CONTENTS
Cover
Copyright
Epigraph
Family Trees
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Principal Works of Reference
Reading Group Guide
About the Author
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2012 by Sandra Byrd
All rights reserved.
For permissions information, address Howard Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
First Howard Books trade paperback edition June 2012
Howard Books
A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
HOWARD and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
All Old Testament Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version. Public domain. All New Testament Scripture quotations are taken from Tyndale’s New Testament, a modern-spelling edition of the 1534 translation with an introduction by David Daniell. Translated by William Tyndale. Copyright © 1989 by Yale University Press. Used by permission.
Cover design by Bruce Gore.
Cover photograph © Steve Gardner/Pixelworks Studio
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Byrd, Sandra.
The secret keeper : a novel of Kateryn Parr / Sandra Byrd.—1st Howard Books trade paperback ed.
p. cm.
I. Title.
PS3552.Y678S43 2012
813'.54—dc23 2011034743
ISBN: 978-1439183144 (print)
ISBN: 978-1439183151 (eBook)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
You women who are so complacent,
rise up and listen to me;
you daughters who feel secure,
hear what I have to say!
In little more than a year
you who feel secure will tremble.
—The Book of the Prophet Isaiah
FAMILY TREES
PROLOGUE
Her voice sounded by turns pleased and then pleading, her laughter scaled from bass enjoyment to treble fear. A highborn woman held fast the girl’s arms while the rougher hands of a man ran over the young woman’s jawline, her hairline, her hemline. I could not see his face, but on his left small finger he bore a costly gold and black onyx signet ring. With the other hand he took his dagger and began to slash.
Pieces of her black gown fell to the ground, one by one, like the locks of a condemned woman shorn before execution, though he stayed himself from touching her bright red hair before sheathing his dagger again. Her woeful face betrayed that she knew this would be her utter undoing. The gown was ruined and the black clumps, which had plummeted to the ground, received the breath of life of a sudden and became a flock of beady-eyed ravens that took wing toward the Tower of London, whilst we watched in horror and dread.
ONE
Spring: Year of Our Lord 1542
St. Peter’s Church, Marlborough
Hungerford House, Marlborough
Brighton Manor, Marlborough
I entered the church on a May morn and allowed my eyes to adjust to the dim light and my body to the chill of the stone-cooled air. I sought Father Gregory, who caught my glance and smiled. I tried to return it in kind but my lips quivered. I waited in the back till he finished lighting the candles before the morning service.
Once he joined me, he immediately asked, “Daughter, what ails you?”
My face had betrayed my qualms. No others were around us so I answered him frankly as was my habit. “My mother believes I am a witch. And I fear that she is right.”
Father Gregory reflexively drew back a little and for the first time I tasted dread. If this man, who knew me well and trusted me to read aloud in his church, might consider the possibility that I was a sorceress, all was lost. All would be lost, whether it were true or not, if my mother had whispered her accusation to any but myself.
“’Tis not so,” he said soothingly, and then as he was about to say more the rough townsfolk began to pool in the church’s nave like motes on a ray of light. Father Gregory’s face registered surprise, and then humility, and then perhaps a tint of fear. I turned toward the door to look upon whom he’d fixed his gaze: a well-dressed man, the most finely dressed man I had ever seen. The man nodded and approached us.
Who was he? Was I to curtsey? Cast down my gaze? Take my leave? Before I could decide, the man was upon us and introductions begun.
Father Gregory bowed. “Sir Thomas Seymour, please allow me to present Mistress Juliana St. John.”
I decided, quickly, on a short curtsey and a brief, modest dip of the head. This pleased Seymour, who held out his right hand toward me. I took it and he did not wait afore softly kissing my slightly bent knuckles before speaking.
“I am well pleased to meet you, Mistress Juliana.” His deep brown eyes held my gaze with immoderate affection and I turned away from it. All knew that the Seymour family was the highest, richest, and most powerful family perhaps in the entire realm. Prince Edward, the long-awaited heir to King Henry, was also the son of their sister Jane, the lamented queen who had not lived long enough to enjoy the rewards of her greatest achievement. They flew high and we dared not offend.
“Mistress Juliana is one of our lectors. Her father, Sir Hugh St. John, God rest his soul, was a great benefactor of the church and also ensured that his children were well educated.” Father Gregory turned toward me. “Sir Thomas was an occasional associate and, er, friend, of your father.” He pointed toward the front of the church. “You’d best prepare for this morning’s reading, Mistress Juliana.”
I nodded toward Sir Thomas. “I am greatly pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Thomas.”
“As am I,” he said, and then bowed toward me, a maiden not yet eighteen, who was well beneath his standing. I gathered my skirts and my courage and made my way to the front, where the chained Great Bible, which had been secured to the altar to forestall its being stolen, was already open.