She did not hear his words, those glib explanations which rose to his lips so easily. She knew that some of the rumors at least were true; he had wished to marry Elizabeth and, failing the Princess, the Queen had suited his ambitions.
She begged him to leave her, and he, seeming eager to please her in all things, obeyed her wishes.
Calmness was what she needed, indifference. She must think of the child she would have; yet even such thoughts were tinged with bitterness, for so often had she pictured them all together—herself, her husband and the child. That false man, that philanderer, had always dominated any pictures she had made of the future.
When she had married the lords Borough and Latimer, she had not expected an ecstatic life; but those lords had not deceived her. When she had married the King, she had known that her life would be filled with dangers; and she had not been deceived in that. But now, that marriage which was to have brought glorious fulfillment to her life, which was to have made everything that had gone before worth while since it was to have led to perfection, was proved to be utterly false, a fabrication, a fantasy which did not exist outside her own imagination.
She must be calm. She would be calm.
KATHARINE SENT for the Princess.
Elizabeth came, shamefaced, expecting abuse. But the Queen smiled at her, not coldly, but, as it seemed, with indifference.
I cannot blame a child, Katharine was thinking. He is more than twenty years older than she is, and the fault lies with him.
She looked at the girl—this girl who stood near the throne— and she marveled at the folly of her husband. If he had seduced the Princess and there had been tangible consequences of that seduction, he would almost certainly have lost his head. He had known that, and yet he had not hesitated to run risks. Was the attraction so strong? Was the temptation irresistible?
Katharine said: “In view of what has happened, I have no alternative but to send you away.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth.
“I would prefer you to leave as soon as possible.”
Elizabeth bowed her head.
“How soon can you be ready to go?”
“In a few days’ time.”
“Then let it be done. I shall not expect to see you or any of your household by the end of the week.”
“It shall be done,” said Elizabeth.
“That is all. You may leave me now.” Katharine turned her head to look out of the window.
Elizabeth bowed and went toward the door, but there she paused.
“Your Grace,” she murmured. “Mother…”
There was an appealing note in her voice that once would have affected Katharine deeply.
Now she deliberated: Is she wondering what effect all this has had, and will have, since the King loves me as his mother? Perhaps she is going to ask me to say nothing of this to His Majesty. She need not trouble, for I doubt not that the King has heard what the whole court has heard, and that even the people in the streets are laughing at the simplicity of Katharine Parr.
She continued to stare out of the window until she heard the door quietly shut, and knew that Elizabeth had gone.
Little Jane Grey came to her as she stood there, and Katharine was glad that she had this girl with her. She put her hand on the curly head, and suddenly the tears began to fall down her cheeks.
Jane looked at her with great pity.
“Your Majesty …” she began, and she too started to cry.
The child’s tears sobered Katharine. “Jane, Jane, what is this? Why do you weep?”
“I weep to see Your Majesty so sad.”
“Then I must stem my tears, for I cannot bear to see yours. It is folly to cry, Jane. What good did tears ever do? We should be brave and strong, ready to face anything that is coming to us. Come, dry your eyes. I command it.”
And she held the girl against her while Jane began to cry wildly.
“Jane dearest,” said Katharine, “we are going to Sudley Castle. We shall stay there until my child is born. I have a desire to be a long way from the court …to live very quietly for a while. You shall be my constant companion… always with me, my little comforter. How will you like that, Jane?”
Jane put her arms about Katharine’s neck, and kissing the tearstained cheeks Katharine found some small comfort.
ON A HOT AUGUST DAY the Duchess of Somerset gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.
She was delighted. It seemed to her significant that she and the woman whom she hated more than any other should be having a child in almost the same month, for Katharine Parr’s child was due very soon.
She embraced her boy while she visualized a great future for him; but she would feel more sure of the greatness of that future if her husband did not possess such an ambitious brother.
Joan had brought her interesting news: Katharine and her household had left for Sudley Castle, where she intended to stay until after the birth of her child. The move in itself was not so strange. To what more beautiful spot than that castle could a woman retire to await the birth of her child? The strangeness was not in the going, but in the manner of going.
