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Life was good. From his great castle of Middleham, their father ruled the whole of the north, almost like another king. He kept great state in his household, a lavish table, and a vast train of retainers who wore his badge of the white boar. His family resided in luxurious apartments, furnished with the best that money could buy, and everything was carved and gilded by master craftsmen, or draped and hung with the most costly fabrics.
The best tutors were appointed to teach the children; the Duke even insisted that Kate be taught lessons with the boys, saying a well-born girl should know how to read and write. Those skills would bring her pleasure, he promised, and gave her the run of his library, where she spent happy hours poring over exquisite illuminated manuscripts and some of the new printed books made by Master Caxton on his recently established press at Westminster.
She would also, Richard added, find that a good education would help her in other ways.
‘One day,’ he said to her, when she was ten, ‘you will be the mistress of a great household, for I intend to find a wealthy husband for you.’ He had said this before, and meant well, but Kate hated to hear him talking about her marriage, because marrying would mean leaving her home, her close kin, and all she held dear, and perhaps living very far away. Her fear was all the greater because the years were passing by and she was well aware that girls of her rank were often married off at fourteen or fifteen, or even younger. But she never said anything for she knew that her father only wanted the best for her. He had often told her that too.
This time, though, he said more. It was growing late; the Duchess and the two boys had retired to bed, and Kate was just about to follow them, wishing that the Duke had not brought up the subject of her marriage. But he stayed her, and bade her sit opposite him by the hearth, in the Duchess’s chair.
‘There is something I must tell you, my Kate,’ he said, his strong, lean face with its prominent nose and chin looking slightly tense. ‘You are old enough now. You must never doubt my love for you, child; you know I would do anything for you. But the truth is … that you were born out of wedlock. You are aware of this, I know: I charged Agnes to tell you as soon as you were of an age to understand.’
‘Yes, Sir.’ She was amazed that he should speak to her of this. In the four years she had known she was baseborn, she had never dared mention it, for she knew that such matters were unseemly, and she could never have summoned up the words to voice her questions to her father. In fact, she had never voiced them to anyone. She feared to upset the Duchess, and had no wish to draw attention to the divide between her and John and their half-brother Edward. It was enough to know that she had been lucky, for to be baseborn was not a desirable state; and there was a worse word for it too – she had overheard the waspish Cecily saying it behind her back: bastard, little bastard. That had hurt. Fortunately, Cecily had since married and moved away, and was no longer there to torment her.
‘I did not love your mother,’ her father said, ‘and she did not love me, but she was very beautiful, just like you.’
Kate did not like to meet his furrowed gaze – it did not seem fitting – so she stared at the crackling flames instead. The Duke, taking quick sips of his wine, continued his tale.
‘I was her knight, paying my addresses to my chosen lady. But my chosen lady was married, and matters went too far. She told me she was with child. She had to tell her husband too, and he forbade her ever to see me again. Give him his due, he arranged for her to go away to a nu
‘What was my mother’s name, Sir?’ Kate ventured.
‘Katherine. You are named for her.’ And then he told her all he thought she needed to know about her mother: the few bare facts of her name, her station in life and where she lived. He did not tell Kate what she burned to know. Did Katherine Haute think often of the daughter she had been forced to relinquish? Had it torn her apart to give her child away, or had her shame made her anxious to get rid of it? Had she ever felt love for her baby? Did she wonder what Kate was doing, and if she thought about the woman who had brought her into the world?
‘What did she look like, my mother?’ Kate asked, thinking this a safe question.
‘She was brown-haired like you,’ her father said, ‘with blue eyes and a pretty mouth. She dressed well, as I remember. But in truth, Kate, I knew her for such a short time that my memory of her has faded. Suffice it to say she was a charming lady with a ready laugh and high spirits. And she was quick-witted, I remember. In fact, she was much like you.’
Kate could not help herself. ‘Will I ever meet her?’ she implored. ‘I would love to know her, even just a little.’
The Duke shifted in his chair and frowned. ‘No, Kate. I fear it is out of the question. I gave my word that I would never try to see her again. I did it for the sake of her marriage and her future happiness. I ca
‘No matter,’ she mumbled. And in a way, when she thought about it in bed that night, it didn’t matter, not too much. She was loved. She had a father, and to all good purposes a mother, and two brothers. Her real mother was a stranger. With sudden grown-up insight, she realised that Mistress Haute might not wish to be confronted with the living evidence of her sin, and that it might have disastrous consequences for her, given that her husband sounded a stern, vengeful man. And Kate was bound to honour her father’s promise, as he did. So she tried very much to lay her i
Being bastards both, John and Kate shared a common bond. When she judged him old enough, they would whisper together about their mothers, and speculate about them. John was an easy-going, unimaginative boy, though, and did not display the same lively curiosity as Kate did – and maybe it was just as well. For John was the fruit of adultery: he had been born not two years after their father’s marriage. No one had ever spoken openly of this, and Kate sensed that it would not be wise to enquire about his mother. She thought it showed exceptional kindness on the part of the Duchess to have taken him in and cared for him as tenderly as she did, for the news of his birth must have caused her great pain, and he was a constant living reminder of her lord’s infidelity.
And yet, A
She had overheard the damsels whispering one night in the maidens’ dorter, which she shared with them after she became too old to sleep in the same chamber as the boys. They must have thought she had fallen into slumber, and in truth she nearly had, but what she heard made her prick up her ears.