I longed to be safely married—the past behind me, forgotten.
When my uncle visited Lambeth, I used to wonder if I should hear of a proposed match. I wondered what he would do if he knew about Derham. Doubtless have us both sent to the Tower. I laughed at the foolishness of that. It would be a shock, though. My grandmother had called me a harlot in the first flush of her rage when she realized what had happened. Perhaps she blamed herself when she was giving me that vigorous beating. People often vented their rage on those who were the victims of their neglect because they were in truth blaming themselves. But, in spite of the fact that I so often received a sharp slap from her, she was fond of me in her easy-going way—when she remembered me. But not only did I dislike my uncle, I feared him.
I had discovered certain things about him of which hitherto I had been ignorant. My grandmother had let one or two matters slip out during our sessions; and then I listened to the gossip whenever I had the opportunity.
Of course, he was very important. He and Suffolk—the King’s brother-in-law—were probably the two most powerful men in the kingdom under the King.
Norfolk had been married twice, I discovered. During the Wars of the Roses, the Duke—or as he had then been the Earl of Surrey—had been a staunch supporter of the House of York, and, so close had he been to the royal family, that he had been betrothed to the Lady Anne, a daughter of Edward IV. Naturally he supported King Richard at Bosworth, where the present King’s father overcame Richard; and Norfolk, surviving the battle, was of course, then out of favor.
The King’s father, Henry VII, being a wise man, recognized that he could make better use of Norfolk’s skill if he were working for him instead of languishing in prison. So Norfolk was restored to favor and Henry even allowed him to marry the Lady Anne, to whom he had been betrothed before Richard fell. Henry himself was married to Edward IV’s daughter, Elizabeth, so my uncle’s first wife and the Queen were sisters. The Earl of Surrey was by this time Duke of Norfolk and gradually became one of the most powerful men in the country.
He had been instrumental in bringing about Wolsey’s fall, and he was not a man of whom the wise would want to make an enemy. Not that he would consider me worth a moment’s thought, but I did tremble to think of what his reactions would be if he discovered I had abandoned myself to Manox, in all innocence, and later, less innocently, to Francis Derham.
Then I learned something of the Duke’s own private life which I found comforting as well as revealing. I realized, though, that he would apply different rules to his own conduct than to mine. In fact, I had noticed that often those who might have something disgraceful to hide, could be quite censorious of fellow sinners.
The Duke, it appeared, was not a man of such rigorous virtue.
His first wife, Anne—the daughter of Edward IV—had died of consumption at an early age, and very shortly afterward my uncle had married Elizabeth, the daughter of the Duke of Buckingham. She was very strong-minded and considered to be one of the most accomplished ladies of her time. She entertained poets and the like.
It was not a happy marriage. I think my uncle was a very arrogant man and she was not of a temper to tolerate that. She complained that when their daughter Mary was born, he neglected her; and soon after that he became attached to a woman of his household.
If this lady had been of good family it might have been an ordinary enough situation, but she was a washerwoman in his wife’s nursery.
The Duke and his Duchess separated and he refused to give her anything but the scantiest of allowances. There was quite a scandal about this. I had heard nothing of it when it happened, but perhaps I was not as alert for gossip then as I was at this time. There were attempts to bring about a reconciliation; the Duchess refused to divorce him and the Duke went on living with his washerwoman.
And this was the man who, I was sure, would be very censorious toward his poor little niece who had been too young to understand what she was doing.
I must forget my exploratory adventures with Henry Manox. My relationship with Francis Derham had been charming while it had existed, but it was in the past. If the Duke could sport with his washerwoman, how could he condemn me for what I had done?
I liked to walk in the gardens. It was very pleasant down by the river. I enjoyed watching the barges sail past and I would look in the direction of Greenwich and wonder if the Court were there, and what it would be like to be among those interesting and exciting people.
One day, as I stood there, a young man came out of the house and started toward the privy stairs where a small craft had drawn up. I thought this might be waiting for him. There were often callers at the house, especially when the Duke was there. He was not there at this time, but the young man could have been visiting my grandmother.
He looked familiar to me
He hesitated and then smiled and came swiftly toward me.
“We have met before,” he said.
“I thought it might be so,” I replied.
“Tell me. You are … ?”
“Katherine Howard, granddaughter of the Duchess of Norfolk.”
He gave a delighted laugh. “That is it. Well met, cousin. Do you not recognize me?”
I knew then. It was his voice … his smile. “Thomas,” I said. “Thomas Culpepper.”
He bowed.
“Do you remember…?” We were both asking the same question.
“It was a long time ago,” he said. “I was so sad when I left you.”
“I was sad when you went.”
“We were the greatest of friends, as well as cousins. How wonderful it is to see you again!”
I felt light-hearted, experiencing a deep pleasure.
“You are more beautiful even than you were then, when I thought you the prettiest girl I had ever seen.”
I flushed with happiness. I had always hoped to see my cousin, Thomas Culpepper, again.
“We have grown up since,” I said.
“In which I rejoice.” He took a step nearer. “Mistress Howard, may I give you a cousinly kiss, for this is a very special occasion?”
When he had given me the “cousinly kiss” on the forehead, he held me by the shoulders, and looked searchingly into my face.
“Oft times I have thought of you, little cousin,” he said. “And now we have met again. You are under the protection of the Dowager Duchess, I believe.”
“’Tis so. And you?”
“I,” he said, with an air of mock importance, “am a gentleman of the Court.”
“You are at Court!” I cried in excitement.
“Yes, indeed, I have a very important post in the service of His Majesty.”
I clasped my hands together. “That is wonderful. How I long to go to Court!”
“It may be that you will. Your uncle, the Duke, doubtless will arrange it.”
“I hope he will. Tell me. To what part of the Court are you attached?”
“The Royal Bedchamber.”
“You are Gentleman of the Bedchamber!”
“I am concerned with the royal leg.”
“What mean you?”
“The leg in question is subject to an unfortunate affliction which causes His Majesty great torture at times. My duties are to dress the King’s ulcer. It is one of the worst I ever saw. It greatly provokes His Majesty’s temper. Sometimes I fear I take my life in my hands when I kneel before him to remove the bandages.”
I wrinkled my brows in disbelief.
“I tell you truth,” he went on. “I have a certain knowledge of unguents and that serves me well with His Majesty. There is none who can dress his leg as I can.”