Anne Herries - Lady in Waiting

‘In my business I glean crumbs from time to time and in this way my bread is baked. If the man be in league with the Devil I shall find him out one day.’

Absolute proof was hard to find and must be sought thread by thread until the tapestry was complete. And that would be all the harder if, as Nick suspected, he himself had been followed to and from his last meeting with Walsingham. Could their conversation have been overheard—and who was the man he had caught a glimpse of in the shadows?

He could not be certain. Indeed, he had seen the man in the shadows only briefly as they walked together in the gardens of Walsingham’s house at dusk. That brief sighting had touched a chord in his memory when he recalled it later, taking him back to a time when he had been much younger. Yet was it possible? It seemed unlikely. He was most probably mistaken; it had more likely been a trick of the light or a face long forgotten remembered wrongly, but it would do no harm to ask Oliver for a name.

The remainder of Catherine and Lady Stamford’s journey to town was uneventful, though they had to accomplish it without the baggage coach, which having somehow missed them on the road had continued on to London and awaited them at Lady Stamford’s town house.

The house, situated just off St James’s and convenient for the Palace of Whitehall, which was the Queen’s main residence in London, although she had many other palaces within a short distance, was a tall, narrow building with overhanging windows and a timbered frame.

Catherine was surprised at the closeness of the houses through which they passed on their way to Lady Stamford’s home. The streets were filthy and the smell that came from the rubbish-strewn gutters indescribably foul. She had expected her aunt’s house to be larger, but Lady Stamford explained that as she came to town only occasionally she did not need anything grand.

‘We shall be out most of the time, and I do not entertain lavishly in town, merely a supper or two if I feel inclined to invite close friends. Indeed, if it were not for Willis I might be tempted to sell it altogether. My second husband, who had ambitions at court, bought the house as a gift for me. Unfortunately, he caught the pox and died before he had a chance to make his name. And then of course I married again, and when the young king was taken from us my husband felt it prudent to retire to the country. We did not come to town again for a long time.’

Many Protestant ladies and gentlemen had done as much during the reign of the Queen some named Bloody Mary. It had been safer and more prudent so.

The London house had been reopened after Elizabeth came to the throne amongst scenes of rejoicing by the common folk, Lady Stamford having attended the Coronation and been present in the Abbey. Her third husband had unfortunately died soon after of a putrid fever, and once again she had retired to her house in Berkshire. Now she had returned to London for Catherine’s benefit.

Inside, the furnishings were good solid oak, some of it worn to a mellow softness by time and wear. The unwarranted use of English oak for anything but shipbuilding was frowned on these days, because it had been over-used, and imported woods were beginning to take its place, walnut being a favourite for good furniture. However, there were rich hangings on the walls and a set of six beautifully carved elbow chairs with padded backs covered in a bright tapestry. The stuffed backs made them more comfortable than any Catherine had ever used before and she remarked on it to her aunt.

‘They were a special present to me from my third husband for our wedding,’ she told Catherine. ‘He asked me what would please me most and I told him of chairs I had seen in Her Majesty’s bedchamber so he commissioned these for me. I liked them better than any jewel, and they have given me ease on many a weary night. There were ten of them in all but I gave four to Margaret when she married Willis, and I shall give you two as a wedding gift.’

‘They are indeed most handsome,’ Catherine said and thanked her.

She must be grateful for her aunt’s consideration. Such chairs were seldom found in even the best houses, and it was a generous gesture to give such a valuable gift. Clearly her aunt expected her to make a good marriage and Catherine hoped she would not be too angry if her plans came to naught.

The scolding she had received after her coldness to Sir Nicholas had chastened her and she had found herself quite unable to put the incident from her mind. But now that they were in London, she imagined it would be easier for there was so much to see and do.

Lady Stamford had talked constantly of the silk merchants they would visit, and over the next several days Catherine was shown a dazzling display of wonderful silks and velvets. So many that she found it difficult to choose and spent an enormous amount of her father’s money.

‘My brother can well afford it,’ Lady Stamford told her when she wondered what he would say at their extravagance. ‘And you cannot go to court looking like a pauper.’

The merchants’ shops had signs hanging above them, often brightly painted and in many cases depicting the nature of their trade or guild; they swung backwards and forwards in the wind, making a creaking noise and adding to the general hubbub. The market stalls abounded everywhere, crowding the narrow streets; meat, fish and vegetables were open to the elements and flies in the heat of the day, and sometimes the smell was enough to make Catherine retch.

At home she would have ridden to a local market or fair, but in London they found it more convenient to summon a chair to carry them about the city. Walking was out of the question, because the gutters were choked with filth and one had to watch for housewives throwing the contents of their chamberpots from an upstairs window with only a brief warning, which caught many unawares. She had seen more than one fine gentleman raise his fist in anger when slops splashed his hose or trunks, as he was slow to dodge the deluge from above.

It was often almost impossible to pass through the narrow, congested streets, which quickly became choked with the press of traffic. Sitting behind an overturned wagon that had spilled its load on the ground did not find favour with Lady Stamford, and the best chairmen were adept at avoiding such disasters.

Catherine was in turn delighted and appalled by the sprawling city, which had spread out beyond its medieval walls, despoiling the countryside about it. The ditch outside those walls, which had once been a part of the city’s defences, had become a narrow, silted channel that stank in summer and had been built over in places. However, the curving banks of the Thames were still green and pleasant in many areas, gentle, spreading trees gracing them with their tranquil beauty, and flocks of swans frequenting the clear water. Within the city itself it was possible to come upon orchards secreted behind walls or pretty private gardens, and the houses of the rich were sometimes very grand, often situated close by the river with long sloping gardens to the rear. Catherine thought how pleasant it would be to walk there on a warm evening, and regretted that her aunt’s house had only a small walled courtyard.

The streets of the city were mostly dark at night, though lanterns hung outside the better houses and inns. It was, however, a risk to venture out late at night, despite the efforts of the watchmen.

‘We shall be well escorted if we go out in the evenings,’ Lady Stamford told her niece. ‘But we must wait until your father arrives before we go to court.’

In the meantime Catherine was content to be taken about the city, visiting the newly opened Royal Exchange, the beautiful parks, so many shops that her head went spinning at all the frills and trinkets she was shown. What she enjoyed most was being rowed down the river on a pleasant day to watch some sport or a play given in the courtyard of a superior inn.