In The Midst of Madness: Tudor Chronicles Book Two Read online

  ‘Mary,’ he boomed, trying to smile but only succeeding in a grimace that did nothing to improve his harsh features, something that no amount of finery could disguise.

  ‘Monseigneur?’ Mary answered her uncle carefully, sweeping him a curtsey, curiosity at why they had been summoned in her gaze. She looked at her parents but there was no help from that quarter. Neither of them could meet her eyes.

  ‘I think your daughter should go to court,’ he said abruptly, all pretence of subtlety gone, and he ploughed on over Mary’s failed attempts to interrupt him. ‘We need eyes and ears in the Queen’s retinue, and who better than two Howard girls?’

  ‘Two, Monseigneur?’ Mary’s brow creased with concern. ‘Surely you can’t mean that I will be going back to court with my daughter?’

  Norfolk snorted, as if that idea amused him. ‘No, girly, not you! Hell’s teeth, but that would be too obvious a reminder. I’m sure Dowager Duchess Agnes has some of Edmund’s daughters left in her care. I shall visit my father’s wife at Horsham and choose one of them to accompany your daughter. One a little older, to keep an eye on her.’ Another grimace-like smile that did nothing to reassure.

  Mary realised that she could do very little to defy the Duke if he had decided to bring Cat to court. After all, he was the head of the family, and even her father obeyed Norfolk when he spoke.

  She knew that her Uncle Edmund, her mother’s impoverished younger brother, had died leaving fourteen children orphaned, and she also knew that her step-grandmother the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk had taken some of the younger ones to be cared for at her large estate in Horsham. But she could not think which girls hadn’t already either married or gone to another great family to be maids of honour and find themselves a husband.

  Catherine stepped forward, almost trembling at the thought of speaking to her great-uncle, the famed Duke of Norfolk. ‘When shall I go, Monseigneur?’ she whispered, curtseying to the floor in obeisance to the head of the Howard clan.

  ‘After the Twelfth Night celebrations are over, when everyone returns to court, I’ll see if there are any positions I can hide you in, girly’. Norfolk turned from his place in front of the window, hands clasped behind his back to look at Cat, still in her curtsey, still with her head bowed. ‘Let’s have a look at you then, missy’, he commanded, and Cat raised her head.

  ‘Hell’s teeth!’ He gasped. ‘Look at her! The image of her father with that hair!’ Norfolk’s astonishment was obvious as he looked properly at Mary’s daughter for the first time.

  Mary swept forward, steel in her gaze and her carriage as she faced her uncle. She may have a reputation as being soft and loving, but she was also as much of a Howard as he.

  ‘Auburn hair does run in our family, Uncle. George had auburn hair and Cat obviously takes after him, not me or her father Will Carey.’ Steel in her voice as well, as she used ‘uncle’ and not his preferred style of Monseigneur.

  ‘Yes, well, perhaps,’ Norfolk muttered. As a soldier, he had learned to choose his battles wisely, and if he wanted Mary to agree to send her daughter to be a Howard spy in the court of Jane Seymour, then to point out that everyone thought Henry Tudor had sired Mary’s children was perhaps less than politic.

  ‘Get her ready, Mary. She shall be a maid in waiting to the whey-faced Queen after Twelfth Night. Teach her to be invisible, to see and hear everything, but to only tell me! The Howards won’t be beaten by the Seymour swine and this milk-sop marriage.’ His voice had risen to its customary roar, and Catherine trembled, Mary blinked and Meg, unnoticed at the back of the room wondered what would befall them when they went back to court.

  Chapter 3 - 1537

  eg thought the tap-tap of her shoes on the gallery floor at Hampton Court Palace sounded loud in her ears as she hurried towards Thomas Cromwell’s office, a twist of parchment clutched in her fingers. She was looking for the Duke of Norfolk and she knew that he would be consulting with Cromwell. And she was terrified!

  As she hastened down the richly appointed corridor, every window hung with a beautiful tapestry to keep out the cold, her mind was whirling with the events since the Duke had visited Lady Stafford at Hever. Their days since that visit had been filled with preparations for Cat’s position at court. Meg had stitched as many shifts and nightgowns as she could until her fingers were sore, and other seamstresses had been engaged to make petticoats, gowns, bodices and sleeves for Cat to take with her.

  Mary was determined that her daughter would have everything she could possibly need, although she was careful that the clothes were stylish but not ostentatious, using muted reds, soft greens, dark blues and dusky greys. No-one wanted to draw unwanted attention to the niece of Anne Boleyn, but every item of Cat’s underclothing and nightwear was beautifully embroidered and pin-tucked, made of the finest linen and cotton lawn. As a Howard, she may be invisible, but she would be clothed in luxury.

  Norfolk had let them know that one of Edmund’s daughters of suitable age had been found at Horsham, and she would be joining Cat at Hampton Court to serve with her as one of Queen Jane’s junior maids, to fetch and carry as necessary, but also to listen and look and report what they heard and saw.

  Meg suddenly realised that she had reached the door of Cromwell’s office, and she knocked timidly, smoothing her plain grey wool gown and straightening her cotton lawn cap.

  ‘Come in.’ A younger, lighter voice than Cromwell’s responded to her knock. Meg twisted the latch and stepped into the small ante-room which was already ablaze with lamps against the fading winter light. There were two desks piled high with books, parchments and scrolls and the room was lined with shelves containing yet more books. Behind one desk sat a stocky young man, his head bent towards a lamp as he painstakingly copied into a book the words from an open scroll. Behind the other was the owner of the voice.

  ‘Can I be of service, mistress?’

  Meg’s eyes widened and her voice fled as she regarded the astonishingly attractive, slender young man smiling at her from the desk. His dark hair curled round his ears and collar, and his tip-tilted dark eyes held a smile as he looked at Meg and saw how nervous she was. He unfolded himself from his chair and walked around his desk to speak to her.

  ‘You wish to see my Lord Cromwell, Mistress? On what matter, may I ask?’

  Meg looked back at him, feeling unutterably foolish, but still hardly able to speak. She untwisted her fingers as the young man continued to smile at her kindly, and took a deep breath.

  ‘I seek Monseigneur Norfolk,’ she whispered, ‘and I was told he might be here.’

  ‘He is, Mistress,’ smiled the young man, nodding his head towards the door in the other corner of the room, from behind which came the unmistakeable rumble of the Duke’s loud voice.

  ‘I h- h- have a note.’ Meg held the scrap of parchment forward, hand shaking under the young man’s scrutiny and the volume of the Duke’s voice emanating from the next room. His words could not be heard, but the tone was unmistakeable – the Duke was annoyed at something.

  ‘Please wait here.’ He smiled again. Meg thought he seemed to smile all the time, noting his white, even teeth and his well-shaped lips under a slightly snub nose. ‘I shall ask if he can receive you. Who shall I say is to see him?’

  ‘Meg,’ she whispered, then, taking a deep breath and clearing her throat, more loudly ‘I come with a message from Lady Rochford regarding the Duke’s niece.’ The words finally out, Meg seemed to shrink back into herself. The young man smiled at her again and then went to the door, knocked quietly and entered the room.

  It seemed only an instant, then he was back, saying, ‘My Lord Cromwell and His Grace of Norfolk will see you, Mistress Meg,’ and he swept his arm towards the connecting door. Meg swallowed hard and entered the room
.

  Cromwell, clad in his usual black robes, was seated behind his enormous desk which was also home to a myriad of books and papers. Norfolk lounged on a seat near the fireplace, a cup of wine in his hand and an irritated look on his face.

  ‘Come in, my dear,’ Cromwell spoke kindly to Meg, then looked past her to the young man, ‘Thank you, Ralph.’ The young man bowed to Cromwell, smiled again at Meg, then closed the door quietly behind himself.

  ‘Now then, girly,’ boomed Norfolk, as Meg curtseyed to both gentlemen. ‘What does that witch Jane Rochford want?’

  Meg blinked in astonishment at the Duke’s words. She didn’t particularly care for Jane Rochford either, but Jane was in charge of all the younger maids in the Queen’s household. Meg knew what lies Jane had told about Anne and George at their trials, and thought Jane’s betrayal of her own husband and his sister was unforgiveable. But the times made such enmity irrelevant, and they had to live in the world as it was, not how they would like it to be. She held out Jane’s note to Norfolk, trying to keep her trembling hand still as she did so.

  ‘Lady Rochford has sent this, Monseigneur,’ whispered Meg, curtseying again. Norfolk undid the parchment and read the brief message, then looked at Cromwell.

  ‘She says it is urgent that I go to my niece’s apartment as soon as I can,’ he told Cromwell, shifting his gaze back to Meg who looked at him in terror. ‘Do you know why, girly?’ he barked.

  Cromwell looked at Meg and smiled. ‘What is your name, my dear?’

  ‘Meg, my Lord.’

  ‘Just Meg? I’m sure you have another name?’

  ‘Barre. Meg Barre, my Lord.’

  ‘And where are you from, Meg Barre? I know you serve Mistress Carey now, and you were at court in the household of the Lady Anne, were you not? But not in the position you now hold, if I recall rightly. I remember you carrying a pile of linens almost bigger than you are. Tell me how you came to be here again, as a lady’s maid this time.’ Cromwell’s soft voice and kindly tone calmed Meg’s nerves and made her forget the frightening presence of Norfolk beside the hearth.

  ‘My father is Master of the Horses at Blickling in Norfolk, my Lord. He sent me to serve at the other Boleyn house in Kent when I was twelve. I was at Hever until Lady Stafford brought me to court to help nurse the Lady Anne when she lost her babe. I stayed in her service until ….. until I went back to Lady Mary.’ Meg couldn’t find it in herself to speak of accompanying Anne to the scaffold, and she didn’t want to break down in tears in front of these two men. And she was amazed that someone as lowly as she had been noticed by someone as important as Cromwell.

  ‘So, you are a loyal servant of the Howard family from your earliest years?’ Cromwell gave Norfolk an intense look as he smoothly spoke.

  ‘Yes, my Lord, my whole family serve the Boleyns and the Howards.’ Meg’s chin came up in pride at her family’s loyalty, even in the face of the current trials.

  ‘So, girly, what does Jane want?’ Norfolk’s tone, though still loud, wasn’t unkind.

  ‘She wishes to speak to you about your niece, my Lord. Not Mistress Cat,’ she added hastily, ‘your other niece, from Horsham. Mistress Kitty.’

  ‘Kitty? What sort of a name is Kitty? I thought she was Catherine? Named for the Dowager Princess Katharine of Aragon. And what, may I ask, is wrong with her?’ Norfolk’s booming tone was become irritated.

  ‘She calls herself Kitty, my Lord. And there is nothing actually wrong with her.’ Meg stopped and tried to choose her words carefully. ‘Lady Jane needs to speak to you about her appearance, and some aspects of her behaviour. I think she needs funds from you to….. to make her an acceptable addition to the Queen’s household.’ Meg swallowed hard, marvelling at her temerity to speak to the Duke about a member of his family.

  ‘Appearance? Behaviour? FUNDS???’ His voice grew louder and louder, and Meg shrank before his fury.

  ‘My Lord Norfolk,’ Cromwell’s smooth tones interrupted the Duke before he could work himself up further. ‘I’m sure it can all be addressed quite easily, and funds from the Queen’s household purse could be used if it is found that her attendants lack the necessary – apparel?’

  Meg sighed inwardly, relieved that Cromwell had deflected the Duke’s ire. When he spoke to Lady Jane, and saw Kitty for himself, she knew the anger would return, but for now Cromwell had calmed him down and for that she was grateful. Cromwell turned back to her and smiled kindly at her.

  ‘Mistress Barre, please return to Lady Rochford and tell her that His Grace will be with her as soon as we finish here. Ralph will take you back to your apartment,’ and with that he rang a small hand bell on the corner of his vast desk.

  ‘Ralph, please accompany Mistress Barre back to Lady Rochford. Make sure she is returned safely.’

  Meg looked wordlessly at Cromwell, then curtseyed to him and to Norfolk before she allowed herself to be escorted from the room by Ralph Sadler, clerk and deputy to Cromwell himself.

  Chapter 4 - 1537

  eg watched from the inner chamber door as Norfolk strode into the bedchamber that she shared with Mistress Cat and Mistress Kitty, his gaze sweeping round the room looking for Jane Rochford.

  ‘Hell’s teeth, Madam,’ he roared, ‘what is so urgent that you see fit to summon ME?’

  Lady Rochford rose from the chair, setting her sewing on the table beside her and faced Norfolk, trying not to appear nervous.

  ‘My Lord,’ he nodded as she curtseyed in deference to the head of the family. Norfolk saw in the tilt of her head as she did so that she refused to be intimidated by him, or shamed by her position as the widow of the disgraced George Boleyn.

  ‘I needed you to come and see Kitty,’ she began, smoothing her skirts so she didn’t twist her fingers together, ‘and I couldn’t possibly bring her to see you. I take it you didn’t meet her at Horsham?’

  ‘Meet her? I didn’t see any need to meet her, Madam. I asked my step-mother if she had any of Edmund’s daughters left, and she had one, Catherine. I told her to have her sent here. She is here, I gather?’

  ‘Yes, my Lord, she is. At the moment I am having her bathed. And de-loused.’

  Norfolk looked at her incredulously. ‘De-loused?’ he sputtered. ‘De-loused, Madam?’

  Jane looked at him evenly. ‘She is a disgrace to the name of Howard, Monseigneur. I don’t doubt that, had you seen her, you would have been equally appalled. She is filthy, infested with lice, and she has very little in the way of clothing. I can’t imagine why the Dowager Duchess sent her to us in her current state.’ Jane’s voice, always shrill and unpleasant on the ear, rose to an indignant shriek.

  ‘Hmph! I can,’ muttered Norfolk. ‘It would have cost my father’s wife money to outfit her to come, so she sends the girl with nothing, knowing that we will have to bear the expense.’

  ‘Well, for decency’s sake we will have to spend some money on her,’ Jane’s voice was shaking with indignation at the state Kitty had been in. ‘She only has the filthy gown she came in, which is too short and is so tight her breasts were all but exposed by her bodice. Her slippers have barely any sole left, and she has no underclothes, no shift, no petticoats, nothing! It is a scandal, my Lord, that she has been allowed to live like this.’

  ‘Cromwell says the expense can be borne by the Queen’s privy purse, so get her what she needs and send the bill to Cromwell.’ Norfolk looked round the room, noting the one large bed, with a small trundle bed at the foot. ‘The accommodation is small here, Jane, but it will have to serve them for now.’

  A noise at the door made him turn round, and he saw a tiny girl enter the room, swathed in a linen sheet, with another linen wrapped round her wet hair. Her delicate peach-like beauty su
rprised him, as he was used to the fair, round, apple-cheeked prettiness of Mary and her daughter. Anne had been small and slender, he recalled, but dark. This child didn’t look as old as Cat Carey, although he knew she was almost sixteen. Kitty looked at him with her pale green eyes and then gave him such a knowing smile that he was too astonished to speak.

  ‘Kitty,’ Jane Rochford’s sharp, corn-crake tones, ‘this is His Grace the Duke of Norfolk, your uncle. Your Grace, this is Kitty.’

  Kitty flew across the room and flung her arms about his neck, kissing him firmly on the mouth and heedless that the sheets, so carefully wrapped about her, had come loose and she was barely covered.

  ‘Uncle Thomas,’ she giggled, as both he and Jane quickly pulled the sheet back round her to make her decent again.

  ‘You must call him Monseigneur, Kitty. He may be your uncle, but he is also the highest Duke in the land, and we must show respect at all times.’ Jane’s shocked admonition seemed to penetrate Kitty’s girlish enthusiasm and she looked suitably chastened.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Monseigneur,’ she whispered, eyes lowered, then suddenly regaining her excitement, ‘but you ARE my uncle, aren’t you?’ She clasped her little hands together and almost bounced on tiny bare feet.

  ‘Yes, girly, I am. But you address me as Monseigneur, as you have been instructed. Now go and make yourself decent.’ He dismissed her in rough tones and Kitty’s face fell as she turned back to Meg and Cat, who had been helping her bathe.

  Jane poured the Duke a cup of wine, and by the time he had finished drinking it, Kitty was back, dressed demurely in what he supposed were clothes lent by Cat Carey. They were obviously hastily taken in, and the skirt trailed on the floor as Cat was taller at twelve than Kitty was at fifteen. However, Norfolk found himself entranced by her as he watched her hair being combed out by Meg, as Kitty sat on a footstool by the fire. It was light auburn, almost golden, poker straight and fell well past Kitty’s hips when she was standing. The combination of long golden tresses and kitten-like green eyes was intoxicating, even to an old soldier like Norfolk. He mentally shook himself and turned again to Jane Rochford.