Katharine smiled. “He is so angry when any fail, as he says, to respect me. He says I am too gentle… with others. He says it is a goodly thing that I have his strong arm to protect me, and his wits to work for me. He is always saying that he will put his fists to the ears of any that harm me.”
“Lovers’ talk!” said Anne Herbert.
“It is… and he means it. He looks so fierce when he says those words that I must coax him back to a merry mood.”
“I do not think he would put his fists to the Lord Protector’s ears.”
“He would try to do it…if he thought the need arose. I know my Thomas.”
“If he is reckless, Kate, it is for you to be cautious. Why, to marry him when you did … and to let him visit you at night! My dear, there were rumors about you two before the marriage was announced.”
“I know.” Katharine laughed indulgently. “Thomas cares for nothing. He said he lost me once and was not going to lose me again.”
“Is it true that you were affianced to him within a week of the King’s burial?”
“Oh, Anne, pray do not ask me such questions.”
“That was very dangerous. It is said that if you had had a child, it might not have been known whether its father was Thomas or the King.”
“You know I should not have allowed that to happen.”
“Yet it is what people say.”
Katharine shrugged her shoulders. She was too happy to consider any termination of her present state.
“Anne,” she said, “how I long for a child! Do you think I am too old?”
“You are thirty-six, Kate.”
“I know. But I long to bear Thomas’s child.”
“You would need to take great care of yourself.”
“I should. I pray each night that I may have a child, and I have a feeling that my prayers will be answered.”
Anne Herbert put her arms about her sister. She felt almost as fearful for her, now that she was the Admiral’s wife, as she had when she had been the King’s.
Then, thought Anne, she was prepared for disaster; now she is prepared only for bliss.
“God keep you well, Kate. God keep you happy.”
“There are tears in your eyes, Anne.”
“Are there, sister? It is because I am moved to see you so happy. Is it possible to suffer as you have and emerge from all that horror with your belief in men still intact? I do not know how you can be so sure, dearest sister. I do not know.”
“Ah,” cried Katharine embracing her, “but then you do not know my Thomas.”
THE PRINCESS MARY had spent the months, since her father’s death, in her country manors of Wanstead and Norfolk.
This was on the advice of her friends, for her name had been mentioned freely at the time of Surrey’s execution. One of the charges against the Earl had been a proposed marriage between himself and the Princess, and some had said that Mary had been a party to what might well have been a conspiracy.
Mary had faced death at her father’s hands and had miraculously escaped it; she had no wish to court it again. She was a Catholic and she would remain faithful to Rome till her death; the King and his Council were largely of the Reformed Party. Therefore no good could come of the Princess Mary’s residence at court, it was decided by those who wished her well.
She knew that many had their eyes upon her and that, in the event of her brother’s death, greatness would be hers; and she would welcome it, not for personal reasons, but for the sake of Rome. She spent long hours at her devotions and she guarded her health that she might not fail if the call came.
It was during the month of June that she received a letter from Thomas Seymour. His marriage with her father’s widow seemed to Mary an act of the greatest impropriety and evil taste. She firmly upheld all the traditions of royalty. She had been fond of Katharine Parr, although her affections had declined since she had discovered Katharine’s interest in the new learning; now her respect for Katharine had waned still further, for she simply did not understand how any lady could have allowed herself to be persuaded to such an action.
So that when she received Thomas Seymour’s letter, she looked at it with suspicion and distaste.
He was asking her to give her blessing and sanction to his marriage with Katharine Parr.
A little late in the day! said Mary to herself. For I know full well that the marriage has already taken place, and that this happened in the month of May if not before.
She sat down and wrote a curt note to the Admiral. She thanked him for asking her sanction to his marriage; “But,” she added, “I do not think the Queen can so quickly have forgotten the King as to be ready for a further marriage. As for myself, I am a maid and not cunning in the matters of wooing. You must forgive and respect my innocence.”
She smiled as she wrote. If he could be sly, so could she. Did he think she was so cut off from the affairs of the court that she did not know he and the Queen were already married?
Then her thoughts turned to her young sister. What a terrible position for a child, to be living under the same roof with a man and woman who had so little care for the proprieties.
That should be set right.
