Though we may differ over points of doctrine she comes every day to my rooms and listens to the readings. This Christmas season I have chosen the favorite psalms of the late Bishop Fisher. It is an interesting example of the delicate path I tread: inside inquiry, outside challenge. The bishop, a sainted man, a wonderful writer, died for the Church of Rome in defiance of the king. He was confessor to Katherine of Aragon, Mary’s mother, so it is natural and daughterly that she should think well of him. Many who secretly thought as he did are now the king’s favored advisors, so it is allowed to read the bishop’s writings once again.

My almoner, Bishop George Day, served as Fisher’s chaplain and loved his master. He reads from his collection of Latin psalms every day, and no one can deny that these words of God have been beautifully rendered by the old bishop from the original Greek. It’s like a precious inheritance: from Greek to Latin and now, the ladies of my rooms, my churchmen, the Lady Mary, and even little Elizabeth and I work on an English translation. The language is so fine that it seems wrong to me that only those who can understand Latin should be able to read what this holy man composed. Mary agrees with me, and her care for the work and the beauty of her vocabulary make every morning a time of great interest—not just to me but to all my ladies.

My stepson Edward is my sweetheart, the darling of the court. He speaks with ridiculous formality, he is stiff with etiquette, and yet he longs to be loved and petted, teased, and tickled like a normal boy. Slowly, gradually, through sports, games, and silly jokes, with shared study and shared amusement, he comes to be easy with me, and I treat him as I treated my two Latimer stepchildren when they were under my care—with affection and respect, never trying to replace the mother whom they had lost, but loving them as she might have done. To this day, Margaret Latimer still calls me “Lady Mother,” and I write often to my stepson Latimer. I am confident that here too I can give these royal children a mother’s love. My best judgment, I think, is to treat Edward with familiarity—as if we are a loving, carefree family, as if he might trust me, and I might be easy with him.