Was that it? Had she equated the loss of her mother with the claustrophobia and internalized her grief as fear? Kate didn’t know and she didn’t care. It was enough that she had arrived at this conclusion now. It was a relief to think so, to have a reason for the fear that had seemed so irrational. As Doña Elvira rubbed her back, Kate interrogated the memories. When she had explored every detail, she felt even more at ease. Her mind drifted back to the tulips, the cowslips, the snowdrops, and she wondered sleepily if Katherine’s memories of England weren’t better than her own. Right now they certainly seemed easier to live with. If Kate had to live in England, maybe it would be better to remain in this time? Loss had diminished her, taken away all joy, but now Katherine’s presence was rejuvenating.
She wanted to go home; at the same time, she could feel this new life tugging at her, and she thought about how easy it would be to give in, to give over to all that was Katherine. To vanish without a trace—that was exactly what she had wished for, and the wish could come true. She could make it come true.
The walls between the worlds are thinner than we think. Willow’s words returned as the sound of Doña Elvira’s muffled snoring told Kate that she wasn’t worried her charge would wander any further tonight. And, truthfully, Kate didn’t have the energy. She suddenly thought of Henry and her stomach turned in a funny, delicious sort of way. She could still feel his lips brushing hers and the warmth of his minty breath on her face. It suddenly didn’t matter that she knew his future. This Henry wasn’t the same one from the history books, she was sure of it. And even if he was, she could change him. She knew she could.
For a moment, Kate’s thoughts turned to Hal but she pushed them away. Hal was nothing like Henry. And he was so distant now that she didn’t have to think about him. Relief flowed over her even more strongly as she realized she didn’t have to think about any of them—Willow, her parents, even Hal—she didn’t have to think about any of them at all. The thread of possibility looped tighter, drawing her toward the idea that if she decided to stay in this place, she would be free forever from her past. And the memories from Katherine that held her here were growing stronger. As if to prove that point, as she drifted off to sleep, she remembered William’s last name, one more detail in the tapestry she was putting together of her life here: it was Fitzroy.
16
The details
IT WAS A miracle, but somehow Kate slept through the night and woke in the morning feeling deliciously refreshed. For a few dreamy seconds she tried to remember what day it was. Sunday, it was Sunday, but by the light streaming into the sitting room, she knew it was late in the morning. She’d missed chapel and Doña Elvira would be cross.
She thought for a second of Arthur and then remembered he was dead. People were always dying and you just had to accept it as part of life. Arthur had been a good person. Quiet and very young. Too young, in fact, to be a real husband to her, but she had hoped that, in time, this aspect of their lives would develop. Prince Henry’s face flashed into her mind and she wondered if she would see him today. He was so handsome. And such a scholar. He would make a good leader, a good king. God be willing, she would be beside him always as his wife. She thought of her old wedding dress and wondered if the new one would be as nice. If the King gave them his blessing. She did not understand the delay; she had been suitable for Arthur, so why not Henry?
In her mind’s eye, the wooden door was before her again and she stood outside, trying to hear what was going on within. The King was making his decision. Prince Henry was there with him, planning for the future. A marriage. Or not. She stood, twisting her hands in the folds of her favorite blue dress, worn on this day to bring good luck, wondering what would happen if the decision were no. And then the door opened and His Majesty came out, looking not unkindly upon her.
“It has been decided,” he said, “that a visit to Fulham Palace would do you good. The sickness has been here once. We know well that it took Arthur and it may be coming again. We will protect you from it if we can. We will do everything in our power to protect you, my dear. Do not forget that.” It wasn’t assurance of a new marriage but it wasn’t exactly discouragement. Katherine swallowed.
“Fulham Palace is not far from our embrace,” the King continued gently. “A half-day’s easy ride on good horses. You will be well looked after and returned to us once the sickness has passed.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, her throat dry.
Kate suddenly jerked into full consciousness. What was she thinking! These were Katherine’s memories, not hers. And they weren’t memories she wanted. Much as her other life had been difficult, at least she’d had some choices. Here she’d be completely powerless, waiting behind closed doors, listening for the fate that someone else would proclaim.
Yet Katherine’s memories were mesmerizing. Henry, so charming, so gallant. Perhaps history could be changed. What if Kate became Henry’s wife in Katherine’s place? Perhaps she could … tame him, she thought, dreamily. It mightn’t be so hard a task. After all, Henry was smart. And she knew he loved her. Surely true love could conquer anything?
Kate’s thoughts darted to the wolf cub and she wondered if it was safe, poor creature. She felt as Katherine felt, a Spanish princess alone in this strange country, somehow kin to the little animal. She and William could take care of it, restore the wolf to the wilds once it was strong again. Kate rolled over in bed, adrift in planning her new life. A life in Tudor England.
Then she jumped to her feet, throwing the bed covers behind her in a heap. She’d better watch out or she’d completely lose herself here in this time and forget all about going back. Saturday, 2 pm. That’s when she’d left, and that’s where she was headed. Saturday, 2 pm, October thirteenth, in the year two thousand and six. I’ll be home for my birthday on Monday, thought Kate. My real birthday. Although there would be no one to celebrate. Willow would be busy with her stupid play. And her father … Kate let herself slide back to the fateful day of the accident. If only she had allowed the wisdom tooth to be removed during the first visit to the specialist, they wouldn’t have been on the freeway that day. Her father would have had his heart attack at home, where an ambulance might have reached him faster. But instead, she’d had to be a big baby and panic when they put the dam into her mouth, finally persuading her dad to take her home and then booking the second appointment weeks later, when she could be given medication ahead of time to calm her nerves. And so he’d died. Her fault, when she took it all apart. She felt as if tiny earthquakes were happening all over her body, as if she were cracking into a million tiny pieces.
What day was it now? Sunday, she thought defensively, trying to put herself back together. She could stay here as long as she wanted and no one could stop her, but she’d better get the facts straight. It was Sunday, but what day, what month? And, even more importantly, what year? A chambermaid interrupted her confused thoughts, tapping softly on the door before entering to remove the lantern from her room.
“I’ll bring it back afore dusk, filled up with oil,” said the girl. Her voice was cheery. “Did you hear about the hanging?”
Kate shook her head.
“The thief who stole the ’broidered communion cloth. He was hung at Tower Hill at dawn.”
“Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed Kate, feeling sick and leaning back against the straw pillows. “Did they find the cloth?”
“No, but,” said the maid, lowering her voice and crossing herself, “people said they saw him do it.”
Kate thought of the girl she’d encountered in the passage, the one who’d been stealing bread. The bread had been wrapped in an embroidered cloth. Could that have been the missing communion cloth from the church? It might have been here in the palace all along! But it was too late. Someone was dead. How easily lives were taken—and over a piece of cloth!
“Cheerio!” smiled the maid, and she went out with the lantern.
“Thank you kindly,” called Kate
, trying to sound dignified. Her heart was beating wildly. This place was dangerous! She had to make sure nothing aroused anyone’s suspicions of her, nothing at all. She must present the Katherine that all expected to see. Had she spoken of the girl in the passage, she might have saved a man’s life. But what would have become of the girl to whom she’d promised mercy? And even if she had spoken in time, would people think she herself was some kind of cunning woman, and persecute her as a witch? She’d better take care. She’d just better take care or it would be her life on the line. She supposed they hung witches on Tower Hill, too.
After using the garderobe, which was an uncomfortable and smelly stone toilet in one of the bays next to their chambers, she cleaned her teeth with a bit of cloth and then ate the breakfast of bread, eggs, and figs that Doña Elvira provided. She hadn’t thought she’d be hungry after eating all that peacock the previous night, but she was, in fact, ravenous.
After eating, she pinched and pulled at the garment Dona Elvira had given her to wear under her gown—a stomacher, it was called. Made of stiff, heavy fabric, it pressed inwards against her chest and stomach and made it very hard to breathe. In order to take her mind off the discomfort, she attempted to keep her spine very straight as she had noticed the other women doing. Posture is dictated by the style of dress, she remembered Willow saying. It was important to fit in here and not arouse anyone’s suspicions. The long-skirted, wide-sleeved green gown was bad enough, heavy and hot, even in the cool, damp confines of the castle. Kate suddenly felt the old sensation of panic rising up, and she stood and ran to the garderobe, where she held her breath until the stomacher was torn off and stuffed into a corner under loose straw. Straw was what people here used to clean themselves, although Kate had seen a flattened wooden stick that had clearly been employed for that duty.
“You’re not reading in there, are you?” called Doña Elvira. “The gong fermour’s here to clean the pipes.”
Hiding a grin at his title, which sounded a lot like gong farmer, Kate hurried out of the room and let in the grubby old codger carrying a pail and a sharpened stick. How he was going to clean the toilet she wasn’t sure, but she doubted it would be any more sanitary when he was finished. With a small sigh, she went back to the sitting room, wishing that she could wear the jeans and shoes that were decidedly more comfortable but which Doña Elvira had spirited away.
As Kate sat embroidering, she began to relax, entertaining the peaceful feeling that all was right with the world. The fire was snapping in the hearth; Doña Elvira was humming as she bustled around, gathering the right thread from various sewing boxes; and maids were straightening up the bedchamber and the other rooms nearby—their humdrum chatter a soft background for Kate’s needle as it darted in and out of the material she was working on. Fitting in wasn’t so hard, she thought. You just had to watch and copy what others were doing, not say too much, and then, only say what you knew would be well received. Kate smiled as she threaded a needle, thinking how lucky she was that Gran had taught her a few fancy stitches.
The embroidery they were working on was a large wall hanging that depicted a pomegranate tree, the fruit hanging full and ripe and red.
“Where will you hang this when we’re done?” Kate asked.
Doña Elvira looked at her sharply.
“Why, in your bedchamber, when you and Henry are bride and groom, of course. What is the matter with you?”
“I … I—” Kate began. Maybe she wasn’t so sure of herself here after all.
“You cannot refuse him,” said Doña Elvira, furrowing her heavy eyebrows. “Spain depends on this match. Your duty is to marry and have children. Boy children, who will be heirs to the throne. And, God willing, Henry will be a better husband to you than Arthur was.” She shook her finger at Kate and her voice rose a notch. “It has already been arranged by your parents, you know this! If you think that you’re somehow better than your destiny … I always feared that the schooling you had might spoil you. I said as much!” She had jumped to her feet and was now pacing the small room.
“Schooling spoil me?” Kate echoed.
“Women are not meant to know but to do. Even with your royal breeding, too much learning will addle the brain. Remember that and you will do well. Mark my words, trouble will come upon us unless you take care!” The old woman picked up a needle and then, in her haste to thread it, pricked her finger. She wrestled for a moment with the needle and thread, and then stabbed the needle back into the pincushion, looking fiercely at Kate as if she wished she, Kate, were the pincushion.
“Remember that all your blessings you owe to your husband,” Doña Elvira commanded. “He is the gold coin who will shine as our sovereign. Only in your husband’s absence will you demonstrate authority, while in his presence, you are as much his servant as I am. I do not know what game you think you are playing, but you have suddenly become much too independent. Be quieter, more polite, bend to his wishes. And if he wants you to kiss him, why not? What is there to lose?” She went on in an impatient mutter, twisting a skein of red embroidery silk in her hands. “Only the crown. Only our livelihood. But of these things you have no interest. You young girls, always the same.”
Kate felt a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck. Fitting in here wasn’t as easy as she had imagined. People’s beliefs were so foreign. Women had to do as men desired, without any personal power. It was so unfair! She thought about the man Henry would become. Shaped by this culture that thought boys were superior, how could he help but grow up to be a self-serving bully? And the dominant idea that queens were supposed to produce boy children would certainly make him think his wives were to blame if sons were not forthcoming.
Maybe I can talk him into more modern ideas, mused Kate. Maybe it isn’t too late—just as long as I’m careful. She shivered as she remembered the glittering look in his eye as he killed that deer, and the way he’d turned on MacQueen. Henry had a mind of his own and she didn’t want to be on the wrong side of him. But if she were careful …
“Finish it,” Doña Elvira snapped, pushing the tapestry toward her. “What are you mooning about?”
“I … well …” gasped Kate. Then she swallowed and said through dry lips, “Actually, it’s the remembering part I’m having trouble with. I … I seem to have lost some of my memory.” If she had Doña Elvira as an ally, Kate thought, maybe she could do a better job of being the Katherine everyone expected.
“What? What sorcery is here?” croaked Doña Elvira, jumping to her feet and closing the door to the hall in case any of the maids could hear. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not as bad as that. I think I will be well again, and soon, thanks to your good care. But I wonder if you could tell me a few things, just so that I do not make any more errors.”
“You have … you have lost your memory!” whispered the nurse.
“Well, not all of it,” said Kate. “But some. So you must fill in the gaps.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said Doña Elvira breathlessly, gathering Kate’s smooth hands in her gnarled ones. “What is it you wish to know?”
“Well, why was I sent to Fulham Palace? Was it to avoid the sweating sickness?”
“Oh, God in Heaven, it is worse than I feared,” cried Doña Elvira, bowing and touching her forehead to Kate’s knuckles. “Grant me the strength to bring her back!”
“Oh, please don’t worry!” Kate said. “Just tell me the answers I require and everything will be fine. Please. I am depending on you!” She tried to will the old woman into answering her questions. After a few moments, Doña Elvira sat up, put her hands to her eyes, and then took a deep breath.
“You were sent to … to Fulham Palace,” she began brokenly, “because there was illness here, and it was feared with your poor constitution you might catch it. I had noticed that you seemed rather distraught, and I was worried about your state of mind, so I supported the journey. I thought a change might be just what you needed. Forgive m
e if I was wrong, if the move to Fulham created this … this—”
“Not at all. I’m really doing much better,” Kate interrupted. “Just let’s finish these few questions. What will happen to me if I am not … not well?”
“Oh, God in Heaven, what could have prepared me for this!” moaned Doña Elvira.
“Please,” Kate said. “Tell me.”
“Well …” the old woman said shakily. “If you are seen to be not suitable for Henry, we will be sent back, of course. That’s what will happen.” Doña Elvira wrung her hands. “Not so hard for me, but for you it would be very difficult. Your father would be very angry if you were to go back.”
“Back?” echoed Kate, thinking of London and then, just as suddenly, of New York, of the bed and breakfast and their old life.
“Back to Spain! Oh, Katherine, you’ve not forgotten Spain!”
“No,” said Kate, forcing herself to speak calmly, “Of course not. But I need you to begin at the beginning, just to make sure. What place is this? And you mentioned my father, but what of my mother?”
“Why, this is the Palace of Placentia at Greenwich, of course! The court of Henry VII! And your mother, Queen Isabella, is dead, you poor, poor—” The old nurse took out a handkerchief and pressed it against her eyes.
Kate drew in a breath. Isabella. Isobel. The connection was simply too eerie to consider. She felt Katherine’s pain at the death of her mother as dearly as if she herself were feeling it. But this sorrow wasn’t new. This was something Princess Katherine had lived with for some time, and, as Kate explored the thoughts of the princess, she discovered comforting and happy memories blended with sad in a bittersweet mix.
“So it really gets better,” she said softly, thinking about how hard it had been to deal with the feelings surrounding her own father’s death. “It gets bearable.”
“Oh, to have misery like this cast upon me at this stage in my life,” moaned Doña Elvira. One of the maids opened the door into the sitting room and the old woman jumped to her feet, throwing off all signs of despair.
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