Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set (83 page)

Nan descended to the kitchens instead. She gave no real thought to where she was going until she found herself at the foot of the small spiral staircase that linked the two floors and allowed servants to deliver food to the queen without actually entering the royal lodgings. There she stopped, wondering where she thought she was going.

She had no place with Queen Catherine anymore.

She had no place anywhere.

The queen’s household had been disbanded, her attendants questioned and sent away … or to prison. Nan tried to take comfort from the fact that she had her freedom, but that did not solve her immediate need for a roof over her head.

Could she throw herself on Cousin Mary’s mercy? Or ask charity of Jane Mewtas or Joan Denny? Each of them had been kind to her, befriended her, but at the time there had been some personal advantage to them in coming to her aid. Now there was none. There might even be a stigma attached to offering her a home.

Where else could she go? Not to Ned, that much was certain. Not Calais. That left only Tehidy, the Bassett seat in Cornwall, where her sisters now lived with Frances, their widowed sister-in-law. Spending the rest of her life rusticating in the country was not acceptable. There had to be an alternative.

Nan was still dithering at the foot of the stairs when she heard the patter of rapidly descending footfalls. Anne Herbert appeared on the landing. Her eyes widened when she saw Nan. She glanced behind her to make certain they were not observed, then made little shooing motions to indicate that Nan should step out of her way.

“The pond garden,” Anne mouthed as she passed.

A short time later, they met near one of the sunken fishponds that
gave the Pond Garden, located between the palace and the Thames, its name. Surrounded by low walls, the ponds housed fresh fish slated for the king’s table. From this vantage point, Nan and Anne had a clear view of anyone approaching.

“What has happened?” Nan demanded. “I’ve been told nothing, only questioned and ordered to leave.”

In the bright November sunlight, Anne’s face looked ravaged. She had been crying. “Oh, Nan. It is all so dreadful. How could it be that no one knew about the queen’s past?” Anne sank down on the stone-topped brick wall. “They say she took lovers when she was a mere girl.”

“Francis Dereham?” Nan guessed.

“And another man, too. She was no virgin when she came to the king, but she deceived him into thinking her innocent. No wonder he is in a rage.”

Nan’s stomach clenched and she leaned for support against one of the stone beasts that decorated the wall at intervals. If the king had seen through Catherine’s falsehoods, he might now suspect that Nan had also lied to him. She would truly be ruined if that were the case.

“And there is more,” Anne said. “The queen is accused of taking Tom Culpepper as her lover
after
she was queen. That is treason and the king will have her head for it! The old Duchess of Norfolk and her son, Lord William Howard, have been arrested and taken to the Tower. So have Lady Rochford and two of the queen’s chamberers. The queen herself is to be imprisoned in the old abbey at Syon.” Anne gave a humorless laugh. “I am to be one of her jailers. I am to accompany her there.”

“As jailer … or prisoner?”

Anne fiddled with her sleeve. “No one who served the queen is free of suspicion. I suppose I will be both until I prove my loyalty.”

As the king’s spy, then. Nan kicked at a loose clod of earth. “Have you heard any rumors about Anna of Cleves? Or about my sister?” She was worried about Cat. If Anne’s husband, Will Herbert, or her brother, Will Parr, knew what was going on at Richmond, Nan was certain they’d have told Anne.

Anne’s puzzled frown was answer enough. “What has Cat Bassett to do with Queen Catherine?”

“I wish I knew. The Duke of Norfolk asked me if she’d ever said anything to me about the Lady Anna desiring to be queen again.”

Anne caught Nan’s arm. Her expression was as somber as Nan had ever seen it. “There are those who think the king should never have divorced the Lady Anna. If I were you, Nan, I would stay away from Cat. In fact, do nothing that could call attention to yourself.”

It was good advice, but Nan did not think she could follow it. “Unless I wish to starve or freeze to death for want of a roof over my head, I must be bold,” she said. “Is the king still at Whitehall?”

Anne’s eyes widened in fear for her friend, but she nodded.

N
AN HIRED A
boat to take her downriver from Hampton Court to Whitehall. She disembarked at the water stairs and entered the palace through the gallery that ran from the water gate to the queen’s privy lodging. No one tried to stop her. She was not important enough to worry about.

The king’s presence chamber was crowded, as usual. Nan searched for the familiar faces of the king’s favorite gentlemen, but she saw no one she knew well enough to approach.

Confident that someone would eventually appear who could give her entrée to the king, Nan waited. Her nervousness increased as one hour stretched into two. The yeoman of the guard on duty cast suspicious glances her way. After another quarter hour, he approached her.

“What is your business here, mistress?”

“I have come to see the king.”

“Impossible. Be off with you.” He took her by the arm, set to evict her in spite of her tears and pleas. He froze at a command issued in the familiar voice of Anthony Denny.

“Yeoman, unhand Mistress Bassett, if you please.”

“She has no business here, Master Denny.”

“I will see to her,” Denny promised, and caught Nan by the same arm
the yeoman had just released. He steered her rapidly out of the presence chamber and down a flight of stairs. “You should not have come here,” he said in a low, urgent whisper as he hustled her through the nearly empty Great Hall and out into the courtyard that lay between it and the chapel.

“I had to come to Whitehall! I had nowhere else to go. Would you have me repair to my sister at Richmond?” Her words came out in short bursts. Their rapid progress had her gasping for breath.

“That would not be wise,” Denny muttered.

“Why not?” Digging in her heels, Nan forced him to slow his pace. She could not imagine Cat in trouble, but then she’d never have guessed that Mary would cause so many problems for the family, either.

Denny closed his eyes briefly, as if gathering strength. They had reached a secluded corner of the courtyard. He all but shoved Nan onto a bench and stood in front of her as if he hoped to block the view of anyone passing by. Clearly, he did not want to be seen talking to her.

“What has Cat done? I must know,” she added when she saw the reluctance in Denny’s expression. “How else am I to keep myself safe?” And how was she to help her sister?

Denny kept his voice low. “She wondered aloud if Anna of Cleves would be queen again and asked how many wives the king would have.”

Nan was certain a great many people had been thinking the same thing, but to voice those thoughts could be construed as treason. Was Cat already in the Tower? The last thing Nan wanted was to join her there, but she had to know more. “Is she … where is my sister?”

“Still at Richmond, and still in the service of Anna of Cleves, but it was a near thing. She and two other women in attendance on the Lady Anna were examined by members of the Privy Council. They could have sent her to prison … or worse. Just now, the king has reason to be furious at everyone connected to either Catherine or the Lady Anna.”

“Why the Lady Anna?”

Denny checked again for potential eavesdroppers. “Your sister’s comments came to light because privy councilors were already at Richmond.
They were sent to investigate the persistent rumor that Anna of Cleves has borne a child.”

“Oh, that old story!”

“No, a new one. In this version, King Henry is not the child’s father. Now, if you have no more questions, be off with you. Take my advice and stay out of the king’s sight. Do nothing to call attention to yourself.”

“That is what everyone keeps telling me.” Tears pooled in Nan’s eyes and she was not too proud to hide them. “But where is it I am to go? I no longer have a place at court. My mother is a prisoner in Calais. My stepfather is held in the Tower. I would be ill advised to join my sister at Richmond.”

“You have kin in the West Country.”

“Including some I share with your wife.”

He paled at the reminder.

“Do not worry, Master Denny. I have no way to travel to Devon or Cornwall, even if I wished to go there.”

When a look of resignation replaced Denny’s scowl, Nan thought he might be about to invite her to use one of his houses. Instead, he offered her his arm. “I suppose there is no help for it. You must speak with the king.”

At a brisk clip, he led her back into Whitehall, only this time he bypassed the Presence Chamber. She found herself in the small, sumptuously furnished room where she had once before met the king in private. This time there was no beautifully illuminated Book of Hours in sight, nor was the king waiting.

“Stay here,” Denny instructed.

Left alone, Nan was suddenly not at all sure it was wise to throw herself on King Henry’s mercy. She could think of a dozen reasons why this was a very bad idea indeed, but it was too late to change her mind.

Her nerves were strung tight by the time she heard a small sound at the door. A moment later, King Henry limped into the room, the corset he wore to contain his bulk creaking with every step. Nan sank into a
curtsy, bowing her head until it almost touched the floor, and held that pose until the king’s grotesquely swollen fingers appeared in front of her nose and tugged her upright.

“Have you reason to be terrified of me, Nan?” His voice was deceptively mild. His small, suspicious eyes were a truer reflection of his mood.

“No, sire. But I am frightened for my future.” She dropped her gaze. “I am without resources, Your Grace. Without family or friends, saving only Your Majesty. I have nowhere to go now that I have no place at court.”

A long, tense silence followed. Nan could barely contain the trembling in her limbs.

“I do not blame you for anything that has transpired,” the king said at last.

She dared peek at him through her lashes. The thoughtful expression on his face contained neither anger nor annoyance.

“Your Grace,” Nan said, greatly daring, “I beg your pardon for troubling you with this trifling matter, but I have no home to go to, no one to take me in.”

He reached out with one pudgy, beringed hand to caress her cheek. She barely managed not to flinch in revulsion. The sight of those fat, white fingers was bad enough—they looked like sausages, only not so appealing—but his touch was worse. His skin was so cold that it put her in mind of a corpse.

“Did you think I could forget you, Nan?” the king said. “That I would ignore your plight? You must not worry. I will have Denny escort you back to Hampton Court and there you will stay. You will have new lodgings, something fitting for a member of the Lady Mary’s household.”

Lightheaded with relief, Nan swayed. “Your Grace is most generous.”

“I mean to spend some time in North Surrey,” the king continued, drawing her closer and planting a smacking kiss on her lips. “Beddington, Esher, Oatlands, Woking, and Horsley. I will be at Greenwich for
Yuletide, as will Prince Edward and my other children. That will be most convenient, will it not? I will be able to see you, my dear, anytime I visit my daughter Mary.”

N
AN SETTLED INTO
Mary Tudor’s household with surprising ease. She already knew several of Mary’s attendants, including Bess Jerningham, Lady Kingston’s daughter.

In late December, the court moved to Greenwich for the holidays. Anna of Cleves remained at Richmond. Some said she still hoped the king would marry her again, but Nan doubted it. Anna had all she could ever want, without the trouble of a husband.

Anna was fortunate, Nan thought. She was no longer queen, but she had wealth and position. And she had the freedom to do as she pleased, so long as she did nothing to annoy the king. Unlike Catherine Howard, who was now imprisoned in the Tower of London, awaiting execution.

Yuletide passed quietly and, although the king gave Nan a pretty brooch as a New Year’s gift, he did not send for her to warm his bed. Nor, to her relief, did he appear to notice that she no longer had the ruby ring he’d once given her.

In January, the court moved on to Whitehall, where the king was to host a series of suppers and banquets. On the twenty-ninth, the guests were all young ladies who were also invited to spend the night at the palace. King Henry spent the entire morning inspecting the chambers they would occupy, even examining the furniture and bedding to be certain they were the best he had to offer.

“The king is looking for a new wife,” Anne Herbert said. Since she had permanent lodgings at Whitehall—those assigned to her husband—she had invited Nan, Dorothy Bray, and Lucy Somerset to spend the afternoon with her before attending the festivities that evening.

Dorothy visibly shuddered. Lucy sighed. Nan did not react at all. That King Henry would marry for a sixth time seemed inevitable. She
hoped it would be soon. She had not yet been summoned to His Grace’s bedchamber, but she doubted her luck would hold much longer.

“Why else do you think you are here?” Anne, the only one of them who was safely wed, took a piece of marchpane from a tray and passed it on to Lucy.

“Are we to be paraded before His Grace like prime horseflesh?” Dorothy asked. “King Henry knows already what we look like.”

“He has invited several young women who have not previously come to court. There is Lord Cobham’s daughter, Bess Brooke, and—”

“That one’s no better than she should be,” Dorothy broke in. “You should have seen all the gentlemen gaping at her when she arrived. It was as if they had never seen a female before.”

In other words, Nan thought, Will Parr—Baron Parr of Kendal—had admired Mistress Brooke, and Dorothy was jealous. Dorothy had been Parr’s mistress and he her devoted slave for a long time, but with Queen Catherine’s arrest and the disbanding of her household, the two lovebirds had been separated. The spell had been broken. At least it had been for Anne Herbert’s brother.