In the Shadow of the Crown - Plaidy Jean (книги хорошем качестве бесплатно без регистрации .txt) 📗
They told me about her, how she had babbled in her anguish, how she had worked herself up to a frenzy and to such an extent that they feared for her sanity.
How could she help it? Poor girl, she was so young, so full of life. She enjoyed life to such an extent that she could not bear the thought of having it snatched from her.
She believed, naturally, that if she could speak to the King, if she could cajole him, if she could, by her presence, remind him of the happiness she had brought him and still could…he would save her. He would cherish her still. But the wicked men would not allow her to see him. They would keep them apart because they knew that, if she could but speak to him for a moment, this nightmare for her would be over.
They said that when she heard he was in the Hampton Court chapel she ran along the gallery calling his name. But they stopped her before she reached him. They dragged her back to her chamber and set guards on her so that the King should not be aware of her terrible distress. They must have believed, as she did, that if he saw her, he would forgive her.
Susan and I discussed the matter. I suppose everyone was discussing it. We learned many things about the life Catharine Howard had lived before the King set eyes on her and made her his Queen. We heard details of the establishment of the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, of the young people who had been under her care… only there was no care.
It was a sordid little story. I could picture it all… the long dormitory, those high-spirited young people. For a girl of Catharine's temperament there would be temptations, and she was not a girl to resist them. Therein lay her great attraction. There would have been many to enjoy what had so pleased the King.
I remembered that she had taken Francis Dereham into her household at Pontefract. What a little fool she was to do so. She was foolish not to see the danger which would have been obvious to a more worldly person. Her knowledge of sexual adventuring might be great but she had no understanding of human nature. It would never occur to her that, for some to see the little Catharine Howard—the poor girl who had scarcely been able to clothe herself—now reveling in the silks and satins which she loved, would arouse great envy, and envy is a most destructive passion.
It all came out… the flirtations with Manox, the musician, the familiarities she allowed Francis Dereham, who wanted to marry her and claimed her as his wife. It had been as though they were married. And she, as Queen, had brought this man, the lover of her humbler self, into her household!
How easy it must have been to build up evidence against her!
There was one other case which was even more damning. Her cousin, Thomas Culpepper, was in the King's household, and many had noticed the soft looks which had passed between him and the Queen. It was soon discovered that there had been interviews between them when they had been alone in a room together.
Lady Rochford's name was mentioned as one who had helped arrange the meetings with Culpepper and to make sure that the pair were not disturbed during them.
I had never liked Lady Rochford. The fact was that I had never liked anyone connected with the Boleyn family overmuch. I had seen Anne Boleyn as the one who had killed my mother. I was not sure that she had plotted to poison her, but I felt she had killed her all the same; but for Anne Boleyn, my father would have remained married to my mother, and I believe she would have been alive still.
Lady Rochford had been the wife of George Boleyn, and it was she who had given credence to the story that he and Anne were lovers. I had never believed that, much as I hated them, and I had always wondered how a wife could give such evidence against her own husband. And now she was accused of helping to further an intrigue between the Queen and Thomas Culpepper. I believed that such a mischievous and unprincipled woman could do just that.
I wished I could go to my father and comfort him. Of course, I could never have done so.
I wondered how deep his affection went and whether it would be strong enough to save her. She had pleased him so much. He had recently given thanks to God for providing him with a wife whom he could love. Surely he would not want to lose her, merely because she had had a lover—or two… or three—before her marriage to him? I sometimes felt an anger against men who, far from chaste themselves, expect absolute purity in their wives. If Catharine had not had some experience before her marriage, how could she have been the mistress of those arts which seemed to please him so much?
I wondered what he would do. I did not talk of this to Susan. I feared I would be too frank about him. He was my father and he was the King. I thought about him a great deal. I had seen him in his moods, when he was preoccupied with his conscience. I had judged him in my mind but I could not do that before others. So I said nothing of these intimate matters.
Susan said one day, “They have arrested Dereham.”
So, I thought, it has started. He will not save her. His pride will have been too hurt. He did not love her more than his own pride.
“On what charge?” I asked.
“Piracy,” she replied.
“He was involved in that in Ireland where he had gone to make his fortune, some say, that he might come back and marry Catharine Howard.”
I nodded. I knew what would happen. They would question him, and he would be persuaded to answer them. Persuaded? In what way? How strong was he? I had thought him a dashing fellow—but one can never tell who can stand up against the rack.
We heard later that he confessed that, when they were together in the Duchess's household, the Queen had promised to marry him. They had thought of themselves as husband and wife, and others had considered them as such; they had exchanged love-tokens. They had lived together in the Duchess's household as husband and wife.
They tried to force him to admit that when he returned and was taken into the Queen's household the relationship between them had been that which they had enjoyed in the Duchess's. This he stoutly denied. There had never been the slightest intimacy between him and Catharine since her marriage to the King.
We heard that the King shut himself in his apartments, that he had burst into tears, that he had raged against fate for ruining his marriage. There was great speculation. Would the King waive her early misdemeanors and take her back?
Even I, who knew him so well, was unsure of what he would do. I wished that I could have seen him, talked to him. I could imagine his tortured mind. He wanted to believe her innocent and on the other hand he wished to know the worst.
I think he might have relented. He could usually be relied on to adjust what he considered right with what he wanted; and he wanted Catharine Howard. There was no doubt of that. I think he would have taken her back if it had not been for Culpepper.
It is not easy for people in high places to act and no one know what they are doing. Catharine had received Culpepper in her chamber, and Lady Rochford had helped her arrange the meetings.
It was all coming out. There were men like Thomas Wriothesley who were determined to ruin the Queen and make reconciliation with the King impossible.
How I hated that man! There was cruelty in him. He sought all the time to bring advantage to himself, and he cared not how he came by it.
All those connected with the early life of Catharine Howard were now in the Tower—even the poor Duchess of Norfolk, sick and ailing, and a very frightened old woman.
My father must have tortured himself. He could not believe that his dear little Queen, his “rose without a thorn,” could possibly have had a lover when she was his wife. That was something he found it hard to forgive. That was the charge he had brought against Anne Boleyn, but I think he never believed it. It was treason for a Queen to take a lover, for it meant that a bastard could be foisted on the nation. And the thought of that charming, passionate little creature going off to her lover… perhaps laughing at the King because he was no longer so young and lusty as Master Culpepper…was more than my father could bear.
