With his obligations to both Edward and Warwick and his work at Lincoln’s Inn, it was six months before Richard could excuse himself to ride to Suffolk and meet his daughter. He had, however, made good on his promise to Kate to help provide for the child. An annuity of five pounds was entered in Richard’s household accounts in Katherine Haute’s name, with no explanatory footnote.

Kate had moved from her in-laws’ house in Chelsworth and was the proud owner of her own small house, given to her by Margaret and Jack Howard on their property in Stoke by Nayland. Only they knew of little Katherine’s paternity, and removing Kate from her in-laws lessened those good people’s chances of discovering it, too.

Richard and his squire, a young man named John Parr, rode fast out of the Aldgate, joined the Colchester Roman road and thence onto Stoke. With every passing mile, Richard’s anticipation grew. He wondered if motherhood had changed Kate in some way. Would she still be beautiful? Would she still care about him? Her letter-writing was sporadic, and he could see she labored over the penmanship. He loved imagining her chestnut head bowed over a parchment, her generous mouth screwed up in concentration, and her ill-sharpened quill leaving splotches on the page. Would the baby scream if he picked her up? At least he knew that George Haute would not be there—he had gone with Jack Howard and Warwick to Calais.

As they cantered through the village of Stoke towards Tendring Hall, Richard wondered if he should have alerted Kate first, but he wanted to surprise her. It had been a spur of the moment idea, and so he had decided to inform only Lady Howard of his visit. The kindly Margaret was waiting for him and, after giving him refreshment, sent Wat the groom down to Dog Kennel House—the name Jack had given Kate’s new home—saying she wished to see Kate. A true romantic, Margaret was relishing the clandestine meeting between the two young people.

Margaret was discreet enough to have left the tower room when Kate arrived looking for her, so she did not witness the passion with which Richard and Kate were reunited. She did watch and smile as they trotted down the long drive to the cozy cottage on Richard’s horse, Kate cradled in front of her lover. Margaret knew full well what love was; she and Jack had found each other after previous marriages, and she had never been happier.