woman you love because others think you are not good enough. Your mentioning marriage this afternoon really brought that home.”
Katheryn’s eyes brimmed with tears. “When we do come together, I want it to be in joy, not when we’re downcast like this.”
“You’re right,” Harry said, drawing her to him. After a pause, he spoke. “I had a letter from my father today. He is urging me to marry the daughter of one of our neighbors. He says he wants to see his grandson before he dies.”
Katheryn sat up, horrified. “Do you want to marry her?”
“Before God, no!” Harry swore. “I want you. I just don’t know what to say to him. He’s put forward all sorts of good reasons for the marriage.”
Katheryn exhaled in relief. “Tell him you love another.”
“As far as he’s concerned, love doesn’t come into it. He’d laugh at me.”
“Then—”
Footsteps echoed along the chapel gallery. The door flew open, and there stood the Duchess, fully dressed, her eyes blazing with wrath. “I was told I might find you both here,” she said in an icy voice. “What do you think you are doing?”
Katheryn jumped to her feet. Her cheeks were burning and she felt as if her knees would give way. “Begging your ladyship’s pardon, we were only talking.”
“At this time of night? What have you got to say for yourself, Manox?”
“My lady, I apologize.” Harry had also leaped up, and now bowed his head. “I was worried about a letter from my father, and Mistress Katheryn found me dejected in the gallery and kindly offered to listen to my woes.”
“A likely tale. I can tell from your faces that you were up to no good. You, girl, have been entrusted to my care, and I am responsible for seeing that you grow up honest and virtuous. I gave you a roof over your head when that fool of a father of yours hied over to Calais, and I have played a mother’s part to you—and this is how you repay me. Come here, you little strumpet!”
As Katheryn stood rooted to the spot, Harry cried, “Madam, I beg of you—”
“Hold your peace.” The Duchess stepped forward, raised her stick, and brought it down once, twice, hard on Katheryn’s buttocks. It stung terribly, even through her gown and kirtle. Then her ladyship turned to Harry and beat him, too, as Katheryn cried uncontrollably.
“You are never to be alone together again, do you understand me?” the Duchess barked. “And you, Mr. Manox, are dismissed. You will leave this house tomorrow morning.”
“No!” Katheryn wailed, as her grandam grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the closet.
“I’m sorry!” Harry called after them. “Katheryn, I’m sorry!”
* * *
—
Bruised, and broken in spirit, Katheryn lay on her bed, lost in misery.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” she had repeatedly told the Duchess on the way back to the dorter. She had pleaded desperately for Harry to be reinstated, but to no avail.
“You will be locked in until he has gone,” the Duchess told her. In vain did Katheryn wait at the window the next morning, hoping for a last glimpse of him as he rode away.
Chesworth lost its magic. In the last weeks of their stay, she moped around, avoiding the company of the other gentlewomen, wanting only Harry’s presence, his kisses, and his reassurance that all was well between them. Deep inside, she was worried that his father would make him marry the neighbor’s daughter, and that Harry, thinking Katheryn lost to him, would agree. He would have to placate his father in some way, for the old man would be angry that he had lost his post. Worse still, she suspected that Harry had known about the proposed marriage before and wanted to wed the girl. Certainly, he had been less than ardent on that last day, arguing against marrying Katheryn and not seizing the opportunity of making love. She had offered him her most precious gift—and he had shunned it. That was how it seemed now.
She was underoccupied, with too much leisure in which to work herself up into a passion of grief and anger and fear. Two days after Harry’s departure, Dorothy and Izzie, the chamberer, came upon her as she sat weeping in a secluded corner of the gardens. They hastened to comfort her, and she poured out the whole story.
“He made no protest at his dismissal,” she sobbed. “He just let me go.”
“He is a servant,” Dorothy said, squeezing Katheryn’s hand. “What would it have availed him?”
“He’s not worth it!” Izzie said. “A man worth his salt would have spoken out. He could have said that his intentions were honorable and that he wanted to marry you. He had nothing to lose by it.”
“Try to forget him,” Dorothy said.
But Katheryn could not. She was holding on desperately to the hope that, once they were back at Lambeth, she could contrive to see Harry; he did not live so far away, after all. Better still, she was praying that he would try to see her.
1538
They returned to Lambeth late in July and, to Katheryn’s joy, there was a sealed letter waiting for her in the porter’s lodge. It was from Harry. He had secured a new position as music tutor to Lord Bayment’s children—the same Lord Bayment whose house was only just up the road! Could he see her? He missed her so much.
Inside the letter was a small package containing a tiny gold locket in the shape of a heart. Katheryn gasped in
delight and hung it around her neck at once, concealing it beneath the partlet that covered her square-necked bodice.
Izzie was willing to take a reply. “Don’t appear too eager,” she counseled.
Katheryn took her advice, and soon there was another message from Harry. He would be at the gate of Norfolk House on Thursday evening and begged that she meet him there.
She was in a fever of anticipation. Thursday would not come soon enough. It did not matter if the Duchess found out. She would brave her wrath—nay, risk all—to see him.
She wore the black dress because Harry had liked it, and the locket, which drew many admiring compliments from the other young ladies. After supper, she bathed her face in rose water and combed her hair. She had washed it that morning and it rippled in an auburn cloud around her shoulders. She felt herself beautiful, beautiful for her lover. And he would be her lover, in every sense. She was determined on it.
As she hastened through the screens passage to the front door, a man loomed up in front of her.
“Now here’s a pretty sight! And where might you be going, Mistress Katheryn Howard?” It was Mr. Dereham, the new gentleman usher, a close cousin of the Duchess who had joined the household on its return from Chesworth. Katheryn had encountered him daily, supervising the service at table and the work and conduct of the upper servants in the Duchess’s apartments, and was a little in awe of him, for it was he who swore in new servants and kept a vigilant eye everywhere. He was intense and very attractive, and there was an aura of the dangerous about him, for he looked like a pirate with his close-cropped black hair and sardonic expression. She could imagine him holding a dagger in his teeth.
She bristled. She was not a servant, and her movements were none of Mr. Dereham’s business. “That’s for me to know and you to wonder, Sir,” she said, in her haughtiest tone, and swept past.