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on his relations. Such a man could suffer a long passage through Purgatory. Prayers were urgently needed, and not just mine. The Feast of the Ascensionwas less than a month away; I would try to persuade Father William Mote to say a mass of requiem for the deceased Edmund Howard on that day.
    Catherine, her hair finally finished, said, “The Duke of Norfolk says I am to think of him as not an uncle but a father. That is why he had me moved to these apartments—I know you must be wondering why I don’t lodge with the other maids of honor. He arranged it all and secured me a maid and a manservant. He wants the best for me.”
    I had had a great many shocks at Whitehall that day, and now this incredible statement took pride of place among them. The Duke of Norfolk had never shown much interest in Catherine and certainly nothing approaching paternal affection. She was the only Howard niece of the right age and appearance for royal service, and so he’d petitioned the king to place Catherine with his new queen. But Norfolk had often called her “fool” and “simpleton.” And now he considered her a daughter, had even moved her to private quarters at Whitehall? The Duke of Norfolk I’d seen in Westminster was as harsh a man as ever; I couldn’t believe she was talking about the same person.
    â€œSarah, will you fetch some wine and cakes for me and my friend?” Catherine said, smiling, to her little maid.
    The minute the girl had left, I said, “Tell me, Catherine, about the queen.”
    â€œThe queen?” My friend looked puzzled.
    â€œIs she kind to you?”
    Catherine shrugged. “I suppose. I can’t understand much of what she says, she still uses an interpreter when speaking to anyone besides her German attendants. They surround her.”
    â€œBut do you enjoy serving Queen Anne?” I persisted. “I have been told she and the king see little of each other. How does she spend her days?”
    My friend grabbed me by both arms and said, “Let’s speak no more of the queen. I must know what happened with Edmund.”
    I never spoke of Edmund Sommerville. My friends in Dartfordknew of my wish and rarely brought up his name. Perhaps that is why Catherine’s bluntness left me stunned.
    â€œIt didn’t happen,” I stammered. “The wedding never took place—because of the Act of Six Articles, and our vows of chastity. Surrey rode down from London, he came to the church just when we were . . . ” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
    Once again, Catherine embraced me. “Surrey finally told me what happened. I’m so sorry, Joanna. But now what will you do? Couldn’t you find Edmund?”
    I stiffened. “Why would I want to find him?”
    â€œTo marry him. The two of you are meant to be married.”
    â€œBut I just told you, it would be illegal for us to marry. And I don’t know where he is, no one does. Not even his sister has had a letter for months. He left England, Catherine. He left his family, his friends, everyone. He left me .”
    My throat closed. Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t believe it—I’d fought off an attack, bluffed my way through Westminster Hall, lied to the king of England, and stood my ground against Thomas Cromwell. Yet this exchange with Catherine Howard reduced me to weeping?
    â€œJoanna, please listen,” she said, her lips quivering. “I was there when Edmund came to Howard House. I saw the way he looked at you. He loves you. And you could be married in Europe. Or even here. It would be of no difficulty for you, Joanna, I asked a priest. Only the vows of a full-fledged nun would forbid it, and you were only a novice.”
    I flinched. Catherine could not know how much it hurt, every day, that Dartford Priory was suppressed before I could commit myself to God. I was never able to shear my hair, put on a ring, assume a new name. I never took the