Cor Rotto: A novel of Catherine Carey Read Online Free PDF Page A

so glad you made it!” she said brightly. “I was worried about the crossing this time of year, but you seem to be in one piece.”
    “Yes, it was not a pleasant experience,” I laughed. “But I was in good hands.”
    Immediately her eyebrow went up. “What is his name?” she questioned accusingly.
    I just smiled in response and shook my head.
    She clapped her hands, “Ladies, let’s rise to greet the day!”
    The other three girls grumbled, but obliged her, climbing begrudgingly out of bed.
    She gestured towards me, “This is Mistress Catherine Carey. She comes to us from Calais.” At the mention of her home, she put her hand to her heart.
    “Catherine, this is Mistresses Dorothy Bray, Mary Norris and Ursula Stourton. They will be serving the new queen with us. That young lady over there,” she said pointing towards my bed, “is Mistress Katherine Howard. I imagine it will be awhile before she manages to rouse herself to join us. She had quite an exhausting evening last night.” Dorothy and Mary chittered behind their hands.
    Ah, so she was a cousin. I was pleased at the possibility that I could get to know my family better, but also hesitant because of the scorn she was drawing from the other ladies. Maybe she was someone I did not want to be too closely associated with. I would have to be wary.
    Nan took a moment to preen in the mirror then spun around and grabbed my hand. “Let me show you everything,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye and we headed out into palace.
    The coming weeks were filled with preparations for the queen’s arrival. New rush mats needed to be woven, tapestries chosen by the king needed to be hung, and the queen’s rooms needed to be aired. The maids-of-honour oversaw the servants performing this work and spent mornings doing needlework on a new counterpane for their mistress. During my second week at Court I spied Richard in the gardens and was thrilled he had found his place in the stables after all. He was happy to see me and I managed to convince him that my horsemanship needed work. What else could he do but offer me lessons?
    In the afternoons, once my work was completed for the day, I would sneak off to the stables to see him. Sometimes I would catch him in the paddock, combing a mare, singing a lullaby in a quiet voice to calm her, his capable hands checking her carefully for injuries or damage to her hooves. He was so gentle with the animals and it endeared him to me even more.
    He would find me a gentle nag and lead me out into the field for a short canter at first, but the more often I rode, the more daring I became and soon I was on a fine palfrey, galloping behind him. I enjoyed our sessions and learned more about Richard and his history every day. He was the son of gentry in York, the youngest with four older sisters who doted upon him. After his mother died, he set out on his own and spent a few years on fishing vessels and trade ships in the channel. Eventually he made his way to the ship that would carry me back to England.
    Sir Anthony Browne, the king’s newly minted master of the horse saw him working with the horses in our train and asked him to stay on at Court. I was grateful for Sir Anthony’s intervention because I was falling for Richard more every day. Just seeing him from across the yard was enough to set my stomach aflutter. I did not know if he felt the same, but the look in his eye and his gentle touch when he helped me out of the saddle told me there was something there. As a lady, though, I knew I must hold my tongue and, in any case, the queen would be here in a short time and there would be no more time for riding lessons.

London, Greenwich:
January 1540
    “The queen has landed at Dover!” Nan squealed with delight as she ran into our room. She flopped herself on the bed and heaved a great sigh. “Finally, we shall be able to meet our mistress. I hope she is kind like Queen Jane was. It would be awful if she were as harsh and