He is cheered by his own munificence. “She will be glad,” he announces. “She will be thrilled. She can come to me and thank me personally as soon as she returns to court.”

“She’ll be in mourning,” I point out. “She may not want to serve in my rooms anymore. She may not want to come to court. Her loss...”

He shakes his head. “Of course she will come,” he says certainly. “She would never leave me. She has lived in my keeping since she was a girl.”

I say nothing in reply to this. I can hardly tell the king that a widow might prefer to spend the very first days of her widowhood in prayer, rather than entertaining him. Usually, a widow keeps to her house for the first three months, and Catherine will want to be with her fatherless boys. But then I realize: He will not know this. Nobody told him to wait before summoning me on the death of my husband. He would not imagine that anyone might not want to be at court. He has never lived anywhere but court; he has no idea of a private life or tender feelings that are not watched by the world. Within days of the death of my husband, he commanded me to court to play cards with him and flirt with him. Only I can stop him putting this burden on Catherine.

“Perhaps she would rather stay at her home, at Guildford Palace.”

“No, she would not.”

* * *

Nan comes to me one evening, long after dinner, when the court is closed down for the night and I am ready for bed. She nods to my lady-in-waiting, dismissing her from my bedroom, and takes a seat by the fireside.

“I see you have come for a visit,” I say dryly, taking the seat opposite her. “D’you want a glass of wine?”

She gets up and pours us both a glass. We pause for a moment to savor the scent and taste of the deep red Portuguese wine and the light clarity of the Venetian glasses. Each glass, each perfectly blown glass, is worth a hundred pounds.

“What would Mother say?” Nan asks with a little smile.

“Don’t take it for granted.” I can quote her at once. “Don’t let down your guard. Never forget your family. And, more than anything else: How is your brother? How is William? Does William have glasses as fine as this? Can’t we get some for him?” We both laugh.

“She always thought that he would be the making of the family,” Nan says, sipping her wine. “She didn’t disregard us, you know. It’s just that she put all her hopes on William. It’s natural to look to the son and heir.”

“I know. I don’t blame her. She didn’t know that William’s wife would betray him and our name, cost us so much, and then have to be set aside.”