The Queen's Mistake (35 page)

When it was over, Thomas sank against the paneled wall, his face half-hidden in shadow. “Marry me,” he bade her in a deep whisper. “Run away with me at first light. I have enough money saved to last us at least a year and—”

“And then what will we do?”

“We will find a way. We are smart and resourceful.”

“But neither of us is resourceful enough to outrun the king, much less my uncle. No, let’s not lose hope. There are so many beautiful and willing girls at court. Perhaps the king will grow weary of me before his divorce is finalized.”

Thomas was not swayed by her optimism. “That would be impossible. No one else at court possesses your rare combination of beauty, youth, vigor and charm.”

Catherine was flattered, but not fooled. “The king simply desires someone who could make him feel young again, which any determined girl could really do.”

“I am not willing to risk it, Catherine,” Thomas said firmly.

“And I am not willing to risk our lives,” Catherine said, trying to make Thomas see reason.

Thomas straightened the pleats of his doublet, tugging them hard in frustration. “You won’t marry me, will you?”

Catherine sighed. “You have to give me time. If we are very fortunate and he grows weary of me or finds someone new, he might
sanction a marriage and settle an estate on us. He favors you so much, Thomas, and I have seen his gaze upon Anne Basset more than once. If we are strong enough to wait it out, we just might win.”

Thomas framed her face with his hands and kissed her again. “I never knew you were such an optimist.”

“I never had anything I truly wanted until now,” Catherine said with a smile.

Five minutes later, she rejoined the king, who, it appeared, had not stopped laughing and talking with his two daughters for an instant. Nor had he stopped drinking. She could see that his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were bloodshot and his words were slurred.

“Ah, there you are, Mistress Howard! I thought someone might have stolen you away.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty. I only needed a breath of air after such a sumptuous meal.”

“Not one of your headaches again, was it?” he asked, too drunk to be truly concerned.

“No, sire,” she replied.

“Ah, good, good. Because if a rival had stolen you away, I would have to kill him,” he declared with a laugh. She felt an odd little shiver but shook it off with a gentle smile.

“My father says you play cards well,” Elizabeth interjected.

“Better than I dance,” Catherine replied, grateful for the change of subject.

“Nonsense, you are a delightful dancer,” Henry declared as he took a large bite of the meat pie before him. The juice dribbled down his chin and glistened on the whiskers of his copper beard. Catherine forced herself to look away to hide her repulsion.

“Your Majesty flatters me.”

“I hope so,” he said with a grin.

“Will you play with us tomorrow after prayers?” Elizabeth asked.

“I shall not be joining you, I am afraid,” Mary said quickly before Catherine could respond. “I must read Saint Thomas Aquinas with my ladies after prayer and discuss it. They are all planning on it.”

“How frightfully dull.” Elizabeth giggled.

“Now, now. Only good can come by reading godly works,” Henry said.

“But my lord Seymour says those are the works of the Papists,” Elizabeth countered.

“My lord Seymour seems not to be the best influence on our Elizabeth when the two of them are brought together,” Mary remarked in a clipped tone.

Catherine knew that her ardent belief in the true religion could bring her closer to the king’s elder daughter, but she chose to remain silent for now. The king, after all, had initiated the reformed Church of England. She did not want to approach that hornet’s nest.

As she looked away to avoid the tension, she caught a glimpse of Thomas watching her from across the room. His expression was one somewhere between sadness and pity.

She was trapped, and they both knew it.

When she returned to her room later that night, she sank onto the edge of her bed and kicked off her shoes. As they clattered to the floor, she saw, on her bedside table, a large silver brooch in the shape of a rose. Such an exquisite piece of jewelry could have come only from the king. The girls, other maids of honor, in her doorway tittered and whispered as she picked it up, confirming her suspicions. Catherine looked more closely at the costly gift. The petals had been painted pink and the stem was encrusted with diamonds. It struck her that it had been fashioned with absolutely no thorns.

What a unique flower, she thought, yet how utterly unrealistic.

The next morning, after matins, Catherine was shown to the king’s great private gallery. The vaulted space was carpeted, and had a row of floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the garden, and walls that were lined with tapestries, mirrors and maps. She was there by the king’s command to play cards with His Majesty and his youngest daughter. She was surprised then to see Norfolk’s son, Henry, Edward and Thomas Seymour, the king’s two nieces, and Lady Lisle and Anne Basset seated at a large marble-topped Venetian table. Having another young beauty there such as Anne would put a new and interesting spin on things, Catherine thought. With talk of the divorce between the king and queen at a crescendo in the halls of court, many, besides her uncle, were intent on offering a replacement for Anne of Cleves.

Lady Lisle was foremost among them.

For just an instant, as Catherine watched the king’s eyes drop to Anne Basset’s cleavage and linger a moment too long, she allowed herself a spark of hope. After all, if His Majesty chose someone other than her as his next queen, how could anyone blame her for healing her broken heart by moving on?

“Do sit beside me, Mistress Howard,” Elizabeth said excitedly.

The sound of the little girl’s voice drew Catherine back from her thoughts and made her smile. Elizabeth seemed so eager to be friends with her that it was slightly shocking, especially in the face of Mary’s open contempt for her. When she glanced at the king, he nodded for her to sit in the chair between him and Elizabeth. She heard a light scoff at the gesture from Lady Lisle, who quickly pretended to clear her throat. When she had recovered herself, she pierced Catherine with her gaze.

“That is a lovely brooch, Mistress Howard,” Lady Lisle said,
drawing everyone’s attention. Catherine touched the rose at her breast and caught the king’s preening expression.

“Thank you. It was a gift.”

“Quite an extravagant one,” Lady Lisle said with a hint of scorn in her voice.

“I was honored to accept it.”

“It was from the king!” Elizabeth excitedly interjected. “I helped him choose it from the royal collection.”

“What a delight.” Lady Lisle sniffed as she picked up her cards.

“So tell me, Mistress Howard,” said Edward Seymour as he began to deal the cards quickly, sending them in a spray across the glossy inlaid table. “Where has my lord Duke of Norfolk gone? I’ve not seen him since we were at Nonsuch.”

“He is in London on business for the Crown,” the king quickly replied in a gruff tone, exchanging a glance with Catherine. His brows merged into a frown as he studied the hand of cards he had been dealt. “It is my most ardent wish to see him return as soon as possible. I want the whole business over with, believe me.”

“It is my wish as well, Your Majesty. He is a good friend to us all,” Edward replied.

“Do stop, Edward. Envy is such a difficult thing to mask, even with flattery,” the king retorted, not in the mood for the usual games.

Just then, a page appeared bearing a dispatch for Henry. He bowed and handed the folded vellum to the king, who broke the wax seal with his fat thumb. Silence fell around them as Henry read and began to scowl. Catherine glimpsed the bold and scrawling handwriting, though she tried to avert her eyes.

When he finished reading, he laughed, then crumpled the inked vellum. He cast it to the floor and, with a huff, struggled to his feet.
Everyone else quickly rose with him. Their smiles and expressions of ease gave way to worried looks. Henry grunted as he hobbled across the room to the open doors. A page dutifully followed.

“Is there to be a response, Your Majesty?” the page asked.

“None. My silence will say it all.” He drew in a deep, rheumy breath, and Catherine watched as he tried to collect himself. His face was red, but his expression was frighteningly blank. Catherine hoped the letter had nothing to do with her. She did not want to be the cause of the cold, dead look in his eyes.

Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

I
t was not the scene that Norfolk expected when he was shown into Cromwell’s vast chamber cell, which faced the barge-dotted, briny Thames. Cromwell’s eyes were glazed, and his once impeccably shaved chin was now covered with a scruffy white beard. Still, the duke refused to yield to even the slightest tug of pity. He had waited too long not to relish fully the great chief minister’s final destruction.

But Norfolk knew that Cromwell would not go down without a fight. “You lied to the king!” Cromwell cried, lunging at his elegantly dressed rival as Norfolk tossed his gray kid gloves onto a table.

“Come now, Thomas, you made your own bed with him when you showed antipathy for the true religion, which first set these wheels in motion. You have become a dangerous heretic, and that cannot be allowed to prevail.”

“I follow the faith of our sovereign, for the love of God!” Cromwell shouted, his face red with anger.

“Now, that
is
a pity, choosing ambition over your faith,” Norfolk said coolly.

“You have never chosen anything
but
ambition!”

“Yes, but Howards are more judicious in exercising their ambition.” Norfolk began to pace the room. “Shall I tell you your first mistake? You did not realize that the king’s devotion to the false religion follows his desire. When it served Henry to go against Rome to win Anne Boleyn to his bed, he did it. In time, his desire for another will bring him back to the true faith.” He casually ran a finger over the surface of a bureau thick with dust. Wrinkling his nose, he rubbed his hands together before he continued. “You have heard, of course, that His Majesty will soon take another queen. A devoted Catholic queen.”

“Your niece.”

“Who else?” Norfolk paused as his gaze fully descended upon his defeated rival.

“I am to be executed, am I not?”

“It would seem so.”

“But I just testified on His Majesty’s behalf in the divorce suit. I took the blame for everything, and he is a free man now! Can you not speak to him for me, at the very least? Tell him I am ever his humble servant and I have learned from my errors. I will retire to the country if he prefers. I have family, Norfolk. You know my Gregory. For the love of God, to whom you say you are so devoted, can you not show me a bit of mercy?”

“Dear Thomas. Groveling does not become you.”

Norfolk strode purposefully to the door and gave it one sound rap. A moment later, the clatter of huge keys in the iron lock filled the strained silence as a hot and dry summer wind rattled the leaded windows.

“Then what the devil did you come here for?” Cromwell raged.

Norfolk glanced back, his lined, drooping face full of disdain. “Why, to bid you farewell, of course. And now I have done that,” Norfolk replied coldly.