AN:Catherine Carey's first months at Court to Taylor Swift's Fifteen. Hope you enjoy!
"You'll meet the other girls in the antechamber and then you'll go with them straight to Her Majesty's Chambers. Remember what we have told you. You might be a Carey by name, but through me, my blood, you're a Boleyn and a Howard. You know what that means these days. You know that you, more than anyone, need to show that you deserve to be at Court. Which you do. You're not just a Boleyn and a Howard, Cate. You're royal. You're King Henry's daughter. Whatever anyone says, you're the King's daughter and no one can ever take that away from you."
Catherine Carey, dark haired and beautiful, nodded as her mother finished speaking. "Of course, Mother. But won't you be coming with me?"
"I can't." Her mother shook her head. "I only just got away from Court with my life four years ago. I promised His Majesty I'd never go back. I can't break that promise. Particularly not with Will and Annie so young. They need their mother, Cate. You know that. No. You'll have to do this one on your own."
"Very well. I'll be fine, Mother. "
"I know you will. You're like your aunt. Just as spirited, just as witty. Just as beautiful."
"And I'm not a child, either. I'm fifteen."
"Yes, you are."
Mother and daughter looked at each other briefly, the encouraging words hanging in the air between them. All of a sudden, Cate threw herself at her mother, clinging to her tightly.
"I'll miss you, Mama!" she wept, knowing her mother would be unable to say anything but not caring; burying her face in the warmth of her mother's shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of jasmine mixed with almond oil, drawing strength from its familiarity.
You take a deep breath and you walk through the doors
It's the morning of your very first day
And you say hi to your friends you ain't seen in a while
Try and stay out of everybody's way
"I'm Catherine Carey, daughter of Lady Mary Boleyn-Carey and His Majesty King Henry. Recognised or not, I have royal blood flowing in my veins. None of the girls around me can say that. I'm not one of them. I'm Catherine Carey, daughter of Lady Mary Boleyn-Carey and His Majesty King Henry."
Repeating the words over and over in her head gave her confidence and when she was ushered in to pay her respects to Queen Anne, Cate was able to curtsy deeply and say "Good Morrow, Your Majesty. I'm Catherine Carey," in a voice that seemed to be completely free of fear.
However, she didn't feel as brave as she appeared on the outside, so when Queen Anne nodded and wished her well, in halting English layered with a thick guttural accent, she was only too glad to escape to the side of the room as the next girl, another Katherine, but this one a true Howard, Katherine Howard, made her curtsy to the Queen, introducing herself in a whisper.
It's your freshman year and you're gonna be here
For the next four years in this town
Hoping one of those senior boys will wink at you and say
"You know, I haven't seen you around before"
'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You're gonna believe them
And when you're fifteen feeling like there's nothing to figure out
Well, count to ten, take it in
This is life before you know who you're gonna be
Fifteen
Leaning against the wall, Cate tried to slow her racing heart. For God's Sake, she had only presented herself to the Queen. She hadn't had a brush with an executioner! There was no reason for her to be so nervous!
But she couldn't deny that she was, so she was quite relieved when the girl who had just come in after her rose from her curtsy and came over towards her. Even if she didn't become one of Cate's best friends, she was a welcome distraction for now.
"I'm Kitty. Kitty Howard."
"Cate. Catherine, I mean. Catherine Carey."
"Well, you shall have to be Cate to me. There are far too many Katherines and Catherines for me ever to be able to keep them all apart." The other girl spoke with a certain confidence that Cate envied, even though the rest of her manner belied how immature she still was. She laughed nervously.
"You're one yourself!"
"Oh, I know, but everyone calls me Kitty. Katherine doesn't feel like me at all. You will call me Kitty, won't you?"
"Of course!"
"Oh good! I'm sure we're going to be the best of friends! Which means…" Here Kitty glanced around and lowered her voice dramatically, "Which of these young men do you have your eye on?"
"Kitty! I've only been here an hour! How should I know?"
"Oh that doesn't matter. I've already found several I want to get to know better. Like that dark-haired one over by the door. Do you see him?"
"Yes, but how do you…"
"Come on! We must go over and introduce ourselves!"
With that, Kitty dragged her over, ignoring her half-hearted protests.
You sit in class next to a redhead named Abigail
And soon enough you're best friends
Laughing at the other girls who think they're so cool
We'll be outta here as soon as we can
From then on, they were inseparable. "The Two Katherines," everyone called them.
At first glance they were total opposites. Kitty was fair, curvy and childish; Cate dark, slender and sensible. One loved riding, languages and embroidery; the other music, dancing and puppets. Yet, though the other courtiers often wondered what two such different girls could have in common to draw them so tightly together, they always forgot the first thing on any girl's mind. Young men. Young rich handsome men, to be precise.
Kitty drew them to her like a magnet, and Cate, for all she was more mature and better-versed in the ways of the world, found herself admiring the older girl's easy skill with them. She watched Kitty like a hawk, or the falcon on her aunt's badge, trying to work out what it was that attracted them to Kitty so.
Was it her playful manner? Her seductive sidelong glances? Her unabashed confidence and blatant emotions? Cate didn't know, but whatever it was, she wanted to be a part of it. She couldn't help but want to be a part of it. Like any maid of her age, she dreamed of a man who loved her and if Kitty's tricks would help her get one, then she was more than happy to go along with them.
And then you're on your very first date and he's got a car
And you're feeling like flying
And you're momma's waiting up and you're thinking he's the one
And you're dancing 'round your room when the night ends
When the night ends
But there was one of the many young men who hung round them who didn't like Kitty. It wasn't her teasing flirtatiousness that attracted him to their group, but rather Cate's quieter, determined self-assurance. By some odd piece of irony, it was the same dark-haired one that Kitty had pointed out to Cate on their very first morning at Court.
One night when Kitty was sick, but the others, under Cate's careful leadership for once, were dancing for the King, trying to distract him from the pain in his leg he followed up on his interest.
"Mistress Carey? Might I have the honour of a dance?"
"I regret to say, Sir, that I only dance with those I have been introduced to" Cate replied primly, kicking herself a moment later. What in heaven's name was she thinking? He was pleasant and handsome enough. She couldn't afford to ruin their first meeting by standing on propriety. Kitty had told her that often enough!
To her relief, though, he was smiling. "Very wise, Mistress Carey. Forgive me for having been so remiss. I am Sir Francis Knollys, one of His Majesty's Privy Councillors."
He bowed, and she slipped down into a half-curtsy to hide the flush in her cheeks as he reached for her hand, asking "Now may we dance, do you think?"
"Of course, Sir Francis. With pleasure."
As he led her round the floor, Cate found her heart skipping merrily in time to the music and, when he turned to her as the tune drew to a close and asked "You have quite some skill, Mistress Carey. Would you care to partner me again?" she could only nod breathlessly.
She barely slept that night. Even when she finally got to bed, she was too busy replaying the evening over and over in her head to think of sleeping. Her eyes finally closed around daybreak, less than an hour before she had to rise to accompany the Queen to Mass.
Yet, somehow, she wasn't tired. The mere thought of Sir Francis holding her in his arms was enough to sustain her. She knew somehow, without being told, that she would do anything to see him again.
'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You're gonna believe them
When you're fifteen and your first kiss
Makes your head spin 'round
But in your life you'll do things greater than
Dating the boy on the football team
But I didn't know it at fifteen
And they did see each other again. The days stretched into weeks, the weeks into months and they continued to see each other. Francis found excuses to linger in the Queen's rooms and talk to her. Cate, always a keen rider, just like any other Boleyn woman, spent more and more time down by the stables or with the King's hunting hounds, hoping to see him.
Whenever she did, they would ride out together, and he would tease her and flirt with her, calling her Diana, Ceres, Artemis, his own little Queen Catherine.
Though his names discomfited her, Cate never let it show – she was half-royal as well as being a Boleyn and a Howard, and anyway, the pleasure she otherwise derived from Francis's company made the nicknames a small enough price to pay.
And then there was the day that Cate would never forget, not as long as she lived. The day that was indelibly burned into the back of her mind. The day he first kissed her.
"Oh Cate, you look beautiful! A true Ceres, aren't you?"
"I don't know about that…" Blushing, Cate looked down, fiddling with the tangled strands of her mare's mane as they drew rein by the lake and gazed out over its sparkling depths. Francis nodded. "Yes you are," he assured her, dismounting and coming over to help her off her horse.
"Will you come down to me, Ceres? Will you come and join this mortal on terra firma?"
Without a word, Cate slid, tantalisingly slowly, down the side of her horse and into his arms.
"Thank you, Francis," she said calmly, trying to hide the rapid beat of her heart beneath an icy exterior. She would have pulled away, but he locked his arms around her waist, keeping her close to him.
"Do you know how maddening you are sometimes, Cate? I really don't know how you feel about me, what with you blowing hot and cold all the time."
She would have liked nothing more than to fling herself against him, crying out her love for him, but that wasn't how Boleyns acted, particularly not half-royal ones. Instead, she merely raised an eyebrow, saying archly, "Neither do I know how you feel about me, Francis. If you wish me to tell you, then you must tell me first."
For a moment, he just stared at her, stunned. Then, sharply bending his head, he pressed her to his chest and crushed his lips to hers by way of an answer.
When all you wanted was to be wanted
Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now
Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday
But I realized some bigger dreams of mine
And Abigail gave everything she had to a boy
Who changed his mind and we both cried
Flying back to the Palace, Cate flew into the bedchamber she shared with Kitty, crying "He's kissed me! Francis! He kissed me!"
"Congratulations! I'm so happy for you, Cate! I know you like him," Kitty replied, clearly trying to remain cheerful, but Cate knew instantly that something was wrong.
"What is it? Kitty. Tell me. What's wrong?"
Suddenly, Kitty couldn't help herself. She burst into tears.
"Kitty!"
Rushing forward, Cate pulled her friend into her arms, holding her tight, rubbing her back as though she was Will or little Annie . "What's wrong?"
"John! He told me he was betrothed! He told me he doesn't want to see me again!"
"Oh, Kitty! I'm sorry," Cate murmured, not knowing what else to say, hardly sure of anything except that rubbing her happiness with Francis would not be a good idea right now.
"You don't understand! He swore he loved me! He swore it! I gave him everything! Everything!"
For a moment, Cate barely heard what Kitty had said. Then the import of those broken-hearted sentences sank fully into her consciousness and she gasped.
"You didn't! Not… He didn't! You didn't! Katherine Howard, tell me you didn't!"
"He swore he loved me! He swore, Cate!"
"And you believed him! How could you? How could you be so stupid, Kitty!"
Cate could almost have shaken Kitty. She was seventeen, for God's sake! She knew the stories of Cate's father. She knew that men blew both hot and cold! She knew what happened to any woman who surrendered her virtue before marriage!
Yet, looking down on Kitty's strawberry-blonde tresses, as her friend wept into her chest, Cate couldn't bring herself to scold her. She made such a pitiful figure, in fact, that Cate felt her own tears welling up.
"Oh Kitty, I'm so sorry! So, so sorry!"
Cradling her friend close, she let her weep passionately, vent her sorrows, even as she, Cate, vented her own, pouring tears of angry regret down upon Kitty's pretty little head. Curled up together like that, before the fire in their little room, they cried until they were too exhausted to cry any more. And then they slept, slept the deep, dreamless sleep of people who are both emotionally and physically desperate and exhausted.
'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You're gonna believe them
And when you're fifteen, don't forget to look before you fall
I've found time can heal most anything
And you just might find who you're supposed to be
I didn't know who I was supposed to be at fifteen
Four months later, Catherine, newly wed to Sir Francis Knollys, followed the hem of Kitty's dress as the two of them walked up the length of the Chapel of Oatlands Palace. Kitty, radiantly lovely in virginal white, smiled as His Majesty King Henry of England, held out his hand to her.
"Sweetheart. How beautiful you are."
With that, he turned her towards the altar and prepared to make her his wife.
Cate, standing to one side as befitted her position as a witness, could read every nuance of Kitty's body language. She could see how nervous her friend was. Nervous about wedding the King and becoming Queen. Nervous that someone would one day uncover the past and her liaison with John. Nervous that the image of a Rose Without A Thorn, the Rosa sine Spina, that she and Cate had worked so hard to create and maintain, would one shattered, leaving her totally exposed.
But she also knew that Kitty would be fine. They both would be. After all, they were The Two Katherines. They were Her Majesty Katherine Howard, Queen of England and Lady Catherine Knollys nee Carey, the daughter of Lady Mary Boleyn-Carey and His Majesty King could they not be fine? How could anything go wrong for them? How could they not be invincible?
Your very first day
Take a deep breath girl
Take a deep breath as you walk through the doors