Late that night, as I packed the jeweled crate, I stopped of a sudden and bit on my fist to stop myself from crying out. It had abruptly occurred to me that I might never have a chance to gift these jewels in a kind and loving manner.
I would likely never have a daughter. Nor a son.
NINE
Spring: Year of Our Lord 1546
The Palace at Whitehall
Within some weeks I saw Hugh settled with William Cecil, in Edward Seymour’s household. A few days later the king held a tennis match to be followed by a private dinner in his chamber for the queen and a few of his favorites. The queen had asked me to be among those who served them, as she’d missed my company and wanted me near her often. I had not attended a tennis match, and looked forward to it. I knocked upon Dorothy’s door to see if she wanted to make her way to the recreation hall with me, but when I arrived she had already left without me.
There was a longish viewing chamber that ran alongside the court, and most of the courtiers were already seated. Kate was at His Majesty’s side in the center. He looked in a foul mood and his face looked as if ’twere blackening. Once he had been young and agile and on the court himself. Now he was corpulent and ill tempered. I could see that Kate kept her hand on his good leg and patted it from time to time.
I smiled broadly at Dorothy, who offered a wave back but then turned away; Tristram sat next to her but he did not meet my gaze. I scanned the crowd quickly to see if John Temple was there, and when I didn’t see him, I relaxed and settled down next to Lady Fitzgerald Browne, who welcomed me with an eager smile. Her husband, Sir Anthony, was not yet present so till the match began, we made small talk about her stepchildren and her reading and my visit at home. She was still a wit.
“There are so many tennis balls in that bucket.” I pointed to a large holding vessel near the court.
“’Tis because there are so many old men here losing their hair,” she quipped, and I laughed with her, knowing that the tennis balls were stuffed with hair, lost or cut. Just then her kindly husband joined us and she made a brief, glancing look upon his thinning hair. I hid a smile and she barely did too. To his favor, he did not leave me out of their conversational twosome but made me welcome. I was grateful, and yet missed my normal circle of friends. It was most enjoyable, though, and I made a note to seek out her company more often.
The game began, and it was pleasant to watch the young men bat a ball back and forth with the paddles made of wood and strung with dried sheep gut. Much better than bearbaiting, which I did not prefer. Sir Thomas was not in attendance, nor many of his men. I did see Lady Seymour and her ladies and sought her out afterward.
“My lady?”
“Yes?” she said. She was not welcoming, she never was, but she looked at me overcuriously. Perhaps she was unused to being approached by those she did not know well.
“I wanted to thank you, on my mother’s behalf, for taking my brother, Hugh, into your household through William Cecil when Her Grace inquired.”
“Certainly,” Lady Seymour responded. “When the queen asks, we of course comply.” She made it sound perfunctory and her voice was neither warm nor cold. “And your brother’s name and mother’s name are …?”
“Lady Frances St. John, of Marlborough,” I said. “And my brother, Hugh St. John.”
Lady Seymour’s smooth expression didn’t break as she responded, “Oh, yes, that is right. Tell her she is most welcome. I know Her Grace is delighted to have you return.”
It was a dismissal, I heard it in her voice, but that was fine. I’d done my duty and expressed our gratitude, and I did not expect her to be overfriendly to me when she and my lady were often at odds.
After the match I made my way down the halls and through the palace to my chamber as quickly as possible, so I could change afore going to serve Kate and the king.
I left shortly thereafter to assist Kate, but when I got to the queen’s chambers Lady Dudley met me.
“Her Grace will not need your assistance this evening. The king is unwell and the queen is tending to him privately.” Her face had a warranted shadow of worry. “I only hope she keeps the conversation light and does not stray, again, to theology.”
I nodded my head in fervent agreement. His Majesty was not a patient man even when he was not in decline.
I returned to my chamber, which showed little sign of Elisabeth, who was likely with William Parr. I had slept well at home, with Lucy nearby but far from court. Now that I was back I startled easily, like my lady’s pet birds with their night frights, and awoke not refreshed at all.
One evening shortly thereafter I helped Lady Herbert, the queen’s sister, sort through Her Grace’s jewels in the tall, wooden coffers in which they were kept in drawers nestled one upon the other. The queen was in the next room getting ready for an evening in the king’s chambers.
“Excuse me, lady,” I said in a soft voice to the queen’s sister. “I have a gift for the queen. May I take my leave for a moment and present it to her?”
Lady Herbert smiled. “Of course, Mistress Juliana. Please do.”
I made my way to the queen, who was reposing in one of her chairs whilst another lady helped with her shoes. “Your Grace,” I began, “I can never begin to repay you for the kindness and affection you have shown me by keeping me in your household, and for helping to place my brother, Hugh. But I would endeavor to give you a token, if that meets with your approval.”
She beckoned me forward. “Of course, Juliana, though none is required.”
I handed a finely wrought case to her, one from the cache in the coffer my mother had given me afore I’d left Marlborough. She took it and bid me sit next to her before she opened it.
Ensconced snugly within was the string of jet beads strung with silver. “Oh, Juliana, these are lovely!”
“I know they are not as dear as precious stones, but mayhap because they are from the East, and unusual, you will find some mean occasion in which to wear them.”
“They are delightful, and I will carefully plan when to wear them so they may be shown at their best,” she said. She drew me near to her and embraced me; her sweet perfume enveloped me and her soft hair brushed against my cheek. “I am ever so pleased that you have returned to court. Elisabeth Brooke has told me that she is gladdened that you have returned, too, and indeed, my readings will now be much livelier. Should you read to us tomorrow?”
“I would be honored, lady,” I said, delighted and humbled by her warm response.
“’Twill be a bit later than usual,” she said. “As I shall spend the night with the king.”
She did not do that often, but there had been rumors of the king muttering about the decided lack of a Duke of York, a title he cherished as it had once been his own, as a second son, whilst his elder brother, Arthur, had still lived as Prince of Wales. As His Majesty grew more ill, his desire to anchor his legacy grew more insistent.
“I shall pray for a prince,” I said softly.
“I too,” the queen said. She looked more wan than she had before I’d left court. “I have also received some most loving correspondence from another prince, my beloved Edward.” She showed me the letter, which lay on her table next to the New Year’s gift she’d received from the Lady Elizabeth, a translation into French, Latin, and Italian of the queen’s own Prayers and Meditations.