That night, I took Kate’s letter to my chamber but before I read it I closed my eyes and held in my mind the wondrous picture of Jamie’s face and the resonance of his laughter and words.
And yet, I was no longer who he thought me to be; I wanted both the man and his good opinion. As it seemed unlikely that I could have the former, I would do nothing to disabuse him of the latter, which I then might hold dear forever.
“Lord Jesus,” I whispered, after reading the day’s passage in my neglected book of hours, the scourged holy intimacy between Him and me having begun to scab and heal. “Show me. Guide me. I trust in You.”
I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.
The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me.
Presently, I slit the wax on Kate’s seal and read her letter twice afore falling into vexed sleep.
There was no face to the man who carried the leather pouch, which was wrought with gold and stuffed with scrolls, but the hand, gnarled and beringed, was visible. His sleeves were of the finest fabric, the dark ruby color of congealing blood, slashed to show the ivory underneath. He hurried down the hallway, sun streaming into the long windows aside the Thames.
The Palace at Whitehall.
One of the scrolls dropped out of the pouch and began a long, slow descent to the floor. A hand reached out to catch it afore it reached the filthy rushes, and as it was caught, it unrolled. The signature, Kateryn the Queen, KP, was running, the ink dripping and coursing down the document to the floor. The ink was the same bloody color as the man’s sleeve. I ran to my lady’s chambers and when she read it she began to shriek. One of her men quickly closed the doors to her chamber.
The hand that had caught the errant scroll was instantly recognizable.
’Twas my own.
“Are you all right?” Lucy shook me awake. She’d already lit a candle after coming from her room.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I believe I am.”
“A dream?” she asked.
I nodded.
“I fear for ye, lady. I do. I know something happened a court, though you won’t say wha’. And now this, then, again.”
I sat up in my bed. It was true, I had not had a prophetic dream in some time; therefore His sending one now had clear purpose. I felt a strange peace and calm. I picked up my copy of holy writ and opened to one of the passages marked by a thread from Father Gregory’s vestments. Lucy was already privy to the goings-on and had become, in a way, a protector. It seemed only fair to be straightforward.
I softly read, “‘And he said, Hear now my words. If there be a prophet among you, I the Lord will make myself known unto him in a vision and will speak unto him in a dream.’”
Lucy’s eyes opened wide and I put my finger to my lips to indicate that she must hold her peace about this, now and forever. She nodded.
“I must return to court.”
“Must ye go? I fear for ye,” she admitted softly.
“I must, though I admit to a little fear as well. Listen well to what Her Grace had to say.” I reached for her letter and, after opening it, read a selected portion. “‘The king has given me a fine New Year’s purse, as is his generous nature. My lively faith maketh me bold, though I know how vain, foolish, false, ingrate, cruel, hard, wicked, and evil the world is. And ’tis closer to me than ever.’”
“She sounds afraid,” Lucy said.
I nodded. I had not shared the portion of the letter wherein Kate told me she missed my companionship and the steady presence of the few whose fidelity she never questioned in her small circlet of safety. I had promised to serve and protect her. And my new vision showed me I was being called back.
The following morning I asked my lady mother if we might sup alone after church, and she agreed. I liked the new clergyman at St. Peter’s well enough, he seemed a kindly sort, but he could not fill the heart space left by Father Gregory.
After the servants had set the platters on the table, refilled the goblets, and left the room I spoke up. “As you know, Sir James delivered a letter to me from the queen.”
My mother nodded but did not set down her knife, though her portion was tiny.
“She requests that I return to court. If you do not object. And she says she has a place for Hugh in the household of Sir William Cecil, who is placed with Edward Seymour.”
At this my mother showed some pleasure and surprise. “Ah. Edward Seymour.” She set her cup down. “What do you wish, Juliana? You are a woman now.”
“I … I wish to return,” I said. “Though I am grateful for a good home and the peaceful repose I’ve had whilst here, I believe ’twill be good for Hugh. And the queen needs me.”
“And you must fly like the homeward pigeon when Kateryn Parr recalls you,” she said, quickly shifting to bitterness. And though she did not show me kindness but a handful of times during my childhood, and I could therefore not see how she would be jealous of my affections for Kate, I did not wish to inflict additional pain upon her.
“Do you wish me to stay, then, Mother?”
She shook her head. “No. Of course not.”
I bit down on the inside of my lip and tasted blood. ’Twas as it ever had been.
“I had already had both you and Hugh and lost a babe in between by the time I was your age. And what of Matthias?” she asked. “Do you wish me to speak with his father? He grows impatient, I know. And I believe him to be an excellent match for you. But I also know your father had not wished him for you, and that gives me a small pause.”
I risked a question. “Did my father ever explain to you why he did not wish that?”
“He did,” she said sharply. “But no one should be privy to the conversations betwixt a man and his wife.”
“I’m sorry, Mother, I did not mean to offend.”
“We shall tell Matthias that the queen has summoned you to return,” she continued. “He will be glad, I know, of your connections at court and how they may advance his causes in commerce later. But he will not wait long. There are many who would be pleased to be bonny at bed and at board with him.”
I nodded my agreement. Thank you, Mother, for securing this honest solution, however temporary it may be.
She sipped from her goblet. “Sir James Hart seemed beguiled by you. He never took his eyes from you except to politely acknowledge my comments at dinner.”
“He’s … a fine man.”
“Do you know anything of his family?”
“I do. They are a good family of means who ship and do other business with the Seymours and other of the king’s men. But I have no intention of pursuing my … friendship with him any further.”
“You may not, Juliana, but he might. Sir James seems to be a man of the world. Have a care. He does not look like one who gives up pursuit easily. I well recognize those who do, as well as those who don’t.”
After the meal, I retired to my chambers to pack. Within an hour, my mother appeared and Lucy discreetly left the room.
“I have some jewelry for you.” My mother handed a small casket to me and when I opened it I found several necklaces, including one of emerald and gold and a string of pearls. There were rings and some diamond hairpins. There was also a long string of polished jet, set in silver, which I knew had come from Constantinople.
“Your father saved these for when you were married. But I believe he would want you to have them at court, so that you do not feel out of place with the others. I’ve also prepared a purse for you, so you needn’t depend upon the queen for your clothing and expenses.”
I curtseyed to her and she took her thin hand and put it aside my face for a moment, and then took her leave. It occurred to me, as I looked through the treasures, that her way of telling me she had a care for me was to phrase it in terms of what my father wanted for me, though it was what she wanted for me too. I did not know why she could or would not speak plainly of her affection. It would not be the prickly method I would use with my daughter, but it was what she chose, nonetheless, and I would accept that.