The Catherine Howard Conspiracy
by Alexandra Walsh
Published March 28, 2019
Sapere Books
ebook, paperback; 468 pages
What secrets were covered up at the court of Henry VIII?
Whitehall Palace, England, 1539
When Catherine Howard arrives at the court of King Henry VIII to be a maid of honour in the household of the new queen, Anne of Cleves, she has no idea of the fate that awaits her.
Catching the king’s fancy, she finds herself caught up in her uncle’s ambition to get a Howard heir to the throne.
Terrified by the ageing king after the fate that befell her cousin, Anne Boleyn, Catherine begins to fear for her life…
Pembrokeshire, Wales, 2018
Dr Perdita Rivers receives news of the death of her estranged grandmother, renowned Tudor historian Mary Fitzroy.
Mary inexplicably cut all contact with Perdita and her twin sister, Piper, but she has left them Marquess House, her vast estate in Pembrokeshire.
Perdita sets out to unravel their grandmother’s motives for abandoning them, and is drawn into the mystery of an ancient document in the archives of Marquess House, a collection of letters and diaries claiming the records of Catherine Howard’s execution were falsified…
What truths are hiding in Marquess House? What really happened to Catherine Howard?
And how was Perdita’s grandmother connected to it all?
The Catherine Howard Conspiracy is the first book in the Marquess House trilogy, a dual timeline conspiracy thriller with a twist on a well-known period of Tudor history.
Excerpt:
“There, her.” The queen pointed as her maids danced. She and the king had been married for two weeks and her English was improving each day. “The fox in the pretty gown. Who is she, Sir Edward?”
“That’s Mistress Catherine Howard. We call her Kitty,” he replied as Catherine’s red hair gleamed in the morning light. “She’s my wife’s sister.”
There was a small amount of pride in his voice. Catherine was an excellent dancer.
“She has hair like a fox.” The queen laughed at her own joke and Edward smiled. He had never really noticed the redness of Catherine’s hair; a hood usually covered it. But here in the queen’s chambers, it was loose while she danced and it was a deep, luxuriant auburn. “You call her Kitty, like a cat?”
“It’s a familiar name for Catherine,” he explained. “With so many Catherines, it makes it easier to distinguish her.”
The queen smiled. “You ask your Kitty to teach me to dance,” she said. “Maybe the king, he like it.”
A shadow drifted across her face, which was quickly replaced by her ever-ready serene and enigmatic smile. Edward beckoned to Isabel and after a brief, whispered conversation, she bobbed a curtsey and retreated.
“My wife will arrange for you and Kitty to dance together every afternoon so she can teach you the steps,” Edward said.
“Good, she has pretty ways, like a fox,” sighed the queen.