A Dangerous Inheritance

‘I am relieved to see it,’ he replied, with feeling. He loathes disruption, and having lost patience with Jane for making so much trouble over her betrothal, he had been difficult to live with for days.

‘Well, Katherine, I expect you are waiting to hear the name of the fortunate young man who is to be your husband,’ he was saying.

‘Yes, Sir, I am.’

My father put his hand into his doublet and pulled out a small, delicate oval object rimmed in bright gold.

‘Behold!’ he said, and gave it to me. It was a miniature portrait of a young man wearing russet clothing; he had brown curls, merry eyes and a pleasant, open face. The gold letters on the blue background proclaimed, in Latin, that he was in his sixteenth year.

I am i

I looked up at my waiting parents and found my voice.

‘Sir, Madam, I could not have asked for a more handsome gentleman for a husband. Thank you, oh thank you!’

They beamed at me.

‘Don’t you want to know who he is?’ my father chuckled.

‘Yes, Sir, please … Who is he?’

‘Henry, Lord Herbert, son and heir to the Earl of Pembroke. The Herberts are an old and noble family. One day you will be my lady the Countess of Pembroke. It’s an excellent match.’

‘It is indeed,’ added my mother, ‘and I am gratified to see that you are suitably grateful. You’re a good girl, Katherine.’

‘May I ask a question?’ I ventured.

‘You may,’ said my father.

‘Sir, I understand why you are pleased to be marrying me to Lord Herbert, for he is a fine gentleman and will make me a countess. But you said earlier that this match would be of great benefit to the realm. I do not understand.’

‘This marriage pleases my lord of Northumberland, and binds us to his affinity. Pembroke is a great and influential nobleman, and an alliance with him is much to our advantage.’

‘And I am certain that he sees it as being much to his advantage too, to be allied with our royal blood,’ my mother added drily. ‘Katherine, you may rest content that your marriage will please many people, including the King himself.’

‘It is to take place as soon as possible,’ my lord informed me. ‘We are pla

It was arranged that my lord of Pembroke and his son should visit us in our new house, the former priory of the Charterhouse, at Sheen, which was granted to my father by the King earlier this year. Its splendid red-brick buildings and courts are dominated by a solid square tower with battlements, and it nestles close beside the River Thames amid the gentle wooded hills of Surrey.

When King Edward succeeded and England was proclaimed a Protestant kingdom, my parents ardently embraced the new faith. My father had profited well from King Harry’s break with Rome and the closure of the monasteries: he got not only Sheen, and before that the Minories in London, but also Bradgate in Charnwood Forest, where he built us a grand house on the ruins of an abbey.

My parents keep great state at Sheen, which is arrayed with the very best in tapestries, Turkey carpets, displays of gold and silver plate, and gilded furniture, such as would impress even the King himself. And on the day when the Herberts were due to arrive, my mother decreed that I should be nobly decked out too, just as Jane had been when my lord of Northumberland had brought his son Guilford on a similar occasion.

That had not gone well. Jane did not trouble to hide her aversion to Guilford, whom I thought a handsome but stupid youth. He too clearly had no inclination for the marriage. That was the first occasion on which I met John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, the man who rules England as Lord President of the Council while my cousin King Edward is a minor, and I was overawed by the cold and arrogant ma

He is not liked. My father is much in Northumberland’s confidence, and active in the government of the kingdom, but I’ve heard my parents call the Duke an upstart, greedy and grasping knave, and scorn him as the son of an executed traitor – but only when they were not aware that I was listening. Since breaking the news of Jane’s betrothal, they have loudly praised his virtues as a husband and father, his statecraft, his courtesy and his exploits in the tiltyard.

But outward appearances are not always what they seem, especially among great folk. The very attitude of my parents towards Northumberland has shown me that a man or woman may say fair words outwardly, yet utter something quite different in private. I suspect that my father might merely be feigning friendship with Northumberland while using him for his own ends, for sure it is that an alliance with the Duke is the fastest way to advancement in this kingdom.

I instantly disliked the man. I was almost beneath his notice, thank goodness: he was too puffed up with his own importance even to acknowledge me beyond a courtesy bow; and he was plainly simmering with anger at Jane’s sullen reception of his son. My parents were all false gaiety and bonhomie, but later, when the guests had gone, they bared their teeth and snarled at my sister, who was sent to bed without supper for her discourtesy.

But today would be different, I was sure, for I was very happy to be betrothed to the fine young man in the miniature, and most eager to meet him. I could barely stand still for impatience as Mrs Ellen laced me into my yellow velvet gown with its neckline edged with delicate gold filigree beads and cutwork embroidery, its full skirts spread gracefully over a wide farthingale and a kirtle of crimson silk. She reproved me for fidgeting as she adjusted my oversleeves, clasped the chain of my scented pomander around my waist, and brushed my hair till it shone.

‘No hood today,’ she decreed. ‘You must wear your hair loose, as becomes a maiden.’

The effect in the mirror she held up was very pleasing, and I was thrilled that Lord Herbert – I could not yet think of him as Henry – would see me looking so fine on our first meeting.

The day being warm, we had thrown open the parlour windows to let in the light, fresh breeze from the river. The long oak table had been spread with a crisp white cloth and laid with silver candlesticks and an array of gold plate laden with cold meats and raised pies, tarts both savoury and sweet, and tall pyramids of fruit, with great ewers of Venetian glass full of good wine. There were bowls of sweet-smelling flower petals on the side table, and fragrant herbs scattered along the tablecloth.

My mother bustled about in her silken gown, hectoring the servants to ensure that no small detail should be overlooked. My father, who had gone out hunting at dawn, had been sent upstairs to change into his noblest apparel, and was now sprawling elegantly in his chair, reading a book. For all his inclination to sport and pleasure, he does love learning and is exceptionally well read.

Jane was reading too, huddled on the window seat. She was, as usual, in disgrace, having made her appearance in a black gown unadorned with any jewellery. It was only after some sharp words from our mother that she do

Our younger sister, Mary, was not to be present. I have not spoken so far of Mary, because she rarely has a part to play in my story. My parents hardly mention her, and on the day of my betrothal they a