and she should have precedence at court over every lady, excepting only the King’s daughters and her who would become his Queen. The English taxpayers would provide her with an income of three thousand pounds a year.
The King’s sister! Three thousand pounds a year! This was miraculous! This was happiness! That corpulent, perspiring, sullen, angry, spiteful, wicked monster of a man was no longer her husband! She need not live close to him! She could have her own establishment! She need not return to her own dull country, but she could live in this beautiful land which she had already begun to love in spite of its King! She was free.
She almost swooned again, for the reaction of complete joy after absolute misery was overwhelming.
Suffolk and Southampton exchanged glances with Wriothesley. The King need not have been so generous with his three thousand pounds. It had not occurred to him that Anne would be so eager to be rid of him. They would keep that from the King; better to let His August Majesty believe that their tact had persuaded the woman it would be well to accept.
Anne bade her visitors a gay farewell. Never had Henry succeeded in making one of his wives so happy.
Catherine was bewildered. Quite suddenly her position had changed. Instead of being the humblest newcomer, she was the most important person at court. Everyone paid deference to her; even her grim old uncle had a pleasant word for her, so that Catherine felt she had misjudged him. The Dowager Duchess, her grandmother, would deck her out in the most costly jewels, but these were poor indeed compared with those which came from the King. He called her “The Rose without a Thorn”; and this he had had inscribed on some of the jewels he had given her. He had chosen her device, which was “No other Will but His.”
Catherine was sorry for the poor Queen, and could not bear to think that she was displacing her; but when she heard that Anne appeared to be happier at Richmond than she had ever been at court, she began to enjoy her new power.
Gifts were sent to her, not only from the King, but from the courtiers. Her grandmother petted, scolded and warned at the same time. “Be careful! No word of what has happened with Derham must ever reach the King’s ears.”
“I would prefer to tell him all,” said Catherine uneasily.
“I never heard such folly!” Her Grace’s black eyes glinted. “Do you know where Derham is?” she asked. And Catherine assured her that she did not know.
“That is well,” said the Duchess. “I and Lord William have spoken to the King of your virtues and how you will make a most gracious and gentle queen.”
“But shall I?” asked Catherine.
“Indeed you shall. Now, no folly. Come let me try this ruby ring on your finger. I would have you know that the King, while liking well our talk, would have been most displeased with us had we done aught but sing your praises. Oh, what it is to be loved by a king! Catherine Howard, I declare you give yourself graces already!”
Catherine had thought that she would be terrified of the King, but this was not so. There was nothing for her to fear in this great soft man. His voice changed when he addressed her, and his hard mouth could express nothing but kindness for her. He would hold her hand and stroke her cheek and twine her hair about his fingers; and sometimes press his lips against the flesh on her plump shoulders. He told her that she would mean a good deal to him, that he wished above all things to make her his Queen, that he had been a most unhappy man until he had set eyes on her. Catherine looked in wonder at the little tear-filled eyes. Was this the man who had sent her beautiful cousin to her death? How could simple Catherine believe ill of him when she stood before him and saw real tears in his eyes?
He talked of Anne, for he saw that Anne was in Catherine’s thoughts; she was, after all, her own cousin, and the two had known and been fond of one another.
“Come and sit upon my knee, Catherine,” he said, and she sat there while he pressed her body against his and talked of Anne Boleyn. “Wert deceived as I was by all that charm and beauty, eh? Ah! but thou wert but a child and I am man. Didst know that she sought to take my life and poison my daughter Mary? Dost know that my son died through a spell she cast upon him?”
“It is hard to believe that. She was so kind to me. I have a jeweled tablet she gave me when I was but a baby.”
“Sweet Catherine, I too had gifts from her. I too could not believe...”
It was easier for Catherine to believe the King who was close to her, when Anne was but a memory.
It was at this time that she met Thomas Culpepper. He was one of the gentlemen of the privy chamber, and had great charm of manner and personal beauty which had pleased the King ever since he had set eyes upon him. Thomas’s intimate duties of superintending the carrying out of the doctor’s orders regarding the King’s leg kept him close to Henry, who had favored him considerably, and had given him several posts which, while they brought little work, brought good remuneration; he had even given him an abbey. He liked Culpepper; he was amused by Culpepper. In his native Kent, the boy had involved himself in a certain amount of scandal, for it seemed he was wild and not over-scrupulous, but the King was as ready to forgive the faults of those he wished to keep around him, as he was to find fault with those he wished removed.
The knowledge that his cousin was at court soon reached Thomas Culpepper, for since her elevation, everyone was discussing Catherine Howard. Seeing her in the pond garden one afternoon, he went out to her. She was standing by a rose tree, the sun shining on her auburn hair. Thomas immediately understood the King’s infatuation.
“You would not remember me,” he said. “I am your cousin, Thomas Culpepper.”
Her eyes opened very wide and she gave a little trill of pleasure; she held out both her hands.
“Thomas! I had hoped to see you.”
They stood holding hands; studying each other’s faces.
How handsome he is! thought Catherine. Even more handsome than he was as a boy!
How charming she is! thought Thomas. How lovable—and in view of what has happened to her during the last weeks, how dangerously lovable! But to Thomas nothing was ever very interesting unless it held an element of danger.
He said, greatly daring: “How beautiful you have grown, Catherine!”
