Mary Lassells was incredibly put out to have been moved from the Queen’s ladies post-birth to the employ of the Duchess of Suffolk. Maybe it hadn’t been a smart move to call the King’s current mistress a “two-faced slut” in an argument on her first week at court, but Lady Cromwell was both an old enemy and very much worth of the title. Lassells remembered the gossip in the Duchess’ household. It was not a shock to find her making a cuckhold out of the King’s advisor.
What had been shocking was the Queen’s response. Recently churched and glowing with excitement, she had been most put out that her maids were fighting. So mad that she had thrown the troublesome Mary out of her household and threatened to have her married to a pig farmer up North if she didn’t stop carrying stories.
Lassells knew she had come highly praised by friends and family, which was probably why she wasn’t already home. Which, in her opinion, might have been better. Instead, here she was, at a far table from the royal family, sandwiched between the Duchess’ stepdaughter, the Baroness Monteagle, and one Jane Wyatt, whose husband had been making eyes at Mary since her arrival. Considering the obvious swell of pregnancy in the young woman’s stomach and her pointed glances, she guessed Jane was not oblivious to the situation. Across the table, the woman’s mother-in-law ignored the clear tension and gossiped about her absent husband with niece, a pretty girl who Mary thought extremely annoying.
But it was the royal family was her main interest. Up above them all, she watched the Queen bask in the glow of success, the little Duke of York propped up beside her on purple cushions. The King dangled his fingers above the infant and Mary squinted trying to tell if a chubby arm lifted up of if that was a trick of the light.
The Ladies Mary and Elizabeth were down further, with both sour looks on their faces. She had hoped her namesake would be as glorious as letters from court had made her sound. Mary remembered her mother calling the King’s eldest daughter an “angel”, before her death in childbirth. But instead of a beautiful, rosy Princess, Lassells saw a sullen, carrot-headed woman who looked much older from a distance. Her sister didn’t fair any better.
Then again, these were two sisters about to be separated.
“Mistress Lassells!” spoke Elizabeth Brooke (the senior), and Mary was forced out of her gawking.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh please – call me Elizabeth! I just wanted to know if your brother has any news of Lord and Lady Cromwell’s marriage.”
“Yes,” spoke the younger Brooke woman, with a measure of contempt she longed to wipe off her face, “how are the happy couple?”
Mary sighed, saw nobody shared her disdain for gossip, and decided to give in.
“Lady Cromwell is a disgrace to her husband, and I am want to leave a court that would harbour a woman of such…light behaviour.”
Eye lit up around her, and the prickly and horribly Irish Honora Butler shouted from down the table,
“Speak up, girl!”
---
Elizabeth was most put out. Though both she and Mary were bound to marry for English favour, she hadn’t expected to leave first. It was horrible unfair, and when she had been warned the announcement would come tonight, she had bitten a cousin, Lady Boleyn, during the skirmish.
That hadn’t been entirely because of the news she was marrying to Saxony and would leave after Christmas. Lady Boleyn was very mean, and Elizabeth found her constant comments about her mother distasteful. Particularly when she’d cheerfully recount her time in the tower. But since she was rarely there, it was easy to pretend spiteful old lady didn’t exist when she wasn’t being visited by her favourite (great-)uncle, Sir James. It had just been unfortunate for the old woman that her presence had been so badly timed.
But here she and Mary were, sitting side by side, not talking.
“Elizabeth, I will come visit you.”
“When?”
Mary’s eyes slid over to Duke Philip, leaned over in conversation with a Portuguese traveller. A Catholic. Her father had asked him to stay a further six months, and she knew Mary hoped that might lead to something more. Elizabeth didn’t particularly care, and poked at her sister below the table. The older Tudor girl stifled a giggle and looked back.
“When everything is settled, silly girl! Now stop your pouting and smile – the King is watching.”
Elizabeth wondered what occur if the King did notice them talking seriously. Most other people were. And as she soon became aware, arguments were not uncommon amongst the people of the court.
Case and point, at this moment, two fights occurred.
On one side of the hall, one of the Austrians stood up and began berating Charlie Howard, who was clearly fuming and trying to move them outside. Her Kat – the new Lady Cromwell – cried hysterically as about five men and women were dragged out of the room. Amongst the noise, she could only hear one remark rise above the noise. A bellowing man with a silly hat and messy bear repeating “she is ruined” in French.
But more interesting to her Lady Suffolk slapping one of the boring women down amongst the lower tables. She’d risen very purposefully during the argument and barrelled through the crowd with amazing speed. Considering her tiny stature, Elizabeth couldn’t imagine it had hurt. But about seven more women then fled the room, and everything fell quiet again. Mary, to her right, had focused her attentions on a particularly tough piece of lamb on her plate, but Elizabeth turned to see her father looking extremely annoyed. They had taken little Henry William away. The mood had been firmly ruined for the big announcement.
---
Katherine Willoughby, now Lady Suffolk, had been brought up with two things in mind: her faith and her dignity. Slapping one of her maids had never been a considered part of that. But Mary Lassells – so highly praised – was proving to be an impossible fit in any part of the court. To hear that the ladies she had in her household were not just gossiping, but braying like fishwives, was humiliating.
“Mary Lassells, this is the last time you will ever do this again – do you understand me?”
At the sullen, pinched mouth nod she received in response, Katherine broke character yet again to slap her.
“I repeat: do you understand me?”
“Yes, I understand you, my lady.”
She turned to the other women, most with heads to the floor. Only her “daughter” kept eye contact, and Katherine wished it had all been easier than this. But it wasn’t her fault Lord Suffolk had married a girl younger than his own children. Her job wasn’t to make anyone happy but her husband and the King. Which, considering this mess, she was failing to do.
Waving away the other women, she looked long and hard at the diminuative Mary Lassells. Her hood was gabled – likely a castoff from her mother or a cousin. Her round face looked odd on her thin neck, but there was some prettiness to her features. If she could just be…calm, maybe she could have a career. Maybe even a decent husband. But Katherine just needed to know that she was willing to act like a lady.
“If you understand me, you’ll join me now in apologising to Lady Cromwell.”
“But I did not lie- “
“I don’t care, what you were doing disgraces her, it disgraces the court, and it disgraces me. You need to apologise to her immediately. Before any of this becomes too much a scandal.”
“I would rather die than apologise to Kitty Howard.”
Katherine sighed. There was just too much seething resentment here. Pure jealousy and rage basically poured out of the girl in front of her. Considering it all a lost cause, she shrugged her shoulders.
“Then you’ll die outside of my employ. I’ll let your brother know you are being dismissed from court as of tomorrow, and to prepare your things for travel.”
She turned away as the girl began to weep quietly and went to find Lady Cromwell.
---
Kitty was fuming. While her poor brother Henry tried to calm down the two foreign men screaming French at her brother, she and Charlie had found an empty room in which he could explain himself. But what he had to tell her was absolutely unforgivable.
“You crawled into her bed?” she screamed.
“I mean, just for a few moments. A minute at most. I was fully clothed.”
She hit him on the arm. Repeatedly
“When I said seduce her, I didn’t mean like this. Distract her. Woo her. Focus all of her attentions on you and away from the King.”
“Nothing happened!”
She stormed away from him and over to the fireplace. Kitty wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Her gown was quite fine, and embroidered with flowers and satyrs. Her husband had made a face when she’d put it on, which had quite ruined the excitement. But when Charlie looked at her, did he see the Countess before him? His sister was quite a powerful woman now. Well-credentialed and highly favoured. But she knew, behind her possibly tacky dress and jewels, she was still his sister. Still a girl.
“I know what happens when men crawl in girl’s sheets, Charlie.”
He shrugged at her, which made her grab something hard on the fireplace to throw at him. As it left her hands, she realised it was a playbox of some kind, and it barely seemed to reach him, let alone fly across the room like the arrow she’d envisioned. It was in this moment that Lady Suffolk, red faced and visibly disturbed, walked into the room.
“Lady Cromwell, I must apologise to you at once.”
“Apologise?”
Charlie gave her a sideways glance and stepped to the side, sliding the box beneath a chair. Despite herself, Kitty was grateful. No need for a woman so close to the King to know she and her brother had had an argument.
“Yes, I am so sorry. One of my ladies has been speaking ill of you and I have put a stop to it.”
She grabbed Kitty’s hands, and she became distracted. But not enough to prevent her from understanding. After a brief moment of looking at her hands in Lady Suffolk’s own, she raised her eyes and recognised what had been said.
“Was it Mary Lassells?”
Katherine Willoughby nodded, and Kitty suddenly felt like crying. It was all too much. Her blood had come today, confirming she wasn’t going to give the King a bastard, which had been somewhat of a relief. But had she been pregnant with his child, then maybe she’d be able to prevent his anger to Charlie. Or at least save herself from the poisoned tongue of her former roommate.
“Lady Cromwell, it is quite alright. I have dismissed Mary from my household.”
“What did she say?”
Lady Suffolk gulped, and Kitty shot Charlie a look to leave the room. She had a plan. When the woman didn’t answer, Kitty led her down to the stools by the fire.
“It’s quite okay. I’ve heard the worst she has to say about me. I just want to know what I’m up against.”
“She claimed you were…a woman of loose morals.”
Kitty knew that wasn’t just it. There would have been names. Allegations of fornication. Yes, she might be King Henry’s mistress, but she’d come to him as an unblemished flower. A slight lie would need to be told.
“Thank you for letting me know that, Katherine. I’ve only ever…known one man,” she let the implication hang for a second, “but sometimes rumours spread even when you just do your best to follow God. You understand, don’t you?”
Now, Kitty knew Lady Suffolk wasn’t stupid. The court knew she and the King had slept together. But she knew that tactfully admitting she hadn’t slept with Cromwell would switch interest. It wasn’t “Kitty Howard wasn’t a virgin when she arrived”, it was “Lord Cromwell is a cuckhold”, which suited her fine. Better for everyone to believe poorly of him and not of her.
They parted ways…not quite friends, but friendly. But Kitty was less worried about them as she was the mess her brother had made.
Returning to the hall, she saw as the King watched her with curious eyes, and saw Lady Suffolk had returned to her seat. Playing it composed, she smiled up at him, and was relieved to see a smile back. Not smiling, however, was the Queen.
