The Secret Keeper: A Novel of Kateryn Parr

TWO

Summer, Autumn, and Winter: Year of Our Lord 1542

Charterhouse

My father had settled us in Marlborough because it was between Bath and London, which made it convenient for shipping and selling. He’d brought our family to London once and we’d seen the Thames and the fearsome Tower perched upon it. Some of his seafaring friends had taken us in a rich skiff to view the royal palaces of Greenwich and Whitehall; from the water Hugh and I had marveled at them while my mother was a guest at the London home of a friend. So it was not as if I had never been to London.

But I had never been to London to stay. My thrill near spilled beyond containment.

Several months after his visit to our home, Sir Thomas had sent a fine litter and several of his men from Wulf Hall, his family seat nearby, to convey my belongings, myself, and Lucy to Lady Latimer’s home in London. ’Twas near fifty miles along the Great Road, so by leaving early in the morn we would arrive while there was still light. I rolled up the rug at my feet along with several boxes of gifts for Lady Latimer. Lucy sat behind me. She chattered and I chattered back, though my mother had warned me not to mix with her overmuch.

“You are a knight’s daughter, and Lucy is your maid, not your friend,” she’d said.

“Yes, my lady,” I’d answered. “I will obey you and bring you honor while in the Latimers’ household.” But I knew, too, that my mother confided in Lucy’s mother as much as any other so there was some margin to the rule.

If one were to put Hungerford House and Brighton Manor side by side and then copy them by three, one would not end up with a building as large or magnificent as the Charterhouse in Charterhouse Square. When the litter finally stopped, Lucy gasped, and I remembered just in time not to do so myself. The heart of the building was both stout and high, with turrets and towers and long arms that stretched to either side. I was awestruck and delighted to be in such fine surroundings and on such a delectable adventure! The stable was as big as my home. One of Lord Latimer’s servants was there to greet us as we arrived. He showed us to a chamber with a small servant’s room on the left arm of the building.

Lucy set about pouring a bowl of water for me to wash with and then putting my gowns and personal items in the lacquered cupboards before hanging my tapestries. She then brought her own bag to her quarters, connected by a door to mine. I washed the dust from my face and then a young woman who appeared to be of an age with me arrived at my door.

“Mistress St. John,” she said, a fine and honest smile upon her face. “I am Lady Margaret Neville, daughter of Lord Latimer. I bid you welcome to Charterhouse.”

“Thank you, Lady Neville.” I smiled back and curtseyed slightly. “I am honored to be a guest at your home.”

“You shall be expected to attend a large supper tomorrow,” she continued after nodding. “Sir Thomas had alerted us to your arrival, and Lady Latimer and her entire household are pleased that you should stay with us. If you should need anything at all, I hope you will not hesitate to seek me out.”

I opened my mouth to ask several of the most pressing questions that were on my mind, but as I did she smiled once more and took her leave, several ladies trailing behind her. I was bewildered. Was I truly to ask questions or was that a polite trifle offered all guests? She’d had an honest look about her.

I had not much time to think upon the matter because another young woman, also of an age with me, appeared in the hallway just outside of my chamber. She was about to enter the chamber directly across the hall from mine when she saw me. She stopped and came to my rooms instead.

“You must be Mistress Juliana St. John.” Her hair was the color of young ale and her bright blue eyes held my own without wavering.

I was pleased that she knew and had remembered my name, and hoped I might have found a friend. I was about to say as much when she started speaking again.

“I am Mistress Dorothy Skipwith. I’ve been in Lady Latimer’s household for some time. How do you do?”

I could not answer before she pressed on.

“Since you have, unusually, brought your own maid, ’twill be easy to send her to the laundress to bleach the country dust from your sleeves.” She smiled at me so authentically, so beautifully but for one small hooked tooth, that I was left not knowing whether she meant me good or ill.

“Thank you,” I said, and she turned and took her leave, her faded pink gown swirling about her as she left. I now understood that not all arrived at Lady Latimer’s with their own maids. I carefully inspected my sleeves for dust again and again, but found little.

Had I already misstepped?

Lucy and I looked at one another and I set about trying to decide which of my gowns would be most appropriate for the following day’s event.

The next day after church Lady Latimer sent word to call upon her within the hour. Lucy helped dress me in one of my finest gowns and I navigated my way through the maze of hallways toward the heart of the manor, whence came the sound of laughter. In my experience, laughter was a strange sound coming from the suite of a lady’s quarters, but I was to find that it was a common grace in this household and I drew toward its welcoming sound. I approached the hall tentatively but Lady Latimer, at the center of things, waved me forward, dismissing her ladies, who dispersed into various closets and chambers adjoining the hall.

“Mistress St. John,” she said to me. “I am pleased to have you join my household. Sir Thomas holds you in high esteem, and upon his word I believe you’ll make a fine addition to my household.”

“If you please, my lady, I should prefer you to call me Juliana,” I said, curtseying awkwardly as I nearly lost my balance. As I did, I heard the titter of laughter from a far corner and watched Lady Latimer suppress a smile.

“Very well then, Juliana. And I shall permit you to call me Kate, as my friends do. But only when we are close quartered with the ladies.”

The rolling tide of murmurs at the edges of the hall indicated that I had misstepped again. I wished to repent of it but was not sure if that should worsen matters. “I shall certainly endeavor to, madam. Rather, Kate.”

“Lady Neville, Lord Latimer’s daughter, will inform you of your duties and the expectations of my household. I hold discussions in my chambers often, and my ladies ride and hunt with me. We engage in dancing and dine and provide pleasant conversation for Lord Latimer’s guests, with whom we sup. And of course, we attend church daily.”

“Yes, lady,” I said, sticking with the formal for now. Then I rushed on with enthusiasm. “I am most interested in your discussions. I was a lector in Marlborough.”

She broke out in a true smile and reached out and brushed my shoulder with her hand. It felt like soft butter whispered across a slice of manchet; this was what I suspected others knew as maternal love, though Kate was only a dozen years older than I. “So I have heard. You shall make a lively addition. We will be entertaining Sir Thomas and some of his household today and he shall join the hunt tomorrow. As Lord Latimer is in Scotland, fighting for His Majesty, our gowns are somewhat subdued.” She glanced at my current choice with a motherly concern, then smiled encouragingly, and I understood. Something betwixt dusty sleeves and fine damask would do. She wanted me to be at ease.

“Thank you, my lady,” I said, already wanting to please her, desiring that affection to be visited upon me again and again.

“You may take your leave, Juliana. I will look forward to speaking together often.”

That evening Lady Margaret Neville, a year or two younger than I but already an accomplished hostess, took care to seat me near to her and introduced me to not only those in Lady Latimer’s household but some of the gentlemen who had arrived with Thomas Seymour. I’d kept a distance from Sir Thomas, after thanking him for bringing me to Charterhouse, not sure whether to trust the friendliness he portrayed or the wickedness I saw of him in my vision. Sir Thomas did have a kind word and a friendly wink for me early on in the evening, but it was clear that he was blindingly attached to Lady Latimer. She behaved with the utmost grace and fidelity, but though I may have been young, I knew the look of women and she was not indifferent to his attentions.

I spoke mainly with Dorothy, who seemed pleased to introduce me to the others. I noticed that one of the locks of her hair had escaped its netting. “May I tuck this strand of hair back into your net?” I whispered to her.

Her eyes opened widely and she nodded, but she seemed rather put out by the gesture I had intended to be friendly. After I attended to it for her, she turned to speak with another of the maids. I stood, alone and awkward for a moment, looking about the crowded room for anyone that I might join in pleasant conversation.

“Mistress St. John?” A hand touched my sleeve, and I turned to face Lady Margaret Neville as she spoke to me. “Have you been acquainted with James Hart from Ireland?”

James Hart.

His black hair charmingly tipped up at the ends like ravens’ wings; blue eyes were set in a sun-bronzed face that boasted a scruff that was undecided between a close beard and clean shaven. I must have stared a bit too long.

Lady Margaret Neville disappeared to other hostessing duties and as she did, James said, “Is there something amiss?”

I blushed deeply but could not confess that I found him uncommonly attractive, so afore I could stop myself I said, “I’ve not seen many men who were near clean shaven before I arrived in London.”

He looked shocked and then he laughed aloud. “Well, mistress, do speak your mind.”

“I meant no offense,” I said.

“Nay, offense not taken, especially from such a charming girl,” he said. He smiled in a manner that obliged a like response, willing or not, and I smiled back. A woman several years older than I with the fragrance of good manners swept up behind him and without a word of introduction presented herself for conversation. I took it by her familiar manner that she knew James well, and bowed my head a bit to take my leave. He caught my arm and held it, not tightly enough to hurt but enough that I knew he meant to have my attention. “May I enquire after your name?”

“Mistress St. John,” I reminded him.

He shook his head. “I should like to know your given name.”

“Juliana,” I answered to the impatience of the lady, who now placed her hand on his arm.

“Juliana,” he repeated. “I shall remember it.” Then he bowed and left with his companion.

Later that night, after Lucy had brushed out my hair, I considered, with dismay, that he had called me a charming girl. I did not wish to be looked upon as a girl whilst in Lady Latimer’s elegant household, but rather as a woman.

We rose early the next morn to hunt after Lady Latimer sent fresh horses ahead with some of her stable boys. I was thankful that my father had been fond of finery and that when he procured cloth for his trading he’d also made sure that my mother, my brother, and myself were properly attired, as befitting our station. My mother had lost a babe betwixt me and Hugh and had none after him so my father doted inordinately upon us two. Lucy helped me into a riding suit of wheat-colored velvet that set off my dark hair, combed to a lustrous sheen. “Canna have Mistress Dorothy looking finer than you, m’lady, if’n ’twere possible. Which it aren’t.”

I grinned at her and she continued to glide the brush through my hair.

Lady Margaret Neville instructed a stable boy to give me a fine horse and then I set off with the others. I shall remember to thank her later, I thought, and find a way to repay her for these small kindnesses. Dorothy rode beside me and we made pleasant but wary conversation about our reading and our homes. “You are a fine rider,” I told her, complimenting her gladly, as it was true.

“Thank you,” she said. “As are you. Your riding outfit is perfectly suited to your coloring.”

I then looked at her riding outfit, which was slightly threadbare, and saw that some of her jewels were chipped. Though I knew her family to be more highly placed than my own, I wondered if they had fallen upon difficult times. Mayhap that was the source of her barbs. She saw me looking at her outfit and then spurred on her horse without another word.

I was confused. I hadn’t drawn my gaze to Dorothy’s clothing till she’d noted mine, and then only so I might offer a compliment in return. I was left riding by myself, till one of Lady Latimer’s ladies rode alongside me and made pleasant conversation. I slowed my horse to meet hers and smiled at her gratefully. She smiled back knowingly.

The greyhounds ran ahead of us. Some men of Lady Latimer’s household returned to Charterhouse with the morning’s kill whilst we spread out among the tables and cushions set up for the day’s dinner. ’Twas a generous spread and I was about to indulge myself in a second serving of strawberries, unheard of at my home, when I felt someone come alongside me.

“Ah, strawberries. My favorite fruit. Yours too, I presume, Mistress Juliana?” I turned to face the teasing blue eyes of James Hart. He held his hand out to me, I held out my own in return, and he brushed his lips against my knuckles before letting go.

I had nearly forgotten the question but recovered myself enough to answer. “I had not tasted them before today, Sir James, but yes, I do believe they are a particular favorite now.”

He grinned. “I admire that you do not pretend to have eaten of them often when you have not. And thank you for the honor, but I am simply James, no ‘sir.’ I am not knighted. Yet.”

“James. ’Tis not a particularly Irish name,” I said more to myself.

“Ah, then. You think mayhap my name should be Patrick or Seamus and my sister’s name Siobhan? Would that be Irish enough for you, mistress?” His eyes were still alight but I sensed hurt behind them. I, however, was not to be cowed by one not yet a knight, especially as I had meant no harm.

“I think your name should be Incorrigible and your sister’s name must surely be Patience!”

He threw his head back and laughed, and all caution fled his eyes. “I have no sister, only brothers. And it would please me if you’d call me Jamie. My friends do. And before you tell me that Jamie is not a particularly Irish nickname, ’twas given me by my Scots nurse.”

“Jamie, then,” I said, and smiled without caution in return.

“Would you care to walk with me?” He indicated the large clearing in which the hunting party reposed.

I nodded. As long as I stayed within eyesight, surely there was no harm. I glanced at Lady Latimer, sitting with her sister, Lady Herbert. Lady Herbert had been in charge of Queen Catherine Howard’s jewels afore the king dispatched that young queen heavenward rather sooner than she’d envisioned her departure. Sir Thomas and several of his men, as honored guests, sat with those highest-born ladies too.

I placed my hand in the crook of James’s arm. “I’ve heard that Sir Thomas will be leaving soon for battle in Austria. Will you go with him? I know that he will shortly take his leave and represent the king, joining forces while the emperor fights the Turks.”

“I shall, for the time being. I hope to win some battles. And my knighthood,” James said.

“Shall you be afraid of sailing, or of battle?”

He smiled. “Nay, Juliana. I am eager for battle, to prove myself. And I am comfortable at sea. My family is a shipping family, and we do business with the Seymours, which is how I came to be attached to his household. My brother Oliver spoke with Sir Thomas’s older brother. They became great friends. But Sir Thomas, as an oft-overlooked younger brother himself, had an eye to helping me make a name and enjoy the fruit”—he looked down upon his strawberry-stained fingers—“of the world outside Ireland. He’s brought me to London, with my brother’s full approval, and I work both for his interests and for my family’s, in a partnership. My father was English, God rest his soul.” He paused afore continuing.

“My mother is Irish, and whilst she sees no reason for the Irish to need English training nor anything else English, she knows that King Henry has reaffirmed himself as king of Ireland and it behooves us to see how the wind blows. She’s also raised enough boys to know a man needs to make his own way.”

I wondered if Lady Hurworth understood that a man needed to make his own way, or if Matthias even had a care to find that way for himself. A thought came to mind. I knew it was faintly saucy, but I said it anyway. “I have a particular fondness for a certain Irishman.” ’Twas the sort of thing women said. Not girls.

Jamie raised his eyebrows in pretended shock.

“I’m fond of a kindly Irish priest who took me under his wing when my father passed on,” I admitted with a grin.

James laughed, and I talked about my own home and family, and how my father had considered many Turks his friends, though they be infidels.

He drew near to me—it was both discomfiting and welcome. It was nothing akin to being near Matthias; instead, I was overwarmed, breathless, and pink, as though I’d drunk deeply of wine that had not first been watered. I could grow fond of the Irish scruff rather than a full beard and looked upon with favor the manner in which it highlighted his jaw and lips.

Alas, he moved away and put more space between us; I recalled to mind the woman he had kept company with the night before and wondered if there was an agreement between them.

“I admire that you are young and life has not leached the mettle out of you nor tempered your free speech. But you must have a care, mistress, to whom you speak your mind. London is a merry town, a glittering city, a place to enjoy oneself, and I intend to do just that.” He paused. “A ship, as you know, is great in size, but is turned by a small helm. In the same way, the tiny tongue can bring great damage to the whole body if not controlled.”

“Saint James.” I recognized the passage. “Have you read it for yourself?”

He smiled. “I confess I have not. But what kind of man would I be if I did not read the words of him for whom my father named me? And all sailors know the sailing analogies in holy writ.”

He stood up then, as the rest of our hunting party rallied to begin the hunt back to Charterhouse. “I admit to being grieved that our time together is over, mistress,” he said.

“Juliana,” I reminded him.

“Juliana,” he said softly. “We’ll be taking our leave tomorrow to war.”

“I shall pray for you,” I said. “That you meet with success.”

He held out his hand so I might steady myself afore mounting my horse. After I did he pressed my hand to his lips for much longer than was strictly necessary and yet not nearly long enough.

Later that night Lucy and I heard a knock on my door whilst I was in my chamber, dressing. I slipped into her room whilst she opened the door. ’Twas Jamie’s voice! I hurriedly dressed myself but by the time I had finished and opened the door he had taken his leave.

“’E’s gone,” Lucy said. “But he left this for ye.”

She handed over a small basket in which were ten perfect strawberries and a note. “Thank you for a charming afternoon, beautiful Juliana, and for your prayers.”

“Who was tha’?” Lucy asked.

“A boy I was introduced to last night.”

“Tha’ is no boy, mistress,” Lucy said. “Pardon my correcting your sore eyesight, but tha’ is a man.”

“That is not talk befitting a servant!” I chided her, but she ducked and grinned and I grinned back at her as she left to mend my kirtle.

He found me beautiful.

Was the note an indication of his feelings? Or naught more than courtly manners? It did prod me toward some courtly manners of my own, though. I sent a finely wrought hairnet to one of my especial favorites, Lady Margaret Neville, along with a note thanking her for her many kindnesses. I also sent a ribbon to Mistress Dorothy, because I knew she read, and I enclosed a note indicating that I hoped that it might be of some help for her to save her place.

Dorothy sent back a small posy. We had found a common ground, and mayhap a truce, which delighted me.

The next day, I watched from my window as Sir Thomas and his men gathered on the green before setting out. I spied Jamie near the middle and could not withdraw my gaze from him, glad that he could not see me staring in such an unseemly manner.

That is a man.

Mayhap that is why I’d felt so different with Jamie, why he wound through my thoughts in a quiet moment. He was the full man, whereas Matthias was half-watered.

The fair tidings that autumn were that Lord Latimer returned from Scotland, having proven himself in the service of the realm. After the Pilgrimage of Grace, in which Lord Latimer, a staunch Catholic at heart, unwittingly took sides against the king, Lord Latimer must have felt the need to prove himself and his loyalty. The poor tidings were that he returned home in very bad health. Most often he kept to his chambers and illness whittled him week to week from a virile man into the thin shape to be angled inside a shroud.

Occasionally he dined with us, or Lady Latimer had some of us join them in his chambers so that our youth and frivolity might lift his spirits. One night near Christmastime, she invited me along.

I mostly made small talk with Margaret, his daughter, attempting to distract her from the forthcoming inevitable, but I was well acquainted with the Angel of Death; he had become a familiar during my own father’s ill health and I thus recognized him when he made himself comfortable at Charterhouse.

“The king is completing the renovations on the Lady Mary’s apartments,” Lord Latimer said. “I hear that they are fine and on the river. It seems he has forgiven her and has reinstated her in his affections.”

“I am glad of it,” Lady Latimer said. Her mother had served the Lady Mary’s mother, Katherine of Aragon, as a lady in waiting and indeed, she had been named for that very queen.

“I am glad of it too,” Lord Latimer said. “The king has extended an invitation to us to visit the court after New Year’s, and for you to call upon the Lady Mary.”

We grew quiet, no one wanting to give voice to the obvious.

“I shan’t be well enough to go.” Lord Latimer said it for us. “But you, my dear, you must go. It would not do us well to have him think we shy away from the honor. I’ve agreed on your behalf.”

At that, he succumbed to a fit of coughing from which he was not able to quickly recover. All of us save Lady Margaret Neville and Lady Latimer left the room. That night I wrote a note to Lady Latimer telling her that I was praying for her lord and for herself. I sealed it with wax and handed it to Lucy.

“Please deliver this to one of Lady Latimer’s maids. They shall know when to hand it to her.”

“Are ye certain, mistress? I do na hear of tha other mistresses writing to the lady.”

I nodded and kept my hand, and the note, firmly held in her direction. Reluctantly, she took it.

Two weeks after New Year’s, Lady Margaret Neville came to tell me that Lady Latimer had requested that I come to court with her and a small group of attendants. It was a singular honor and Dorothy was invited too. We would room together.

“I am glad we shall share a chamber,” I said to her.

She grinned. “I too. We can perhaps share our combs and slippers. I’ve noticed that our feet are of a size.” She stuck her right foot out from under her gown and I came alongside her and put my left right next to it.

“Nearly a perfect match!” I said, and then laughed, happy to have a true friend come along on this most unusual adventure. We would depart immediately.