Dear Kat,
I hope this finds you well. I am writing to inform you that I will be returning to England at the request of my family. You will be aware that Mary will soon take to her lying in. I have been told my presence is required to aid in her labour.
George is soon to be married to Mistress Parker, one of the Queen's ladies. You must have spoken to her at least one one occasion. She is not the most attractive lady at court, yet she is from wealthy stock—a good match for George. It will be interesting to hear George's opinion on the matter. I am positive the whole wedding will be a grand affair with all trying to impress the king, who has agreed to attend.
I am hoping this letter reaches you in a similar fashion to my own arrival back in England. I will be heading to my family home at Hever to wait for the wedding, then I shall come back to court with my family for the summer. We have much to discuss! Perhaps you could persuade my uncle for an invite, so we may meet sooner.
Yours kindly, Anne
I smile. Anne's feet should be firmly on English soil by now. Anne back to court! I roll the parchment up, holding it tightly in one clenched fist, fearing to let go of the good news. I grab my thin cloak and wrap it around my shoulders awkwardly.
The weather is pleasant today. There is a soft breeze caressing the heat of the warming sun, and there is no rain in sight. The palace gardens have blossomed with the change of the seasons, and the royal gardeners have encouraged the most beautiful flowers to bloom under their caring touch.
I breathe in deep, allowing the fragrant scent of roses to fill my nose. They smell sweet with a heavy mix of aromas. It is a pleasant change from the stink which is carried from the river by crossing winds.
Roses adorn every display in the vast gardens. Roses—the Tudor badge. There is a political sign even within his gardens. The even spread of red and white roses make it clear to all that he is a son of York and Lancaster.
I make myself comfortable on a stone bench, which is half-hidden behind an arch of flowers and criss-crossed vines. I feel safe here—free from the forever-present prying eyes of the court.
I take Anne's parchment and unfold it straight, rereading her patterned script. Her hand is neat and she is well-learned, writing in fluent French, although her native tongue is English. Her father and mine are alike in their commitment to education—even for their daughters.
It will be good to have a friend once more at court. Joan's anger has faded, but her time spent with the Queen's ladies in the midst of our falling out has given her a permanent scowl. The insufferable bunch has rubbed their opinions onto my already bitter sister. She has now taken the view that if you are an adulteress, then there is a reason you are not among the Queen's favorites. I fear that if I step too close to the King, she will write me off and never speak to me again. It was not a problem when I first arrived, but I can sense the change in her.
The Queen's ladies are worse than the common folk. They whisper behind delicate unlaboured hands, muttering with disgusted expressions the latest tales of lewd ladies, immoral men, and embarrassing mishaps.
Queen Katherine likes to have an air of piety around her. She uses faith, prayers, and charity, to fool the peasants. I, however, am not; I can see her eyes gleaning all the information her little spies can gather, storing it for future use. She needs her way of control. She is a queen who needs to be able to control the pawns who seek to climb over everyone to reach the King.
* * *
"You have received the good news then?" Master Ashley says.
I smile up at him from where I sit. I have been expecting him. This is one of our secluded spots, a lovers' rendezvous, as it was, for many others.
"I hope she will not spend all her time with Mary," I say.
He chuckles at me. "That is not very considerate of you, Kat. Mary is pregnant. She will need her sister's attention more than you."
I pout slightly. "They will claw at each other in confinement. They have never been good in each other's company for long periods of time."
He takes a seat next to me and I can see his longing, his need to lean in close towards me. He resists, like me; we must be careful in the brightness of daylight, even if we are hidden among flowered walls.
"I would not know. It is a thing for women to endure. However, I would not like to be stuck inside throughout summer, missing all the entertainments of court!" He shakes his head.
A faint applause crosses the breeze, and we both turn towards the sound. "I think that is exactly what we are doing, hiding while the entertainments are taking place," I smirk.
He stands to reach for my arm. "Well, let me escort you to your rightful place then."
"You are a steward, a Howard serving man. I do not know if it will be appropriate for you to escort me," I say, trying not to offend him.
He grabs my arm and I stand up. I grab my parchment quickly, deftly placing it upon my person. "I work for your sister. It would not be deemed unusual in the daylight as long as we do not make a habit of it," he replies, not at all offended by my comment.
He guides me along the grassy paths until a crowd of courtiers comes into view. Even from a short distance away, I can make out the factions which make up the King's retinue.
We walk through the crowd, which has gathered to watch the King and his friends playing archery. I have heard the King always wins. I do not know why, but some say he is truly hard to beat. I watch as his friend Charles Brandon pulls back the bowstring. I can see his muscles go taut under the strain. He lets loose, and I hear the thack of the arrow hitting the target.
"Can you shoot, Master Ashley?" I ask.
He stands next to me and I can see his eyes raised in appraisal, "I prefer the sword, but I can shoot to some level."
I can feel the King's eyes upon me, though I am not looking towards him. I feel a sudden sense of embarrassment wash over me. I have never felt the need to flaunt my station but I know Master Ashley's is well below mine.
I do not look his way. Instead, I pull away from the game, dragging a reluctant Master Ashley away. "I must attend the Queen, and you said you would escort me," I say quietly.
A shaded marquee has been set up. Master Ashley drops me off and bows politely, giving me a quick glance. I know he wishes to say farewell properly, but we never could in front of so many eyes. Maybe we never will; maybe we will always be hiding.