He sang the song for her as he played. His voice lingered on each note as he gazed at her deeply, as if each word came from his own heart. Catherine leaned back against the velvet-covered seat, more flattered than she had ever been before. She was just a girl, yet he, the king, was singing to her.
When he finished the song, Catherine had to catch her breath. “That was beautiful, Hal.”
“I hoped you would think so,” he said, as he put the lute down and took her hand in his. Very tenderly, he drew her fingers to his warm, wet lips. “What I mean to say, my dear Catherine, is that I would be honored if you would wait for me.”
It was the first time he had ever spoken her given name, and he did so with such tenderness that it made her want to weep. What struck her now was how vulnerable he seemed and how different from the strong, invincible image she had come to know.
“What exactly would I be waiting for?”
“Much is about to change. I may be king, but I am also a man, Catherine. You mustn’t tell anyone, because it would not do for a king to admit such things, but I have made far too many mistakes. I want to end that chapter of my life. I want peace.” He looked intensely at her, and Catherine was moved. But she knew that those eyes had looked with love upon Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour before their deaths. She felt a strange shiver of fear at the thought. Would her fate be similarly sealed if she were to bring Henry his peace?
“But can one have peace in life as well as excitement?” Catherine asked.
“It is certainly one combination I have yet to try.” The king chuckled.
Hearing his laugh, Catherine struggled for the right thing to say without sounding uninterested or overeager, or displaying the fear she felt. She had gambled that she was smart enough to gain the love of her life and instead she was winning the King of England. She must account for everything she did and said to her uncle sooner or later. But before she could speak, the carriage hit another deep rut in the road, and Catherine was thrown against the king. She felt his excitement for her growing beneath his wide leather belt and the drape of his doublet. Embarrassed, she quickly pressed herself back against the tooled leather carriage seat. For a moment she was horrified, until she saw the king’s pleasure.
“There are many things I have yet to try,” Henry said suggestively, but Catherine did not dare ask him what he meant. She did not want to know.
When Catherine returned to the queen’s apartments just past midnight, the others had already retired. She tried to pass silently to her own small chamber up a small flight of stairs. She had gone only through the second-floor gallery when a guard stopped her silently with a hand to her forearm.
“The Duke of Norfolk has called for you upon your return. Follow me.”
Catherine walked silently behind him, fearing the worst from the late-night summons. Her uncle was an intimidating, powerful man, and she had not grown to like him or understand what motivated his actions during her time at court, despite his gifts of dresses and jewels.
As she was shown into a chamber overlooking the knot garden, she saw Norfolk and her grandmother standing together like two sharp-faced stone statues carved into the exterior of Westminster Abbey.
“Tell me you were not going to Culpeper just now,” said the duke in a deep, accusatory tone.
“I was not,” she said, wondering, since she had been so careful, how her uncle knew about her late-night visits with Thomas.
“Things reached a critical juncture this evening,” he said, as he began to pace the room.
“Critical, Your Grace?” she asked innocently, though she knew what he was going to say.
“You rode home in the company of His Majesty,” he said, piercing her with his deep eyes.
“He specifically requested my presence.”
“Yes, indeed. That, however you accomplished it, was splendid work on your part.” Norfolk waved a hand covered in rings and turned toward the fireplace hearth, gazing at the gold and azure flames.
“Did the king take any liberties while you were alone?” the dowager asked, her lips pursed.
“No, Grandmother. He kissed my hand and played a song he had written for me, but those did not feel like liberties.”
Norfolk looked away from the fire and met her gaze once again. “He told you the song was written specifically for you?”
“Yes, my lord uncle. It really was quite beautiful. I was surprised by the honor.”
“That was just what he did for Anne when he began to court her. He has not done that since,” Norfolk mused. “This is happening far more swiftly than we could have hoped. Through the Duke of Suffolk, the king has requested your company again tomorrow when he rides, which is why we waited here for you tonight. This is a critical moment for our family, and you must be prepared. See that you take special care with your grooming in the morning. He favors women who are clean and stylish. You will wear the new grass green satin gown to highlight your eyes.”
Catherine nodded dutifully. “I shall have Lady Rochford and Mistress Basset attend me.”
She watched her uncle and grandmother exchange a glance and their expressions grew tentative. “Someone else will attend to you from now on,” Agnes Howard announced.
“Surely Jane and Anne are more than enough help for me.”
“That is not the point,” the dowager said, as the door behind Catherine clicked open.
Catherine turned in response and saw the last person she expected to see coming toward her out of the shadows.
“What an elegant dress, Mistress Howard,” Mary Lassells said, barely hiding her contempt as she scanned Catherine up and down. “You certainly have changed since our days at Horsham.”
“What is she doing here?” Catherine asked, forgetting her manners entirely, as her defenses rose.
“Oh, now, is that a proper way to greet an old friend?” Mary asked, stepping closer toward Catherine.
Catherine took a small, uneasy step back. “I heard through my dear Mistress Barwick at Horsham that you had gone to live with your brother, John, after I came to court.”
“I did.”
“Yet here you are . . .” Catherine said, clearly confused.
“Money does not come easily to most of us, so I was forced to seek employment once again. I thought attending my dear friend at court would be the best way to employ my skills,” Mary said with an odd little laugh.
Catherine was surprised at Mary’s audacity; for a girl in a plain dress and simple cloth hood, she was very certain of herself. But most of all, Catherine was surprised by the change in her grandmother. The dowager usually stood tall and proud, unafraid to voice her opinions, but now she had slipped into the shadows, saying absolutely nothing.
“You requested a position from my lady grandmother?” Catherine asked, still trying to make sense of everything.
“I did not need to ask twice. Her Grace is a generous woman,” Mary said, casting a falsely sweet smile in the dowager’s direction.
Catherine desperately wanted to know why Mary Lassells was really there. Judging from her grandmother’s behavior, she knew she had not willingly acceded to Mary’s request. There was only one thing in the world that Mary could have used to obtain her position, and that was her promise of silence regarding Catherine’s past. Catherine looked at Mary, who knew the most damaging details possible, and she tried to gauge her motives, but Mary’s expression gave nothing away.
She had no choice but to accept Mary’s place at court. At least for now.
She nodded dutifully. “As Your Graces wish,” she said, bowing to her uncle and grandmother as she tried not to choke on her words. “Welcome to court, Mistress Lassells.”
Catherine rose in the grainy, silent darkness of early dawn, having slept little. She hastily donned a costume and walked very swiftly down a tangle of dark corridors, up a flight of stairs, passing torches long ago extinguished, to the gallery that led to Thomas’s small, private room. She was desperate to see him and make cert
ain that he had understood about last night. She felt like things were spinning far beyond her control, and she needed the assurance of his gaze and touch to let her know that what they felt for each other was something real. Something far beyond passion.
The door was not locked when she reached it, so Catherine glanced around to be certain she had not been followed, then let herself in. She was stunned. Thomas’s bed was strewn with withered rose petals, most going brown at the edges, and it had not been slept in.
“Sorry. Culpeper stayed in town last night, I’m afraid,” said Gregory Cromwell from behind her. She spun around, startled. His blue eyes were wide, his costume was rich, and he did not look particularly sorry at all.
“That would seem the case,” she said curtly. But she was not upset that Gregory was there, only that Thomas was not.
“Well.” He tipped his head thoughtfully. “I am here, at least. There is something to be said for that.”
“Really? And what would that be?” Catherine asked, wondering what Gregory was doing out of his bed at so early an hour.
He glanced around the corridor, then looked back at her. “You know, I’m not likely to be at court much longer. Your uncle is working hard to blame the king’s failing marriage on my father, and when he succeeds, which I have no doubt he shall, I will be gone right along with him. So you may want to take advantage of my ample charms while you still can.”
To both of their surprise, Catherine stepped toward Gregory and kissed him hard in the doorway of Thomas’s room.
She did not want to think anymore. She was confused about her relationship with the king and angry about Mary Lassells, but most of all, she was disappointed at Thomas’s absence. She had come early that morning hoping that Thomas would be there to say that he understood everything and knew how difficult it was to carry out the duties of the Howard name. But his absence proved that he did not understand. She could only imagine where he was, or with whom.
She was frustrated that nothing in her life was under her control. At this moment, she was everyone’s pawn, including Henry, the duke, the dowager, Mary Lassells—perhaps even Thomas. Well, she would show them. She would throw everything in jeopardy.
Her emotions converged wildly as Gregory pressed her back against the doorframe and opened his mouth over hers. They stumbled into the room, crashing into furniture as they tore at each other’s clothing. Catherine closed the door to Thomas’s room with a defiant thud.
They did not reach the bed. He pressed her against the cool plaster wall, pulling her skirts above her waist. He could not take her swiftly enough. It was fast and full of base need, as their arms and legs splayed out against the wall. When it was over, Gregory collapsed against her as they both struggled to catch their breath.
They did not speak at first. Catherine smoothed her dress back down in the silence, and Gregory straightened his netherhose, raking a hand through his hair before he looked at her again.
“You are really quite beautiful, you know. You could entice anyone.”
“So they tell me,” Catherine said distractedly as she tidied her hair.
He opened the door and held on to the handle, lingering in the doorway, then glanced back at her. He gave a small, almost sincere smile. “For what it’s worth, Mistress Howard, I really do wish I could be here to see what happens to you in these next months. I think I might have helped you.”
“I believe I have had enough of your help,” Catherine said, suddenly wanting to leave.
“There is no such thing as too much help when one is dealing with the king. Or with the Duke of Norfolk, for that matter.”
“Thank you, Gregory,” she replied, forcing a smile.
“I would wish you luck, but I suspect a charming girl like you will make your own. Oh, and I’ll not be mentioning our little encounter to Culpeper. If the gossip I hear around here is any indication, that poor sot is about to face quite a lot more disappointment as it is. And there’s no sense kicking a lad when he’s down.”
She had meant to feel as vindictively as she had behaved—if Thomas wanted to play the game of hurting each other, she could play it better. But as Gregory closed the door behind him, she had only one overwhelming sensation: remorse, for what she had just done to them both.
When she returned to the queen’s apartments this time, it was to a great deal of commotion and whispering in the outer rooms, as if something important had just happened. No one even noticed as Catherine walked through the archway into the privy chamber, knowing she was late, and just praying that no one would notice. It was only another instant before she saw why.
Standing near the leaded glass windows, through which the Greenwich morning sunlight streamed, were the Earl of Waldeck, the Duke of Suffolk, Mother Lowe, Jane and the queen.
“And where does the king wish me to go if I am to leave his court?” Anne asked in her heavily clotted English.
“The palace at Richmond is being prepared for Your Grace. It is a lovely dwelling in beautiful countryside,” Suffolk explained.
“Is this about the divorce he seeks?” asked Mother Lowe.
“I believe so, madam, although nothing has been finalized yet.”
Anne and Waldeck conversed rapidly in German as Catherine approached and made an unseen curtsy. Jane looked up first, followed by Mother Lowe and the earl.
“Perhaps Mistress Howard should not be here just now,” Mother Lowe said in an accusatory tone, arching her brow. A deep silence descended upon those surrounding the queen, and all eyes in the room fell upon Catherine. Anne did not smile as she usually did when she saw the beautiful young girl who had tried to help her learn to play the lute, and in whom she had once attempted to confide.
“No, Mistress Howard is one of my own ladies,” said Anne of Cleves. “She shall remain.”
The glares of disapproval were like a weight upon her. She felt even Jane regard her suspiciously from the corner of her eye. Catherine knew what everyone was saying about her, and she knew she deserved it.
“His Majesty has made it clear to me that he has no desire to bring any humiliation upon Your Grace. It is simply his belief that a separation of space, for a time, would be beneficial to you both,” said Suffolk.
There was another flurry of German between Anne and Waldeck, and an awkward silence among the others, before Waldeck could translate the queen’s words.
“The queen desires a private word with Mistress Howard,” Waldeck finally announced. The queen’s ladies immediately departed to an adjoining chamber, leaving only the queen, Catherine, Mother Lowe and the earl.
Anne walked toward Catherine with a swish of her heavy skirts and spoke to her directly in English. Her words were low and carefully chosen.
“What would you do in my place, Mistress Howard?” Catherine felt a lump of guilt growing in her throat, hard as a stone that she could not swallow.
“With respect, Your Grace,” she managed to say, slowly and deliberately, “. . . perhaps I am not the best one to ask.”
“I agree with that well enough,” Mother Lowe quipped curtly beneath her breath, just loudly enough to be heard.
“Your own cousin came before me. You shall likely come after. I believe that more than qualifies you to speak.” Her expression remained absolutely calm. “Would you go without a fight, Mistress Howard? Or would you risk losing your head by staying? What do you think?”
What did she think, indeed? Catherine simply could not believe that the kind, funny and gentle king she was beginning to know would sanction his own wife’s execution without reason. She was only coming now to understand that there must have been many reasons for the fall of Anne Boleyn. Yet that did not mean the current queen had no reason to fear the king’s wrath. She chose her words carefully and spoke them slowly.
“I do not believe he would ever harm you, but I was raised hearing that the king is of firm mind and strong stance. If His Majesty has made up his mind, I fear there is little else for you to do but go.”
Anne considered Catherine’s words. “That is what I told Waldeck, but he said, for the sake of Cleves’s reputation, I should fight for my place, as the first queen did.” Anne looked at Catherine with an unwavering gaze, as if she were prepared to follow the earl’s advice.
The hit was direct. Catherine had not guessed that the quiet, soft-spoken queen was possessed of a talent for battle. Catherine felt a shiver, along with a heightened sense of respect. The queen suddenly linked her arm with Catherine’s and walked her away from Mother Lowe and the earl.
“You are better suited to him; I can see that,” Anne continued in her careful English. “The way he looks at you when you enter a room, he becomes like a little boy. When men behave that way, all hope is lost.”
“Oh, Your Grace, I really do not think—”
Anne raised her hand in a gesture of surprising authority, another thing Catherine had not expected from the queen. “Let us not, shall we? I prefer easy honesty at this point. I am fond of you, Catherine.”
“And I am fond of Your Grace,” Catherine quickly replied.
“I cannot return to Cleves after this. I would feel so disgraced. And I do like it here in England.”
She looked directly at Catherine again, the pockmarks on her face in stark contrast to Catherine’s own smooth, young skin in the harsh glare of morning’s light. Catherine could only imagine the pressure Anne must be under from Henry, Cleves and from her own sense of public failure. Yet she remained dignified.
“When the time is right, will you speak to him for me?” Anne asked.
“I will. If it comes to that,” Catherine promised.
“It will come to that.” Anne smiled sadly. “Many thanks.” She released Catherine’s arm and Catherine made a small curtsy. But before she could leave, Anne caught her hand again.
“Thank you for not lying to me. Lies are so much worse than the truth.” She smiled sadly once again.
“I shall always try to remember that,” Catherine replied with a heavy heart for the great truth she, and the rest of the court, was keeping from the queen who did not yet know she was gazing at her own successor.