A Dangerous Inheritance

‘This would all explain a letter my mother received from him a week ago,’ William ventured slowly.

‘Your mother had a letter from Henry Tudor?’ Richard was shocked.

‘They correspond from time to time, purely on domestic matters. You’ll remember, Dick, that she was as a mother to him when he lived at Raglan as a child, and he has an enduring fondness for her. His letters come via merchants, under a false name, but there is nothing treasonable about them, I assure you. I read them all.’

‘Even so, some might deem it treason, this correspondence,’ his brother muttered. ‘I’m surprised at you for allowing it.’

‘There are no royal spies here at Raglan,’ William said. ‘We’re pretty isolated.’

‘You’re married to the King’s own daughter, man! Are you a fool?’

‘She knows nothing of this. I do not involve her in my affairs, and my loyalty is not in question. But I have digressed. In his letter, Henry Tudor spoke again of marrying our sister Maud.’

‘Maud? But it was years ago that our father mooted that match.’

‘Aye, but the fact that Henry is reviving it now suggests he believes Elizabeth will marry the King and that he is casting around for an alternative bride. Maud might not be royal, but she would bring the Welsh rallying to his cause.’

‘We should avoid all dealings with this!’ Richard snapped. ‘I trust your mother destroyed the letter.’

‘She burned it. But you know, she was a little torn. It was our father’s dying wish that that betrothal be revived, and she was loath to go against his wishes. But fear not, I made it plain to her that meddling in Henry Tudor’s marriage wouldbe treason.’

‘Aye, it would. And so would any further communication with him at this time.’

‘I hear you. Will this marriage of the King’s go ahead?’

‘I know not, such is the outcry against it. But I’m told he is determined. He has shu

Kate found all this impossible to credit. In her mind was a picture of her father and A

She could listen to no more. Tiptoeing away, she hastened up to bed, and wept into her pillow. When William came up soon afterwards, he noticed that her cheeks were streaked with tears. But, being a man of little imagination, he did not trouble himself to wonder what might have upset her.

Katherine

June–July 1561. Greenwich Palace, the Savoy Hospital, London Wanstead and Beaulieu, Essex.

May God help me. I know for certain now that I am with child, and probably have been for some time, for my courses have dried up entirely and my belly is swelling. Since soon after that sad day when I bade a piteous farewell to Ned and watched his tall, elegant figure disappear into the dawn mist, I have had to instruct Mrs Ellen to lace my stomacher ever tighter.

‘For pity’s sake, Lady Katherine!’ she cries, as I urge her to pull harder. ‘This ca

‘It has taken no harm,’ I declare, gritting my teeth and trying to breathe in even more. ‘I first felt it move a week ago, and it has not ceased since. In fact, it may have been moving before, but I thought I had wind.’

‘You ca

‘Ah, but what will happen once the child is born?’ I am quaking with fear at the prospect. Women who plead their bellies still face execution after the birth.

‘I do not know,’ Mrs Ellen admits, looking troubled.

‘I have no choice. I must conceal my condition for as long as possible, then feign illness so that I can leave court when I can hide it no more.’

This is not my only pressing worry. There comes a day when I have an appointment with Mr Secretary Cecil. It is of my seeking, for my allowance has not been paid. The matter is dealt with quickly and to my satisfaction, but I am aware all the time of Cecil’s appraising glances, and when our business is concluded, he sits back in his chair, folds his hands on his belly, and regards me evenly.

‘Lady Katherine,’ he says, ‘it has come to my notice – and that of others – that you have a certain fondness for my lord of Hertford.’

‘I am fond of him, Sir, for that he is brother to the Lady Jane Seymour, for whom I grieve yet. We were all good friends.’

‘ Friendsis not how I would describe what has been reported to me,’ he says. ‘I am advised that there is more between you than that. Indeed, your familiarity with the Earl is increasingly the subject of comment, and I must warn you that it would be foolish to continue it without her Majesty’s consent. Do you still say there is nothing between you?’

‘Nothing of which I should be ashamed!’ I retort, wishing he had made himself as plain last year, and not tried to cozen us with false friendship.

‘Then there is something.’ Cecil’s eyes are kindly, inviting confidences. ‘My lady, if there is anything that you should confess to the Queen’s Majesty, I urge you to do it now, and throw yourself on her mercy. I say this as a friend.’

‘I assure you, Sir, there is nothing to confess,’ I persist.

‘If there were, I should counsel you to avoid such familiarity in future,’ Cecil says.

‘There would be no need,’ I declare.

‘Naturally, since Lord Hertford is in France,’ the Secretary says smoothly. ‘I assure you his mission there is a necessary one.’ And by that I know Ned has been sent there to get him away from me. Maybe the Queen knows everything, and it is all a plot to shame and discredit me.

‘Of course; his sister did say something about it,’ I mumble.

Cecil gives me a long look, but says no more. When I take my leave, I am trembling.

I know there is gossip about me in the Privy Chamber. Conversations cease as I enter a room, and I catch the maids whispering and glancing in my direction. Then one day two of the ladies attendant on her Majesty draw me aside.

‘Lady Katherine, forgive me,’ says the gentle Lady Northampton, ‘but I have heard disturbing talk of great goodwill between you and the Earl of Hertford.’

‘Aye,’ says pretty Lady Clinton, ‘and that is not all that is said.’ Her eyes glance down briefly at my belly.

‘There is nothing between us!’ I flare. ‘Even Mr Secretary has spoken to me of these rumours, but I have reassured him that they arejust rumours! I don’t know what all the fuss and ado is about.’

‘It is Mr Secretary who has asked us to speak with you,’ Lady Northampton reveals. ‘He fears he was unhelpful in his approach to you, and that we, as women, might put the matter better. But my dear, he is assured by reliable reports that you and my Lord Hertford are more than mere friends, and he urges you to make a clean breast of all to the Queen.’

‘There is nothing to tell her!’ I protest, my voice sounding shrill. ‘Lord Hertford is a good friend of my family, no more. My mother regarded him as a son after he was betrothed to my sister Jane. His mother was my guardian, and I was bosom friends with his sister. How could I not be close to him? The rest is lies, and I am astonished that people should believe them!’

‘Then forgive us,’ Lady Clinton soothes. ‘We have spoken out of turn, and Mr Secretary is clearly mistaken. Yet he did say we should warn you to beware of keeping company with the Earl, so we felt we should do so.’