I thought of those nights in the Long Room, but then, they had been the same when she was there. I sometimes wondered if she had been half aware of it. She certainly would not have time to think of that now.
My uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, kept in his household what were called his pensioners. In the past, it had been the custom of great houses to do this. It was a custom which was dying out now, but my uncle still had a number in his service.
I suppose it was worthwhile for, in the event of trouble, these people—young, for the most part, for they were biding their time until they should marry or inherit titles and land—were pledged to serve their benefactor in any way he needed while they were pensioners under his roof. Most were of good birth, and several of them had some connection with the families with whom they lived.
At this time, there were a number of these young people in our household which, although I had always thought of it as my grandmother’s house, did, in fact, belong to the Duke. These young people were fed, housed and even granted some pay; they had little to do unless called upon, and then they must spring to immediate action. They spent their time riding, jousting and generally indulging in manly sports and pastimes.
I was sitting in the gardens with Dorothy Barwike and one of Dorothy’s friends called Joan, and was trying to make myself one of the silk flowers, of the kind which were very fashionable at this time. Living near the Court, we could see the elegantly dressed members of it now and then, either on the river or walking, and some even visiting the house when my grandmother was there. It was different to Horsham. That was how I knew of this fashion for silk flowers.
I was not good with my needle, and was showing my work to Joan and Dorothy as a young man strolled by. I had seen him before and I guessed that he was one of the Duke’s pensioners.
He had one of the most pleasant faces I had ever seen, though he was not striking like Manox with his dark curls and flashing eyes. This young man was, I guessed, in his mid-teens … eighteen perhaps, with soft brown hair about a gentle face which was by no means lacking in manliness. He was tall and slender, and had an unmistakable air of good breeding.
He paused, bowed to us, and said: “What a pleasant afternoon. You young ladies are very intent on your work.”
I laughed. “Work?” I said, and the others joined in my laughter. I liked him and did not want him to move away.
I went on: “My work, as you call it, is trying to make a silk flower.”
“And are you succeeding?” he asked.
I held up the piece of silk.
“If this bears some resemblance to a red rose … yes,” I said.
“It is red,” he said, and we all laughed again.
“I trust you did not object to my speaking to you.”
“We certainly did not,” replied Joan.
We were sitting on a bench, of which there were several dotted round the garden. He looked at it and went on: “If I might be seated … ?”
Joan waved her hand, and he sat down next to me.
“I have seen you young ladies before,” he said. “I know you have duties with Her Grace. I’ll swear her absence leaves you with time on your hands.”
Joan and Dorothy admitted that this was so.
“I am Francis Derham,” he told us, “in the train of the Duke of Norfolk.”
“We guessed that was so,” said Dorothy. “There are many of you here.”
“And you, Mistress?” he asked me.
“Katherine Howard, granddaughter of the Duchess. The Duke is my uncle.”
“Well met,” he said. “I am of the family… of some remote branch, naturally. But still, I am of Howard blood, which is why I am here. I dare swear you and I are of the same kin.” He was studying me intently and smiling.
“Then well met,” I said.
We talked awhile, and then he told me that he had recently come from Ireland and should shortly be returning to that country.
“But I shall be back,” he added, “when I trust I shall once more be allowed to enjoy the Duke’s hospitality.” He smiled on us all, but I was sure the smile lingered on me. “And, mayhap I shall be privileged to meet you all again.”
“That,” I assured him, “will be a great pleasure.” I turned to the others. “Will it not?”
Both Dorothy and Joan agreed that it would.
When he had gone, we discussed him. We all agreed that he had great charm, and we said it was a pity he was going away as soon as we had met him.
I did see him before he went. I was in the garden, alone this time, when he came.
“Mistress Howard,” he said. “I had been hoping to see you. I know you come this way. I confess, I have watched you on one or two occasions. I wanted to say good-bye to you before I went away.”
“Mayhap we shall not meet again.”
“We shall,” he said. “I shall hope for that. There is something I wish to show you. Will you wait for me here until I bring it to you?”
“How long should I wait?” I asked.
“Five minutes. A little more perhaps, but not much. Rest assured I shall be with you as soon as it is possible.”
I stood under the shelter of the oak tree, waiting for him with anticipation. I liked him. How different he was from Henry Manox! I wondered how I could ever have thought I loved that musician.
When my new friend returned, he was carrying a small box tied up with red ribands.
“It is for you,” he said. “Open it when you are alone, and when you look at it, always say, ‘Francis Derham will return.’ Will you do that?”
I promised readily. And he was gone.
Excited, and very curious, I looked down at the box in my hands. I could not wait to open it. I untied the ribands and, nestling in the box, was a red silk rose.
Dangerous Games
I DID NOT FORGET Francis Derham. There was the red rose to remind me. I often wore it. Dorothy and Joan smiled when I told them Francis Derham had given it to me. They often commented on it and afterward I wished I had not told them whence it came. So then I did not wear it as much as I should have liked to; and it seemed they forgot him. But I did not need the red rose to remind me of him.
Something was happening, and we were aware of it. This was due to living near the Court and not in Horsham. Moreover, my grandmother and the Duke of Norfolk appeared to be concerned in it.
I saw little of my uncle, but my grandmother often left the Court and returned to the house. The Court was constantly traveling round the country and my grandmother did not like the journeys. She said she was feeling her age, and Court life could be exhausting.
Her limbs were stiff, she complained. She had procured some soothing lotions from her physician which had to be rubbed into her swollen legs, and she summoned me, as a member of the family, to perform this intimate task.
This, although somewhat distasteful to me, had its compensations, for, as I massaged, she would slip into a dreamy state and talk almost as though to herself, which meant she often forgot discretion and said more than she intended. Thus I began to understand much of what would otherwise have been a mystery to me.
It quickly became clear to me that all was not well with Queen Anne. The euphoria was fast evaporating, and the King was less devoted than he had been.
“It began with the birth of the child,” mused the Duchess. “If only she had been a boy. That would have bound them together. He had set his heart on a son. All the documents announcing the birth … they had all been prepared for a boy. And then comes the Princess Elizabeth … a beautiful child … no weakness there … but a girl. He had thought my granddaughter perfect. He had thought she could give him all he wanted. But it is the good God who decides the sex of a child, and he chose to give them a girl! And there are those to say that this is a sign of divine disapproval. That Peto. Oh, he is not the only one. They should have been silenced. Well, there it is. If it had been a boy, all would have gone well, all would have been saved.”