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