married.
It would not be so now. That was clear. My grandmother might well tell the Duke, and then what would they do to poor Francis?
The women were all subdued. They had been discovered. One of them had betrayed, not only me, but all of them. There would be no more deception about the unlocked door, no more nightly revels. And who knew what other secrets would be revealed?
One of the pages, whom I knew to be a friend of Francis, sought me out. He looked frightened and afraid to speak. I fervently hoped he had brought me news of Francis.
He said: “Mistress, I have a message for you. Will you go to a spot you know well in the gardens?”
I understood that what was meant was that spot secluded by bushes and trees not far from the water’s edge which Francis and I had called our own little garden. So I knew, of course, that this was a message from Francis. I hurried to the spot and within a few seconds he appeared. He was dressed as for a journey.
He held me tightly in his arms and we both wept.
Then he said: “I must go, Katherine. They will kill me if I stay. They will say that I have brought disgrace on the Howard name. Oh, my love, how can I leave you?”
“I have been beaten and reviled,” I said. “I do not think more will be done to me. They will not want it known.”
“I thank God for that,” he said. “But I must go … or they will find some way of killing me.”
“Then you must go quickly …”
“Some day I shall come back,” he said.
“Where shall you go?”
“I shall go to Ireland. There I shall make that fortune and return.”
“You will come back to me … ?”
“I swear it. And you, Katherine … ?”
I said fervently: “You shall never live to say to me, you have swerved.”
We clung together. I wanted to beg him not to go, but I knew he must. He wanted to beg me to go with him, but we knew that would be the final ruin of us both. This bitter parting had to be. But in my heart I knew that one day he would return.
The Fourth Queen
LIFE WAS VERY DULL after that. I missed Francis sadly, but I knew I must be grateful that he had escaped with his life. When I considered that, I realized the importance of what I had done.
There was strict surveillance throughout the household. One of the Duchess’s attendants—nearly as old as herself, on whom she could entirely rely—had the duty of locking and unlocking the door of the Long Room. The nights of revelry were at an end. We were given tasks to do and long hours were spent at needlework of some kind. A musical instrument might be played while we worked, or one of us would read aloud. While this was in progress, one of the Duchess’s older ladies would inspect us at any moment to make sure orders were being carried out.
The Duchess had had a shock which had aroused her to action, and she was determined to put an end to the careless manner in which her household had previously been conducted.
The new way of life had its effect on me. I listened to the music and surprised myself by becoming interested in the readings. My longing for Francis faded a little. I was thinking of other things than what I called to myself “romping.” That was a pleasant comfortable word, suggesting innocence.
One letter was smuggled into me from Francis. Dorothy Barwike brought it to me with a sly smile, so I knew she was aware whence it came.
“How did you get it?” I asked.
Dorothy could only say that it had been given to her by someone to whom it had in turn been given. It was not possible to say how it had arrived in Lambeth.
It was full of protestations of undying love. He was in Ireland and would soon be sailing off on a great adventure which he knew would be profitable: and when he returned, he would come to claim his wife. None should gainsay him then. He lived for that day.
I read it through again and again and thought of his coming home. Then we would marry.
My grandmother, who, immediately after that scene when she had beaten me so
It would not be so now. That was clear. My grandmother might well tell the Duke, and then what would they do to poor Francis?
The women were all subdued. They had been discovered. One of them had betrayed, not only me, but all of them. There would be no more deception about the unlocked door, no more nightly revels. And who knew what other secrets would be revealed?
One of the pages, whom I knew to be a friend of Francis, sought me out. He looked frightened and afraid to speak. I fervently hoped he had brought me news of Francis.
He said: “Mistress, I have a message for you. Will you go to a spot you know well in the gardens?”
I understood that what was meant was that spot secluded by bushes and trees not far from the water’s edge which Francis and I had called our own little garden. So I knew, of course, that this was a message from Francis. I hurried to the spot and within a few seconds he appeared. He was dressed as for a journey.
He held me tightly in his arms and we both wept.
Then he said: “I must go, Katherine. They will kill me if I stay. They will say that I have brought disgrace on the Howard name. Oh, my love, how can I leave you?”
“I have been beaten and reviled,” I said. “I do not think more will be done to me. They will not want it known.”
“I thank God for that,” he said. “But I must go … or they will find some way of killing me.”
“Then you must go quickly …”
“Some day I shall come back,” he said.
“Where shall you go?”
“I shall go to Ireland. There I shall make that fortune and return.”
“You will come back to me … ?”
“I swear it. And you, Katherine … ?”
I said fervently: “You shall never live to say to me, you have swerved.”
We clung together. I wanted to beg him not to go, but I knew he must. He wanted to beg me to go with him, but we knew that would be the final ruin of us both. This bitter parting had to be. But in my heart I knew that one day he would return.
The Fourth Queen
LIFE WAS VERY DULL after that. I missed Francis sadly, but I knew I must be grateful that he had escaped with his life. When I considered that, I realized the importance of what I had done.
There was strict surveillance throughout the household. One of the Duchess’s attendants—nearly as old as herself, on whom she could entirely rely—had the duty of locking and unlocking the door of the Long Room. The nights of revelry were at an end. We were given tasks to do and long hours were spent at needlework of some kind. A musical instrument might be played while we worked, or one of us would read aloud. While this was in progress, one of the Duchess’s older ladies would inspect us at any moment to make sure orders were being carried out.
The Duchess had had a shock which had aroused her to action, and she was determined to put an end to the careless manner in which her household had previously been conducted.
The new way of life had its effect on me. I listened to the music and surprised myself by becoming interested in the readings. My longing for Francis faded a little. I was thinking of other things than what I called to myself “romping.” That was a pleasant comfortable word, suggesting innocence.
One letter was smuggled into me from Francis. Dorothy Barwike brought it to me with a sly smile, so I knew she was aware whence it came.
“How did you get it?” I asked.
Dorothy could only say that it had been given to her by someone to whom it had in turn been given. It was not possible to say how it had arrived in Lambeth.
It was full of protestations of undying love. He was in Ireland and would soon be sailing off on a great adventure which he knew would be profitable: and when he returned, he would come to claim his wife. None should gainsay him then. He lived for that day.
I read it through again and again and thought of his coming home. Then we would marry.
My grandmother, who, immediately after that scene when she had beaten me so
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