Virginia Henley (41 page)

“He has petitioned Cecil to release him from the Fleet Prison, but Her Majesty is adamant that she will not have him at Court.”

Catherine felt relief. Though she had no feelings for Pembroke other than scorn, she had no wish to come face to face with him.

“Don’t sit there with your sketching pad. Go and pack immediately. Maggie, I don’t know how I’ve managed without you these last weeks. My burden will be immeasurably lighter when you return to Whitehall. Young maids do not have good work ethics.”

Catherine arose from the desk and went upstairs. She closed her bedchamber door and opened her jewel casket, searching for a gold chain. She untangled one from a pearl necklet and threaded it through the Hepburn leopard ring Patrick had given her. She fastened it around her neck and before she concealed it beneath her clothes, set her lips to it gently in a reverent kiss.

At Whitehall, the moment Catherine had unpacked, she made her way to Philadelphia and Kate’s rooms. “I’m back, under protest.”

Philadelphia kissed her. “When did protest ever sway Isobel?”

“Mother told me of Mary Fitton’s child. It’s heartbreaking.”

“It is, darling, but in the long run perhaps it happened for the best. The child would have borne the stigma of illegitimacy. Oh, I know that sounds like the pot calling the kettle black, when our father was the bastard of King Henry Tudor, but kings can do no wrong. Nor queens,” she added acerbically.

“What has Elizabeth done now?” Cat asked anxiously.

“Her
Gracious
Majesty has invited herself to Arundel House for the New Year’s Celebration, though Kate isn’t anywhere near up to it. She’s still coughing from what she refers to as coryza, but which was far closer to pneumonia. That’s where she is now, cleaning and decorating and planning and ordering endless supplies to fete the entire Court. I’m doing double duty with the queen for the next few days, so I must run. But before I go, I must know if you had a certain attractive visitor at Spencer Park?”

Cat smiled her secret smile. “I did.”

“And?” Philadelphia prompted impatiently.

“And the rest won’t be revealed until I celebrate my birthday.”

“Celebration indeed, if I know aught of the untamed rogue.”

Cat placed her finger to her lips, showed Philadelphia the ring, and then quickly hid it again.

“Why, darling, Elizabeth wears a locket ring on a chain, hidden beneath her clothes. Inside is a miniature of her mother.”

“Really? She never, ever speaks of Anne, yet she keeps her close to her heart. That’s so touching. Come, we’ll go down together. I have orders to present myself to Her Majesty.”

Three hours later Catherine was back in her chamber, furiously sketching designs for Elizabeth’s new gowns. Because the queen had complained that she was feeling the cold these days, Cat had suggested some quilted skirts and padded bodices of lightweight wool and velvet in brilliant hues. She had been secretly appalled to see that Elizabeth was thin to the point of emaciation and began to design garments that would disguise her skeletal frame.

That night, when Isobel came off duty, Cat offered her mother some suggestions. “Her Majesty is feeling the cold, so I think you should pull some of her fur cloaks from storage. Perhaps we could line one of them with a matching color from the gown I’m designing for her to wear on Christmas Eve. Of course, Theobalds isn’t nearly as draughty as Whitehall, but I think you should pack her fur-lined slippers and some muffs.”

Catherine was kept busy late into the evenings, and she also helped her mother and her Queen’s Wardrobe staff choose and pack Elizabeth’s garments, jewels and wigs for Christmas at Theobalds. They also had to plan Her Majesty’s wardrobe for the celebrations at Arundel House, since there would hardly be time between the twelve days of Christmas and the New Year. The days flew past; the nights were another matter. At midnight, when Cat climbed into bed, she yearned for Patrick. Her skin became so sensitive that even the feel of her night rail aroused her. She could not fall asleep until she donned his shirt. Then, when she eventually slept, her dreams were so explicitly sexual she was shocked.

She wrote him many letters, pouring out her heart on paper, but because she had no one she could trust to carry them and her words were so impulsively incautious and erotic, Cat destroyed them.

All too soon the twelve-day sojourn at the Secretary of State’s mansion in Hertfordshire drew nigh. Catherine, Isobel and Maggie were not too cramped on the carriage ride to Theobalds, but once they arrived and were assigned a small chamber, they were on top of each other. Mother and daughter had to share a bed, while Maggie made do on a trundle.

“’Tis too bad we are not at Cecil’s Burghley House in Stamford. The large chambers have beautifully painted ceilings and silver fireplaces, but of course Her Majesty could not be expected to travel all the way to Lincolnshire in winter,” Isobel lamented.

“You will spend most of your hours in the queen’s dressing room. I hope they have given you adequate space for her wardrobe.”

“Oh, yes, Her Majesty’s chambers and dressing rooms are spacious. This is Queen Elizabeth’s thirteenth visit here.”

Maggie threw Cat a look of alarm, then quickly crossed herself.

“Stop that! I won’t tolerate your Celtic superstitious nonsense. Catherine, you will come and help me with the wardrobe.”

Isobel had only one other of the Ladies of the Queen’s Wardrobe to help her, so Cat assembled the outfits that Elizabeth would wear throughout the Christmas festivities. Each gown was paired with two separate sets of sleeves and jewelry. The bodices and skirts were also interchangeable, and Cat made a chart that color-coordinated the garments. Then she matched each gown with a fur cloak and wigs of varying shades of red. An orange tawny wig was married to gray velvet and fox fur, while Tudor green was paired with white velvet and swansdown as well as gold velvet, sable fur and an auburn wig.

When Catherine was finished, she asked Philadelphia, who had been chosen as First Lady of the Bedchamber, to view her work.

“Your taste in fashion is impeccable, darling.” She lowered her voice. “These padded gowns will make her look almost human. Show me the new one that you designed for Christmas Eve.”

Cat lifted the lid of a huge box and pulled aside the tissue and muslin. “I chose scarlet velvet embroidered with gold crowns, lions and unicorns. Her ermine cape has been relined with the same scarlet. Her wig will clash, but I’ve designed an ornamental headpiece of black and white ostrich plumes that will conceal it.”

“Isobel, your daughter is a genius. I congratulate you.”

“Philadelphia, such flattery will turn Catherine’s head.”

“Then we shan’t know if she’s coming or going.”

Cat bit back a laugh at Philadelphia’s jest, but her mother’s face was stiff with disapproval. “I must inventory the jewels.”

Philadelphia winked at Cat. “I shan’t steal them, Isobel.”

The Secretary of State had organized a hunt for the gentlemen and of course provided gaming rooms for the courtiers addicted to games of chance, but he left it up to the queen’s younger gentlemen to entertain Elizabeth and her ladies. Since the weather kept them inside, games of blindman’s bluff, hide the thimble, and forfeits became the order of the afternoons and evenings. The men took liberal advantage of the mistletoe.

William Seymour sauntered up to Cat and made her a leg. “Lady Catherine, have you by chance been corresponding with Arbella?”

“I did write to her, Will, but I received no reply, I’m afraid.”

Seymour looked downcast. “She doesn’t reply to my letters either. I apologized profusely for being the author of her difficulties, but I don’t suppose she will ever forgive me.”

Cat, to her utter amazement, felt sorry for him. “Perhaps her grandmother, the Countess of Shrewsbury, seizes her letters before she can see them. That would explain why Arbella has replied to neither one of us. She was extremely fond of you, Will.”

He looked carefree again as he went off to join Hal Somerset, who was blindfolding Lady Bridget Manners and spinning her about until she was dizzy.
How immature they look and act
, Cat thought as she stood observing the childish antics of all the males present.
I cannot believe I ever considered them as suitors!
Her fingers sought the ring beneath her bodice, and she felt her heartbeat quicken at just the thought of Patrick. How lucky their chance meeting had been. That Hepburn found her attractive and had asked her to marry him was more than luck; it was a miracle, she decided. Catherine smiled her secret smile.

The Spencer ladies were kept so busy at Theobalds that Christmas was quickly over and done and they found themselves on the way to Arundel House in the Strand, where Kate and her husband, Lord Admiral Charles Howard, were hosting the queen and Court for New Year’s. When they began to unpack, Isobel panicked because she could not find the costly gift she intended to present to Her Majesty. Maggie located it at the bottom of a trunk, and a relieved Isobel went off to see to the Royal Wardrobe.

“Elizabeth needs another jeweled prayer book as much as she needs another set of gold plates,” Maggie said dourly.

“Gold plates are what Mother gave her for Christmas ... oh, I see; that is your point! She does tend to overdo it. She worships the ground the queen walks upon. Elizabeth is her life.”

“You could build your brew house for what she’s spent on Her Majesty’s gifts, and the queen won’t give them a second glance!”

“The expense of being a courtier is exorbitant. Imagine what it is costing Kate and Charles to host this New Year’s visit. Not just in money, either. It is at great cost to Kate’s health.”

For the first time, Catherine was beginning to see that life at Court was rather shallow, as Maggie had always contended. It was both exciting and entertaining to spend time at Elizabeth’s Court, but a steady diet of Court life, all year round, was to have no meaningful life of your own. Isobel should never have deserted her husband for a permanent appointment at Court.
I never really knew my father, and that was wrong!
Cat vowed that she would never sacrifice her children’s relationship with their father. The thought took her breath away:
Patrick Hepburn will be the father of my children!

Catherine sighed happily and went to help her mother. The gown she had designed for Elizabeth to wear on New Year’s Eve was quilted cream wool. Each square was embroidered with a pink rose, a purple thistle and a sprig of green shamrock, to represent her kingdom of England, Scotland and Ireland. Its sleeves were slashed with rose velvet, and her sable cape was lined with royal purple velvet embossed with two green dragons to represent Wales.

Kate had planned finer entertainment for the queen and her courtiers than Cecil had arranged. She provided them with London’s greatest musicians, and minstrels playing viols and lutes strolled about amongst the guests. In every chamber on the first floor were performers presenting living tableaux from Greek mythology, and poets created a verse for each lady present before gifting her with a favor that consisted of a tiny silver basket that held a bauble and comfits.

“Have you seen Kate?” the Earl of Nottingham asked Catherine. “I’m worried to death about her. She was in bed less than two hours last night. I have my hands full trying to keep the male courtiers entertained so they don’t become falling-down drunk.”

“I’ll look for her, Uncle Charles, and urge her to rest a bit.” Cat searched every room from the top of Arundel House down. She finally found Kate in the kitchens, surrounded by crates of produce, game and shellfish, amid a bevy of tearful scullery maids.

“Oh, Catherine, I’m at my wits end. The chef hit the head cook with his ladle and walked out. Cook says he knocked her addled and she can’t handle these young kitchen helpers. I’ve been on my feet since midnight, and by the look of things tonight’s banquet will be nonexistent.” Kate’s face was pale as death.

“I’ll get Maggie. She’ll soon shift them round. Her favored weapon is a wooden spoon, but if that doesn’t work she’ll threaten them with a red hot poker and a Celtic curse.”

Cat ran upstairs and soon brought Maggie to the kitchens. “We’ll take over here, Kate. I promised Uncle Charles that I would make you go up and rest.”

“I thank you both with all my heart. I shall go upstairs, but only to bathe and change. When it is your turn to entertain the queen, my dear, you will realize that resting is an impossibility!”

The following day was New Year’s Eve, and disaster was averted only because Beth Carey brought her entire kitchen staff over from the Hunsdon mansion in Blackfriars. Following the evening banquet, Elizabeth, sitting in a throne-like carved and padded chair, accepted costly gifts from everyone present.

When it was Isobel’s turn to approach the queen, she curtsied low and set the jewel-inlaid prayer book at her monarch’s feet.

Philadelphia, standing at Elizabeth’s right hand, said dryly, “She’s been asleep for the past hour. Sorry, Isobel.”

As midnight approached, the queen was roused so that she could welcome in the New Year of 1603, which would prove a fateful year indeed. Precisely at midnight, the Earl of Nottingham lit the first firework of a magnificent display he had arranged in the Arundel House gardens, where they sloped down to the river Thames.

Catherine retired to her bed around one in the morning.
This is the year that will change my entire life! January has finally arrived. In March I will celebrate my twenty-first birthday and become the wife of Patrick Hepburn!
Cat hugged herself.
What if he doesn’t come?
The thought was fleeting.
Of course he will come! Patrick loves me. I trust him with all my heart and soul.

 

It was an exhausted Court that returned to Whitehall after all the holiday festivities, and it took the courtiers a few days to settle back into their routines. Philadelphia was still filling in for Kate, who stayed behind at Arundel House to put all back to rights after the invasion that left the place depleted as if a plague of locusts had descended.