A Dangerous Inheritance

The Earl turns to his son. ‘I trust you are feeling better now, Harry. You will not know, Katherine, that he has been confined to his bed with a fever these three weeks, but he is happily amended now.’

‘Do not worry,’ Harry protests. ‘I feel much better than I did, really I do!’ And he smiles broadly.

The trumpets are sounding again, and it is time for the wedding feast. Northumberland departs bowing, pleading urgent business with the King – much to my comfort, for I find the man intimidating – and a jubilant Harry takes my hand as, with Jane and Guilford, we lead the merry procession to the great hall. Here the tables are lavishly spread with dishes of every description, all artfully arranged on gold and silver platters, and an impressive array of plate is displayed on a tall, ornate buffet for all to admire. As we seat ourselves at the high table above the great gold salts, the servitors come ru

On my right, Jane waves away roast peacock dressed in its plumage and a hot salad, on which Guilford pounces ravenously, then she turns to me and murmurs, ‘Do you not think it strange that every lord on the Council has deemed it proper to come? And all this lavish display. Our parents did not merit as much when they married. I have heard them speak of it. It was a quiet ceremony, overshadowed by Queen A

I lay down my knife and sip my wine. Her words reawaken my suspicion that there is more to our marriages than we have been given to understand; and suddenly I am no longer so confident about the future.

‘This is disgusting,’ Guilford says, pushing away the salad and reaching once more for his goblet, which has already been refilled several times. Jane ignores him.

‘Think on it,’ she whispers to me, toying with a venison pasty for which she clearly has no appetite. ‘For all their fair words to Northumberland, our parents hate him, and six months ago they would never have condescended to our marrying into a family tainted by treason and not long e

‘But it is a good alliance,’ I argue, in my twelve-year-old wisdom. ‘He is a powerful man. It is important to be friends with him.’

‘Maybe.’ She does not sound convinced. Then she whispers: ‘I just wish I were anywhere else! Tell me, Kat, do you fear your wedding night?’

I can feel the heat suffusing my cheeks. ‘A little. But in truth I do long for it.’

‘You long for it?’ Jane looks shocked. ‘I tell you, I dread it. I hate Guilford. I don’t want him touching me.’ Her tone becomes vehement.

Our mother is leaning forward slightly, frowning down the table at us. We have been taught that it is rude to whisper in company, so I turn and smile at Harry, who has been holding my hand while engaging in a lively discussion with my lady about hunting. He has managed to eat a goodly di

‘Sweet Katherine,’ he says. ‘I shall never forget how beautiful you look this day.’

‘You are not looking so badly yourself, my lord!’ I answer, pert. He laughs, and I am enchanted. The more I come to know of Harry, the more delighted I am in him. Unlike poor Jane, I am not dreading my wedding night.

Perhaps Harry knows why the councillors are all here.

‘It’s out of friendship for Northumberland,’ he tells me, and I feel greatly cheered by that. Of course, it must be. These lords all work closely with him, governing the realm, and many must be related to him. And when Harry leans forward and kisses me again on the lips, more slowly this time, I forget all about them, blushing at the whoops and knowing remarks of those who have observed us. By now, everyone is rosy with wine, all but Guilford, who wears a petulant face; he doesn’t just appear drunk, he looks green. Well, it serves him right for being so greedy!

After the feast, two masques are performed for our entertainment. One is outrageously bawdy, and I don’t understand much of it, but the guests are guffawing and rocking with mirth, so I join in. Only Jane sits there stony-faced as the dancers in their indecent diaphanous costumes weave in and out, singing risqué songs to the very suggestive young man playing Hymenaios, the Greek god of weddings, and his youthful acolytes, the Erotes, gods of love.

Afterwards, laughing and chattering, we go out into the sunlight, making our way in procession to the tiltyard by the river, where we take our places in the stands for the jousts that are to do honour to the marriages. Harry is one of the gallant contestants, and looks very splendid indeed in finely chased tilting armour, seated on his charger. When he bows in the saddle before me, lowering his lance for me to tie on my favour as his chosen lady, my heart feels fit to burst with happiness.

As the crowd roars, hooves thunder across the earth, spears splinter and armoured knights crash to the ground. Harry gives a good account of himself, even though he wins none of the prizes. But I am inordinately proud of him for his efforts. He is but fifteen, much of an age with Guilford, who is now too drunk even to sit straight on his horse and retires early from the tourney. His mother watches him go with a fixed smile. I sense her embarrassment, and I don’t miss the angry looks exchanged by my parents, or Jane’s barely concealed grimace of disgust. Poor, poor Jane, I think, yet again. Her obvious misery makes me feel guilty for being such a joyous bride.

As we walk back to Durham House, in a less orderly fashion than before, she catches up with me as I stroll arm in arm with Harry.

‘Guilford has been sick,’ she mutters. ‘Our mother is worried that people will think we have poisoned him. I told her I didn’t care if we did.’ Harry chuckles, but I am not laughing.

‘What did she say to that?’ I ask.

‘She pinched me hard for my lack of duty to my husband, and told me that I had better start making the best of things and put a smile on my face.’

Guilford is behind us, white-faced and leaning on his mother for support, as my lady makes solicitous noises and promises all ma

It is now evening, and many of the guests take their leave, some of them a touch unsteady on their feet as they wobble into their waiting barges. I see their early departure as ominous, for usually at weddings the company stays to see the bride and groom put to bed, but Harry seems unbothered and I push the thought aside. And anyway, the festivities are continuing, as my parents invite their new kinsfolk to a private banquet. Harry squeezes my hand as he leads me to the table; already there is a sense of togetherness between us. I am in no doubt that he likes me as much as I like him.

Guilford is looking a little better now – well enough to guzzle the delicious sweetmeats provided – and the Duchess of Northumberland is disposed to be gracious about the shortcomings of our cook. My lady the Countess of Pembroke is full of smiles for me, her new daughter-in-law, and talks of dogs and horses and the happy life I will lead with my new family at Wilton Abbey, the Herberts’ country residence in Wiltshire; and the Earl adds a kind word here and there, telling me how comfortable and welcome I will be there.

‘But tonight you will lodge with us at our town house, Baynard’s Castle,’ he says. ‘I hear that the Lady Jane is to return home to Suffolk House with your parents.’

That sounds a little strange. Jane is to return home, while I am to go to my husband’s house?

‘What of Lord Guilford, Sir?’ I ask.

‘He too is to return to his parents.’

‘I see,’ I say, but in truth I do not. And I am not much enlightened later, when I meet Jane coming out of the stool chamber.

‘I am so glad to see you, Kat,’ she says, looking a lot happier than she had been earlier. ‘I have such good news. I am not to bed with Guilford for the present. I can go back home to my studies, at least for a while!’