The Secret Keeper: A Novel of Kateryn Parr

NINE

Spring: Year of Our Lord 1546

The Palace at Whitehall

Within some weeks I saw Hugh settled with William Cecil, in Edward Seymour’s household. A few days later the king held a tennis match to be followed by a private dinner in his chamber for the queen and a few of his favorites. The queen had asked me to be among those who served them, as she’d missed my company and wanted me near her often. I had not attended a tennis match, and looked forward to it. I knocked upon Dorothy’s door to see if she wanted to make her way to the recreation hall with me, but when I arrived she had already left without me.

There was a longish viewing chamber that ran alongside the court, and most of the courtiers were already seated. Kate was at His Majesty’s side in the center. He looked in a foul mood and his face looked as if ’twere blackening. Once he had been young and agile and on the court himself. Now he was corpulent and ill tempered. I could see that Kate kept her hand on his good leg and patted it from time to time.

I smiled broadly at Dorothy, who offered a wave back but then turned away; Tristram sat next to her but he did not meet my gaze. I scanned the crowd quickly to see if John Temple was there, and when I didn’t see him, I relaxed and settled down next to Lady Fitzgerald Browne, who welcomed me with an eager smile. Her husband, Sir Anthony, was not yet present so till the match began, we made small talk about her stepchildren and her reading and my visit at home. She was still a wit.

“There are so many tennis balls in that bucket.” I pointed to a large holding vessel near the court.

“’Tis because there are so many old men here losing their hair,” she quipped, and I laughed with her, knowing that the tennis balls were stuffed with hair, lost or cut. Just then her kindly husband joined us and she made a brief, glancing look upon his thinning hair. I hid a smile and she barely did too. To his favor, he did not leave me out of their conversational twosome but made me welcome. I was grateful, and yet missed my normal circle of friends. It was most enjoyable, though, and I made a note to seek out her company more often.

The game began, and it was pleasant to watch the young men bat a ball back and forth with the paddles made of wood and strung with dried sheep gut. Much better than bearbaiting, which I did not prefer. Sir Thomas was not in attendance, nor many of his men. I did see Lady Seymour and her ladies and sought her out afterward.

“My lady?”

“Yes?” she said. She was not welcoming, she never was, but she looked at me overcuriously. Perhaps she was unused to being approached by those she did not know well.

“I wanted to thank you, on my mother’s behalf, for taking my brother, Hugh, into your household through William Cecil when Her Grace inquired.”

“Certainly,” Lady Seymour responded. “When the queen asks, we of course comply.” She made it sound perfunctory and her voice was neither warm nor cold. “And your brother’s name and mother’s name are …?”

“Lady Frances St. John, of Marlborough,” I said. “And my brother, Hugh St. John.”

Lady Seymour’s smooth expression didn’t break as she responded, “Oh, yes, that is right. Tell her she is most welcome. I know Her Grace is delighted to have you return.”

It was a dismissal, I heard it in her voice, but that was fine. I’d done my duty and expressed our gratitude, and I did not expect her to be overfriendly to me when she and my lady were often at odds.

After the match I made my way down the halls and through the palace to my chamber as quickly as possible, so I could change afore going to serve Kate and the king.

I left shortly thereafter to assist Kate, but when I got to the queen’s chambers Lady Dudley met me.

“Her Grace will not need your assistance this evening. The king is unwell and the queen is tending to him privately.” Her face had a warranted shadow of worry. “I only hope she keeps the conversation light and does not stray, again, to theology.”

I nodded my head in fervent agreement. His Majesty was not a patient man even when he was not in decline.

I returned to my chamber, which showed little sign of Elisabeth, who was likely with William Parr. I had slept well at home, with Lucy nearby but far from court. Now that I was back I startled easily, like my lady’s pet birds with their night frights, and awoke not refreshed at all.

One evening shortly thereafter I helped Lady Herbert, the queen’s sister, sort through Her Grace’s jewels in the tall, wooden coffers in which they were kept in drawers nestled one upon the other. The queen was in the next room getting ready for an evening in the king’s chambers.

“Excuse me, lady,” I said in a soft voice to the queen’s sister. “I have a gift for the queen. May I take my leave for a moment and present it to her?”

Lady Herbert smiled. “Of course, Mistress Juliana. Please do.”

I made my way to the queen, who was reposing in one of her chairs whilst another lady helped with her shoes. “Your Grace,” I began, “I can never begin to repay you for the kindness and affection you have shown me by keeping me in your household, and for helping to place my brother, Hugh. But I would endeavor to give you a token, if that meets with your approval.”

She beckoned me forward. “Of course, Juliana, though none is required.”

I handed a finely wrought case to her, one from the cache in the coffer my mother had given me afore I’d left Marlborough. She took it and bid me sit next to her before she opened it.

Ensconced snugly within was the string of jet beads strung with silver. “Oh, Juliana, these are lovely!”

“I know they are not as dear as precious stones, but mayhap because they are from the East, and unusual, you will find some mean occasion in which to wear them.”

“They are delightful, and I will carefully plan when to wear them so they may be shown at their best,” she said. She drew me near to her and embraced me; her sweet perfume enveloped me and her soft hair brushed against my cheek. “I am ever so pleased that you have returned to court. Elisabeth Brooke has told me that she is gladdened that you have returned, too, and indeed, my readings will now be much livelier. Should you read to us tomorrow?”

“I would be honored, lady,” I said, delighted and humbled by her warm response.

“’Twill be a bit later than usual,” she said. “As I shall spend the night with the king.”

She did not do that often, but there had been rumors of the king muttering about the decided lack of a Duke of York, a title he cherished as it had once been his own, as a second son, whilst his elder brother, Arthur, had still lived as Prince of Wales. As His Majesty grew more ill, his desire to anchor his legacy grew more insistent.

“I shall pray for a prince,” I said softly.

“I too,” the queen said. She looked more wan than she had before I’d left court. “I have also received some most loving correspondence from another prince, my beloved Edward.” She showed me the letter, which lay on her table next to the New Year’s gift she’d received from the Lady Elizabeth, a translation into French, Latin, and Italian of the queen’s own Prayers and Meditations.

“I should desire to guide Prince Edward well into adulthood,” she said, and her sister came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder, a warning hand, no doubt. “Come what may.”

I kept my face steady and expressionless—I had learnt my court lessons well—but I knew what she intended; indeed, her ladies had whispered it among themselves. Her Grace meant for the king to name her as regent should the king die afore Prince Edward reached adulthood, which was likely. Should she bear the king a second son, that would be a near certainty.

Two of Kate’s little spaniels were quarrelling about her feet and she lightly kicked in their direction to temper their misbehavior.

“Should you like me to walk them for you tonight?” I asked. “I have no other duties, if Lady Herbert gives me leave.”

“That would be delightful,” Kate said. “You are thoughtful, dear heart.”

I am here to be useful in all I do. Kate brightened her countenance and took her leave to charm an ill, restless, and often intemperate king.

We gathered in her chambers a bit later than typical the next day, but many of her ladies were present; oft times we were a small gathering, as many tended to their own households and children. Lady Seymour was there and, after ascertaining that the ladies present were friendly, made a soft announcement. “My husband has heard that there are letters being circulated about you, Your Grace, and that they pertain to your nourishing heresy.”

“Who dares write such a thing?” Kate whispered angrily.

“Wriothesley,” Lady Seymour said. “But there are others.”

Kate waved her away with her hand. “I have just spent a most satisfactory night with His Majesty and find it difficult to believe he would lend an ear to slander against his wife.”

Wriothesley had tended the fire of his hatred toward the queen since she had penned that unfeeling note to his wife after the death of their son.

Lady Seymour shook her head and though she were no particular friend to me, I sympathized with her as she had undertaken to share a confidence with the queen at risk to herself—a confidence that had been lightly dismissed.

“Mistress Juliana?” The Countess of Sussex put her hand on my shoulder and shook me slightly. “The queen has just asked you to read.”

“I’m sorry, my lady. What shall I read?” The queen, confident of her sway over His Majesty, handed a copy of Tyndale’s forbidden book to me. I locked eyes for a moment with the countess afore choosing a selection that Father Gregory had marked for me some years before with his vestment threads, in the Acts of the Apostles.

“‘And we entered into the house of Philip the Evangelist, which was one of the seven deacons, and abode with him. The same man had four daughters, virgins, which did prophesy.’”

I glanced again at the countess before continuing on through the passage that prophesied about the terrible death of Saint Paul, who was to be delivered up to his enemies.

“‘Then Paul answered and said: “what do ye weeping and breaking mine heart? I am ready to be bound, but also to die” … after that, we made ourselves ready.’”

“Thank you, Mistress Juliana, that is satisfactory.” Lady Herbert came and took Tyndale away from me. I held my suddenly empty hands out in front of me but for a moment and then curtseyed and stepped back. As I did, I noticed Lady Rich, a friend of Gardiner, had stepped into the room.

I did not know if I had been immediately relieved of the reading because of the sudden presence of one of the enemy, Lady Rich, or because of my melancholy choice of passages, which, I realized too late and to my horror, might have presaged the mortal level of danger that the queen was in. The other ladies soon went about their business, fading into and out of the queen’s chambers.

The Countess of Sussex, who I knew had prophesied, drew near to me so only we two could hear one another. “Did you choose that passage because of my presence?”

“In part.” I cast my eyes down.

“Those so called have the duty to act or speak when so compelled, depending upon if they have a word of knowledge kept private or that of utterance shared with others,” the countess said softly.

“Yes, my lady. I understand.”

Her Grace called her sister to her later that night when the chambers were nearly devoid of other ladies, then one of them called over a page, who gave her a letter opener. Lady Herbert took the opener and, out of his sight, used it to twist and befuddle some of the locks in Kate’s jewel cases till they no longer moved smoothly. Then she gave it back to him.

“No matter how I pry, I am not able to fix some of these worn locks. Please call for His Majesty’s locksmiths that we may have new ones installed.”

Within a week the locks on her cases had all been changed; only the queen and Lady Herbert had the keys. This was provoked, I was sure, by the alarming news of the circulating letter. All copies of forbidden books, religious and otherwise, were placed in the lower drawers of the jewelry boxes and from that moment on we kept all of our reading to that which His Majesty approved.

I was relieved that Kate was out of apparent danger.

I stopped by Dorothy’s chambers on my way to my room one day after dining and knocked. I’d missed our friendship and suspected that she felt awkward for having found me after John Temple’s assault. I wanted to put her at ease, and enjoy our friendship once more.

“Oh, Juliana.” She stood by the door, not moving to make way for me to enter.

“May I come in?”

“I’m so sorry, but I am about to leave on an errand for Lady Tyrwhitt.”

“Dorothy,” I began, in a quiet voice, “I am right sorry you had to stumble upon me after Sir John’s terrible assault. I know it’s made things uncomfortable between us, and I wish them to be as they ever were.”

She grew even paler, if it were possible. “Oh, yes. Well. We shan’t talk of it again.”

“I know you shan’t tell a soul, don’t worry. And I haven’t either,” I reassured her.

“We shall have to find some time to read together, or sew, soon,” she said. “But I fear I shall be late for Lady Tyrwhitt, so I must take my leave.”

“Certainly,” I said afore continuing to my room. I feared that, rather than make things better, I had instead made them worse.

I made my way to my chamber, expecting another dull afternoon and evening as the king had no entertainment planned, but to my surprise, Elisabeth was there waiting for me. “Sir William has taken his leave for Baas Manor and I find myself free for some time. Should you like to ride?”

“I would indeed,” I said, and we dressed in our riding outfits and made our way to the stables. Because her father was noble and rich and her paramour was the queen’s titled brother, she had ready access to the horses and she took me through St. James’s Park. We returned to sup in our rooms and gossip, and we made plans to have the seamstress visit us the very next week to order a new gown each. I gave silent thanks to my mother for her gift of a purse. I was gladdened, too, for the gift of Elisabeth’s friendship and the promise of her more constant company. That night I slept deeply for the first time since I’d returned to court.

In May, my Lord Norfolk’s son, Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, one of the highest-born men at court, spoke up loudly against the conservative preaching during Lent. The king, tired and ill and in no mood to brook impertinence from the Howards, had Surrey examined before the council at Greenwich.

“The council asked, specifically, about the queen,” one of the ladies relayed to a small circle of the queen’s household in a private dinner one evening not long after. Gossip of the matter had already popped up like smallpox throughout the court so we were not surprised.

“Did his own father lay the trap?” Elisabeth asked her.

“Possibly. They will be battling bitterly till the axe whispers one of their names, or like as not, both, for their right wages. Surrey was told that he would be offered clemency if he would confess other talk in the queen’s chambers.”

This boded ill for my lady. And yet it gave us a red-sky warning afore the storm. After almost everyone had left the rooms, the queen had her uncle take all of the contraband books from her newly locked jewel case and remove them from the court entirely. If it could be proved by any of the queen’s enemies that she was harboring and distributing forbidden literature, much less leading those under her care, including and especially the royal children, astray with them, there would be evidence enough for her to be prosecuted and then perhaps not even the king himself would save her. With all the material removed, Kate announced that she now felt safe, and happiness crept back into her countenance, and mine.