Katharine, the Virgin Widow

In the House of Grimaldi

FRANCESCA DE CARCERES WAS DETERMINED ON ACTION. Something had to be done, and she guessed that the marriage negotiations of the Infanta and the Prince of Wales were as far as ever from reaching a satisfactory conclusion.

Until the Infanta was married, none of her maids of honor would be.

And thus, thought Francesca, the years will pass until we are all dry old spinsters whom no one would take in marriage even if we had big dowries.

Francesca was never one to wait for opportunity; she went out to seek it.

She had met Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida and recognized in him a nobleman such as Puebla could never be. Being suspicious of Puebla and believing that he worked for the King of England rather than for Ferdinand, she wished that he should be recalled to Spain; it seemed that he never would be, because Ferdinand for some strange reason trusted him. And in any case the old fellow was now so infirm that he would be of no use in Spain. It was characteristic of Ferdinand that he should not recall him. It was so much easier to keep the ailing old man in England, pay him no wages and let him work for Spain.

Francesca pinned her hopes on Fuensalida.

She decided therefore that she would see him in private. This was not an easy thing to do at Court because when he came he was not alone; and in any case what chance had a maid of honor of a private interview without calling a great deal of attention to herself to obtain it?

There was plenty of freedom now in Katharine’s entourage, so Francesca had planned that she would slip away one afternoon and call on the ambassador at his lodgings, which she knew to be in the house of the banker, Francesco Grimaldi.

She wrapped herself in a cloak, the hood of which did much to conceal her face, and set out. When she reached the banker’s house she was taken into a small room and the servant who had brought her in went away to discover whether the Spanish ambassador was in his apartment.

While Francesca waited she examined the rich hangings and the fine furniture in this small room. She had been struck by the grandeur of the house as soon as she entered it. Perhaps this appreciation was the more forceful because she thought of the poverty in which she and the Infanta’s maids of honor had lived for the last few years.

Banking must be a profitable business, she reflected; and it was brought home to her that people such as bankers must live in more affluent circumstances than many a Prince or Princess.

The door was opened and a rather plump man stood in the doorway. Francesca noticed at once that his jacket was made of rich velvet and that his stomacher was most elegantly embroidered. His hanging sleeves were somewhat exaggeratedly long and there were jewels at his throat and on his fingers. He gave an impression of elegance and wealth and his corpulence and air of general well-being indicated a man who lived most comfortably. His eyes were warm brown and very friendly.

When he bowed low over Francesca’s hand on which his lips lingered slightly longer than Court etiquette would have considered necessary, she discovered that she was not displeased.

“I am happy to see you in my house,” he said. “But alas, Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida is not here at this time. If there is anything I could do to help you, depend upon it I should be greatly honored.”

“That is very kind of you,” Francesca replied, and she told him who she was.

“This is a happy day for my house,” answered the banker, “when one of the Infanta’s ladies call. And that she should surely be the most beautiful adds to my pleasure.”

“You are very gracious. Will you be so kind as to tell Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida that I called? I should have told him I was coming.”

“Pray do not leave so soon. I cannot say when he will return, but it is possible that he may do so within the hour. If in my humble way I could entertain you during that time, I should be most happy.”

Francesca said: “Perhaps I could linger for a little while.” And she was gratified to see the look of bemused pleasure in the face of the banker.

“Allow me to offer you refreshment,” he said.

Francesca hesitated. This was most unconventional, but she was known to be the most adventurous of the Infanta’s maids of honor and she thought how she would enliven them all when she returned by telling them of her adventures at the home of the Genoese banker; so she succumbed to temptation and sat down; whereupon Grimaldi summoned a servant and gave his orders.

Half an hour later Francesca was still in the banker’s company; she was amusing him with stories of Court life, and he was amusing her equally with stories of his own world. When she expressed her admiration for his beautiful furniture he insisted on showing her some of his more elaborate pieces, which resulted in a tour of this very fine house of which he was clearly—and justly—proud.

Fuensalida had not returned when Francesca decided that she really must leave; Grimaldi wished to escort her back, but she refused to allow this.

“We should be seen,” she said. “And I should doubtless be severely reprimanded.”

“What a mischievous young lady you are!” murmured the banker rapturously.

“One must bestir oneself in some ways,” retorted Francesca. “I do admit the others are somewhat prim.”

“I shall never cease to bless the day you came to see Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida, and I feel grateful to him for not returning, thus allowing me to enjoy your company and have it all to myself.”

“Are bankers always so gallant?” asked Francesca almost archly.

“Even bankers cannot fail to be in the presence of such overwhelming beauty,” he told her.

It was all very pleasant and Francesca had enjoyed the encounter; and when he said goodbye his lips lingered even longer on her hand. We are so unused to such attentions, she told herself; and even when they do not come from the nobility they are not without their attractions.

“If you should ever desire to do me this honor again,” he said earnestly, “I should rejoice in my good fortune.”

She did not answer, but her smile was provocative.

She hurried back to the palace, telling herself how she would enjoy explaining her little adventure to the others; she imagined herself imitating the banker’s voice as he paid her the most extravagant compliments. How they would laugh! And who among them had ever had such an adventure?

Then suddenly she decided she would say nothing. What if she were forbidden to visit the banker’s house again? Not that she intended to go again: but suppose she wanted to, it would be most irritating to be forbidden to do so.

No, for the present her encounter with Francesco Grimaldi should remain her secret.

WHEN KATHARINE HEARD that Fuensalida had quarrelled with the Council she was disturbed and commanded Puebla to come to her at once.

The old man sent for his litter and, as he was carried from his lodging to the palace, he reflected that he would not make many more such journeys, for he was well aware that the end was in sight for him. It was sad that he had worked so hard and unfailingly to bring about this marriage without success, and now that Ferdinand had sent his new ambassador the position had rapidly worsened.

He did not expect to be appreciated. When had he ever been appreciated? He was a Jew by birth, and he had become a Christian. Such as he must become accustomed to injustice. He should think himself lucky that he was not in Spain, where he might so easily commit some mild indiscretion and be taken before the tribunal of the Inquisition and charged with heresy.

At least, he thought, I shall die in my bed; and the reward for my services will be merely neglect and general ingratitude.

As he dragged himself painfully into the Infanta’s apartment Katharine felt an immediate pity for him.

“Why, you are ill!” she said.

“I grow old, Highness,” he murmured.

She called for a chair that he might sit in her presence, and for this he was grateful.

She came straight to the point. “I had hoped,” she said, “that my dowry was to be paid and that I should be able to claim the fulfilment of my marriage treaty. It seems this is not to be so. When I came here it was understood that my plate and jewels were to form part of my dowry, and now Don Gutierre Gomez de Fuensalida informs me that the King will not accept this.”

“He must accept it,” said Puebla. “It was part of the marriage treaty.”

“But Don Gutierre says that the Council refuse to admit this.”

“Then they must be made to admit it. I fear he has offended the Council with his quick temper and high-handed manners. He forgets that he is in England; and he will never bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion if he is going to offend the people whom it is necessary to placate.”

“You think that they can be made to accept the plate and jewels?”

“I am sure they will. But the jewels and plate are much depleted, I believe.”

“I have found it necessary to have some money to live, and I have pawned or sold a considerable amount of the plate and jewels.”

“Highness, if your father will make up the discrepancy I feel sure we can come to an arrangement with the King.”

“Then you must see Fuensalida and make him understand this.”

“I will. And Your Highness should have no fear. The King will wish to come to this arrangement. He is eager for a match between your nephew, Charles, and the Princess Mary. He is even more eager to enter into marriage with your sister, Her Highness Queen Juana. I believe that a little diplomacy will settle these matters amicably.”

“Then I pray you go to Fuensalida with all speed. And, Dr. de Puebla, I am concerned for your health. I am going to send my physician to see you. You must act on his advice.”

“Your Highness is gracious,” murmured Puebla.

He felt resigned. He knew that Fuensalida was the last man to handle this delicate situation with the right amount of tact and shrewdness. He knew also that when Katharine’s physician saw him, he would be told to keep to his bed. That he knew was tantamount to receiving his death warrant.

KATHARINE WAS FRUSTRATED. She was aware the King disliked the Spanish ambassador and made continual excuses not to grant the interviews he asked.

Puebla, who alone might have made some progress now that Ferdinand really seemed desirous of settling his daughter’s affairs, had now taken to his bed. Too late Fuensalida learned how useful the little man could be.

The matter dragged on. Henry, who was beginning to see that he would never get Juana, was growing angry. He did not trust Ferdinand. Henry was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with because he was now in acute pain and the calmness which had been characteristic of him was deserting him. His skin was turning yellow and he was rapidly losing weight. There were whole days when he was invisible to any but his doctors.

Katharine was so eagerly watching the progress of her own affairs that she failed to notice the change in one of her maids of honor. Francesca had seemed to grow younger; she had come into possession of some beautiful pieces of jewellery. She did not flaunt these before the eyes of the others, it was true, but on one occasion when Maria de Rojas had called attention to a handsome ruby ring which she was wearing, Francesca had shrugged her shoulders, murmured, “Have you not seen it before?” and hastily changed the subject.

Francesca was the only member of the Infanta’s household who was not depressed by the way things were going; each day she contrived to slip away, and remained absent for several hours.

Fuensalida was making himself unpleasant to various members of the Infanta’s household. He had quarrelled with Puebla many times, and only the little man’s humility and desire to bring about a successful solution of the troublesome matter of the dowry made their association possible. His chief enemy in the household was Fray Diego Fernandez, who was Katharine’s confessor and whose position gave him especial influence over her. This friar seemed to Fuensalida an arrogant young man because he did not show sufficient respect to the ambassador, and he had threatened to write to Ferdinand to the effect that Fernandez was not only incompetent but dangerous, as the Infanta placed too much trust in him.

Katharine was desperate, realizing that when she needed as much support as she could get, her affairs were continually being obstructed by strife within her own circle.

One day Fernandez came to her in a state of great indignation. He had had a narrow escape, he told her. Fuensalida had made an attempt to have him arrested and shipped out of the country.

Katharine was angry, but there was nothing she could do. Puebla was confined to his bed and clearly was dying; now she reproached herself for not appreciating that little man before. It was only now that she could compare him with Fuensalida that she realized how admirable he had been. She could not ask her father to recall Fuensalida and send her another ambassador. The situation was too involved and, by the time a new man arrived, who could say what might have happened?

So she prayed constantly that her ill luck would change and that soon her affairs might be put in order.

WHAT JOY IT WAS to escape to the house of the Genoese banker! thought Francesca. How merry that man was, and how delighted that Francesca de Carceres should deign to visit him. It was true, of course, that she was of a most noble family and he was merely a banker; but how much more extravagantly he lived, and what great comfort he enjoyed!

She could not recall how many times she had been to his house, ostensibly to visit the ambassador, and how she arranged her visits to fall at those times when she knew Fuensalida would not be present.

She had meant to implore him to do something for Katharine’s maids of honor, who should have marriages arranged for them, but she had found no opportunity of speaking of this matter to the ambassador.

There was so much of interest to see in the house, and her banker delighted in showing her. She had only to admire something, and he implored her to accept it. He was surely the most generous man in the world!

So it was fun to slip on her cloak and hasten to his lodgings.

On this occasion he was waiting for her, and he seemed more serious; as it was unusual to see him serious, she wondered what had happened.

They took wine together with some of those excellent cakes which his cooks made especially for her, and as they sat together he said suddenly: “How strange that I should be Francesco, and you Francesca. It seems yet another link between us.”

“Yes,” she smiled, “it is certainly strange.”

Then he became even more serious and said: “How long can this continue?”

“You mean my visits? Oh, until the Court moves, or until I am discovered and forbidden to come.”

“That would stop you…if you were forbidden?”

“I might be tempted to disobey.”

He leaned towards her and took one of her hands. “Francesca,” he said, “would you consider becoming mistress of this house?”

She grew a little pale, realizing the enormity of what he was suggesting. She…marry him! But her marriage was one which would have to be approved by the Infanta, by the Queen of Castile or by Ferdinand, and by the King of England. Did he not understand that she was not a little seamstress or some such creature to make a match on the spur of the moment?

“The suggestion is repulsive to you?” he said wistfully.

“No…no!” She was emphatic. She was thinking of how dull her life had been before these visits; and how it would seem even more dull if she were forced to give them up. She went on: “Marriages are arranged for people in my position. I should never be allowed to marry you.”

“You have been neglected,” he argued. “To whom do you owe loyalty? As for myself, I am no subject of the King of England. If I wish to marry, I marry. If you decided you did not want to go back to the palace one day, I would have a priest here who should marry us. I would place all my possessions and myself at your service. I love you, Francesca. You are young, you are beautiful, you are of noble birth, but you are a prisoner; and the only one of these attributes which can remain to you is your noble birth. Francesca, do not allow them to bury you alive. Marry me. Have we not been happy together? I will make you happy for the rest of your life.”

Francesca rose. She was trembling.

She must go quickly. She must be alone to think. She was terrified that she would commit some indiscretion which would decide the whole of her future life.

“You are afraid now,” he said gently. “Make no mistake. It is not of me, Francesca, that you should be afraid. You would never be afraid of me. You are bold and adventurous. Not for you the palace prison. Come to me, Francesca, and I will make you free.”

“I must go,” she said.

He did not attempt to detain her.

“You will think of what I have said?” he asked.

“I cannot stop thinking of it,” she answered. Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead tenderly. She knew that she was going to feel cheated if she did not see him again. Yet how could she?