Eight days after the rejoicings at the birth Katherine was dead.
Into the circumstances attending her illness and death close inquisition was made at a time when it had become an object to throw discredit upon the Admiral, and foul play—the use of poison—was suggested. The charge was probably without foundation; the facts elicited nevertheless afford additional proof of the unsatisfactory relations existing between husband and wife, and throw a melancholy light upon the closing scene of the union from which so much had been hoped.
It was deposed by Lady Tyrwhitt, one of the principal witnesses, that, upon her visiting the chamber of the sick woman one morning, two days before her death, Katherine had asked where she had been so long, adding that “she did fear such things in herself that she was sure she could not live.” When her friend attempted to soothe her by reassuring words, the Queen went on to say—holding her husband’s hand and being, as Lady Tyrwhitt thought, partly delirious—“I am not well handled; for those that be about me care not for me, but stand laughing at my grief, and the more good I will to them the less good they will to me.”
The words, to those cognisant of the condition of the household, must have been startling. The Queen may have been wandering, yet her complaint, as such complaints do, pointed to a truth. Others besides Lady Tyrwhitt were standing by; and Seymour made no attempt to ignore his wife’s meaning, or to deny that the charge was directed against himself.
“Why, sweet heart,” he said, “I would do you no hurt.”
“No, my lord, I think not,” answered Katherine aloud, adding, in his ear, “but, my lord, you have given me many shrewd taunts.”
“These words,” said Lady Tyrwhitt in her narrative, “I perceived she spake with good memory, and very sharply and earnestly, for her mind was sore disquieted.”
After consultation it was decided that Seymour should lie down by her side and seek to quiet her by gentle words; but his efforts were ineffectual, the Queen interrupting him by saying, roundly and sharply, “that she would have given a thousand marks to have had her full talk with the doctor on the day of her delivery, but dared not, for fear of his displeasure.”
“And I, hearing that,” said the lady-in-waiting, “perceived her trouble to be so great, that my heart would serve me to hear no more.”[79]
Yet on that same day the dying Queen made her will and, “being persuaded and perceiving the extremity of death to approach her,” left all she possessed to her husband, wishing it a thousand times more in value than it was.[80]