Baynard's Castle, May 1524
The English royal nursery had never been so challenged as it was in those first weeks after the triplets’ birth. Experienced nurses though Lady Bryan and Lady Salisbury were, the introduction of three new charges at once, all with such different levels of need, stretched even their abilities to oversee the royal children to the limit.
Like his brother Lionel had been before him, Richard was loud, demanding and predictable. It was easy to guess what he wanted when he cried, for his little body was like a clock...Food, fresh small-clothes, sleep, in that order, over and over again in regular two to three-hour cycles.
Lady Katharine, or Caitlin, as her father had christened her, was just as demanding as her brother, but more unpredictable in the order in which she would want things. However, Lady Bryan very quickly realised that the worst thing one could do for Caitlin was to let her get overstimulated and/or over-tired. If she missed a nap, or slept poorly, which, given she had two other triplets in her nursery and two older siblings and their companions who didn’t always succeed in staying quiet when the babies were sleeping, happened more often than her Lady Governess would have liked, she would spend the next portion of her awake time wailing and miserable, no matter how people shushed her. Still, at least there was a reasonably simple solution to the issue. Keeping Caitlin on a stable routine, and putting her down for more naps than might otherwise have seemed necessary, minimised that risk and thus kept her manageable.
It was her sister Jacquetta who was the real struggle.
The youngest and frailest of the triplets, she had always promised to be problematic from the very first day, when her parents had had trouble naming her. This only proved all the truer as she grew, for she cried almost constantly, a thin, piercing wail that broke the hearts of all who heard it. She spent more time in anyone’s arms than on her back in a cradle, for walking around with her seemed the only way to calm her, unlike either of her siblings, who flailed and kicked for freedom if held for too long. Moreover, she struggled to feed, only ever latching on to her wet nurse’s breast for a few sucks at a time before either falling asleep or bobbing off the breast, whimpering and refusing to suckle. Lady Bryan spent more time than she cared to admit holding a soaked linen cloth to Jacquetta’s lips, trying to tease her into taking some milk.
One day, about a month after the triplets had been born, Lady Bryan pulled Lady Salisbury aside as they went back to the nursery after Mass, the Princess Mary having been swept away by her father to dine with him and her mother in Marie’s apartments.
In the privacy of a half-hidden window embrasure, she locked eyes with the other woman.
“When are we going to admit it, Margaret? The Lady Jacquetta is not gaining in health and strength as we’d both hoped she would.”
“No,” Lady Salisbury pressed her lips together, “She is not. Though, before you ask, I don’t see what else we can do for her than what we, and the rest of her household, already are doing. Other than pray, of course.”
“Do we need to -” Lady Bryan hesitated, knowing her next words could well be seen as treasonous, but fearing for what might happen if she didn’t say them anyway, “Do we need to seek to warn Their Majesties that they might well lose the Lady Jacquetta as they lost His Highness Lord William?”
“Margaret!” Lady Salisbury gasped in horror, her hand flying to her mouth, “Did you just say -?”
“You and I both know that Lady Jacquetta will burn up like a candle the moment she gets even a touch of an infantile fever, to say nothing of anything more serious. I am asking you as a colleague and as a friend, do we need to warn Their Majesties?”
“The Queen won’t hear a word of it,” Lady Salisbury shook her head, “Do you know what my daughter overheard Her Grace say to her sister Lady Lancaster the other day? That it was in the Lady Jacquetta’s blood to be difficult and that we should count ourselves lucky we had at least one easy-going charge in Lord Richard! No, Queen Mary is too much of an optimist. She’ll not allow herself to imagine her little daughter cold in the grave. Not for an instant. Telling her would only distress her and do no good at all.”
“Then what do we do?”
“What we’ve always done. We do our duties as best we can and we offer up our prayers. I suggest special prayers to St Nicholas and St Gerard, in the hope that they might intervene with the Saviour for our poor Lady Jacquetta. Now, come, before Prince Lionel starts calling for us.”
Lady Salisbury squeezed Lady Bryan’s shoulder in comfort as she passed, before the two of them fell back into a matching pace, each step bearing them closer to their duties in the nursery.