Isabel held up a warning hand.
“Her Grace’s granddaughter has arrived.”
“Oh...the little girl?”
The girl came forward, saw Catherine, and bowed.
“Her Grace has said,” began Isabel, “that she is to share our room.”
The girl sat down upon a bed, drew her skirts up to her knees, and lifted her eyes to the ornate ceiling.
“It delights her, does it not...Catherine?”
“Yes,” said Catherine.
The girl, whose name it seemed was Nan, threw a troubled glance at Isabel, which Catherine intercepted but did not understand.
Nan said: “You are very pretty, Catherine.”
Catherine smiled.
“But very young,” said Isabel.
“Marry!” said Nan, crossing shapely legs and looking down at them in an excess of admiration. “We must all be young at some time, must we not?”
Catherine smiled again, liking Nan’s friendly ways better than the quiet ones of Isabel.
“And you will soon grow up,” said Nan.
“I hope to,” said Catherine.
“Indeed you do!” Nan giggled, and rose from the bed. From a cabinet she took a box of sweetmeats, ate one herself and gave one to Isabel and one to Catherine.
Isabel examined Catherine’s clothes, lifting her skirts and feeling the material between thumb and finger.
“She has lately come from her uncle, Sir John Culpepper of Hollingbourne in Kent.”
“Did they keep grand style in Kent?” asked Nan, munching.
“Not such as in this house.”
“Then you are right glad to be here where you will find life amusing?”
“Life was very good at Hollingbourne.”
“Isabel,” laughed Nan, “the child looks full of knowledge....I believe you had a lover there, Catherine Howard!”
Catherine blushed scarlet.
“She did! She did! I swear she did!”
Isabel dropped Catherine’s skirt, and exchanged a glance with Nan. Questions trembled on their lips, but these questions went unasked, for at that moment the door opened and a young man put his head round the door.
“Nan!” he said.
Nan waved her hand to dismiss him, but he ignored the signal, and came into the room.
Catherine considered this a peculiar state of affairs, for at Hollingbourne gentlemen did not enter the private apartments of ladies thus unceremoniously.
“A new arrival!” said the young man.
“Get you gone!” said Isabel. “She is not for you. She is Catherine Howard, Her Grace’s own granddaughter.”
The young man was handsomely dressed. He bowed low to Catherine, and would have taken her hand to kiss it, had not Isabel snatched her up and put her from him. Nan pouted on the bed, and the young man said: “How is my fair Nan this day?” But Nan turned her face to the wall and would not speak to him; then the young man sat on the bed and put his arms round Nan, so that his left hand was on her right breast, and his right hand on her left breast; and he kissed her neck hard, so that there was a red mark there. Then she arose and slapped him lightly on the face, laughing the while, and she leaped across the bed, he after her and so gave chase, till Isabel shooed him from the room.
Catherine witnessed this scene with much astonishment, thinking Isabel to be very angry indeed, expecting her to castigate the laughing Nan; but she did nothing but smile, when, after the young man had left, Nan threw herself onto the bed laughing.
Nan sat up suddenly and, now that the youth was no longer there to claim her interest, once more bestowed it on Catherine Howard.
“You had a lover at Hollingbourne, Catherine Howard! Did you not see how her cheeks were on fire, Isabel, and still are, I’ll warrant! I believe you to be a sly wench, Catherine Howard.”
Isabel put her hands on Catherine’s shoulders.
“Tell us about him, Catherine.”
Catherine said: “It was my cousin, Thomas Culpepper.”
“He who is son of Sir John?”
Catherine nodded. “We shall marry when that is possible.”
