The Diary of Katherine Haute

Dear diary,

My name is Katherine Haute: I am 18 years old. I am the daughter of Sir Robert Haute and Constance Powell. I have two sisters and three brothers: Christina, Stephen, Jane, Thomas, and Michael. We live in a manor house called Tapton in rural Kent, where it is so quiet and peaceful that one might mistaken it for heaven. Currently, my father is trying to plan for me a match, and so I am to go to the court of my cousin, Queen Elizabeth, to find a husband.

Today, I sat by the great window and read a book: I received from my father on my sixteenth nameday a collection of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. I’ve read the Wife of Bath’s Tale possibly a thousand times now! It is my favourite story alongside The Franklin’s Tale as well as The Squire’s Tale. I hope one day that I might go on pilgrimage to Canterbury and see the shrine of Thomas Becket.

After eleven of the clock, I practised my signature: I want it to be grand and beautiful. I cannot seem to make it as graceful as I want it to, however. So I shall sign my initials. Tonight, my trunks shall be packed, and I will make the day and a half’s journey to London with my father and cousins in the morning.

Wish me safe travels,

Kate.

Dear diary,

I have been at court for two weeks: I have met a variety of men and women whom I may feel permitted to call my friends. Anne Herrington is one of those whom I call friend: she is from the north, and her father is also a knight. Another whom I think kindly on is Dorothy Eaton. Anne knows all of the ways that the court works, while Dorothy is a carefree girl who I find I have a lot in common with.

There is another person I have met at court: for some reason, the king’s youngest brother, Richard Duke of Gloucester, has been following me around like a lost child as of late. He is only sixteen, and must have a case of puppy love. Yet, my aunt Alice had warned me not to let him into my heart. “Remember Eleanor Butler,” she reminded, “It cannot be said that the youngest brother could be anything but like the eldest?”

I am keenly aware of what happened to Eleanor Butler: she was a widow whom garnered the affection of King Edward and married him in a false ceremony, attended by a false priest whom was nothing but a drunk squire in a monk’s robe. She gave him everything, and yet he married my cousin and cast Eleanor off to a nunnery, where this year she died. I shall not give Gloucester my heart: he will probably do the same to me.

Anyway, I must find myself a goodly husband here at court: I am not here to dilly dally with the men whom I know will not give me the luxury of matrimony. I must seek out a better future for myself.

Sincerely,
Kate

Dear diary,

I have finally been introduced to the Duke of Gloucester: he is a sombre young man: very quiet and serious. We spoke for some time about books: he, too, likes the Canterbury Tales as well as the Tale of Ipedymon. I have never read that one before. At the end of our meeting, he kissed my hand and bade me goodnight.

I felt confused by this meeting: personally, I have not given him much credence, and yet he thinks enough of me. Nevertheless, I met him in the gardens the next day, where we walked and spoke of other things that we liked. We talked for hours: he spoke of his brothers and sisters, and life in the north. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” he asked, awkwardly. “Five,” I told him, “two sisters and three brothers.”

One thing about Richard is he does not smile much: He did not smile once the entire time we walked in the gardens. I worried in the moment that he did not truly like me, or that I was proving myself to be unlikeable, but he did ask to walk with me again tomorrow. I take it he is just a very broody person.

Meanwhile, the Queen has been dealing with her own issues: Elisabeth, her daughter, is teething once more, and clings to her mother and not her nurse. The Queen weeps at night when she has to send Elisabeth back to the nursery: Elisabeth cries out for her mother whenever it happens. “It breaks my heart to hear her cry out like that,” she told me before bed last night, as I helped brush her hair. I cannot imagine how it must be for her.

Well, it is time to put the lights out, and I must be on my cot when that happens,

Goodnight,

Kate.

Dear diary,

Richard has gone elsewhere, apparently on business for his brother. I am here with the other ladies and the Queen, and things have settled down a bit. The humidity is rolling in, and so is the heat. There was a thunderstorm last night, and it was so close that it shook the windows! I could barely sleep from the racket.

Another group of young people have come to court: a few young ladies and a few young knights. Two of the ladies, Anne and Alice Norreys are sisters! We talk quite a bit during free time. There is also a squire, who is about the same age as I am: his name is Antony Porters. He has long red hair and a little wisp of a moustache. I think he is very handsome, and I hope to be able to speak with him in the future.

As I lay on my cot, ladies running about, I cannot help but wonder about Richard: where he is off to. No one would tell me where he had gone, but that it was “Royal business.” I wonder if his life is as chaotic as mine is now? I cannot help my restless mind, and I hope I do not dream of it and have nightmares.

Sincerely,

Kate

Dear diary,
It is so incredibly hot in the city, so much so that we have gone to a rural estate! The ride was
long, but it was so worth it! Court will be held here until the humidity breaks! It is so
beautiful in the country, it makes me miss home.
I walked with Antony in the gardens awhile, and he told me all sorts of things: his family is
from Wolverhampton, and he is nearly a knight now! He must pay for a suit of armour, and
then he can be knighted. He told me his horse’s name is Buttercup! What a splendid name for
a golden horse.
I’m thinking of writing to father and asking for permission to marry Antony: he, too, seeks
out a spouse, and we are so good together! I could definitely see myself as Dame Porters!
And his moustache has finally grown in, so he is very handsome.
I haven’t thought much of Richard here, as he has not written to me. All I can think of is
Antony and my future. The Queen says that Richard will join us soon, but I hope he takes his
time so I can spend mine with Antony.
Well, it is nearly time to put the light out, so I must end my entry here.
Sincerely,
Kate Haut

6/8/1468
Richard has punched Antony!
I heard they quarrelled from the ladies of the court: Richard had heard that Antony was
garnering my favour and told him to leave off. Antony refused and Richard hit him in the
nose! Now Antony is sulking in the garden near the myrtle tree and Richard has been
constantly pestering me.
I feel bad for poor Antony: he didn’t really do anything wrong. But now it seems I must put off
asking father about marriage: I do not think Richard would allow it.
Meanwhile, I’ve received a letter from my sister, Jane: she is to marry a boy from our town. I
am so excited!! I have asked permission to leave for the wedding, and the Queen will tell me
later in the week if I am allowed. She often allows for her ladies to go attend family matters:
she is very gracious to us. I cannot wait to see my sister again!
Sincerely,
Katherine

Dear diary,

I am back in Kent for the wedding of my sister: my sister is engaged to a local knight named
Stephen Porter. He is a bit older than she is, but he is quite nice towards all of us and has
quite a bit of money. She seems happy with him.

Richard sent me a letter apologising for his outburst towards Antony, and praising my looks
and virtues. It was quite long: he spoke in depth of how he is grief stricken in my absence.
He begged me to return to court to be with him. I feel awkward when I look at this letter:
there is a stain on the corner of the letter that looks like wine. I do wonder if he was drunk
when he wrote it.

Recently, my mother and I went into the village to purchase some last minute things for the
ceremony. While we were walking by the road, she began speaking to me about my own
marriage. “There are some young men that your father has in mind,” mother told me, “but
currently we are in the elimination stage: wittle down the amount of prospective suitors. But
you must be prepared for marriage.” Even though I should be married already, it seems that
even now the notion is so far away.

Well, I must go to bed: tomorrow is a big day, and I must be well rested.

Sincerely,
Kate.