approach him, for he was in the palace grounds. Yes, he was appreciative; who could help being so, of Madge! Madge had beauty; Madge had wit. She had made the king laugh; he was suggesting they should take a turn round the rose garden.
Anne soothed her doubts with the reflection that Madge was a saucy wench, able to take care of herself, and had probably had love affairs before. Besides . . . there was Elizabeth!
The Dowager Duchess of Norfolk was uneasy. Rumors came from the court, and one could not ignore them. All was not well with the Queen. She herself had quarreled with her stepson, the Duke, because he had spoken as she did not care to hear him speak, and it had been of the Queen. I never did like the man, she mused. Cruel, hard opportunist! One could tell which way the wind was blowing, by what he would have to say. Which way was the wind blowing? She liked not these rumors.
She was to be state governess to the Princess Elizabeth, a further sign of Anne’s friendship for her. “I do hope the dear child is well and happy. It is a terrible trial to be a queen, and to such a king!” she murmured to herself.
The Duchess was fractious in her own household. Those girls were noisy in their room at night, and she had heard it whispered that they were over-free with the young men.
She sent for Mary Lassells, whom she did not like overmuch. The girl was of humble birth, apt to look sullen; she was really a serving-maid, and should not be with the ladies. I must see to that one day, thought the duchess, and filed the matter away in that mental pigeon-hole which was crammed full of forgotten notes.
“Mary Lassells,” she said, when the girl came to her, “there is much noise in the ladies’ sleeping apartments at night. These ladies are under my care, and as since my granddaughter’s coronation I find myself with less and less leisure, I am going to take a few precautions to make sure of correct behavior on the part of these young people.”
The girl was smiling primly, as though to indicate that there was every reason for the Duchess to take precautions. This angered the Duchess; she did not wish to be reminded that she had been lax; she would have preferred the girl to look as though this were a quite unnecessary precaution being taken by an over-careful duenna.
“It will be your duty, Mary Lassells, every night when the ladies have retired, to see that the key of their apartment is placed in the lock outside the door. Then at a fixed hour I shall send someone to lock the door, and the key will be brought to me.”
The Duchess sat back in her chair, well pleased.
“I think that will be a very excellent plan, Your Grace,” said Mary Lassells unctuously.
“Your opinion was not asked, Mary Lassells,” said the Duchess haughtily. “That will do. Now remember please, and I will send someone for the key this very night.”
Mary said nothing. It was shocking to consider what went on in that room at night. Catherine Howard behaved quite shamelessly now with Francis Derham; he would bring fruit and wine for her, and they would sit on her bed and laugh and chatter, telling everyone that as they were really married there was no harm in what they were doing. Derham was very much in love with the child—that was obvious—and she with him; he salved his conscience by pretending they were married. It was very silly, thought Mary Lassells, and certainly time such wickedness was stopped.
They were planning for tonight. Let them plan! What a shock for them, when they were waiting to receive their lovers, to find the door locked, keeping them out! And so would it be every night. No more games, no more of such wicked folly.
Though Manox never came to the room now, she often thought of him. Some said he was sorely troubled because he had lost little Catherine Howard. And she not fourteen! Thirteen at the most. Was ever such crass wickedness allowed to go unpunished! She will go to hell and suffer eternal torment when she dies, I’ll swear! And Mary Lassells felt happier at the thought.
They were all laughing, chattering in their silly way, when Mary Lassells went to the door to obey the Duchess’s instructions. “Where go you?” asked one girl.
“Merely to act on Her Grace’s orders.” Mary put the key in the outer lock. Inside the room they heard her exchanging a few words with someone outside the door. Mary came back into the room, and the door was immediately locked on the outside.
There was a chorus of excitement. “What means this?” “Is it a joke?” “What said you, Mary Lassells?” “Why did you take the key?”
Mary Lassells faced them, her prim mouth working. “Her Grace the Duchess is much displeased. She has heard the laughing and chatter that goes on here of nights. She has taken me on one side and told me what she will do. Every night the door of this apartment is to be locked and the key taken to her.”
There were cries of rage.
“Mary Lassells! You have been bearing tales!”
“Indeed I have not!”
“What can one expect of a cook’s daughter!”
“I am not a cook’s daughter.”
“Oh, well . . . something such!”
“This is shameful. Her Grace merely asked me to put the key outside. . . . I suppose because she sees I am more virtuous than the rest of you.”
Dorothy Barwicke said: “Do you swear, Mary Lassells, that you have said nothing to Her Grace of what happens in this room?”
“I swear!”
“Then why . . . ?”
“She has heard the noise in here. She says too that she has heard whispers of what goes on. . . . Doubtless the servants. . . .”
