Katheryn picked it up, gazing at it in wonderment. She had never owned such a beautiful object; indeed, she owned barely anything at all, save for her clothes and a few playthings. They were poor; she had grown up knowing it, just as it had been drummed into her that, despite their poverty, she was a Howard and a member of one of the greatest and most noble families in England. The Duke of Norfolk himself was her uncle.

The ring gleamed at her, then its image blurred as tears welled at the memory of her mother wearing it. She would treasure it; it was all she had left of her.

‘Give it to Isabel to keep safely for you until you are older,’ Father said. ‘You will be going away soon; this house is no place for children.’

‘Going away? Where, Father?’ Katheryn asked, alarmed. She did not want to leave Lady Hall.

‘Your Aunt Margaret Cotton has gladly agreed to take you. Your brothers will go to the Duke to be trained for knighthood, and Mary will live with her wet nurse in the village. You will leave for Oxon Hoath on Monday.’ Monday was just three days hence.

The tears spilled over. ‘Are you coming too?’ Katheryn whispered.

Lord Edmund laid his hand on her head and sighed. ‘No, Kitty. Isabel will go with you. I have to stay here and attend to my affairs. God only knows what the future holds, for there is no money left. Be grateful that your aunt is a woman of true Christian charity and is willing to look after you.’

Katheryn did not think she had ever met Aunt Margaret Cotton, and did not wish to do so now. ‘I want to stay here with you,’ she said.

‘Alas, Kitty, I am not fitted to rearing children,’ Father said. ‘It is better you grow up in comfort than starve with me.’

‘Are you going to starve?’ Katheryn asked.

‘Well, probably not,’ her father said. ‘But I cannot give you the life you deserve, and Aunt Margaret can.’

Katheryn cried again at that. She had not dreamed that losing Mother would mean losing Father as well. He had never loomed large in her life, yet he was part of that familiar world that was now crumbling. He patted her head again and called for Isabel. It was she who comforted the child, shaking her head in sorrow at the nurse.

Katheryn sat in the litter, wrapped in blankets against the November chill, with Isabel beside her. She was sunk in misery as she watched her father waving farewell and Lady Hall vanishing in the distance, and craned her head through the window for a last glimpse of it, until Isabel told her to sit back and pulled down the blind.

‘It’s freezing, sweeting,’ she said.