Katharine, The Virgin Widow - Plaidy Jean - Страница 35
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Henry was thinking that this meeting, plotted by women, was perhaps not the wisest course at this time. What if Philip had no wish to see him? What if it should turn out to be a reunion of Katharine and her sister merely? He shuddered to think of the expense that would be involved, the money wasted.
“I will ponder on this,” he said.
* * *
AT THE WINDOW of her apartments at Durham House, Katharine sat for a long time looking out. Puebla had gone to Richmond and would now be with the King.
Katharine was deeply shocked. She could not free her mind of the memory of her mother’s face. Isabella had been at her happiest when she had her family about her. Katharine could remember those occasions when the family sat with her, the girls at their needlework, Juan reading to them; then perhaps Ferdinand would join them, and her mother’s face would take on that look of serene contentment she loved to recall.
Now they were scattered. Her brother Juan and sister Isabella were dead, Maria was the Queen of Portugal, Juana the wife of Philip and she herself in England; and here in England she had become involved in a plot against her father.
Her horror gave place to anger. She forgot that her father had never loved her in the same tender way in which her mother had; she forgot how pleased he had been to send her to England. She thought of him only as the father who had joined their family group and added to her mother’s happiness. Ferdinand was her father. Her mother would always have her remember that. There had been times when Isabella deferred to Ferdinand; that was when she was reminding them all that he was their father. At such times she forgot that she was the Queen of Castile and he merely the King of Aragon. Where the family was concerned he, Ferdinand, was the head.
And Dona Elvira had tricked her into working against her own father! Katharine stood up. She could not see her reflection or she would have noticed that a change had come over her. She held her head higher, and her shabby gown could not hide the fact that she was a Princess in her own household. She had ceased to be the neglected widow; she was the daughter of Isabella of Castile.
She called to one of her maids and said: “Tell Dona Elvira that I wish to see her without delay.”
Her tone was peremptory and the girl looked at her in astonishment; but Katharine was unaware of the glance. She was thinking of what she was going to say to Dona Elvira.
Elvira came in, gave the rather curt little bow which was her custom, and then, as she looked into the Infanta’s face, she saw the change there.
“I sent for you,” said Katharine, “to tell you that I understand full well why you persuaded me to write to my sister.”
“Why, Highness, I knew you wished to see your sister, and it seemed shameful that you should live here as you do…”
“Pray be silent,” said Katharine coldly. “I know that your brother, Don Juan Manuel, plots against my father in Brussels and has persuaded you to help him here in Durham House.”
“Highness…”
“Pray do not interrupt me. You forget to whom you speak.”
Elvira gasped in amazement. Never before had Katharine spoken to her in that manner. She knew that Puebla had betrayed her to Katharine, but she had been confident that she could continue to rule Durham House.
“I do not wish,” said Katharine, “to have here with me in England servants whom I do not trust.”
“What are you saying…?” Elvira began in the old hectoring manner.
“That I am dismissing you.”
“You…dismissing me! Highness, your mother appointed me.”
It was a mistake. Elvira realized it as soon as she had mentioned Isabella. Katharine’s face was a shade paler, but her eyes flashed in a new anger.
“Had my mother known that you would plot against my father, you would have spent these last years behind prison walls. It is where you should be. But I will be lenient. You will prepare to leave Durham House and England at once.”
“This is quite impossible.”
“It shall be possible. I will not send you back to my father with an explanation of your conduct. I will spare you that. But since you are so eager to help your brother in Brussels you may go there.”
Elvira tried to summon all the old truculence, but it had deserted her.
“You may go now,” continued Katharine. “Make your preparations with all speed, for I will not suffer you for a day longer than I need under this roof.”
Elvira knew that protest was useless. If she attempted to assert her authority, Katharine would expose the part she had been playing in her brother’s schemes.
It was hard for a proud woman to accept such defeat.
She bowed and, without another word, left the presence of the Infanta.
Katharine was shaken, but she felt exultant.
For so long she had been, not so much the prisoner of Durham House, as the prisoner of Dona Elvira. Now she was free.
Juana in England
KATHARINE HAD BEGUN TO WONDER WHOM SHE COULD trust, for when her anger against Dona Elvira had subsided she realized how shocked she had been by the duenna’s duplicity.
Maria de Rojas was steeped in melancholy. Yet another marriage which had been planned for her was not to take place because Inigo had departed with his mother.
It was true that the household was free of the tyranny of Dona Elvira, but poverty remained.
Katharine summoned Puebla to her, and he came limping into her presence. He was growing old and shocks such as that which he had sustained seemed to add years to his age in a few weeks.
In her newly found independence Katharine spoke boldly.
“This situation cannot go on. I must have some means of supporting my household. I am the daughter-in-law of the King of England and I think that you, as my father’s ambassador, should bestir yourself and do something about it.”
Puebla spread his hands helplessly.
“You should go to the King,” went on Katharine, “and speak boldly to him. Tell him that it is a disgrace to his name that he allows me to live in this way.”
“I will do my best, Highness,” answered Puebla.
He shuffled out of the apartment, not relishing his task and yet agreeing with Katharine that she could not continue in such penury for much longer.
He sought audience with the King.
Henry was still brooding on the suggested meeting with Philip and Juana. Perhaps in the spring or the summer…he had been thinking, for the prospect of the damp seeping into his bones alarmed him. It would be disastrous if he became completely crippled. It seemed so ridiculous that he could not get himself a bride. Yet it was not easy for Kings to find suitable partners. So many qualifications were necessary in a Queen.
He frowned at Puebla as he came in, but he listened quietly while the ambassador laid before him Katharine’s complaint.
Henry nodded gravely. “It is true,” he said, “that Durham House must be an expensive household to manage. I am sorry for the Infanta. I will help her.”
Puebla’s face lighted up with pleasure.
“She shall give up Durham House,” went on Henry, “and come to Court. I am sure, when she no longer has such a large establishment to support, she will live more comfortably.”
Puebla thanked the King, but he was dubious as he went back to Durham House, being unsure how Katharine would receive this news. He knew that with an adequate allowance and without Dona Elvira life at Durham House might be quite pleasant; and it was this allowance for which Katharine had hoped; but if she went to Court she would be under supervision as strict as that of Dona Elvira.
He was right. Katharine was far from pleased.
She looked at the shabby little man and was filled with disgust. This man…an ambassador from that country which she had always been taught was the greatest in the world! How could she hope to be treated with respect, how could she possibly retain her dignity when her father’s representative in England was this little marrano!
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