by Alison Weir
“Well, he has disappeared. Have you any idea where he might be?”
“I know not where he is. I have not heard from him.”
“I suppose that is for the best,” the Duchess replied, then changed the subject.
They returned to the hall to find Norfolk waiting impatiently.
“I will send for you soon,” he told Katheryn. “You are a Howard. You will not fail us.”
* * *
—
In bed that night, back in the maidens’ dorter, Katheryn lay fretting and weeping. She could not fool herself: she did desire worldly glory, very much, but at what cost? There was no guarantee that the King would even notice her, let alone marry her, and she had been sworn to secrecy. What could she say to Tom? If he knew the truth, he would surely understand, but how could she just tell him she did not love him after all? That would hurt him deeply. She did not know how she could do it to him.
And what if the King did want her? The thought of going to bed with him appalled her. He was so old. Beneath the aura of majesty and the gorgeous clothes, he was an ailing man with diseased legs. She had seen for herself that there were days when he could hardly walk, let alone ride. Could she bring herself to endure what her uncle had referred to as his embraces without betraying that she was repelled by him? Maybe the gossip was true and there would be no embraces. That was a comforting thought. And yet, she had heard that he had been a great lover of women in his time. She had never seen him behave in anything other than a kindly and courteous way to Queen Anna and other ladies, and he did have a certain charm.
But he had had her cousin Anne beheaded! And his marriages had all ended in disaster, including, it seemed, this present one. Yet maybe it was not all his fault. Queen Katherine had been stubborn and Queen Jane, whom he had clearly loved, had died. And Anne had probably deserved her fate.
The one thing Katheryn was certain of was that she wanted to be queen. The prospect thrilled her, coloring everything else. To be the first lady in the land, to have everyone showing you deference, to wear the most gorgeous clothes and live in palaces of the greatest splendor, and have servants dancing attention on you, and your every whim being law—who could resist it? But every time she saw it becoming reality, she thought of Tom and her heart sank.
Round and round her thoughts went until she fell asleep, exhausted.
* * *
—
She did not say anything to Tom. She could not bring herself to. When they met in the gardens, she showed herself as happy to see him as before—which she was—but she took care to ensure that they were never alone, for then he would try to kiss her, and she would hate herself even more. She loved him, truly she did, but, being strictly honest with herself, the vista that had just been opened up before her had made her realize, as she had realized with Francis, that life held even more exciting prospects.
* * *
—
Another summons from the Duke arrived in the second week of April. Katheryn was to beg leave of the Queen and come to Norfolk House at five o’clock in the afternoon, two days hence, just before the court left for Hampton Court.
The moment had come, and now she must show her mettle. In her heart, she knew that the decision had been made.
She asked Anna if she might have permission to visit her grandam and Anna readily gave it. Katheryn washed her hair and combed it until it glimmered like burnished gold. At the appointed time, she boarded the ferry with her heart pounding, not daring to think of Tom. She was doing this for her family, for its honor, for the true faith—and for herself, admittedly. She must not fail.
* * *
—
It was to be tonight! Destiny beckoned…
The Duke had been waiting for her when she arrived. “Katheryn, his Grace the Bishop of Winchester is entertaining his Majesty tonight at Winchester House,” he told her. “We are to be honored guests. The Bishop is your friend and would see you well married.” She knew what that meant. “All is in readiness for you. Make haste to prepare yourself!”
When she walked down the stairs, dressed in the green gown with its shimmering silk skirts and low-cut bodice, her uncle beamed at the Duchess. “You have done well, Stepmother. She looks like a queen already. By God, girl, you carry yourself well. His Majesty cannot fail to notice you.”
Holding herself like an empress, Katheryn sat beside the Duke in his barge as it was rowed downstream to Bankside. He was full of advice.
“Niece, the King admires virtue in women. Do not fear that you will put him off by denying him what he wants. Hold out for the greatest prize—and remember what is at stake.”
“Yes, my lord,” she answered, aware that after tonight, her whole life could change.
She wished she had already ended it with Tom. It wasn’t fair to lead him on when there might be no future for them.
“We’re here,” the Duke grunted as the barge pulled toward a jetty. Beyond stood a great palace of stone, the London house of the bishops of Winchester, set in beautiful gardens. They were shown to a lofty hall with a rose window of stained glass, where Uncle Norfolk’s arrival was announced. A hawk-faced man in clerical robes came forward, bowing.
“My lord Duke! Welcome, welcome!”
Norfolk smiled. “My lord Bishop, may I present my niece, Mistress Katheryn Howard?”
Katheryn sank into a curtsey, head bowed. The Bishop lifted her chin and gave her an appraising look. “Welcome, Mistress Katheryn. She is perfect, my lord, perfect for our purpose.”
He personally showed them to their seats. The Duke was to sit in the place of highest honor at the King’s right hand, and the Bishop himself would sit on his Majesty’s left hand. Katheryn was seated below the salt at the end of the top table, three places away from her uncle, but still in a prominent position. The guests were standing in groups, chattering away, but Katheryn was listening for sounds that heralded the King’s arrival. She stood with the Duke, nervous now that the moment was nearly upon her. Pray God the King noticed her!
There was a commotion outside, a fanfare of trumpets, and then shouts. “Make way for the King’s Highness. Make way!”
And there he was, glittering in cloth of silver sparkling with rubies, stumping into the hall, where everyone was making their obeisances. Bishop Gardiner knelt before his sovereign, bidding him most heartily welcome, then attended him to the great chair that had been set ready under the canopy of estate bearing the royal arms of England. It was now time for Katheryn and everyone else to take their places. They stood for the Latin grace, then sat down, and the murmur of conversation swelled as the first course was carried in with great ceremony.
Katheryn watched the King, keeping a half-smile of admiration on her face in case he should look her way. He ate most fastidiously, dabbing his lips with his napkin and dipping his fingers in his bowl of rose water every so often, all the time talking to his neighbors at table. But his narrow blue eyes were roving around the room, and it was not long before they came to rest on Katheryn. And when they did so, they lit up.
“Tell me, my lord of Norfolk, who is that young lady seated at the end of the table?” she heard him ask. “She serves the Queen, I believe.”
“That is my niece, Katheryn Howard, your Grace,” the Duke replied.
“Another of your nieces,” the King said drily.
“This one, I assure your Grace, is nothing like the other,” Norfolk hastened to assure him.
“Hmm. Her countenance is very delightful. I’ve noticed her before.” He beamed across at Katheryn. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Mistress Katheryn.”
“Your Majesty does me great honor,” she said.
“You are enjoying the feast?”
“How could I not, Sir, when your Grace is here?” She gave him the benefit of what she hoped was a radiant smile. Norfolk and Gardiner were watching her approv
ingly.
“I see you are gracious of speech, as well as having excellent beauty,” the King complimented her.
“She is virtuous, too, Sire,” Norfolk added. Katheryn shivered a little, wishing he had kept his mouth shut.
“It is a rare combination,” the King observed. “You are most fortunate, Mistress Katheryn, that Dame Nature has endowed you with such gifts. Tell me, how old are you?”
“I am nineteen, Sir,” she said.
“Oh, to be nineteen!” The King sighed. “Youth is so fleeting. Would that I were young enough to play the eager swain with such a beauty.”
“Oh, but your Majesty is not old! You are in the prime of life, Sir.”
He beamed at her again. “I see that kindness, too, is among your virtues.” Uncle Norfolk was purring, she would swear.
The King summoned a servitor and lifted his plate. “Take these choice morsels to Mistress Katheryn. A token of our esteem, Mistress.”
“Oh, how kind of your Grace. Thank you!” Katheryn cried, as if he had given her the moon. He sat back in his chair, basking in her delight.
“And are you contracted to be married?” he asked.
“Oh, no, Sir.”
“She is pure and chaste and free from any matrimonial yoke, your Grace,” Norfolk said. Katheryn’s smile froze on her face.
“Hmm,” the King murmured. “You would be a prize for any man, Mistress Katheryn.”
For the rest of the meal, they exchanged pleasantries and he amused her with his jests, his gaze lingering lustfully on her. It was wonderful being the center of attention, with every eye in the room on her and people speculating on why the King was showing so much interest in her. Tongues would be wagging tomorrow, for certain! And it had all been so easy. She seemed instinctively to have known what to say and how to flatter his Grace. He was really just a lonely old man in need of a bit of kindness and affection. Would it be so hard to give it to him?
After dinner, he bade her sit by him.
“I have seen you in the Queen’s chamber,” he said. “Are you happy there?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said. “Her Grace is a good mistress.”
“Yes, she is an admirable lady.” It sounded begrudging.
He asked her if she played music, and she told him she was proficient on the lute and the virginals, which pleased him very much. He was impressed, too, when she said she could sing and loved to dance, and that she wished she had a horse so that she could go riding or even hunting. “Alas, I am poor, your Grace. My lord father died in debt.”
“I know,” he said. “I am sorry for you. Let’s see what we can do about finding you a horse.”
He left soon after that, but not before lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it in the most courtly manner. “I will see you again, Katheryn,” he promised.
“I should love that, Sir,” she told him and curtseyed low.
When he had gone, she hung back with Uncle Norfolk, waiting for the other guests to leave. As the last one filed out and the hall doors closed behind him, Bishop Gardiner was jubilant. “My lord Duke, things are looking promising! My child, the King is clearly much taken with you. You have done well.”
“You have done exceedingly well,” Norfolk echoed. “You have made a good beginning.”
“We must capitalize on it,” the Bishop said. “I will invite his Majesty to a private supper next week and let him know that Mistress Katheryn will be here. If things develop as we hope, I will tell him that he may use my house at any time if he needs some privacy.”
“A capital idea!” the Duke pronounced. Offering Katheryn his arm, he escorted her to the waiting barge along a jetty illuminated by torches. As it glided across the water, Katheryn’s head was teeming with memories of the evening, finding it hard to believe that the King himself had paid court to her. When they reached Lambeth stairs, she saw her uncle looking at her, a satisfied smile playing about his lips.
“You have done us proud, niece,” he said. “Now all that remains is for you to hold the King’s interest.”
She trembled at the realization that they were all counting on her. It felt as if England’s future lay in her hands.
“I will do my very best,” she promised.
She hastened through the sleeping house to her own chamber, rousing Dolly Dawby from slumber to unlace her gown. She was so exhausted that she fell into bed, yet sleep eluded her. The King of England had shown her favor and there had been an amorous glint in his eye! She felt giddy at the prospects opening out in front of her. She lay there, hugging her secret.
* * *
—
Over the next two weeks, Bishop Gardiner hosted several suppers, feasts, and entertainments for the King, and Katheryn was always present. It was clear that Gardiner, no less than Uncle Norfolk, would never cease striving to achieve their purpose—and they were not alone. Many conservatives wanted to see Cromwell toppled and the King married to an orthodox Catholic. Of course, the Queen was one, but her marriage—as Gardiner explained—represented an alliance with the German Lutherans. He shuddered as he said it. He was a formidable man, persuasive and authoritarian, and Uncle Norfolk had said he was the best champion of the faith in England, beside himself, of course. Katheryn did not doubt that the pair of them would get what they wanted.
She could not believe how quickly the King had fallen for her.
“I cast a fantasy on you, Katheryn, the first time ever I saw you,” he told her on their third meeting, as they sat alone together after the Bishop had ushered the other guests from the supper table. “What attracted me was your extraordinary beauty and a notable appearance of honor and maidenly behavior.” He laid his hand, laden with rings, on hers.
“Oh, Sir,” she said, “I am not worthy of such praise!”
“But you are, Katheryn, you are! You have captivated me by your loveliness and sweetness, your superlative grace and your gentle face. You are so little and so precious to me. Your youth has rejuvenated me. I feel like a new man.”
It was easy to play the role of adoring mistress with such an ardent suitor, and to respond warmly to his addresses. Even after those first two weeks, Katheryn still felt bedazzled at being courted by the King, but she was surprised at how easy it was to be with him—and, she was finding, to love him. How could she help it when he was so loving toward her, so kind and indulgent of her every whim and mood?
Yet she did not love him like she had loved Harry and Francis and still loved Tom; it was a platonic love, of the kind that responds to adoration. And still she could not fancy the King as a man; she did not mind his holding her hand or kissing it, but when he ventured to kiss her on the mouth, she could not respond, which—God be thanked—he took as evidence of inexperience.
“You have never been kissed, sweetheart? I will teach you.” And he proceeded to do so. She endured it, pretending to enjoy having his tongue in her mouth. It would be worth it, she assured herself, not liking to imagine what it would be like to be in his bed, suffering more intimate invasions. But she could always close her eyes and pretend he was someone else! She could do it if she had to. For the first time, she knew herself to be as ambitious as the rest of her family. If submitting to the King’s desires was the price of her elevation, she would pay it. In fact, she wanted all the world to know that he was courting her.
He had already given her a horse, a plump palfrey that was eating its head off in the royal stables. They would go riding together one day, he’d promised. The April lilacs and bluebells were in flower when he made her a grant of the confiscated goods and chattels of a convicted criminal. It did not amount to a lot by Howard standards, but she was touched to the point of indiscretion by this proof of the King’s esteem.
“His Majesty has made me a grant of land!” she told the Duchess of Richmond triumphantly, for she had no sooner read over the deed than the Duchess had come
upon her in the Queen’s privy chamber. The Duchess, her cousin Mary Howard, had used to be dismissive of her, but was treating her with a new deference these days, giving Katheryn to believe that Uncle Norfolk had confided in his daughter.
“You have done well.” Mary smiled, her eyes on the King’s seal. “I know his Majesty well, having been married to his son. He was always good to me. Flatter him and defer to him always—that is the way to his heart.”
Katheryn thanked her for the advice.
The King’s repeated visits to Winchester House and Katheryn’s coinciding absences from court had led to speculation. It was Jane Rochford who told Katheryn that there was gossip about her at Whitehall.
“People are saying that his Grace has crept too near another lady,” she said, making it sound like an accusation. “Some have it that he is much taken with you and that his affections have been alienated from Queen Anna on your account. Is it true?”
“He has been kind enough to show an interest in me,” Katheryn said warily, thinking quickly, “but the rumors are greatly exaggerated. The Duke, my uncle, mentioned to him that I am an orphan without means or dowry.”
“Then he is not pursuing you for favors?”
“No.” That, at least, was true—so far.
“And you still love Tom Culpeper? Believe me, he loves you truly!” Jane was quite vehement.
“I do.” Even as she said it, she was wondering if it was still true. Her priorities had shifted dramatically. Marrying Tom and consigning herself to a life of domesticity at Penshurst no longer held any attraction for her.
“He is asking to see you,” Jane told her.
“Tell him I will meet him in the gardens tomorrow morning,” Katheryn said. She knew she could not put off much longer breaking it to Tom that it was over between them. But, when she saw him, her courage failed her, and she behaved as if all was still as it had been between them, promising to meet him three days hence in the same spot. Afterward, knowing she was replicating the miserable endings of her previous affairs, she hated herself for it.