The Queen's Mistake Read online

  When he saw her approaching, Thomas tried to turn and leave, but she caught up with him, clamping a hand on his arm. The connection was instantly a strong one.

  “I haven’t much time. We must speak privately,” Catherine urged.

  “The risk is too great,” he said, not daring to look at her. “Everyone knows you are about to become the king’s wife.”

  “You know my heart will never be his. Please come away and speak with me, Thomas; I beg you. We have only a moment as it is,” she pleaded.

  Thomas relented. Down the corridor from the great hall, they found a small, dark alcove that smelled of beeswax and urine. The moment they were inside, he swept her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him desperately. She began to kiss his cheeks, neck and chin.

  “I have missed you! Why have you been avoiding me?”

  “You know why, Catherine. I love you, but I value both of our lives. The king regards you as his property, and he does not suffer thieves.”

  He pushed her away, but she pressed into him even more tightly.

  “There must be something we can do to fight this,” she whispered urgently as her fingers snaked down to his codpiece, searching for reassurance of his passion for her.

  Thomas tipped his head back as she touched him, his eyes closing, but he tried to regain his senses. “This will solve nothing, Catherine,” he warned in an agonized whisper as she pushed her hand past the waistband of his trunk hose, latching onto him with a tender, experienced hand.

  Catherine kissed his neck, then his mouth as she touched him. “I am only taking what is mine, what I want more than anything in this life to be mine.”

  It was dangerous, with courtiers and guards passing by just beyond the shadows, but that only heightened Catherine’s pleasure. As they kissed more urgently, mouths open, tongues entwined, Thomas covered her hand with his and began to guide it in a rhythm that quickly brought him to the brink.

  When it was over, Thomas sank against the paneled wall, his face half-hidden in shadow. “Marry me,” he bade her in a deep whisper. “Run away with me at first light. I have enough money saved to last us at least a year and—”

  “And then what will we do?”

  “We will find a way. We are smart and resourceful.”

  “But neither of us is resourceful enough to outrun the king, much less my uncle. No, let’s not lose hope. There are so many beautiful and willing girls at court. Perhaps the king will grow weary of me before his divorce is finalized.”

  Thomas was not swayed by her optimism. “That would be impossible. No one else at court possesses your rare combination of beauty, youth, vigor and charm.”

  Catherine was flattered, but not fooled. “The king simply desires someone who could make him feel young again, which any determined girl could really do.”

  “I am not willing to risk it, Catherine,” Thomas said firmly.

  “And I am not willing to risk our lives,” Catherine said, trying to make Thomas see reason.

  Thomas straightened the pleats of his doublet, tugging them hard in frustration. “You won’t marry me, will you?”

  Catherine sighed. “You have to give me time. If we are very fortunate and he grows weary of me or finds someone new, he might sanction a marriage and settle an estate on us. He favors you so much, Thomas, and I have seen his gaze upon Anne Basset more than once. If we are strong enough to wait it out, we just might win.”

  Thomas framed her face with his hands and kissed her again. “I never knew you were such an optimist.”

  “I never had anything I truly wanted until now,” Catherine said with a smile.

  Five minutes later, she rejoined the king, who, it appeared, had not stopped laughing and talking with his two daughters for an instant. Nor had he stopped drinking. She could see that his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were bloodshot and his words were slurred.

  “Ah, there you are, Mistress Howard! I thought someone might have stolen you away.”

  “Of course not, Your Majesty. I only needed a breath of air after such a sumptuous meal.”

  “Not one of your headaches again, was it?” he asked, too drunk to be truly concerned.

  “No, sire,” she replied.

  “Ah, good, good. Because if a rival had stolen you away, I would have to kill him,” he declared with a laugh. She felt an odd little shiver but shook it off with a gentle smile.

  “My father says you play cards well,” Elizabeth interjected.

  “Better than I dance,” Catherine replied, grateful for the change of subject.

  “Nonsense, you are a delightful dancer,” Henry declared as he took a large bite of the meat pie before him. The juice dribbled down his chin and glistened on the whiskers of his copper beard. Catherine forced herself to look away to hide her repulsion.

  “Your Majesty flatters me.”

  “I hope so,” he said with a grin.

  “Will you play with us tomorrow after prayers?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I shall not be joining you, I am afraid,” Mary said quickly before Catherine could respond. “I must read Saint Thomas Aquinas with my ladies after prayer and discuss it. They are all planning on it.”

  “How frightfully dull.” Elizabeth giggled.

  “Now, now. Only good can come by reading godly works,” Henry said.

  “But my lord Seymour says those are the works of the Papists,” Elizabeth countered.

  “My lord Seymour seems not to be the best influence on our Elizabeth when the two of them are brought together,” Mary remarked in a clipped tone.

  Catherine knew that her ardent belief in the true religion could bring her closer to the king’s elder daughter, but she chose to remain silent for now. The king, after all, had initiated the reformed Church of England. She did not want to approach that hornet’s nest.

  As she looked away to avoid the tension, she caught a glimpse of Thomas watching her from across the room. His expression was one somewhere between sadness and pity.

  She was trapped, and they both knew it.

  When she returned to her room later that night, she sank onto the edge of her bed and kicked off her shoes. As they clattered to the floor, she saw, on her bedside table, a large silver brooch in the shape of a rose. Such an exquisite piece of jewelry could have come only from the king. The girls, other maids of honor, in her doorway tittered and whispered as she picked it up, confirming her suspicions. Catherine looked more closely at the costly gift. The petals had been painted pink and the stem was encrusted with diamonds. It struck her that it had been fashioned with absolutely no thorns.

  What a unique flower, she thought, yet how utterly unrealistic.

  The next morning, after matins, Catherine was shown to the king’s great private gallery. The vaulted space was carpeted, and had a row of floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the garden, and walls that were lined with tapestries, mirrors and maps. She was there by the king’s command to play cards with His Majesty and his youngest daughter. She was surprised then to see Norfolk’s son, Henry, Edward and Thomas Seymour, the king’s two nieces, and Lady Lisle and Anne Basset seated at a large marble-topped Venetian table. Having another young beauty there such as Anne would put a new and interesting spin on things, Catherine thought. With talk of the divorce between the king and queen at a crescendo in the halls of court, many, besides her uncle, were intent on offering a replacement for Anne of Cleves.

  Lady Lisle was foremost among them.

  For just an instant, as Catherine watched the king’s eyes drop to Anne Basset’s cleavage and linger a moment too long, she allowed herself a spark of hope. After all, if His Majesty chose someone other than her as his next queen, how could anyone blame her for healing her broken heart by moving on?

  “Do sit beside me, Mistress Howard,” Elizabeth said excitedly.

  The sound of the little girl’s voice drew Catherine back from her thoughts and made her smile. Elizabeth seemed so eager to be friends with her that it w
as slightly shocking, especially in the face of Mary’s open contempt for her. When she glanced at the king, he nodded for her to sit in the chair between him and Elizabeth. She heard a light scoff at the gesture from Lady Lisle, who quickly pretended to clear her throat. When she had recovered herself, she pierced Catherine with her gaze.

  “That is a lovely brooch, Mistress Howard,” Lady Lisle said, drawing everyone’s attention. Catherine touched the rose at her breast and caught the king’s preening expression.

  “Thank you. It was a gift.”

  “Quite an extravagant one,” Lady Lisle said with a hint of scorn in her voice.

  “I was honored to accept it.”

  “It was from the king!” Elizabeth excitedly interjected. “I helped him choose it from the royal collection.”

  “What a delight.” Lady Lisle sniffed as she picked up her cards.

  “So tell me, Mistress Howard,” said Edward Seymour as he began to deal the cards quickly, sending them in a spray across the glossy inlaid table. “Where has my lord Duke of Norfolk gone? I’ve not seen him since we were at Nonsuch.”

  “He is in London on business for the Crown,” the king quickly replied in a gruff tone, exchanging a glance with Catherine. His brows merged into a frown as he studied the hand of cards he had been dealt. “It is my most ardent wish to see him return as soon as possible. I want the whole business over with, believe me.”

  “It is my wish as well, Your Majesty. He is a good friend to us all,” Edward replied.

  “Do stop, Edward. Envy is such a difficult thing to mask, even with flattery,” the king retorted, not in the mood for the usual games.

  Just then, a page appeared bearing a dispatch for Henry. He bowed and handed the folded vellum to the king, who broke the wax seal with his fat thumb. Silence fell around them as Henry read and began to scowl. Catherine glimpsed the bold and scrawling handwriting, though she tried to avert her eyes.

  When he finished reading, he laughed, then crumpled the inked vellum. He cast it to the floor and, with a huff, struggled to his feet. Everyone else quickly rose with him. Their smiles and expressions of ease gave way to worried looks. Henry grunted as he hobbled across the room to the open doors. A page dutifully followed.

  “Is there to be a response, Your Majesty?” the page asked.

  “None. My silence will say it all.” He drew in a deep, rheumy breath, and Catherine watched as he tried to collect himself. His face was red, but his expression was frighteningly blank. Catherine hoped the letter had nothing to do with her. She did not want to be the cause of the cold, dead look in his eyes.

  Chapter Twelve

  July 1540

  The Tower, London

  It was not the scene that Norfolk expected when he was shown into Cromwell’s vast chamber cell, which faced the barge-dotted, briny Thames. Cromwell’s eyes were glazed, and his once impeccably shaved chin was now covered with a scruffy white beard. Still, the duke refused to yield to even the slightest tug of pity. He had waited too long not to relish fully the great chief minister’s final destruction.

  But Norfolk knew that Cromwell would not go down without a fight. “You lied to the king!” Cromwell cried, lunging at his elegantly dressed rival as Norfolk tossed his gray kid gloves onto a table.

  “Come now, Thomas, you made your own bed with him when you showed antipathy for the true religion, which first set these wheels in motion. You have become a dangerous heretic, and that cannot be allowed to prevail.”

  “I follow the faith of our sovereign, for the love of God!” Cromwell shouted, his face red with anger.

  “Now, that is a pity, choosing ambition over your faith,” Norfolk said coolly.

  “You have never chosen anything but ambition!”

  “Yes, but Howards are more judicious in exercising their ambition.” Norfolk began to pace the room. “Shall I tell you your first mistake? You did not realize that the king’s devotion to the false religion follows his desire. When it served Henry to go against Rome to win Anne Boleyn to his bed, he did it. In time, his desire for another will bring him back to the true faith.” He casually ran a finger over the surface of a bureau thick with dust. Wrinkling his nose, he rubbed his hands together before he continued. “You have heard, of course, that His Majesty will soon take another queen. A devoted Catholic queen.”

  “Your niece.”

  “Who else?” Norfolk paused as his gaze fully descended upon his defeated rival.

  “I am to be executed, am I not?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “But I just testified on His Majesty’s behalf in the divorce suit. I took the blame for everything, and he is a free man now! Can you not speak to him for me, at the very least? Tell him I am ever his humble servant and I have learned from my errors. I will retire to the country if he prefers. I have family, Norfolk. You know my Gregory. For the love of God, to whom you say you are so devoted, can you not show me a bit of mercy?”

  “Dear Thomas. Groveling does not become you.”

  Norfolk strode purposefully to the door and gave it one sound rap. A moment later, the clatter of huge keys in the iron lock filled the strained silence as a hot and dry summer wind rattled the leaded windows.

  “Then what the devil did you come here for?” Cromwell raged.

  Norfolk glanced back, his lined, drooping face full of disdain. “Why, to bid you farewell, of course. And now I have done that,” Norfolk replied coldly.

  The next afternoon, at Hampton Court, the dowager duchess and the duke appeared unannounced in Catherine’s apartments. The duke was still wearing his riding clothes. His boots were mud-caked, his ruddy, veined cheeks were flushed, and his long, gray kid gloves were bunched in his hand. The scents of wool and leather swirled around him.

  As they entered the room, Catherine rose from her embroidering hoop, surprised by the unexpected visit. Jane rose beside her. Mary Lassells was folding linen across the room, but available to hear every word should there be some interesting exchange.

  “We must speak privately,” Agnes announced with an uncharacteristically broad, beaming smile, revealing gray, uneven teeth that people rarely saw because she so infrequently smiled.

  Catherine glanced at Jane. Oh, Lord, no, she thought, feeling a sudden, cold rush of panic. Both of them coming together to speak with her could not be good. She cleared her throat, then straightened the folds of her dress, trying to prepare herself, but the room began to spin and her legs went weak. Catherine was quite certain, as the duke rubbed his hands together, that she would not survive this.

  “Lady Rochford has my complete confidence. Can she not remain? Her presence has become a comfort to me.”

  “Catherine, this is not a time for childishness,” said the dowager. “Did we not leave that behind at Horsham?”

  “Oh, now, Agnes, the girl is right. Lady Rochford may actually be of assistance to us, with her broader female perspective,” said Norfolk, casting his gloves onto a table with Catherine’s Bible, bound in worn red leather. There was a glass flagon of wine beside it. He poured himself a silver cupful and swallowed the entire contents before he turned to Catherine.

  “It has happened at last. Glory be to God. I have just come from Parliament. The last of the testimony has been given and the details finalized. His Majesty is officially a single man, and I myself delivered a petition from Parliament to the king begging him . . . Let me remember . . . ah, yes: ‘For the good of your people, we implore you to enter into a fifth and final union with a new queen, so that God may bestow upon His Glorious Majesty many fine, strong sons.’ That last bit, of course, was my own elegant turn of phrase.”

  “Saints be blessed,” Agnes murmured, steepling her hands and pressing them to her lips with a dramatic flourish.

  “What of the poor queen?” Catherine dared to ask, not certain she even wanted to hear the response.

  Norfolk chuckled. “You are not to worry about her. The princess of Cleves will want for nothing, since she had the good
sense to comply throughout the divorce proceedings. The details have been worked out.” He poured himself another cup of wine, then held the silver cup to the sunlight as if looking for flaws. “She is to remain in England as the king’s ‘dear sister,’ which is how she shall be formally known henceforth. She will be given Richmond Palace and Hever Castle, Anne Boleyn’s family home.”

  He feigned a little expression of regret before he continued.

  “She will also be given precedence over every other lady at court, after the king’s daughters and the future queen, of course. Thus, I arrive at our purpose for this visit.” The duke drank the wine in one gulp, then set the cup back down with a flourish. He was smiling. But it was nothing mirthful. Rather, it was a cool, calculated grin.

  “Naturally, as we spoke of his being free, and even obligated to remarry, the subject between His Majesty and myself shifted away from Anne of Cleves.”

  Catherine sighed audibly, causing the dowager to shoot her an angry glare. She tried to maintain her composure, but the room was stifling and unbearably hot, made worse by the tension in the air. Catherine felt the sweat pool in the space between her breasts beneath her heavy silk gown, and the hard boning of the stomacher pinched so tightly it made it impossible to catch her breath. She hated summer.

  “He asked me if he would meet with an objection if he pursued your hand, my dear.”

  Catherine was in a panic. Did you tell him yes, most definitely yes? She longed to throw herself at the duke and cry out these words. Did you tell him he is old and decaying, that he smells worse than death? Did you tell him that I would object and shriek Thomas’s name?

  “Of course, I said His Majesty’s consideration of so unworthy a girl as my niece is an honor to all Howards.”

  The dowager was beaming. Jane shifted beside her.

  I shall not survive this, Catherine thought, her heart thumping wildly against her chest. I know I shall not!