I will have my time. I will be merry. I am as hungry as she was, for the colour and the wealth, for the diamonds and the flirting, the horses and the dancing. I want my life, I want the very, very best of everything; and by luck, and by the whim of the king (whom God preserve), I am to have the very, very best. I had hoped to be spotted by one of the great men of the court and chosen for his kinswoman and given in marriage to a young nobleman who might rise through the court. That was the very pinnacle of my hopes. But instead, everything is to be different. Much better. The king himself has seen me, the King of England desires me, the man who is God on earth, who is the father of his people, who is the law and the word, desires me. I have been chosen by God’s own representative on earth. No-one can stand in his way and no-one would dare deny him. This is no ordinary man who has seen me and desired me, this is not even a mortal. This is a half-god who has seen me. He desires me and my uncle tells me it is my duty and my honour to accept his proposal. I will be Queen of England—think of that! I will be Queen of England. Then we shall see what I, little Kitty Howard, can count as my own!

Actually, in truth I am torn between terror and excitement at the thought of being his consort and his queen, the greatest woman in England. I have a vain thrill that he wants me, and I make sure that I think about that, and ignore my sense of disappointment that although he is almost God, he is only a man like any other, and a very old man at that, and an old man who is half-impotent at that, an old man who cannot even do the job in the jakes, and I must play him as I would any old man who in his lust and vanity happened to desire me. If he gives me what I want, he shall have my favour, I cannot say fairer than that. I could almost laugh at myself, granting the greatest man in the world my little favour. But if he wants it, and if he will pay so highly for it, then I am in the market like any huckster: selling myself.

Grandmother, the duchess, tells me that I am her clever, clever girl and that I will bring wealth and greatness to our family. To be queen is a triumph beyond our most ambitious dreams, but there is a hope even beyond that. If I conceive a son and give birth to a boy, then our family will rise as high as the Seymours. And if the Seymour boy Prince Edward were to die (though God forbid, of course), but if he were to die then my son would be the next King of England and us Howards would be kinsmen to the king. Then we would be the royal family, or as good as, and then we would be the greatest family in England, and everyone would have to thank me for their good fortune. My uncle Norfolk would bow his knee to me and bless me for my patronage. When I think of this, I giggle and cannot daydream any more, for sheer delight.