Prisoner of the Queen (Tales From the Tudor Court) (40 page)

He came to stand near me, taking one of my hands in his. He kissed me gently on the fingertips. “I will not tarry long from you.”

But I already knew he would be gone for some time, perhaps a year or more. Cecil once more had come to see me to tell me how much it was needed that Ned should leave the realm. He did believe that once Ned was out of sight, the queen would grow more fond of him. And once more Cecil warned against our intimate relationship.

I
did not know what I should do. I’d even been too afraid to tell Mrs. Helen, and I’d continued to use the vial of deer’s blood, but it was soon to be gone.

“I have written this for you, for your protection.” He handed me a rolled and sealed parchment, his
crest stamped in the wax.

“What is it?” I gripped the smooth parchment in my hands.

“It is a jointure for you, Kat. It states as my lawfully wedded wife you are entitled to all of my lands should something happen to me while I am abroad. And take this, too.”

He reached inside of his doublet and handed me a
heavy velvet purse. “’Tis enough to last you for a time. If you should need more, simply write to my steward and ask him to send it. I have informed him he must deliver to you what you need.”

I nodded, feeling a small pinch in my heart. He
’d made a good effort to pretend he did not want to go abroad, but it was now obvious he had planned to do so all along. But how could I callously hold it against him? Cecil was a very convincing man. He was also a threat, and Ned most likely felt he had no other choice but to do the queen’s bidding. I almost laughed aloud. Who was I jesting? The queen always got her way. There
was
no other choice. He would go, and I would wish him well. And I would not bother asking him to write me often. We’d been down that road before and asking for an empty promise would only set me up for heartache.

I
lifted my chin and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“You do not have to thank me for doing my duty.”

I nodded, bit my lip. “Return to me, Ned.”

“Oh, Kat,” he said, true regret shining in his eyes. “Would that I could stay by your side forever.” He came forward then, without the care of who might
have been spying in a nearby hedge, pulled me into his embrace and kissed me.

May 13, 1561

“My lady.” Mrs. Helen stepped into my chamber and startled me enough that I shrieked.

The clock had long since struck the midnight hour, for which I had waited before arising and lighting a single candle which I could work by.
Ned had been gone for a little over a week and should have by now arrived in Paris.

My fingers were covered in pinpricks.

“Mrs. Helen, what is it?” I looked behind her, worried that something horrible had happened and someone other than she had brought news.

“There is no one here but me.”
She stepped inside and closed the door.

“What is it then?” I said, irritated that she
’d interrupted me.

I could work on letting out my dresses
only when no one would see. And ’twas hard work. I would be doing it for several more months, and soon I would have to somehow figure a way to add another panel in the underskirt. Luckily, the style of the split overskirt was popular at court and left more room for my growing belly.

Her gaze riveted on the gown in my lap, then flicked up to meet mine, lines of worry etched in her brow.
“What are you about, Kat?”

“Nothing.” I did not have to answer to her. I was her mistress, not the other way around.

“Might I speak freely then, as I always have in the past?”

I sucked in a deep
, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. “Hurry through it, Mrs. Helen.”

“You are letting out your gowns at night?”

“’Tis none of your business.”

“You are with child.”

I narrowed my eyes. My stomach clenched. Had the gowns given it away or was it obvious in other ways?

Mrs. Helen
had been the only person I’d ever been able to trust wholeheartedly. I could trust her in this, too.

“My lady, please. I have known you since you slipped into the world. I was outside the door when you entertained you
r husband. Let me lend a hand.”

I put my sewing down in my lap and covered my face, rubbing my eyes.

“Yes, Mrs. Helen, I do believe I am with child.”

“How far along do you suspect?”

“Three or four months.”

“But, my lady, your courses, I
’ve seen the sheets.”

“Deer blood,
Mrs. Helen.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes wide with terror, no doubt picturing me upon the scaffold as I
, too, pictured myself.

“Are you here to
assist, or will you weep in the corner?”

“Oh, no, I will help you, my lady.”
Mrs. Helen pulled up a chair and took the gown, needle and thread from my lap. “You’ll lose your fingers if you keep up with that. Now go back to bed.”

I stood up and kissed
Mrs. Helen on the cheek. “I am grateful for such a one as you.”

“You
’ve long been like my very own. Now to bed with you.”

I crept back beneath the covers as
Mrs. Helen bent to the task of letting out my gown. When I awoke the next morning, Mrs. Helen had deep purple bags beneath her eyes, but every one of my gowns was let out and I could choose between them all for comfort.

Summer Progress, 1561

Every muscle, joint, bone, even my very flesh ached. A woman in her eighth month of pregnancy, as I’ve determined I must be, should not be riding a horse as vigorously I have been for the past two months on progress with the queen. I’ve managed thus far to keep my situation secret with the help of tight stays and loose overgowns to hide my waist. I’d had good luck, thank God, to carry deep and as such, didn’t show as much as some women did throughout their pregnancy.

But it was becoming harder to breathe with tightened corsetry, and riding was becoming downright dangerous.
I requested to speak with Her Majesty in private, but she denied me repeatedly, and so finally I sent her a note.

Your Majesty, Queen Elizabeth,

I beg of you to let me stay behind and not travel on with court when we should leave in two
days’ time. I am not well and suffer from fevers, aches and other more unfortunate bouts of unpleasantness. My physician feels I should take my rest here. I will be glad to join you once I am recovered.

Your most loyal subject,

Lady Katherine

Her reply came only a couple of hours later, written in her secretary’s hand, although signed by Her Majesty.

Lady Katherine,

As Queen of England we bid you remain on progress with the rest of the court. We will not waver in our decision, as we believe your illness i
s of your own doing. See that you take these two days to recover your strength.

Signed,

Queen Elizabeth of England

She knew. She must have known for her to deny me comfort, and to state my illness was of my own cause. She had taken to her dislike of me even more. I was beside myself. I could not go on much longer. I felt as though the horse dragged me behind his rump on the rocky ground rather than me riding upon his back. And my belly… oh, how my skin strained to fit over this child.

I
lay down in the bed provided for me at Christchurch Mansion in Ipswich and shuddered a sigh. Mrs. Helen came in with food, but I waved her away, certain it would hurt too much to chew.

“Come now, you must eat, my lady.”

I shook my head, turning into the pillow and smelling the scent of the soap used to wash the linens. “I cannot.”

“
’Tis not good for the babe if you starve yourself.”

I closed my eyes
, hoping Mrs. Helen would just go and leave me in my own misery.

“You cannot go on like this, sweet child.” I felt the bed dip as she sat beside me. “Someone is going to notice soon. Have you any plans?”

“I have written to Ned, begging him to return, that I am great with child, and my letters go unanswered. He has sent reports to Cecil, so I know he writes. He has sent jewels to the queen. A few bobbles have come my way, but no words of comfort, guidance. He is not coming home. Why must he forsake me?”

“Oh, my lady,”
Mrs. Helen said, stroking my brow and coaxing me to sit upright. “He has not forsaken you. ‘Haps he is on his way already. We cannot know his plans. He may have thought it too dangerous to send you a note, thinking it might give away your condition.”

I pursed my lips. “I do not think so.
My own letters gave away my condition. My belly swells from guilty actions, and without witness to a valid marriage, my babe will be born a bastard in the eyes of the court.” Angry tears slip down my cheeks. “My husband, who I cannot prove to truly exist, is gone away. The babe will surely come before his return.”

“Have you thought about going abroad or into the country for
a time?” She spooned a bit of stew into my mouth and broke off a piece of bread for me to nibble on.

“
I have, but the queen will never allow it. She will not even allow me a few extra days of rest. Already there are rumors, and my condition has been noted by so many. She keeps me close to humiliate me. People whisper when I walk by. They call me a
whore
. Every nobleman talks of my indiscretion—I am certain that all know of mine and Hertford’s affairs. Anyone who claims me as an enemy, who was threatened by my family, will tell the queen. I am doomed, Mrs. Helen. Now leave me.”

Mrs. Helen
took away the empty tray of food—to my surprise since I’d barely realized I’d consumed it. I was glad for the solitude. I had much to plan. I should rest a few days and then seek guidance from friends at court. Bess St. Loe was once close to my mother. Perhaps she could advise me. Then there was Robert Dudley as well. As much as I abhorred the man…he was once my brother-by-marriage through my sister Jane’s marriage to his brother Guildford. Would he not take pity on me, remember our lost siblings? Since he was close to the queen, perhaps he would make a plea for mercy? I would have to trust in God and in the queen’s compassion, and the assistance of these people. There was no other way. The babe would be here soon. As if to express that point, the child kicked my ribs hard.

I pressed a soothing hand over my belly, feeling the little feet and hands as the child moved with vigor. He would be an active one. What little joy I found for the moment was gone once more.

I could not allow the queen to name him a bastard.

A few days later…

“Bess!” I hissed in a whisper.

Bess lifted her head from her pillow and turned to stare at me with squinted eyes. I held the candle up to my face so she could see me better. She frowned, her eyes drawn to my overly rounded belly
made obvious without my stays.

“Kat?”

The fact that she’d used my nickname made me smile. I thought I had chosen the right person to confess all to.

“Yes. I must speak with you.”

“Come in then.” Bess sat up and fluffed her pillow and patted the bed beside her.

I padded into the room in my slippers, nightgown and robe and set the candle on the bedside table before climbing next to her.

“What is it, Kat?” Bess’s brows drew together, and she looked concerned. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed as if expecting grave news—and indeed what I had to tell her could have been considered grave.

In hushed tones
, I told Bess everything. “What should I do?”

Bess
’s hands came to her chest, and her mouth fell open and closed like a fish out of water. The look of horror on her face was profound. Then she burst into tears.

“You understand you have committed treason! Why did you not seek the
queen’s permission? Nor made her privy when the deed was done and child planted? Oh, for the love of God, you will be the undoing of us all!” She shook her head, and I saw in that instant that Bess did not care so much for my well-being as I’d thought. She had once more become aligned to my family name, which would soon be dragged through the bowels of slander. “You were warned! And by so many. All of us beseeched you to remain chaste. We told you of our concerns of your familiar relationship with Hertford. How could you be so reckless?”

“We love each other.”

“’Tis madness! Go! You must away from my room.” She jumped from bed, tears streaming down her face, and shooed me with her hands.

I
, too, burst into tears, now completely helpless. “Do you not know I am filled with horror? With fear, that I should be in this alone with my husband so far and the queen’s dislike of me known in every realm? What is to become of me, Bess? I should die like my sister!”