I congratulated myself that I was outside the range of his choice, but I could well understand the apprehension of those within it.

I had made the acquaintance of Lady Latimer; she had had two elderly husbands and was now a widow. She was good-looking in a rather unspectacular way, wealthy, kindly and of an intellectual turn of mind. Her conversation was rather erudite, and it was a pleasure to join in discussions with her.

She was the daughter of Sir Thomas Parr who had at one time been Comptroller of my father's household. I never knew him. He had died a year after I was born, leaving a son and two daughters, one of whom was Katharine.

Katharine had married Lord Borough of Gainsborough when she was little more than a child. I do not know what difference there was in their ages, but I did know that Lord Borough's son's wife was fourteen years older than Katharine, so I should imagine she was quite a little girl.

On the death of Lord Borough, she was given to another old man. This was John Neville, Lord Latimer, who had taken part in the Pilgrimage of Grace. After his original foray into danger, from which he was lucky enough to emerge with his head still on his shoulders, Katharine, who was always wise and far-seeing, had persuaded him to have nothing to do with rebellion and to keep himself clear of trouble.

He had recently died, and there was Katharine, about thirty years of age, good-looking, clever and wealthy. She was her own mistress now. She had been the wife of two old husbands; if she wished to marry again, the choice should be hers.

I thought I knew on whom her choice would fall. I had noticed the looks which passed between her and Thomas Seymour. He was a dashing figure at Court—a great favorite of the King. He was just the type to appeal: flamboyant, adventurous, good-looking—and of course he was the King's brother-in-law and uncle of young Edward who adored him. He was the little boy's favorite uncle. He was about four years older than Katharine—a man in his prime—overambitious, I should say, like his brother Edward. It was these two brothers who had determined that their sister Jane should be Queen of England. Jane would never have done it on her own. Naturally the Seymours had received great favors since the marriage of their sister. The Duke of Norfolk had tried to ally himself with them through marriage, but Norfolk's son, Thomas, Earl of Surrey, had been so opposed to an alliance between the two families that the matter had been dropped.

Now it seemed that Seymour had his eyes on Lady Latimer, and she was more than willing to encourage him.

Then, to my horror—and certainly to hers, I noticed that the King's eyes rested on her often.

I heard him say one day, “Come and sit beside me, Lady Latimer. I overheard your discussions on Erasmus. I should like to hear your views on the Dutch scholar. You must tell me what you think of In Praise of Folly.”

At first she was not alarmed. She talked brightly and amusingly, and from time to time the King smiled.

The next day he looked for her, and when he did not see her he asked where she was and said that when she was found she must come to him.

“I enjoy her discourse,” he said. “She is a lady of firm views.”

That was a beginning.

He watched her as she danced, which she did gracefully enough, but she was not outstanding. She was perhaps not as beautiful as some of the younger ladies; but beautiful young women would remind him of Catharine Howard. He was looking for a sixth wife, and he wanted no mistakes this time.


* * *

I MISSED LADY LATIMER at Court, and when I enquired after her I was told she was unwell and had taken to her bed for a few days.

I visited her, and I found her melancholy.

“You are ill, Lady Latimer,” I said.

She nodded. Then she said, “The King has asked me to be his wife.”

I wanted to comfort her, to tell her that I was her friend; but I was never very good at showing my feelings. So I just looked at her with sympathy and understanding in my eyes.

“I am not young,” she went on piteously. “I am not beautiful. Why should he choose me?”

“I guess that he likes your company.”

“But I never thought …” Her eyes were appealing. I read in them that which she dared not utter. She was remembering that I was his daughter; how could she tell me she was afraid that to marry the King would be to put her life in danger?

I said, “You have agreed to become his wife?”

She replied, “I told him that I would prefer to be his mistress rather than his wife.” I stared at her. “That was bold of you.” “He thought so. It angered him. It shocked him. He said he did not understand my meaning. Then he smiled and said, ‘You are overcome by the honor, Kate. No need to be. I choose you and that is enough.' I could see how angry he would be if I refused. He went on, ‘Then the matter is settled. You shall be my Queen. I have had my eyes on you for many a day, and I know that there is happiness ahead for us two.'”

“And so,” I said, “the matter is settled.”

“When the King commands, one obeys.” She looked at me piteously.

“I have had two old husbands. I have been a nurse rather than a wife.”

I thought of his leg. I had never seen beneath the bandages but I believed it was not a pretty sight. Those in attendance on him must bathe it, apply the prescribed ointments and endure his fury when the pain was great.

It seemed that her fate was to act as nurse to old men. And there was Thomas Seymour, good-looking and romantic, cast by nature in the role of lover, waiting for her.

“If you are ill …” I said. “My father cannot bear illness. He never has.”

“But I am not ill. I am just… afraid.”

“Perhaps you could tell him you are already betrothed.”

She looked over her shoulder. I understood. We were speaking too frankly.

We had come to the conclusion that there was no way out for her.

“You will be our stepmother,” I said gently. “If I could have chosen, there would be none I would rather have.”

Then she embraced me, clinging to me for comfort.

I tried to give it to her. I wished I was able to convey more firmly my understanding and my sympathy; but it was not easy for me to give way to my emotions, and I am afraid I could not help her much. In any case, what help could I give her?


* * *

MY FATHER SENT for me. He was beaming; he was clearly happy and looking younger. He smiled at me affectionately.

“Good news, daughter. The best of news. I am to have a wife. This will be a good marriage. It is Lady Latimer.”

I fell to my knees and kissed his hand.

“I am happy for Your Majesty.”

“Yes, yes… get up. We shall be married soon. There will be no point in delay. I have been long enough without a wife.”

Long enough! It was a year since Catharine Howard had walked out to Tower Green; it was scarcely six since Edward had been born, and there had been two wives since then. But he said he had been a long time without a wife, so that was what we must accept.

“It will not be a grand marriage. I want no delays. A family affair. You will attend on the new Queen.”

“And Elizabeth?” I asked.

He hesitated, then he said, “Yes. Let the girl be there. This is a family occasion. You should prepare her.”

I said I would, although I did not think she would need much preparation. Did she not revel in royal occasions and constantly endeavor to be included in them?

He dismissed me, and I left him happier than he had been for a long time.

Edward was at Hampton Court, and I knew that I should find Elizabeth with him. Those two were constantly together. They shared a love of learning. In fact, Edward could scarcely be parted from his books, and as soon as he rose in the morning he wanted to be reading. He was quick and clever, rather as Elizabeth was.

I had been something of a scholar myself but I was never as avid for learning as those two were. In Edward's case I believe it was partly due to the fact that physical exercise tired him; lessons never did; and as he excelled at them, his enthusiasm was great. But Elizabeth, though she loved to dance and ride, was as eager as he was to learn. It made a great bond between them.

I guessed that if I went to his apartments I should find Elizabeth there.

I was right; and I was not really surprised to see Thomas Seymour there, for I knew he was a frequent visitor.

I heard sounds of merriment as I approached the apartments but when I entered the schoolroom there was silence. The atmosphere had changed suddenly. Seymour bowed low and, coming to me, took my hand and kissed it humbly, raising his eyes to my face as he did so; there was nothing humble in the look he gave me. His eyes were admiring, his respect was flattering; but that was Seymour's way with women and it did not impress me.

Edward was slightly flushed; Elizabeth looked a little sly. I felt I had intruded on an intimacy which had been very enjoyable to the company.

I went to Edward. He held out his hand to me, and I kissed it.

He was aware of his position—second to the King—and he remembered it on occasions like this, though I imagined where Elizabeth was concerned much formality was dispensed with, for she was certainly in command.

Whenever I was in her company I was always very much aware of her. She seemed watchful. She was not yet ten years old and exceptionally clever—and not only in book-learning; she had a shrewdness, a maturity, a secretive air as though she harbored thoughts which would not bear the light of day. She was not pretty, but her startling vitality called immediate attention to her. Her green gown accentuated the red of her hair; her white skin was clear and radiant. She had more than beauty.