The Secret Keeper: A Novel of Kateryn Parr

FOURTEEN

Summer and Autumn: Year of Our Lord 1547

Chelsea

Syon House

One evening in June I was in my lady’s dressing chamber sorting through some gowns and slippers, determining which would be stored for the summer and which were still appropriate for wear, when I heard a knock at the door. Kate opened it. I could not see who it was, but by her words I knew it to be Thomas. She was still dressed for the day so merely asked him, “Could you come back in thirty minutes, husband? I must finish dressing for bed.”

He grunted and then left. Within a minute, there came another knock at the door and I could hear my lady allow her groom of the chamber in to provide coal for the evening’s fire. Before allowing me to help her into her bed gown she asked me to finish my sorting task.

“I shall soon be finished,” I said. “You have so many gowns!”

She laughed. “Yes, and His Majesty kindly left me money enough to indulge that passion without tapping my purse, so that is likely to continue. Do not rush, I have important correspondence to attend to.”

She returned to her desk in the other room, where she’d told me earlier she was penning letters in her own hand to build support for her marriage. Shortly, a knock came again.

Kate opened it and Thomas burst in. I knew it was him just by the sound of it as Kate never thrust shut a door.

“So your husband is told to leave so you may change in private, and yet I tarry but a little down the hallway and what do mine eyes see? A common man, though well built and pleasing for a woman to behold, comes when I was denied!”

“Thomas!” Kate protested. “I had not yet changed when the groom of the chamber came to replace my coal. Are you truly displaced by a servant going about his duties?”

I could hear Thomas exhale and then finally speak. “Sweetheart. ’Tis just that I do not care to see you in any man’s company alone, without me. I have had to wait so long, you see, and endure you in the arms and the beds of others that I grow anxious that such may happen again.”

“Do you accuse me of keeping private company with another man? And we so newly wed?”

“Nay, nay,” he said soothingly. “I repent of my outburst. Forgive my misplaced anger. I have just had a letter from the Lady Mary.”

I could hear Kate’s tone relax. “In response to your own, asking her to approve of our marriage?”

“Yes,” he said. “And here is her response: ‘I have received your letter, wherein, methinks, I perceive strange news, the sooner obtaining whereof, you seem to think that my letters might do you some pleasure.’ But she begged to differ. Apparently she found it abhorrent and lacking respect that you have so quickly married after the death of her father.”

“And yet her father pressed me just as quickly to marry him after the death of Lord Latimer!” Kate responded with a little frustration.

“Exactly,” Thomas said. “Last week I bribed John Fowler to allow me some time with the king.”

“Should you be bribing, Thomas?” Kate’s voice turned worried.

“How else shall I see my own nephew? ’Tis an injustice that I cannot see him when I like!” Thomas near shouted. Then he lowered his voice. “I bought him some gifts and sang some sea ditties. And then I was able to turn the conversation to help him see, of his own, that ’twould be better for you to not remain a widow, as Saint Paul hath spoken, and that it would be better that you be cared for by someone he trusts. I began by telling him that I needed a wife.”

“And his response was …?”

“At first, he suggested Anne of Cleves.”

Kate groaned.

“And then he suggested his sister Mary, so I may turn her opinions from Catholicism to reform.”

“Not likely she’d have you and not likely she’d change,” Kate said.

Not likely he’d know enough of either to convince the Lady Mary, I thought uncharitably. Kate held daily church services and lively debates at her dower houses, too, but I’d not seen Sir Thomas present for any of them.

I could not see them but I could hear Lord Thomas kiss her. It was far too late for me to leave the room now without causing extreme discomfort to all involved. I should have left immediately but I knew Kate would not want Thomas to know I had overheard his pique of temper. I could only pray that they left things at a kiss.

Thomas continued. “But since His Majesty had suggested Anne of Cleves, the king’s sister, I put it to him that an even better turn would be done by having a good queen not long remain a widow, as was meet, and provide a godly wife for me as well.”

“And the king …?”

“Delightedly agreed. In fact, he said he would share his good opinion of this with the lord protector upon his earliest opportunity.”

Kate said nothing for so long that Thomas pressed her. “Well, Kate?”

“I do not like twisting Edward’s mind and actions so, to manage him thusly when he has no indication of our motives. He is, after all, as a son to me, Thomas.”

“And a nephew to me,” Thomas said, a slight edge to his voice. “If there were another way, I’d avail myself of it.”

“But there is not,” Kate said quietly.

“There is not,” Thomas agreed.

She told him she was going to complete her correspondence and he said he would be back within an hour. As soon as he took his leave I made some loud noises in gathering up her gowns and Kate came to join me in the dressing chamber.

“I had forgotten you were here, Juliana,” she said.

“’Tis of no concern. I had so much to busy my hands that I lost track of time.” I made my way to the door. “Shall I come early and help you dress afore tomorrow’s hunt?”

She nodded and then held my elbow. “Lord Thomas does not mean anything by his spells of choleric. ’Tis just that his brother has set himself up against us at every turn.”

I nodded in return. “I understand, my lady.”

Mayhap as close as she was to him she could not see that in a few years’ time Sir Thomas had gone from sailing in mostly placid water to mostly turgid and let every wind and wave whip him into frenzy now that he sensed victory at hand.

A fair portion of the queen’s household and guests, including the Lady Elizabeth, rode out to hunt with us the next day. The Lady Elizabeth was already an excellent huntress, but not quite as fine as Kate, and the queen dowager wanted to ensure that Elizabeth’s education progressed in all manner whilst in her household.

“Someday soon,” Kate told her, “your brother the king and the council may arrange a fine marriage for you with a prince in another land, and I want you to be well prepared, though I shall miss you when you take your leave and you must promise to write to me weekly.”

Elizabeth shone at this display of affection. Indeed, Kate had arranged for the Lady Elizabeth the finest of tutors, the best dance instructors, and the most competent musicians. Whilst she also arranged education for Lady Jane Grey, she, being farther away at Seymour Place, was not quite as easy to manage. And, I knew, Elizabeth held a particularly dear place in Kate’s heart.

Our midmorning repast was held on the hunting grounds, as was Kate’s preference. She sat alone whilst Lord Thomas wrapped his arms around the small frame of the Lady Elizabeth some yards hence to better teach her the right manner in which to hold a bow. My lady looked sorrowful, and who could blame her?

I drew near. “Are you well, Your Grace?” I glanced up at the embrace Thomas held Elizabeth in. She saw my gaze.

“Oh, that, ’tis nothing.” She motioned for me to sit. “But Thomas has this morning shared with me disturbing news that he received in a letter from the king. He first thanked Thomas for marrying me, but then he shared that both Edward Seymour and his wife were much offended with the marriage. Thomas’s brother Edward, as self-appointed lord protector, has that right, I suppose, though if His Majesty seems happy that should be the end of it. There was no requirement for me to get the council’s approval before marriage. But it is no business at all of that hell Lady Seymour to be offended.”

I was taken aback by my lady’s language and my face must have shown it.

“My sister tells me Lady Seymour is wearing the queen’s jewels now,” Kate said. “The ones that were stolen from me, and of course, there be no queen in this realm save I. She does not yet have the gall to wear my personal jewelry, which I hope shall shortly be back in my possession.”

In the distance, Thomas laughed with Elizabeth and kept his arms round her, though the lesson should long since have ended. Even Kate now looked discomfited. She stood up and smoothed her skirts and said, afore making her way to Thomas, “My husband wants me to bring the matter of my jewelry up to his brother myself, at a banquet they are holding next month, at Syon. I believe that I shall.”

Later that week she received a letter from the king. He did not refer to her as mother, nor sign it as her son. He did indicate some growing distaste over her hasty and unseemly marriage to Thomas. Whether that thought grew as he recognized that Kate and Thomas had deceived him, or whether Edward Seymour had harried him for his own purposes, I knew not. ’Twas a shame the boy king, without mother, without father, was so ill used by all who were interested only in their own power and the advancement of their own desires.

A month later Edward Seymour and his wife held a fine evening banquet in the gardens of their Thameside residence, Somerset House. I worried no more about seeing John Temple, as Gardiner had been thrown into the Tower after refusing the new directions the king’s council took with religious matters. Edward Seymour had been the force behind that action. The Duchess of Suffolk, Kate’s dear friend, quipped, “It be merry with the lambs when the wolf was shut up.” I hoped, for her sake and Kate’s, that he would remain shut up, for he was like to hear of his enemies dancing upon his grave and return the favor with interest should he ever be freed. Certainly his boundless pride had not allowed him to forgive the duchess for naming her spaniel after him.

As to the banquet, no expense had been spared. I had heard my lady speculate about where such wealth was coming from; the seizing of funds from chantries meant to say prayers for the dead, now outlawed, certainly, but there must have been more sources as well. Several of my lady’s household rode in fine litters to the event; Thomas and his men arrived via horseback, of course, but they traveled alongside of us.

There were wandering minstrels and jugglers of all sorts; their painted faces were meant to enchant but I found their false, leering smiles a horror and representative of the evening as a whole. I had many friends present, for though we had scattered when Kate’s household was broken up we came together infrequently for such events. And yet, as I wandered away from the torches meant to light the night, I felt despondent. My lady would return to Chelsea with Lord Thomas, and the Lady Elizabeth was there with her household; my Lady Tyrwhitt and her husband, Sir Robert, would return to their rooms together, as would various others who resided at Chelsea. Yet I would retire alone, perhaps forever.

I turned to walk back toward the festivities and saw Kate talking with Edward Seymour, who seemed in rather a hurry to remove himself from her company. She followed him for a few steps but he did not turn back toward her. Realizing it was unseemly, I suspected, for a queen to chase after a duke, she stopped her pursuit. Later that night she and I rode back to her estate with the litter curtains pulled back to display the tiara of starlight, as the evening was warm.

Robert Tyrwhitt rode alongside us, as did the other men in her household, but Lord Thomas had ridden on ahead, alone, and in great haste.

“Has Lord Thomas taken ill?” I asked.

Kate shook her head. “He is angry with me. I began to speak with his brother about the return of my jewelry, and Edward put me off, saying this was not the occasion for such a discussion.”

“Then when is?” Lady Tyrwhitt asked. “He refused to return your correspondence and does not provide a time when you may come to meet with him at court or any other place.”

“I know it well,” Kate said. “He promised that he and his wife should be my guests at a banquet at Chelsea within the month, and we would talk of the matter then, in a more intimate environment.”

“And Lord Thomas is angry because …?” Lady Tyrwhitt asked.

“Because I did not insist,” Kate said. “But there was little I could do.”

I reached over and threaded my arm through her own, sorrowing to see her miserable so quickly into a much-longed-for marriage.

“Lady Seymour wore your ruby and gold garter,” Lady Tyrwhitt said. “The one His Majesty gave you as a personal gift, not a jewel belonging to the crown.”

“I noticed,” Kate said. “She wore it knowing that I, and many others, would understand the message she sent with that gesture. She has taken the pearls my mother left me upon her death, as well.”

We arrived home late, but as I made my way down the hallway I noticed that the candles were still lit in the Lady Elizabeth’s rooms. I thought I heard the voice of a man, so I stopped outside of her chamber for a moment, but then, hearing only the voice of Kat Ashley, went on my way.

The next month Kate prepared a festive banquet by which she and Thomas meant to mend fences with his brother Edward and Edward’s wife. Kate had invited her sister and her husband, and her brother, William Parr, was to come, too, without the Lady Elisabeth Brooke, though they were as much in love as ever. Kate had gone to great expense to make sure the evening would be perfect, and even the Lady Elizabeth would be allowed to attend.

I suspected that was Kate’s way of showing that she, too, had care of a royal child. She rarely saw the king, and the Lady Mary had made a wide space between them since Kate’s marriage to Sir Thomas. The queen dowager had also taken her young nephew by her sister, Lady Herbert, into her household to educate him at her own expense.

Four hours afore the event a messenger came hard riding and asked to speak with Lord Thomas. I was in the great hall, next to the receiving hall, ensuring that the final details were being carried out according to Kate’s instructions.

“I come with news from your brother,” the messenger said. There in the receiving hall he handed over a scroll. Thomas opened it, read it, then ripped it in half. He stared at the messenger, who had taken a few steps back.

“Sir, do you care to send back an answer?”

“You have it, man.” Thomas pointed at the torn letter on the floor. “Right there, you have my response.” He took his leave and made his way to Kate’s chamber.

The banquet went on as planned, but without the guests of honor. Kate explained that the lord protector was unable to attend, as he was raising the troops necessary to invade Scotland and put down the recent French-backed attack planned upon His Majesty’s realm. Privately, she told her women what had really happened.

“This is the doing of Edward’s wife, Anne Stanhope.” Kate rarely referred to her nemesis by her exalted titles. “She has oft promised to invite me to a reading or a gathering of women working for reform. And yet, an invitation never arrives. She promises many comings and performs none.”

It was doubly bitter, then, in October, when Kate had some letters from several of the men administering her dower lands. Each reported that her brother-in-law Edward Seymour had directed that the monies from the leases on said land were to be turned over to him, and not to the dowager queen, their rightful owner. The lord protector further informed them that they were to take their instructions from him, and not Kate, on pain of consequence. He did not need to threaten them. They knew who was their true master.

The lord protector was stealing from Kate and no one would stop him.

Kate shut herself up in her chambers upon hearing the news. She turned me away for a few days, only having the use of her servants.

I spent my time reading, and one day the Lady Elizabeth found me in front of the fire. Master Grindal, her beloved tutor, had given her leave to have time for herself.

“Mistress St. John?” She approached me and I set my book aside.

“Yes, my Lady Elizabeth. How may I be of service to you?”

“Next month the dowager queen’s new book will be delivered.”

I nodded. We were all anticipating the delivery of The Lamentations, or Complaint of a Sinner.

“Lady Ogilvy, whose husband is an associate and financial backer of the book’s publisher, is going to deliver the books to the queen, and the queen shall hold a reception for her friends that day.”

“Yes, my lady, I am aware of this,” I said softly, not knowing where she led.

“Lady Ogilvy was a particular friend of my mother.” Elizabeth stared in her lap. I had never heard her mention her mother before. “Kat is a wonderful governess in all manner but she does not have as much experience in gowning and adorning as a lady in waiting might have. I know you have long been at court; you assist the Queen’s Highness with her wardrobe even now. I should like to be beautifully presented when Lady Ogilvy arrives. She has”—she held her hands together, the long white fingers restraining one another from shaking—“indicated that she would like to see me, particularly and privately.”

“It would be my distinct privilege,” I responded, bowing my head slightly.

The Lady Elizabeth smiled, retaining her composure. “Thank you, Mistress St. John. That brings me much relief.”

I made my way to Kate’s chamber the next day. Whilst I helped her I asked, “Do you think there might be money for the Lady Elizabeth to have a new gown afore your reception? Like as not many courtiers will be here, and ’twould be good for them to see what a fine lady she has become under your tutelage.”

“Yes, yes, that is a splendid idea,” the queen said with enthusiasm. “I shall have the seamstress called immediately. Should you like to assist us?”

“It would be an honor.” I clasped a collar around her neck. “I have not met Lady Ogilvy, who delivers the books.”

Kate shook her head. “She was sometimes at court events, but there was no occasion for you to have met her in particular, as she was not one of my ladies. She was, however, close to Queen Anne Boleyn and even attended her at her execution. Lady Ogilvy especially requested that she make the delivery for her husband, who backs Thomas Berthelet, the publisher. She has written to me that she has some items to give to the Lady Elizabeth, with my permission, items she did not feel were appropriate to convey whilst King Henry lived. I have, of course, given her my leave.”

Over the course of the next month the seamstresses completed two gowns for the Lady Elizabeth, one in dark blue with ivory damask underneath, stitched in gold, which set her red hair off to its finest, and one in black. I did not care for the new black dress, which I instantly recognized as the one in my vision. Thinking that perhaps I could forestall the prophecy by removing the possibility of the gown, I spoke up at the time about ordering a different dress instead, but Kate believed it to be becoming and proceeded with having it made.

On the evening of the reception I finished with Kate and then asked, “May I help the Lady Elizabeth with her hair? I know she has attendants of her own, but perhaps it would be an especial privilege to have the lady who assists the queen dowager assist her as well?”

Kate agreed, and I did Elizabeth’s hair up in a fine net of gold and pearls and a dark blue French hood very much in the style her mother was famously known for. When we were finished, she looked at herself in a looking glass and broke out in a delighted smile. “I am become a woman, Mistress St. John.”

“A beautiful woman, my lady,” I agreed. She was now past fourteen years old and marriageable. I grinned and Kat Ashley clapped her hands and we made our way to the hall where the reception would be held.

As it was November, the hall was ablaze with candles and the fires roared at each end of the room from hearths much taller than a man and twice his height, sidewise. There was a small group of musicians in the back, near the virginals, and they played softly. Mead and wine were passed by Kate’s household servants.

I knew most of the guests—Kate’s sister and her sister’s husband, and her brother, William Parr, who had financed the book with the Duchess of Suffolk, who was also there. I had not seen so many highborn nobles since King Henry had died, though my lady often entertained nobility with dancing and the like. All made polite conversation with Thomas but ’twas clear they were there to celebrate the queen dowager and her new book. Cecil had written the preface so he and his wife were there. I had written a letter to my brother and handed it to one of Cecil’s pages to deliver to Hugh upon his return. I inquired after our mother, who wrote to Hugh but not to me.

In the center of things, next to the queen, stood a lovely woman who was perhaps ten years Kate’s senior, clad in a rich gown of silver crushed velvet that set off her auburn hair, now threaded with silver that matched her dress, and tied back in a becoming knot. Kate called me to her.

“Lady Margaret Ogilvy, may I present Mistress Juliana St. John?”

I dipped a short curtsey and Lady Ogilvy smiled.

Though children were not often allowed to events such as these, Lady Ogilvy had brought her son, William, a lad of about ten, who stood by stiffly until the Lady Elizabeth called him aside and made small talk with him of a common nature. He drew her near and whispered something in her ear and she burst out laughing, the girl again, and he laughed with her, shaking his head of brown curls. I knew not why, but the sight of them together caused Lady Ogilvy to quickly wipe away a tear.

Lady Ogilvy turned to the table where the white, leather-bound books lay and spoke with others about Kate’s newest work, which had been delayed until King Henry’s death, lest he find its bold reformer pleadings to be heresy. My lady had escaped the first trap laid for her but may not have escaped a second. I had read the book myself and found it deeply moving, a bright beacon of a personal call to faith in the religious fog in which we oft found ourselves. I made my way to Elisabeth Brooke and spent much of the evening in her company. I missed sharing a chamber with her.

“William and I have married,” she whispered to me. “He shall tell the king, and the lord protector, at Christmas. I cannot see how they may find it disagreeable now that reform is the triumphant faith.”

I embraced her for a moment, sharing her joy. And then I looked toward the hearth.

Thomas seemed to go from jovial to sullen as the attention was focused upon his wife and not himself. I saw him make his way to the Lady Elizabeth, who was, of a sudden, alone.

He coaxed a smile from her and put her hand in the curve of his elbow. Within a minute I saw Lady Ogilvy approach them, personally untangle Lord Thomas’s arm from the Lady Elizabeth’s as a mother might, and lead her away.

The next morning, the Lady Elizabeth knocked upon my chamber door. I opened it and curtseyed. “Yes, my lady, please come in.”

She did, and closed the door behind her. I noticed that she came alone; she rarely moved about without attendants or other maids of her household. “Thank you for your assistance, Mistress St. John,” she said. “My mother was well-known for her beauty in person and in dress. As Lady Ogilvy was not only her friend but her mistress of robes it was particularly important to me that I be well arrayed.”

“You looked beautiful, my lady.”

She nodded slightly. “Lady Ogilvy delivered unto me some pieces of my mother’s jewelry, including her pearls, her personal favorites, which Lady Ogilvy had saved for me. She also relayed some … words of comfort and affection.”

I knew this unusual disclosure was her way of thanking me and also a display of trust, because Elizabeth was circumspect and shared very few of her personal thoughts or feelings. “A true blessing,” I said.

She nodded and a rare soft look passed across her countenance afore she took her leave.

I never heard her speak of her mother again.