Prisoner of the Queen (Tales From the Tudor Court) (23 page)

I did not think I was truly strong of mind, but perhaps my fortitude was such that those lamentations of how I should have been more like my sister Jane rolled off eventually, and I’d become the person I was, seeking my own happiness.

But little Mary, she
looked as if she was ready for a battle to ensue. I had to put her guard down. There was no need for her to be so wary in my presence.

I stepped forward and put my arms around her. “I have missed your company, sister.”

Mary stayed rigid for several breaths, and then she, too, put her little arms around my waist, but only for the briefest of moments. I let her have her way, to make her more comfortable.

Her gaze shifted to Ned, who
effected a perfect bow. “Lady Mary, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Lord Beauchamp and most humbly at your ladyship’s service.”

Mary actually blushed
, and a small, tight-lipped smile curved her lips, as she didn’t like to show off her little, pointy, rotted teeth.

She curtsied in return.
“A pleasure, my lord.”

Master Stokes stepped forward. “If it pleases, let me show you to Her Grace
’s sickbed.”

I agreed, and my sister, Ned and
Mrs. Helen followed behind me up the winding stair to my mother’s bedchamber. The corridor was well lit, and I was pleased to see that the walls and floors looked recently washed—despite the stench. The scent of death hung in the air.

“Are you certain Mother is improved?”

“Aye, my lady.”

I pinched my nose and held my citrus pomander to my face. The stench was overpowering. Sweat, blood, dirt, vomit, something rotting…

“I had the servants scrub down this corridor to try to alleviate the stench, my lady. My apologies, but your mother’s physicians would not let me clean her sick chamber. They advised against even opening a window.”

I could hardly
breathe; the air was thick and overpowering. “Master Stokes, you will order the servants to clean and refresh my mother’s sickbed immediately.”

He blanched at my orders, but I could not allow her to spend another minute in this place. I feared I might become ill from visiting—indeed
, that may have been how Mary herself, with her weakened constitution, became ill.

“In fact, Master Stokes, take my mother to another chamber
at once. The servants must clean this place immediately. Mrs. Helen, have a bath prepared for Her Grace.”

A cloud formed over the former
Master of the Horse’s face at my orders in his own home. If he wanted to go head-to-head, I was ready to do battle with him.

“But the physicians
—”

“Quacks! If the
queen knew her dear cousin was being treated this way…” I shook my head, kept my voice steady. “My mother is the daughter of a queen. She is a princess and should not be languishing in filth. Remove her.”

Stokes nodded, despite his glower
, and opened the door to my mother’s room. A waft of air that knocked the wind out of me, assaulted us.

“How long has it been this way?” I asked Mary.

She turned hard eyes on me. “The entire time.”

“I fear you grew ill from the stench. Lord knows how much of the sickness is surrounding Mother in a cloud, waiting to settle inside someone
’s body.”

Mary only nodded.

Stokes carried the once-grand duchess, now a withered shape, from the room. Her chemise was stained yellow and brown in some parts. I wanted to shout, knowing that chemise had once been white. Mother’s head was turned into Stokes’s shoulder, and so I could not see her face.

I did not stay to
consider her chamber, knowing if my mother looked so terrible, the rest of the room would be far worse.

I let her servants do their duties, as they bathed mother with warm cloths and
rose-scented water. They changed her chemise, washed her hair, toweled it dry and brushed out wicked-looking snarls.

“She has lost much weight,” I noted.

My mother had been a buxom woman. Sturdy, my father had called her, but now she was a shell, the illness having melted away nearly half of her body.

“And blood
,” Mary said. “They bled her nearly thrice a day.”

I swallowed hard. Had not
the Duchess of Somerset complained of that very thing being the cause of the late Queen Jane’s demise?

“They shall not bleed her again.” I met
Stokes’s gaze, and he nodded.

I turned to a nearby maid
. “Fetch Her Grace some broth and an herbal posset of comfrey and mint.”

“But—
” Stokes began.

I held up my hand to stop him.
“I have been at my dear friend, Lady Jane Seymour’s side, and the posset has greatly increased her health.”

As if to confirm that fact, Ned spoke up. “Indeed, Lady Katherine has worked wonders for my sister.”

Mother turned her glazed gaze toward us, and when her eyes alighted on me, they cleared.

“Kat
herine…” she breathed, wincing at the use of her own voice.

Stokes rushed to her side and gripped her hand. She turned to face him and gave him a
wan smile, then turned back toward me. Stokes backed away to allow me space, and I went to her side and sat upon the bed. I gripped her bony hand in mine. Her skin was yellowish, made to look more so by the white of her pillow, and deep purple smudges beneath her eyes.

“Mother, I am pleased to see you are awake and that your fever has broken.”

She nodded and tried to sit up. I plumped the pillows behind her and straightened her coverings.

“Lord Beauchamp,” she said, pointing to Ned and coughing lightly. “A pleasant surprise to see you.”

“Your Grace,” he said, bowing before her. “I provided escort to your daughter.”

“And I thank you for seeing her safely to me.” She coughed in earnest now, as if before she had been trying to stave off the tickle in her throat.

The broth and posset were brought in then, thank the Lord, and I let Mother sip the steaming herbal. It took some time, perhaps an hour or more, but soon she finished most of the broth and all of the posset.

“That feels nice on my throat,” she murmured, then lay her head back
, looking exhausted.

“You
r coloring has improved already,” I said, examining the yellowish-pink flesh of her face. While it had once been full and now her cheekbones jutted, she did indeed look as though blood once more flowed easily through her veins, a good sign.

She nodded. “I am tired, but I feel better. I do not feel as though I am knocking at death
’s door.”

And
, indeed, judging from the scent of things in her previous chamber, she had been knocking—nay,
banging
—on the door.

I fed her the
remaining broth, and while it took some time, I was pleased as Stokes remarked he had not seen her consume so much in days.

I left her then to rest and breathed a heavy sigh in the corridor.

“Should you like to take a short walk, my lady?” Ned asked, seeming to know I needed the fresh air to return vigor to my body and soul.

“I would like that very much. Mary, Master Stokes, would you care to join us in the gardens
before we sup?”

Master Stokes shook his head. “I have many duties and paperwork I must see
to. With Her Grace so ill, I have put off much. I will have Cook send a tray to my library. Please make yourselves at home.” Master Stokes bowed and walked away.

Mary shook her head. “I am w
eary, Katherine. I, too, shall have a tray sent to my chambers.” Mary walked away, her gait stilted.

“I suppose it will be just the two of us then,” I said with a smile in
Ned’s direction.

Mrs. Helen
cleared her throat.

“And my chaperone, of course,” I said with a laugh.

“Always a pleasure to have you with us, Mrs. Helen,” Ned said with a wink in her direction.

Mrs. Helen
blushed red enough for me to see it in the torchlight and sputtered a thank-you.

Ned held out his arm to me, and I curved my fingers around his upper arm.

“What do you do for exercise?” I asked boldly as we descended the stairs and walked through the great hall to the garden door. The scents of our supper invaded my nostrils—roasted meat, stewed vegetables and baked bread. My stomach grumbled its approval at the meal we would soon consume.

“I like to ride and hunt. Jousting, fencing, the occasional boxing match.”

I turned a teasing smile his way. “Boxing or brawling?”

“Oh, Lady Katherine, you wound me!” he said with exaggerated mockery. “To think I would lower myself in such a way! In truth, I have had very few fisticuffs. Mostly
, it is for fun among fellows.”

“Ah, blood sport.”

“You could call it that, but let us not lament on my ungentlemanly endeavors. What do you do to keep such a trim figure?” At his words, his gaze roved over my body, and my breath hitched.

I swallowed hard and tried to find my voice. Would he always have such an effect on me?

“I enjoy walking, riding, dancing.”

“I should like to dance with you again, my lady. I recall the last time we did so fondly.”

I smiled. “I am surprised we have not had cause to dance in all these years hence.”

“As am I. Ironic wouldn
’t it be, if we did not dance again until our own wedding day?”

I sighed to hear him say such words. “Yes.” It seemed too good to be true, that I should be so happy, and that the man I
’d fallen for all those years ago, when I had been wed to another, should now soon be the one I was with for all eternity. I twisted the ring he’d given me around my finger, grateful that since I wore several rings no one had noticed. I was not sure why I was wary of sharing our secret. ’Twas almost as if I feared that if I did, the dream would be over and I would once again be lonely.

“I will speak to Her Grace and gain her permission before we depart. But I should like to wait until she is a l
ittle more recovered,” Ned said.

I nodded. “With the posset and a cleaner environment I should hope she is feeling much improved on the morrow.”

“You are a little miracle worker, you know that, Kat?”

I was humbled by his praise and mumbled,
“I only seek to provide succor to those in need.” I liked sharing with Ned my goals, my aspirations to help those in need, to heal the sick if I could, even if I was talking about my mother. I was glad to hear from his own lips that he approved.

“Some might call you an angel for such deeds.”

“And yet some others might think I interfere too much,” I said, thinking of the glower on Stokes’s face when I’d come in to take charge.

“He will thank you for it, Kat. His irritation only stems from having not thought of it himself. He loves your
mother, I can see, and he trusted the physicians to heal her. And her fever did break, she is no longer on the brink of death, so in a way they did him a service. But now you are here to lead her back to full health. ’Tis simply a matter of the man’s pride, nothing more.”

“I appreciate your words, Ned, I truly do. I hope you are right.” I tugged his arm closer, feeling the solid strength of him,
his vitality, his confidence in me and his willingness to support my cause.

“I am but your humble servant, love.”

Our feet crunched across the gravel in the garden as we meandered into the hedge maze. Little candles upon the ground lit our path as we wandered deeper and deeper into the twists and turns.

I remembered that
while I was growing up, the maze at Bradgate had always been lit by candles on those nights when weather permitted it, and my sisters and I had raced through the maze to see who could find their way out first. But now, instead of a child’s game, it seemed to mean so much more. Now it was romantic, and even a little wicked. If Ned were to run ahead with me, we might lose Mrs. Helen’s sight, and who was to say what would happen then? My belly fluttered at the thoughts.

Suddenly, there was massive rush along the gravel, and it crunched and crackled beneath
footsteps behind us. Several people ran toward us.

I jumped and clutched close to Ned
’s chest, my fingers grasping the soft velvet of his doublet, fearing the worst—the queen’s guard coming to arrest me.

Then a bark broke the nighttime quiet, and Arabel,
Rex and Beau burst upon us, all slobbering, kissing tongues and wagging tails. They nudged their little bodies between us as if to reprimand us for trying to find a moment alone.

“Apologies, my lady. A groomsman let them out, and I could not catch them afore they raced ahead,”
Mrs. Helen said as she approached, out of breath. Said groomsman rushed ahead, too.