The Sixth Wife_ The Story of Katherine P - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,9

had noticed her when she came to court, and he had liked her. She had been a good wife, first to Borough and then to Latimer. A sedate and virtuous lady. The kind of woman he liked to see about the court. And why was it he had not seen her at court? Ah, mourning Latimer, he supposed.

So Seymour was visiting her. To what end? Wealthy widow. Very wealthy widow. Those Seymours were the most avaricious men in the kingdom.

The King laughed. He believed that Seymour, knowing now that the Princess Elizabeth and the Lady Jane Grey were out of reach, was turning to the more mature charms of the widow.

Seymour could always make the King laugh; perhaps that was why the latter liked him. But even as Henry laughed, he grew solemn. She was a charming woman, this Katharine Parr. A good, virtuous and not uncomely woman, the sort the King liked to see at his court. A good influence on others. She had been friendly with the Princess Mary, and that meant that she was a sober, religious lady, having similar interests to those of his twenty-seven-year-old daughter.

Kate Parr and Tom Seymour. Incongruous!

Later, when he was closeted with his Primate, Thomas Cranmer, discussing State affairs, the King said suddenly: “The morals of the court distress me. I would like to see it influenced by our virtuous matrons. There is one…Katharine Parr…recently widowed. Latimer, was it not? He died a short while ago. She is a good woman and she would be an influence for good with our young maidens. I do not see her at court as often as I should like.”

Cranmer lowered his eyes. He was like a frightened stag, always on the alert for the chase to begin. He had seen Thomas Cromwell fall, and he could not forget it.

Latimer! he thought now. The noble lord had been involved in the Pilgrimage of Grace, as had Katharine Parr’s relatives, the Throckmortons. They were staunch Catholics, and Cranmer must be continually on guard against the influence of Catholic thought on the King. Yet of late Latimer’s widow had been turning toward the new faith, which was dear to Cranmer. A Protestant lady’s influence on the King would make Cranmer happy, while it would certainly discomfit his enemies—Norfolk, Gardiner and Wriothesley.

Cranmer said: “Your Grace, we should command this lady to come to court.”

The King nodded.

“Let it be done,” he said. “Let it be done.”

IN THE OAK-PANELED room of the Latimer mansion, Thomas Seymour was bowing over the hand of Katharine Parr.

“I have waited for this moment for…for…” Seymour lifted his handsome eyes to Katharine’s face. It was a trick of the gallant gentleman, who was rarely lost for words, to feign a nervousness which made him tonguetied. It was a trick which never failed to please the lady he was trying to impress.

“For?” prompted Katharine.

“Since I last saw you.” He smiled and boldly drew her to the window-seat, keeping her hand in his.

“Do you find it pleasant to be in London, fair lady, after the monotony of Yorkshire?”

“I had too much to do in Yorkshire to find life monotonous there.”

“But did you not, when you so nobly nursed your husband, long for court life?”

“No. I was happy. Except…”

“Except?”

“I thought of that time when I knew great fear. Not a day would pass when I would not be startled out of my wits by a knock on a door or a sight of a rider in the courtyard. I would look through a window and say to myself: ‘Can it be a messenger from the King?’”

“And, your lord husband, did he tremble with you?”

“He did not. He seemed insensible to danger. He was a brave man.”

“Too sick, I’ll wager, too concerned with fighting death to fear the King’s anger.”

“And then …” she said, “the King pardoned him.”

“The King’s pardon!” Seymour laughed. “The King’s smiles are like April sunshine, Kate.”

“I hear he is moody and depressed these days.”

“The King! Aye. And looking for a wife.”

“May God preserve the poor, unfortunate lady on whom his choice falls.”

Seymour raised his eyebrows in mock horror. “Treason, Kate!” he said.

“I know I should be careful. I speak too rashly.”

“Rashness? That is a fault I share with you. But ’tis truth you speak. What woman would be eager to share the King’s throne since poor little Howard’s head rolled in the straw?”

“Poor child. So young. So beautiful… and to die thus!”

“Caution!” Seymour took the opportunity to put his face close to hers on a pretext