A Dangerous Inheritance

‘I was telling her about going into hiding, and how my father intended to kill the usurper.’

‘Indeed. I am sure my lady here found that most interesting,’ the Lady Margaret said, with a chilly smile at Kate.

‘Yes, she did, and we talked about my father’s rebellion!’ the boy told her.

‘Did you?’ His guardian exchanged glances with her clerk. ‘Well, thank you, my lady, for keeping this young coxcomb entertained. His tongue does run away with him, I fear, usually on matters way beyond his understanding.’ The young Duke made a face. ‘Come,’ the Lady Margaret bade him, ‘it is time for prayers and bed. Good evening, Lady Huntingdon. If this young man should trouble you again, tell him to discuss something more edifying.’

Kate knew she had been warned off. She was perturbed by the Lady Margaret finding her talking of sensitive matters with young Buckingham. William would not like it at all, so she would not dare to mention the encounter to him. She was not supposed to be out anyway, as it was. Yet she hadn’t said anything remotely treasonous; she had but asked a couple of questions that anyone with any curiosity might have asked. It was the boy who had brought up the subject of his father and done most of the talking. Surely no one, even the King’s menacing mother, could take issue with that?

William returned later that evening, ushering in, much to Kate’s surprise, a stranger – clearly a lady of rank. She was a slender gentlewoman in middle life, her oddly familiar face pale, yet showing traces of great beauty. She was clad in a dark gown of soft wool bordered with fur, and one of the new long-lappeted hoods. She was regarding Kate intently and seemed tense and ill at ease.

‘I have a visitor for you, Kate,’ William said quietly. ‘This lady is Mistress Katherine Haute. She is your mother.’

Kate stared at the woman, utterly bewildered and confounded, with all sorts of emotions welling up inside her. The familiarity of that face – of course, she could see it now: it was so like her own.

‘But how …?’ she stammered.

‘My dear, I have made it my business to find out about you,’ the woman said. ‘When your father was alive, I knew you were well cared for. That gladdened my heart, for I was unable to play any part in your life. My duty was to my husband and our sons. My husband had forgiven me for – for what happened, and did not wish to be reminded of it; he insisted I put it behind me. It was not what I wanted, in fact it cost me dear, but you will know that a woman has no choice in such matters.’

Kate nodded, glancing involuntarily at William. He was standing there watching them impassively. She wondered at him allowing this meeting.

She guessed that her mother had not had an easy life, and suspected it had been one long reparation for her sin. You could see that in Katherine Haute’s face. Those lines had been etched there by suffering.

‘I knew of your marriage,’ Katherine Haute went on. ‘We live up in Hertfordshire, but my husband and his family have links to the court, so we are kept well informed. And James did relent sufficiently to tell me that you had married my lord of Huntingdon. I was pleased for you: it is a good match.’ She smiled warily at William, who did not respond. ‘Then I heard of Richard’s death at Bosworth. You must not think, my lady, that I did not love him. I never told him how I felt because I was aware that he did not feel the same way about me. He never knew.’ Her voice tailed off sadly. It was true. Kate remembered her father saying they had not loved each other.

‘Please sit down,’ she invited. Katherine Haute gave her that nervous smile and took the stool by the fire.

‘When I heard of your father’s death, I was worried for you. I feared you would find life difficult without his protection. And when James said we would be coming up to London for the coronation, I resolved to see you, if I could. I reasoned your lord would be here to attend upon the King, and I hoped you would be with him. And so, as soon as we had settled into our lodgings – James has taken rooms in Fleet Street – I sent secret word to your lord at the palace, asking if he would arrange a meeting. And so he has, and may God bless him for it.’

William reddened and muttered something gruffly about being pleased to oblige, and he didn’t see any harm in it.

‘My dear,’ Katherine Haute said, ‘if I can do you any service within my little power, I am ready to do it. I know it is far too late, and that I can never be a proper mother to you, but I would at least be your friend, and have you know that, God willing, I will always be here for you.’ And she rose and held out her arms. With a cry of happiness, Kate went into them. It was like coming home.

They talked for hours, long after William had gone off to his supper with the King. They told each other more of their life stories, and laughed and cried in equal measure. And then Kate found herself confiding to this lovely lady who was, incredibly, her mother all her doubts and fears about the disappearance of the Princes. She knew instinctively that she could trust her.

‘I have heard those evil rumours too,’ Katherine Haute said. ‘Of course, I never believed them. That was not the Dickon I knew.’ It was so good to hear that.

‘I wanted, if I could, to speak with Queen Elizabeth, because she might know something,’ Kate said.

‘I was supposed to be visiting her today,’ her mother told her. ‘That’s what I told James, and indeed, I should see her before he comes to collect me. I’ve known her for years. She and James are cousins. I will ask her if she will receive you.’

‘She may not wish to see me. I am the daughter of her enemy, and Henry Tudor is hostile to me. He thinks I am withholding information about the Princes – he may even imagine I am seeking it as a means of bringing him down! But all I want to know is the truth about my father. It could be difficult for the Queen, associating with me.’

‘Then, my lady, I will ask her myself what she knows, and come back to see you in the morning, at eleven o’clock. I can tell James she has invited me to dine with her.’

‘Would you? Oh that would be so kind,’ Kate breathed. ‘And please do not call me my lady! I may be a countess, but I am your daughter, and I would like you to call me by the name we both bear.’

Katherine Haute looked at her with brimming eyes. ‘Then you should call me Kat, for that is how I am usually known in the family.’

‘Nay,’ Kate said. ‘If I may, I will call you Mother.’

Katherine

October 1561. The Tower of London.

‘The furnishings ordered by the Queen have arrived from the Wardrobe,’ Sir Edward a

‘I thank you for your trouble, Sir,’ I say, wondering why the Lieutenant looks so uncomfortable. ‘The stuff will come in useful, I am sure.’

‘My lady, er – I am somewhat embarrassed by what the Queen has lent. Most of it is so old as to be unusable.’

‘I am sure her Majesty is unaware of that, and it was not what she intended,’ I say hastily.

‘My thoughts exactly, my lady,’ the Lieutenant replies, as our eyes meet, conveying something else entirely. ‘I will have it all brought up, and you may choose anything you think suitable.’

He escorts me to the rooms that have been prepared for me. They are panelled with oak and have latticed windows, and will do very well. But they face Tower Green and the chapel, and I know that every time I look out I will be reminded of my poor sister. Yet I will be far more comfortable here, and these lodgings are a more fitting residence for my son than the Bell Tower.

The furnishings sent by the Queen are indeed decrepit. The six tapestries might cover the walls and shield the draughts, but they must be hundreds of years old, and certainly look it. The pair of Turkey carpets might have been fine once, but they are threadbare and dirty. The oak armchair is rickety, its wood cracked, the stuffing spilling through rents in the rubbed cloth-of-gold padding on its seat and arms. An old purple velvet cushion lies upon it, a dark stain disfiguring its centre.