Despondent, she sought solitude in one of the palace gardens. At last she was free to go wherever she would at Hampton Court. Much good it did her! With the queen dying, no wealthy, titled nobleman would dare be seen flirting with one of the maids of honor. They must all be respectful and sorrowful and wear long faces.

Nan kicked a stone out of her way and watched it bounce into the shrubbery. She wanted to scream in frustration. She might have given in to the impulse had she not suddenly realized that she was not alone amid the flower beds and topiary work.

As King Henry approached, trailed by his usual escort of gentlemen and guards, Nan dropped into a curtsy. She expected His Grace to pass by. Instead, he stopped in front of her, hesitated a moment, and then ordered his attendants to fall back to give him privacy.

“Walk with me,” the king commanded.

For several minutes, he said nothing more. The only sound was the crunch of their leather-shod feet on the gravel path. But when they reached a small, ornate bridge over a man-made pond, the king stopped to look down at her, his face a study in consternation.

“How does Queen Jane fare today, Mistress Bassett?”

Nan hesitated. It was not wise to tell a king something he did not want to hear, but lying would avail her nothing. “No better, Your Grace.”

“I had intended to return to Esher on the morrow,” he murmured, “but I cannot find it in my heart to leave her.”

It was on the tip of Nan’s tongue to tell the king that he should visit his wife, but she did not dare be that bold. She remembered what Anne Parr had said about King Henry’s aversion to sickness of any kind. If His Grace could not abide being near anyone who was ill, she did not suppose he’d have much tolerance for deathbed vigils.

“She gave me a son.”

“Yes, Your Grace. A beautiful boy.”

“She has done her duty.”

Nan was not sure how to respond to that statement. It was almost as if the king thought Queen Jane might as well go ahead and die, now that she had provided him with his much-desired male heir.

Abruptly, King Henry bid Nan adieu and left her there on the bridge. She heard him call for his escort and then he was out of sight, behind a hedge. Her mind awash with confusion, she fled back to the queen’s apartments.

LESS THAN TWO weeks after giving birth to Prince Edward, two days after Nan’s encounter with King Henry in the garden, Queen Jane tragically died. The king left Hampton Court as soon as he was told of her passing. Grief? Nan wondered as she watched His Grace’s departure for Windsor Castle from an upper window. King Henry was all in blue, the color English royalty wore for mourning, but that signified nothing.

Nan was not certain what she felt, either, other than a sense of being set adrift with neither compass nor rudder. She had no idea what would happen to her next. She might be sent back to the Pale of Calais, England’s last tiny stronghold on the Continent. Or she could be offered a position in some noble household. That would be better than returning to her mother, but not as good as being at court. A tear trickled down her cheek as she contemplated all she had lost.

Cousin Mary came to stand beside her. Her eyes were red and swollen and her voice was husky. “Come, Nan. Seamstresses await us in my chamber.”

Nan sighed and followed her. “I suppose we must all wear black for mourning.”

“Not only that, but there are very particular rules for those who rank above a knight’s wife.”

Nan pretended to be interested, but her mind was fuzzy with weariness, her wits clouded with disappointment. She caught only bits of her cousin’s discourse, something about a mantle, a surcoat, and a plain hood, all in black, over a Paris headdress and a pleated white linen barbe that would cover Mary’s chin as well as the front of her neck. Nan thought longingly of the new lion tawny velvet gown and the satin one—a lovely crimson shade—that Master Husee had so diligently procured for her. It would be months now before she’d be able to wear either.

Cousin Mary was smiling ruefully when Nan’s attention returned to her cousin. “I am glad I am not a duchess,” Mary said with a wry chuckle. “The greater the rank, the longer the train.”

“Am I to have a train?” Nan asked.

“You have not heard a word I’ve said, have you?” Sounding exasperated, Cousin Mary pushed open the door to her own chamber. “Knights’ wives and gentlewomen of the household must wear surcoats with moderate front trains and no mantles.”

“And what is a surcoat?” She was not familiar with the term.

“It is an old-fashioned garment such as they wore in the days of King Edward IV. It is made like a close-bodied gown.”

Inside the countess’s rooms, a servant was just closing the window and preparing to drape it in black cloth. The maids had already packed away Mary’s usual assortment of colorful clothing.

The tears that sprang into Nan’s eyes were heartfelt, as were her whispered words: “It is most unfair that Queen Jane should die.”

The queen’s lying-in-state began on the day following her death. For a week, she lay in her own Presence Chamber, where her ladies took turns keeping vigil day and night. Then, on the last day of October, the body was taken by torchlight to the Chapel Royal, where it would remain until the twelfth of November, when it would be transported to Windsor Castle for the funeral and burial. The queen’s ladies continued to keep vigil during the day, but now gentlemen took their places at night.

On the last day of that duty, Lady Rutland took Cat Bassett aside. “I have asked Master Corbett to escort you to Rutland House in Shoreditch,” the countess said. “I will join you there as soon as the queen’s household is officially dispersed.”

“But why, my lady?” Cat asked in alarm. “Have I offended you?”

“Not at all, my dear. But you lack the proper clothing to accompany the funeral cortege to Windsor Castle.” As the third gentlewoman serving the Countess of Rutland when she was only supposed to keep two ladies-in-waiting at court, Cat had not been provided with mourning by the Crown.

“What will happen to my sister?” Cat asked. “Where is Nan to go?”

“Lady Sussex will house her for the time being, just as I will continue to look out for you. You know already that your mother has been seeking a position for you in the household of the Duchess of Suffolk. The Countess of Hertford is another possibility. So is the Lady Mary. Never fear. In time, you and Nan will both find good places.”

“I would rather remain with you than serve another,” Cat said.

Lady Rutland patted her cheek with one plump hand. “You are a sweet child. Now, go and pack your belongings and be ready to depart on the morrow just as soon as the funeral cortege leaves Hampton Court.”

Cat did as she was told. At five o’clock the next morning—a full two hours before dawn—she stood next to Ned Corbett to watch Queen Jane leave Hampton Court for the last time.

Guards, household officers, officials, and a hundred paupers came first, followed by noblemen, ambassadors, heralds, and gentlemen of the court, some of them holding banners aloft. Six lords rode, three on a side, with the chariot that contained the queen’s casket. It was drawn by six horses with black trappings beneath a canopy of black velvet fringed with black silk and decorated with a white satin cross.

The queen’s effigy was prominently displayed on top of the casket, clothed in robes of state and holding a scepter in a hand that had real rings on the fingers. There were golden shoes on its feet and the head wearing the crown rested on a golden pillow.

More noblemen came next, then the Lady Mary. As chief mourner, she was mounted on a horse trapped with black velvet. The king would not take part in any of the ceremonies. According to custom, a husband did not attend the funeral of his wife.

Some of the ladies and gentlewomen of the court had gone ahead to Windsor, but all those who had not—and who had proper mourning garments—followed the king’s daughter in the procession. Some were on horseback. Others rode in black chariots. Lady Sussex and Lady Rutland both had places in the first one. Nan sat inside the fifth and last chariot with some of the other maids of honor. Cat had a clear view of her sister’s ravaged face, staring straight ahead.

“She has been deeply affected by the queen’s death,” Cat murmured.

“Indeed,” Ned agreed. “She did not plan for this.”

Cat frowned at his tone, but his expression was properly somber. When the last of the cortege had passed by, he took her arm and led her to the water stairs where a boat waited to take them downriver.

Ned said little during their journey on the Thames. Cat found herself remembering the last death to touch her closely, that of her father when she was only nine years old. For Cat’s mother, the loss of a spouse had meant she must find a new husband, someone who could help her provide dowries for four daughters and two stepdaughters and find employment for two younger sons. Once upon a time, one of the boys and one or more of the girls would have gone into the church. After King Henry’s break with Rome, that had no longer been a choice. These days becoming a nun or a Catholic priest meant living in exile, branded a traitor, like Lord Lisle’s cousin, Cardinal Pole. One by one, the monasteries and nunneries were being closed. Soon there would be none left in England.

The sound of bells ringing penetrated Cat’s reverie.

“London,” Ned said.

“But the city is still miles away,” she protested.

“That is the sound of every church bell in a hundred parishes, tolling in memory of Queen Jane.”

The din was deafening when they disembarked for the ride through London on horseback to the Earl of Rutland’s house in Shoreditch, a northern suburb of the city. But just as they reached their destination, an eerie quiet descended.

The mansion itself was not only silent, but nearly deserted, and permeated by an icy chill. Ned set the cook to preparing a light supper and started a fire in Lady Rutland’s parlor with his own hands. He was adept at the task, clearly accustomed to looking out for himself.

“You do not seem much disturbed by being sent away from court,” he observed as he balanced a small piece of wood on the stack of burning kindling.

“It matters little to me where I am,” Cat said, “although I do enjoy Lady Rutland’s company.”

“After the queen is buried, her household will be dispersed. I suppose your sister will go to the Countess of Sussex?”

“So we expect. Temporarily, at least.” Cat supposed she should not be surprised that Ned asked about her beautiful younger sister, but she did not want to talk about Nan. To change the subject, she asked him when he was due to depart for Calais.

“Not for some time.” His blue eyes twinkled in the firelight. “While John Husee meets with Lord Lisle in Calais, I remain here in his place.”

“How pleasant for you.”

“For you, too, I hope. You know how I enjoy spending time with you.”

Absurdly pleased by his comment, Cat felt herself flush. “You are welcome to visit me here as often as you like during your sojourn on this side of the Narrow Seas.”

“I look forward to seeing a great deal more of you.”

A shy smile curved her lips when he winked at her. His added responsibilities meant her stepfather trusted Ned and meant to advance him. Did she dare hope Lord Lisle might consider Ned worthy to court one of his stepdaughters? It would be very easy, Cat thought, for her to fall in love with Ned Corbett.

PLAIN FACED AS Cat Bassett was, Ned Corbett thought, it was inevitable that she would fall for his flattery. A few days after he’d brought her to the Earl of Rutland’s house in Shoreditch, they walked together in the gallery, just as they had each day she’d been in residence. When they came to the far end, Ned tugged Cat into his arms and took advantage of the shadows to give her a lingering kiss on the lips.

The clatter of hooves and wheels on the cobblestone courtyard of Rutland House interrupted him before he could do more. He cursed under his breath. The commotion could mean only one thing—Lady Rutland had arrived home.

A short time later, Ned and Cat took their turn greeting the countess. She gave him a narrow-eyed look, but addressed her words to Cat. “Lady Sussex traveled with me from Windsor. Even now she is at her husband’s house in London. Your sister is with her.”

Ned hid his elation. Here was a piece of luck. He had expected the Countess of Sussex to go to the earl’s manor in Chelsea. The place was easily accessible by boat, but would have been expensive for him to visit on a regular basis. The cost of hiring wherries mounted quickly and Ned had to hoard his pennies. Having Nan Bassett in London meant she’d be only a short walk from John Husee’s house, where Ned lodged. He could continue to court Cat Bassett and at the same time pay frequent visits to her sister without incurring any appreciable expense.