I nodded. I knew what would happen. They would question him, and he would be persuaded to answer them. Persuaded? In what way? How strong was he? I had thought him a dashing fellow—but one can never tell who can stand up against the rack.
We heard later that he confessed that, when they were together in the Duchess's household, the Queen had promised to marry him. They had thought of themselves as husband and wife, and others had considered them as such; they had exchanged love-tokens. They had lived together in the Duchess's household as husband and wife.
They tried to force him to admit that when he returned and was taken into the Queen's household the relationship between them had been that which they had enjoyed in the Duchess's. This he stoutly denied. There had never been the slightest intimacy between him and Catharine since her marriage to the King.
We heard that the King shut himself in his apartments, that he had burst into tears, that he had raged against fate for ruining his marriage. There was great speculation. Would the King waive her early misdemeanors and take her back?
Even I, who knew him so well, was unsure of what he would do. I wished that I could have seen him, talked to him. I could imagine his tortured mind. He wanted to believe her innocent and on the other hand he wished to know the worst.
I think he might have relented. He could usually be relied on to adjust what he considered right with what he wanted; and he wanted Catharine Howard. There was no doubt of that. I think he would have taken her back if it had not been for Culpepper.
It is not easy for people in high places to act and no one know what they are doing. Catharine had received Culpepper in her chamber, and Lady Rochford had helped her arrange the meetings.
It was all coming out. There were men like Thomas Wriothesley who were determined to ruin the Queen and make reconciliation with the King impossible.
How I hated that man! There was cruelty in him. He sought all the time to bring advantage to himself, and he cared not how he came by it.
All those connected with the early life of Catharine Howard were now in the Tower—even the poor Duchess of Norfolk, sick and ailing, and a very frightened old woman.
My father must have tortured himself. He could not believe that his dear little Queen, his “rose without a thorn,” could possibly have had a lover when she was his wife. That was something he found it hard to forgive. That was the charge he had brought against Anne Boleyn, but I think he never believed it. It was treason for a Queen to take a lover, for it meant that a bastard could be foisted on the nation. And the thought of that charming, passionate little creature going off to her lover… perhaps laughing at the King because he was no longer so young and lusty as Master Culpepper…was more than my father could bear.
He summoned Cranmer. “Go to the Queen,” he said. “Tell her that if she will acknowledge her transgression … even though her life might be forfeit to the law, I would extend to her my most gracious mercy.”
I understood his feelings. He had to know … though he did not want to.
Poor Catharine! I heard that when his message came to her she was almost out of her mind with fear. She was so terrified that the fate which her cousin had suffered would be hers. She was too distraught to speak; words would not come. Cranmer believed that if he questioned her she would go into a frenzy, so he said he would leave her with the King's gracious promise and when she had composed herself he would come back and hear her confession.
It was some time before she was ready to do that. Every time she was approached she was ready to fall into what they called a frenzy. They feared she was losing her senses. But in the end she was ready to talk.
She did admit that she had believed at one time that she was going to marry Francis Dereham. They had kissed many times.
She broke down and it was impossible to get any more information from her; when they attempted to, she became frenzied and was overcome with such terrible weeping that they feared she would do herself an injury.
Culpepper was the son of her uncle, and they had known each other since they were children; they had always been very friendly.
There were those who were ready to give evidence against her. They wanted to prove that she had been guilty of adultery. She had been reckless, indiscreet, there was no doubt of that.
A certain Katharine Tilney of her household told how she and another maid had wondered why the Queen sent strange, enigmatic messages to Lady Rochford and why sometimes they were dismissed before the Queen had retired. They reported secret whisperings with Lady Rochford and the fact that sometimes the Queen would not retire until two of the morning. Thomas Culpepper was seen in her apartments and Lady Rochford kept watch.
It was all very incriminating.
There was a hush over Sion House. Elizabeth, who was now nearly nine years old, was very concerned about what was happening. Could she be remembering how similar was the fate of this Queen to that of her mother? She had only been three years old when Anne Boleyn had been beheaded, but she had always been ahead of her years.
Edward was aware, too. He was always susceptible to Elizabeth's moods. There was a puzzled look on his face.
Elizabeth sought me out when I was alone and asked me what was happening to the Queen.
I said, “She is in the Tower.”
“What are they going to do to her?”
“I don't know.”
“Will they kill her as they did…?” I looked at her steadily. She blinked and went on, “As they did my mother?”
It was rarely that I heard her speak of her mother. What happened to Anne Boleyn was something she kept to herself and brooded on. Not even Margaret Bryan knew how she felt about her mother. Whether she remembered her and mourned her, I do not know. It was always difficult to tell with Elizabeth. Anne Boleyn was not a person who could be easily forgotten, and she was Elizabeth's mother.
“I like her,” she said.
“She is a sort of cousin to me.”
“Yes, I know.”
“She is very pretty.”
I nodded.
“My father loved her dearly.” She frowned.
“Why does he no longer do so? And what will happen to her now?”
I could only fall back on those often-repeated words: “We shall have to wait and see.”
Edward came in. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“The Queen,” Elizabeth replied.
“Why don't we see her now? She is in disgrace, is she not?”
“She is in prison,” Elizabeth told him.
“In the Tower.”
“In the Tower. That is for wicked people.”
“The King puts his wives there when he doesn't like them any more,” said Elizabeth, and she turned away abruptly and ran from the room. I think she was going to cry and did not want us to see her do so.
I thought: She does remember her mother. Perhaps also she was crying for Catharine. Elizabeth was resolute and strong and she had already come to terms with an uncertain existence such as we all must who relied on the favor of the King.
THEY WERE BRINGING CATHARINE to Sion House, and we had orders to move. We were going to Havering-atte-Bower. I was sad. I should have liked to be near the Queen. So would Elizabeth. We might have comforted her a little.
How sordid this was! How dreary! Why did they pursue it? It was clear that Catharine had behaved freely with certain men. They were tortured, but Dereham would admit only that he had loved Catharine as his wife because he had once regarded her as such. Was that a sin, for there was no question then of her marrying the King? He was a brave man, this Dereham; they tortured him cruelly and tried to make him admit that there had been impropriety between him and the Queen since her marriage, but he would not do so.
Catharine had denied any sexual involvement at first but after a while she broke down and confessed to it.