“She…she did not tell me, Doña Elvira.”
“Yet you dared tell Dr. de Puebla that you knew this to be so!”
“I thought…”
“I know! You verily believed. You knew nothing. Get out of my sight before I order you to be whipped. Begone…quickly. Idiot! Knave!”
Geraldini was relieved to escape.
As soon as he had gone Elvira turned to Puebla. “You see what this meddling has done. If you wish to know anything concerning the Infanta, you must come to me. There is only one thing to be done. You agree now that this man Geraldini has led you completely astray?”
“I do,” said Puebla.
“Then you should write to the Sovereigns immediately, telling them that there is no truth in the news contained in your previous document. If you are quick, you may prevent that first letter from reaching their Highnesses. Let us pray that the tides are not favorable for a few hours. Go at once and set right this matter.”
Although Puebla resented her high-handed manner, he could not but agree that he must do as she said; and he was indeed eager to write to the Sovereigns, rectifying his mistake.
He bowed himself out and set about the task immediately.
When she was alone with her husband Doña Elvira sat at her table and began to write. She addressed her letter to Her Highness Queen Isabella, and she told of the mischief Father Alessandro Geraldini had wrought against the Infanta. She added that she believed Don Pedro de Ayala’s presence in England to be no longer necessary to the welfare of Spain. She hesitated, considering Puebla. He had been docile enough and ready to admit his mistake. She decided that she might be served worse by any other ambassador the Sovereigns saw fit to send. Too many complaints could give the impression that she was hard to please. If because of this matter she could rid the household of Geraldini she would be satisfied.
As she sealed the letter, she remembered that other letter which had angered her before she heard of Geraldini’s gossip.
She took it up and thrust it into her husband’s hands.
“Read that,” she said.
He read it. “But you had decided…” he began.
She cut him short. “I wish Iñigo to see this. Have him brought here immediately, but first have this letter dispatched to the Sovereigns. I should like it to reach them if possible before they receive Puebla’s.”
Don Pedro Manrique obeyed her as, during their married life, he had grown accustomed to; and in a short time he returned to her with their son.
“Ah, Iñigo,” she said, “did I not tell you that I had decided a match with Maria de Rojas would be advantageous to you?”
“You did, Mother.”
“Well then, perhaps you would be interested to read this letter which the Infanta has written to her parents. It is a plea that they should give their consent to the marriage of Maria de Rojas with an Englishman and provide her with a dowry.”
“But, Mother, you…”
“Read it,” she snapped.
Young Iñigo frowned as he read. He felt himself flushing. It was not that he was so eager for marriage with Maria, but that he feared his mother’s wrath, and it seemed as though she were ready to blame him—though he could not quite understand why.
“You have finished it?” She took it from him. “We must not allow others to step ahead of us and snatch our prizes from under our noses, must we?”
“No, Mother. But she wishes to marry the Englishman, and the Infanta supports her.”
“It would appear so.” Elvira was thoughtful. “We shall do nothing yet.”
“But in the meantime the Sovereigns may provide the dowry and the consent.”
“Why should they,” said Elvira, “if they do not know it has been asked for?”
“But it is asked for in the Infanta’s letter,” her husband pointed out.
Elvira laughed and held the letter in the flame of the candle.
The Passing of Elizabeth of York
THE LONG DAYS OF SPRING AND SUMMER PASSED uneventfully for Katharine. Always she was awaiting the summons to return home.
This did not come, although others had been summoned back to Spain. One was Father Alessandro Geraldini; another was Don Pedro de Ayala.
Doña Elvira had explained their departure to Katharine. Don Pedro de Ayala, she said, was unworthy to represent Spain in England. He led too carnal a life for an ambassador, and a bishop at that. As for Geraldini, he had whispered slander against the Infanta herself, and for such she had demanded his recall.
“Her Highness your mother declares that he is indeed unworthy to remain a member of your household. I thank the saints that I was shown his perfidy in time.”
“What did he say of me?” Katharine wanted to know.
“That you were with child.”
Katharine flushed scarlet at the suggestion, and Elvira felt very confident that, if it should ever come to the point when there must be an examination, her pronouncement would be vindicated.
“I had hoped my mother would send for me,” said Katharine mournfully.
Elvira shook her head. “My dear Highness, it is almost certain that there will be another marriage for you in England. Had you forgotten that the King has another son?”
“Henry!” she whispered; and she thought of the bold boy who had led her to the altar where Arthur had been waiting for her.
“And why not?”
“He is but a boy.”
“A little younger than yourself. When he is a little older that will be of small account.”
Henry! Katharine was startled and a little afraid. She wanted to escape from Elvira, to think about this project.
That night she could not sleep. Henry haunted her thoughts and she was not sure whether she was pleased or afraid.
She waited for more news of this, but none came.
It was so difficult to know what was happening at home. There were only fragments of news she heard now and then. The war for Naples, in which her parents were engaged against the King of France, was not going well for them. That, she believed, was why the King of England was hesitating over her betrothal to his son. If the Sovereigns were in difficulties he could make a harsher bargain with them. He did not forget that only half her dowry had been paid.
So the months went by without much news. She found that she had very little money—not even enough to pay her servants. She was worried about Maria’s dowry, for there was no news from Spain about this.
The King of England said that she had no right to a third of the property of her late husband, because the second half of her dowry had not been paid. She needed new dresses, but there was no money to buy any. There was her plate and jewels, which represented thirty-five thousand crowns; could she pawn these? She dared not do so because she knew that they had been sent from home as part of her dowry; but if she had no money, what could she do?
There were times when she felt deserted, for she was not allowed to go to Court.
“She is a widow,” said the King of England. “It is well that she should live in seclusion for a while.”
Henry had his eyes on the Continent. It might be that, as the French seemed likely to score a victory over the Spaniards, a marriage for his son with France or with the House of Maximilian might be more advantageous than one with Spain.
Meanwhile, living in England was the daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand—a Princess, but penniless, a wife but no wife, virtually a hostage for her parents’ good behavior.
It was no concern of his that she suffered poverty, said the King. He could not be expected to pay an allowance to the woman whose dowry had not been paid.