On hearing this frank confession, a slight smile lighted up Cromwell’s grave countenance.
“You would purchase my protection, you say? How?”
“I pray your lordship to look at these jewels, which I took from a wealthy Venetian in the Adrian Sea — in fair fight, my lord — in fair fight.”
And he placed a casket before him.
“Magnificent!” exclaimed Cromwell, examining the gems. “The King has none finer.”
“I am glad you admire them, my lord. They are yours.”
“I will not refuse the gift,” replied Cromwell. “But before promising you protection, I must know why you were dismissed by the old Duchess of Norfolk. Answer me frankly?”
“I have said that I will hide nothing from your lordship. I was dismissed for daring to raise my eyes towards her grand-daughter, the Lady Catherine Howard. But you will not blame me too severely when I add that I was emboldened by my fair young mistress to declare my passion to her.”
“Did the Lady Catherine requite your love? Again I counsel you to speak frankly.”
“My lord, she plighted her troth to me.”
“What do I hear?” exclaimed Cromwell, astounded. “Do you affirm that the Lady Catherine Howard is betrothed to you?”
“She is, my lord — solemnly betrothed. I regard her as my wife.”
Cromwell could not conceal his satisfaction.
“If this be true,” he thought, “it will not be possible for the King to wed her, if he should divorce Anne of Cleves.”
Then turning to Dereham, he said, “You shall have her. I will lend you aid. I hate the Duke of Norfolk. The marriage of his niece with one of inferior degree will be gall and wormwood to him; and, moreover, will mar his projects.”
And he laughed bitterly.
“From whatever motive your lordship may be induced to aid me, I thank you heartily,” said Dereham. “But I am bound to explain that, since my return, a new difficulty has arisen. Catherine refuses to fulfil her contract.”
“She is fickle, like the rest of her sex,” observed Cromwell, “and has found a new lover in your absence. Have you discovered your rival?”
“Ay, my lord; it is her cousin, Adrian Culpepper.”
“I could have guessed it,” replied Cromwell. “Adrian Culpepper is a handsome gallant, and a favourite with the King—”
“He shall never wed her,” interrupted Dereham, fiercely.
“Be patient I do not mean that he should. You have a witness to the contract — ha?”
“I have, my lord.”
“Rest easy, then. You can enforce compliance with it. I was about to say that Adrian Culpepper has powerful interest, but the King himself cannot set aside a pre-contract. Leave the matter to me. I will see to it.”
“Oh, my lord, words are inadequate to express my gratitude. You have raised me from the depths of despair. Count on my devotion. My life is at your disposal.”
“I may put your gratitude to the proof, ere long. I have said that you shall have the Duke of Norfolk’s niece, and I will make good my word. But you must control your impatience. Other matters claim my immediate attention. His Majesty’s nuptials with the Princess Anne of Cleves will be solemnized at Greenwich to-morrow, and till that important affair is settled, I can think of nothing else. Are you willing to enter my service? If so, you shall have a suitable post in my household.”
“I desire nothing better!” cried Dereham, eagerly.
“From this moment, then, you are one of my officers. I will give orders to my majordomo respecting your lodging.”
“While thanking your lordship for your goodness, I must mention that I have a Morisco with me, whom I delivered from captivity, and who obeys me like a slave. I would not willingly part with him. Have I your permission to retain him?”
“Certainly! Each of my principal officers has his own servant; and if you prefer a Morisco, I see no objection to the arrangement.”
At this moment an usher entered the cabinet.
Seeing he had a message to deliver, Dereham drew back. The communication made to him, in an undertone, caused Cromwell to bend his brows.
“How!” he exclaimed. “The King gone to Lambeth, you say?”
“Ay, my lord. He rode thither from Greenwich, not an hour ago, attended only by young Adrian Culpepper. Most likely his business is with the Archbishop.”
“No, that is not his errand, Reresby. Order my horses instantly. I, myself, must go to Lambeth.”
“How many attendants will your lordship take with you?”
“Only this gentleman — Master Francis Dereham — who now belongs to my household. Bid the major-domo make all preparations for him.”
“It shall be done, my lord,” replied the usher. “The horses shall be brought round from the stables at once. Have you any further command?”
Cromwell replied in the negative, and the usher bowed, and departed.
“Can you guess what takes his Majesty to Lambeth?” observed Cromwell to Dereham, as soon as they were alone.
“Partly, my lord,” replied the other, uneasily.
“’Tis to see the Lady Catherine Howard. His curiosity has been excited respecting her, and he cannot rest till he has gratified it.”
“This bodes ill for me, my lord,” observed Dereham, in a sombre tone.
“Do not despair. Your prize shall not be wrested from you. ’Tis fortunate you came to me, and put me in possession of the secret. I now know how to act. Await me in the courtyard. I will join you there anon, and we will then ride with all speed to Lambeth.”
Shortly afterwards, the Earl of Essex and his new attendant were crossing London Bridge. They were followed by Mourzouk, who was mounted on a barb.
V. The Dowager Duchess of Norfolk.
ON that same morning, but at a much earlier hour, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, with Lady Rochford, and her lovely niece, the Lady Catherine Howard, attended mass in the chapel belonging to the Duchess’s mansion at Lambeth.
Their religious exercises over, the three ladies proceeded to the refection hall, where the morning repast had been set out for them.
At all her meals, the Duchess was served with great state, though she herself ate and drank most sparingly, and not unfrequently fasted altogether.
As usual, the chief officers of her household were assembled in the hall, and breakfasted at a separate table, the only person permitted to sit with her Grace being her chaplain, Father Anselm, and a Franciscan friar.
Some traces of the beauty of her youth still lingered about the Duchess’s sharp features, but their main expression was austerity, the natural consequence of the ascetic life she led. No smile ever played upon her thin lips.
Rigorously adhering to the stiff costume of the preceding reign, when she had figured in Court ceremonies and pageants, she wore a deep white wimple round her neck and shoulders, and her plain frontlet, or forehead cloth, was covered by a large diamond-shaped headdress of snow-white linen, with a long veil at the back.
Beneath her outward apparel she wore a garment of horse-hair — a self-inflicted penance. From her girdle was suspended a rosary, the beads of which were of gold, enamelled black and white.
Such was the austere dame by whom the fair Catherine Howard had been brought up, and it is scarcely to be wondered at that the dreary and monotonous existence to which the light-hearted damsel was condemned, should have led to the fatal step we have described.
Among the Duchess’s numerous attendants none could compare, in point of good looks, with Francis Dereham. He soon perceived that he had attracted Catherine’s notice, and was presumptuous enough to declare his passion for her. Unhappily, she listened to him, and consented to plight her troth to him in the presence of her tire-woman, Mary Lassells.
Some disclosures of her grand-daughter’s imprudence being made to the Duchess, Dereham was instantly dismissed, and with his dismissal the affair was supposed to be ended. Mary Lassells also disappeared, her silence having been purch
ased by Catherine.
When the tempter was gone, Catherine bitterly regretted her folly; but not hearing from him, she persuaded herself that he would not return, and that her secret would never transpire. Alas! she could not foresee her fate.
Subsequently, her cousin, Adrian Culpepper, appeared on the scene, and his passion for her soon effaced all recollection of Dereham. If she thought of him, it was only with abhorrence.
Lady Rochford, whom we have mentioned as being at mass with the Duchess, was Catherine’s sole friend and confidante; but though her ladyship knew of the foolish love-affair with Dereham, she was not aware of the tie that bound them together.
Lady Rochford was the widow of Anne Boleyn’s brother, Lord Rochford, who was brought to the block chiefly on the evidence of his wife. She was some years older than Catherine Howard, but still beautiful and captivating.
Having obtained a strong influence over the thoughtless girl, she used it rather to pervert her mind than to strengthen her moral principles. Though most decorous in her deportment towards the Duchess of Norfolk, Lady Rochford frequently provoked Catherine’s laughter by ridiculing her austere grandmother behind the old lady’s back.
When we first beheld Catherine Howard, it was under circumstances not peculiarly favourable to the display of her charms. Now that her demeanour was calm and composed, and her features unruffled, we may affirm that she looked perfectly lovely.
Finer black eyes could not be seen. Her charming head was sustained by a slender, swan-like neck. Her costume became her well. Her luxuriant black tresses were gathered beneath a diamond-shaped head-dress of rich stuff, which set her fair features as in a frame. A pearl necklace encircled her throat; and a black velvet robe, with a long stomacher, displayed the perfect symmetry of her figure.
Notwithstanding her apparent composure, her breast was troubled by painful thoughts. She could not forget the event of the previous night. With Adrian Culpepper, she had had but little discourse, beyond what we have related. Immediately on her return with him to the house, she had hurried to her own room; and before she arose in the morning, he was off to Greenwich.
As yet, she had said nothing of Dereham’s re-appearance to Lady Rochford; and though she had great need of counsel, she could scarcely make up her mind to acquaint her with the exact truth. What would Lady Rochford think of her, if she knew she was contracted to this man?
The repast, as we have said, was conducted with great form. Plates, dishes, and flagons were of silver, and the viands were carried by the sewer, and placed on the table by the yeomen ushers. The Duchess broke a manchet, and ate part of it. That and a cup of water constituted her breakfast.
With the exception of Catherine, the others did better, especially the priest and the friar. Breakfast in those days was a good substantial meal, and the cold joints that composed it were washed down by no thin potations. Wine, ale, and mead were the beverages of our sturdy ancestors.
The chief topic of conversation during the repast, as may be supposed, was the King’s approaching nuptials with Anne of Cleves. As the Princess was a Lutheran, and all the interlocutors were strict Romanists, the marriage could not but be highly objectionable to them, and Father Anselm expressed himself in the strongest terms against it, severely censuring Cromwell for having contrived it, averring that such a union must infallibly be calamitous to the adherents of the old faith.
Lady Rochford told him he need not be alarmed. Adrian Culpepper had seen the Princess, who was so ugly that the King was already disgusted, and was certain to divorce her.
“So much the better!” cried the Duchess of Norfolk, glancing at Father Anselm. “We shall have one enemy the less.”
“And Cromwell will infallibly be disgraced,” observed the chaplain. “So we shall regain our position.”
Catherine was too much engrossed by her own anxious thoughts to take any part in the conversation; and as soon as the repast was ended, she intimated to Lady Rochford that she had something to impart to her; and they went up-stairs together to the long gallery, which occupied the north side of the mansion, and looked upon the gardens, the Thames, and the towers of Westminster on the opposite side of the river.
No one was in the gallery when they entered it. The portraits of the Howards on the walls alone looked down upon them. One portrait seemed to follow them with its melancholy eyes.
Well might Lady Rochford avert her gaze from it. It was the portrait of the husband she had destroyed.
“Let us move further on, Catherine,” she said. “Now, what have you got to tell me? You look agitated.”
“Something dreadful has happened, Isabel,” was the reply. “The person I detest and fear most in the world has come back. Yes; Francis Dereham, whom I thought dead, has returned. I met him last night in the garden.”
“Imprudent!” exclaimed Lady Rochford. “But what passed?”
“I told him I had only granted the interview to bid him farewell for ever — that I had ceased to love him — and that he must forget me. All I said had no effect He reproached me bitterly with want of constancy, and even threatened me.”
“Threatened you, Catherine!” exclaimed Lady Rochford, indignantly. “Oh, that you should have placed yourself in the power of such a villain! But you must be delivered from him. A threat of this kind can only be answered in one way.”
“But who will deliver me, Isabel?” cried Catherine, distractedly.
“Adrian Culpepper!” replied Lady Rochford. “A word to him will suffice. He will stop the villain’s tongue!”
“But I shall never dare to breathe the word, Isabel. Adrian is of so jealous a nature that if he thought I had ever loved another, he would tear me from his breast!”
“Let me speak to him. Dereham must be silenced. He cannot be allowed to throw out insinuations against tie honour of a high-horn damsel. There are some persons who would believe his slander.”
“But you do not know how I am bound to him, Isabel.”
“Bound to him, Catherine! I do not understand you,” cried Lady Rochford, gazing at her in astonishment. “You cannot so far have forgotten your rank — you cannot have been so culpably foolish as to plight your troth to this man?”
“Isabel, you have guessed the truth!” replied Catherine, in a low voice, and casting down her eyes. “I am plighted to him!”
“Oh, this is too much!” exclaimed Lady Rochford. “You have brought dishonour upon a noble house, and must take the consequences of your folly and wickedness. I cannot help you.”
And she turned to depart.
“Stay, Isabel!” cried Catherine, catching her arm— “stay, I implore you! When you know what anguish I have endured, what bitter tears I have shed, you will pity me. Dereham must have practised some sorcery upon me, or I could not have been so strangely infatuated. When he was gone, and I was no longer subject to his baneful influence, I awoke as from a dream. Then came remorse and repentance. I never loved him. I was bewitched, or I could never have plighted myself to him!”
“It was madness, truly!” observed Lady Rochford, coldly. “Such weakness passes my comprehension, and I should never have expected it in Catherine Howard.”
“You cannot blame me more severely than I blame myself, Isabel. For some time I was most miserable, and I had only just regained the happiness I had lost, when this wretch, whom I now hate far more than I ever loved him, appears to blight me with his presence. Do not desert me at this frightful crisis, Isabel. You alone can save me.”
“I ought not to help you, Catherine,” returned Lady Rochford. “But I cannot see you suffer thus, unmoved. I will save you if I can. You are in fearful jeopardy. Now that I know precisely how you are circumstanced with Dereham, I say to you, more emphatically than ever, that only death can deliver you. The ties by which you are bound to him roust be cut by the sword. Adrian Culpepper must provoke him — must kill him!”
“But suppose it should turn out otherwise! Dereham is a very expert swordsman, and might kill Adrian. Perhaps hi
s threats were only idle, for I told him no power on earth should compel me to fulfil my vow. But if he should proceed to extremities — if he should venture to claim me — I have an assured means of deliverance, though I am loth to resort to it till the last moment.”
“If you have any means of deliverance, do not hesitate to employ it,” said Lady Rochford. “Such a venomous reptile must be crushed. Let me know how it can be done, and I will help you.”
Before Catherine could reply, they were interrupted.
An usher suddenly appeared from a side passage, and hurried towards them. It was evident from his looks that he had something important to communicate.
“Her Grace desires that you will not come down stairs for the present,” said the man, who was almost out of breath.
“Wherefore not, good Gervase?” demanded Catherine, in alarm.
Her thoughts were running upon Dereham.
“Because the King has just arrived at the mansion,” replied Gervase.
“The King!” exclaimed both ladies in astonishment. “Impossible!”
“No, ’tis quite possible— ’tis certain. His Majesty is even now alighting from his steed in the court. He has come quite privately, and is attended only by Master Adrian Culpepper.”
“What brings him hither?” demanded Lady Rochford.
“That’s more than I can tell, my lady,” replied Gervase. “All I know is, that the Duchess does not desire the Lady Catherine to be seen, and sent me off in haste to bid her remain up-stairs till his Majesty’s departure. But I must not stand chattering here. My presence is required in the hall.”
So saying, he departed as hastily as he had come, leaving them both filled with surprise at the unexpected incident.
VI. How Henry First beheld Catherine Howard.
STRANGE to say, Catherine Howard had never seen the King.
Curiosity got the better of her, and notwithstanding the Duchess’s interdiction, she resolved to have a peep at him, thinking she could do so safely.
Lady Rochford did not discourage her, for her own curiosity was equally excited, and they hastened to the head of the great staircase, whence, without being seen, they could obtain a glimpse of what was going on below.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 617