During the swift storm disarming the Tudor court in the spring of 1536, a small
two-and-a-half-year-old girl, secured upon her mother’s hip, was the epicenter of
impassioned words, volleyed like a woolen tennis ball, between her father and
mother. Each salvo was perhaps harder than the last.
“The king was angry,” noted the Scottish theologian, Alexander Alesius, as he described the scene to the child, Elizabeth I, when she was later Queen of England. He expounded, Never shall I forget the sorrow which I felt when I saw the most serene queen, your most religious mother, carrying you, still a baby, in her arms and entreating the most serene king your father, in Greenwich Palace, from the open window of which he was looking in the courtyard, when she brought you to him. I did not perfectly
understand what had been going on, but the faces and gestures of the speakers plainly showed that the king was angry, although he could conceal his anger wonderfully well. Yet from the protracted conference of the council (for whom the crowd was waiting until it was quite dark, expecting that they would return to London), it was most obvious to everyone that some deep and difficult question
was being discussed.
By 11 o’clock that night, Queen Anne Boleyn, young Elizabeth’s mother, was informed that a pending trip to Calais with her husband was canceled. Two days later, the queen was arrested and with bewildering speed, she was tried and executed—all within seventeen days.
As a “toward” and precocious child, contemporary sources attest to the fact that
despite young Elizabeth’s disarmament during what was certainly a startling
aftermath, she lucidly queried John Shelton, “Why Governor, how hap it yesterday
Lady Princess and today but Lady Elizabeth?”
Yet, it would only be a little over a year before another upheaval took place in the
young child’s life. The head mistress of her household, Lady Bryan, who by a
waning gold thread, remained tethered to the motherly instructions Anne had once
written her, would now go to the home of baby Edward, the newborn prince, to
direct his household and care. Elizabeth was not yet four at the time and was now
considered the illegitimate child of the king.
There is no doubt then, as Tracy Borman states, why the young Elizabeth, who was
“effectively abandoned by her parents—her mother through death and her father through neglect…clung to her (new) governess with a fierceness born of insecurity.
Kat (would become) a fixed point in an ever-changing world, and Elizabeth was
determined never to lose her. To her governess, she confided everything. ‘I will
know nothing but that she shall know it,’ she once remarked. Kat returned her affection with no less zeal.” Though Anne of Cleves and Katherine Parr would eventually serve as exemplary and grounded stepmothers to Elizabeth, it was Kat Ashley who would be of paramount importance to her and it was to Kat that Elizabeth ascribed, in both word and action, the role of mother. Kat would remain
in this beloved position for nearly thirty years, until her death in 1565. Elizabeth
would reign for almost thirty-eight years more, having lost Kat within her first
decade as queen.
Yet, Kat Ashley influenced Elizabeth’s queenship in both direct and indirect ways.
Kat could not have known with certainty that Elizabeth would become queen. In fact, Kat became Elizabeth’s governess on the heels of the Second Act of Succession which, in addition to declaring her illegitimate, removed Elizabeth from the line to the throne. From this vantage point, Kat’s actions appear solidly indicative of her great love and loyalty toward Elizabeth. The ferocity with which Kat protected Elizabeth and the lengths to which she would go, even to her own peril, certainly bear all the markings of a fiercely loving mother.
Interestingly, Kat’s upbringing was not too different from Elizabeth’s own mother,
Anne Boleyn. Born in a noble family within a dynasty of courtiers who served the
King of England from generation to generation, the Champernownes were a Welsh family who were proud of both their heritage and standing. In fact, it was her
brother John and her sister Joan, already at court, who helped secure Kat’s position
with Elizabeth. And just as unusually as Thomas Boleyn had desired to educate his
daughters, Kat’s father, Sir Philip, was also a Humanist and as Borman points out,
he “was as committed to his daughters’ education as he was to his sons’. Kat
developed an interest in humanism and classical scholarship” Anne Boleyn herself would likely not only approve of such an education for someone who would tutor and care for her young child, but it is equally imaginable the she would have been thrilled to know—as a strong woman herself— that Kat’s sister, Joan, was, in a sense, advocating for women’s rights, which in the sixteenth
century, was nearly unheard of.
Perhaps it is this proximity to Anne which made Kat, as Borman describes, “an instant hit with the young Elizabeth. (Kat) was of an altogether different character than the formidable Lady Bryan. Her enlightened education had given her a much stronger sense of independence than most women of her age, and her keen intellect was appealing to the precocious child for whose education she was now responsible. She was also of a warm, kind-hearted disposition and had a lively sense of fun, which occasionally bordered on irreverence.”
Furthermore, Kat married a first cousin of Anne Boleyn, John Astley (Ashley),
when Elizabeth was approximately twelve years old. Despite the fact that Tudor
childhood was in many ways vastly different from our own, no one can deny that
the age of twelve is a pivotal time for a young girl. She is on the cusp of womanhood. And crucially, it was also a time when Elizabeth likely felt part of a family unit, as together John, Kat and Elizabeth “ shared intellectual and religious interests” recounts Borman, noting that “John rapidly struck up a strong friendship with Elizabeth and became a valued member of her household. He later recalled the happy times that the three of them had shared in the various houses of
Elizabeth’s childhood: ‘Our friendly fellowship together at Cheshunt, Chelsea and
Hatfield … our pleasant studies in reading together Aristotle’s Rhetoric, Cicero and
Livy; our free talk mingled always with honest mirth.’
Thus, it is both noteworthy and highly understandable that around this time,
Elizabeth grew more fascinated with her mother, Anne Boleyn. She likely felt her
mother’s influence simply by being around those of the same ilk. We also do not know to what extent Anne was actually discussed. However, to some degree, it is simply enough that Elizabeth was aware that John Ashley was her mother’s cousin and they enjoyed the “friendly fellowship” and “pleasant studies in reading together” which evinced Anne’s way of being, even if only obliquely.
It was perhaps due to these either very real or somewhat elusive references that
Elizabeth began to evoke her mother’s memory and exhibit some of Anne’s style
and poise, even to the point where she wore her mother’s “A” necklace in a family
portrait commissioned by Henry VIII in 1545. Though some might assume this was too vulnerable a time for Elizabeth to make such a defiant choice, it is equally probable that she felt more confident wearing the pendant since she was recently returned to the line of succession in 1543 when the Second Act of Succession was repealed and the Third Succession Act was in place. But one thing is for certain, not only did she have her mother’s courage, but standing composed in a French hood and elegant dress, she still bears, within the painting, not only Anne’s dark
eyes but an interminable reflection of her mother’s assured confidence.
In another portrait which Elizabeth gave to her brother in 1547, Elizabeth stands
beautifully poised and wearing rich fabrics, denoting if not a legal legitimacy, certainly her inner strength and assuredness. As the Royal Collection Trust notes, Elizabeth’s gown is constructed of a crimson silk fabric woven with a pomegranate pattern. The artist has also included tiny parallel lines of gold indicating that it was also woven with precious metal threads. The triangular forepart at the front of her skirt and undersleeves are made of a more expensive fabric known as cloth-of-silver tissued with gold. Massed groups of gold loops are shown in a pomegranate pattern against a pale silver-coloured ground. Tissued fabrics like this were reserved by sumptuary law to the king and his closest relatives. By depicting such a restricted fabric, the portrait apparently makes a conscious references to the princess’s royal birth – potentially a politically charged statement given that it was painted in c.1546, only three years after the Third Succession Act had brought her
back into the royal line of succession (although she was still officially declared
illegitimate).
Though it may be debatable, because this portrait was likely commissioned by her
father before his death, Elizabeth’s choice of elements denote not only her mother’s fearlessness but her influence. Elizabeth is holding what is assumed to be a New Testament in her hands with the Old Testament, a larger book, behind her.
With her finger marking a page, the connotation may be that she herself is reading the Bible. This lends itself to reformed thinking and like the fabrics, demonstrates a bold choice. These subtle suggestions, not too unlike the nearly hidden inscriptions recently found in Anne Boleyn’s book of hours, seem to denote a strong undertow of fealty toward Anne which would continue to emerge with surprising force in
different quadrants of Elizabeth’s young life and queenship.
For instance, Kat Ashley certainly had reformed views much like Anne’s. Unfortunately, both Elizabeth and Kat suffered greatly for them. First in Wyatt’s
Rebellion in 1554 and also in 1555, when Kat’s reformed books and pamphlets were found during the Dudley conspiracy. Kat was not shy about her beliefs. Yet, in many ways, the trouble that was caused only brought Kat and Elizabeth closer and showed their great loyalty to one another.
It was certainly earlier, in 1549, when Kat first began to prove that even the
extreme duress of the tower could not disturb her fierce loyalty to Elizabeth. In
fact, Kat would find herself not once, but three times in the tower over the course
of her lifetime. The first time was during the Seymour scandal, when Kat tried to
play a hefty game of matchmaker and perhaps succumbed to Thomas Seymour’s charms herself—to the point that, as Borman suggests, “As Kat tried to interfere in
the matter, the indiscretion and naivety of her character appeared in sharp relief”.
Elizabeth was not quite fourteen years old in June of 1547 when Thomas Seymour, newly wedded to her stepmother and ward, Katherine Parr, moved into their home
in Chelsea. Though Thomas and Katherine were perhaps in love before Henry VIII
caught sight of her, it was not until Henry’s death that they were able to marry—
and rather quickly. Despite his former interest in Katherine, Thomas Seymour
likely showed his intent and ambition in marrying a dowager queen when he not
only purchased the wardship of Jane Grey (which would mean receiving her dowery money when he had secured a propitious marriage for her), but also when he began to act inappropriately toward Elizabeth, the king’s sister. More specifically, in the guise of jest, he would arrive in her bedchamber first thing in the morning in his short dressing gown to rouse and tousle her. And sometimes, especially when she beat him to the punch and rose early to dress in her gown, he
roundly hit her bottom with great “familiarity.” His gregarious nature disguised his true intentions to the ladies for a very long time.
Unfortunately, Kat’s unintentional part in the scandal began not long before, when she had fallen prey to court gossip and assumed Thomas Seymour was a royally sanctioned match for one of Henry VIII’s daughters. This, combined with Thomas’ charming personality, caused Kat to be so forward as to propose a match with Elizabeth. Again, one must consider Kat’s viewpoint. Elizabeth was likely never to be queen in her mind. She was last in line and Edward and Mary were still young.
Who better than the brother of the Lord Protector of England for her charge, the
new king’s uncle?
He was also attractive and congenial. To Kat, in addition to his place at court, he would be a delightful addition to the long days which lay before her dear Elizabeth. Yet, as Borman suggests, “It seems that (Kat) was driven not
merely by the best interests of her young charge, but by a kind of vicarious pleasure.” Add to this, Kat’s probable jealousy of Elizabeth’s relationship with the calm and steady Katherine Parr, and a general lack of discernment ensued.
For one, it took far too long for Kat to be truly alarmed by Thomas’ indecencies. And though Elizabeth’s stepmother eventually recognized the situation after Kat apprised her of all that had transpired, it still stood to threaten Elizabeth’s reputation outside their small circle—and this even more so when Katherine found Elizabeth in Thomas’ embrace. The ensuing row and immediate dismissal of Elizabeth to Chestnut left Elizabeth devastated and she wrote Katherine
immediately upon her arrival. Fortunately, as Borman deduces, “The speed at which Katherine (Parr) and Elizabeth overcame this first serious challenge to their friendship is a testament to the depth of their love for each other.”
Despite this alarming situation, after Katherine died in child birth, Kat still held to her idealized vision of the future and was relentless as she continued to wear Elizabeth down and warm her again to the idea of marrying Thomas. This was met with great backlash from Kat’s husband John and it required constant suggestion to convince Elizabeth. When Elizabeth relented, Kat went to London to pursue Thomas Seymour. She ran into a snag when, defending what she perceived as Seymour’s fervor to a go-between to court, Thomas Parry, she foolishly mentioned that while still married to Katherine, Seymour was not only caught in an embrace with Elizabeth, but she shared Seymour’s morning antics, as well. This was like a match to dynamite.
Rumors quickly spread at court and as Borman imparts, “A key part of the evidence against (Seymour) was that he had conspired to marry the king’s sister without the council’s permission, which in itself would have been
enough to send him to the block.” Elizabeth was devastated when she heard the severity of the situation and that she was not only implicated, but Kat and Parry were under suspicion as well and both were sent to the Tower. Borman recounts, At first, all three of the accused (Elizabeth, Kat and Parry) stood by their story that nothing improper had ever passed between Elizabeth and Lord Seymour, that there had been no offers of marriage, and that in any case Elizabeth would certainly not have consented to such without the council’s permission…Elizabeth was just as firm, and her answers to Sir Robert Tyrwhit show the strength of her
loyalty toward her beloved governess…’She will no more accuse Ashley than herself,’ he told his master, the Lord Protector, ‘and cannot now abide anybody who disapproves of her doings.’ When he tried to cajole her into confessing her servants’ guilt on the basis that ‘all the Evyll and Shayme shuld be ascrybyd to them, and her Yowth consedered,’ he was given short shrift. “I do parsav
[perceive] as yet, she wyll abyd mo [more] Stormys, or [before] she ackews Mestrys Aschlay,”…Getting nowhere with their prisoners, the interrogators at the Tower changed tack.
They moved Kat Astley to one of the darkest, most uncomfortable cells in the entire prison. Let her see how long she would continue
to stand by her mistress under those conditions. Kat was wretched with terror and
discomfort, as the full implications of what she had done seemed at last to sink in.
Miserably she lamented her ‘great folly in speaking of marriage to such a person
as she’…It is a testament to her love for Elizabeth that despite the wretchedness of
her condition, she still would not betray what had really happened with Lord Seymour. As her interrogators continued to press her, she claimed that she could not remember all the events…
With Elizabeth still remaining tight lipped at Hatfield, she and Kat might well have weathered the storm. But their resolve was
not matched by that of Thomas Parry. In the middle of February, a month after their arrest, he tried to save his own skin by telling his interrogators everything they wanted to know about Seymour’s relationship with Elizabeth.”
Kat was forced to corroborate the sordid details. Despite her confession, Elizabeth
held fast and only revealed that She and Kat actually did speak of marriage to Seymour and that Kat did try to convince her to do so, but she had told Kat, as Borman adds, “nothing could be done without the council’s consent. This latter fact, which was backed up by Kat Astley’s and Thomas Parry’s confessions, was what saved Elizabeth. However improper her relations with Seymour had been, she had never given any indication that she would be so foolish as to marry him without the council’s permission. It was therefore impossible for them to convict her of treason.”
Yet, it was far from over. Kat was ruled by the counsel to be an unfit governess. As
Borman relates, “When Elizabeth heard of (Kat’s dismissal as governess), she was
devastated. ‘She took the Matter so hevely, that she wepte all that Nyght, and lowred all the next Day,’ reported Sir Robert Tyrwhit, who was dismayed that the girl could so mourn the loss of one who had been such a bad influence upon her. ‘The Love that she beryth her [Kat Astley] ys to be wondert at,’ he told Edward Seymour, Lord Somerset and Lord Protector of England.”
Thomas was executed for treason soon after and in addition to her grief, it alarmed
Elizabeth to think the council might do the same to Kat. Kat was still in the tower.
As Borman explains, “(Elizabeth) therefore resolved to write to the Lord Protector and plead for Kat’s release. It was the most important letter she had ever written: the life of her beloved governess—the woman who had been a mother to her for more than twelve years and had shared all of her grief, joys, hopes, and fears—now depended upon
every word she wrote. Elizabeth began with a show of humility, thanking Somerset for issuing a proclamation of her innocence, as she had requested him to do. She then turned to the main subject of the letter.
Shrewdly realizing that she would get nowhere by simply insisting on Kat’s innocence, as she had done so many times in the past, she acknowledged that her governess had been somewhat at fault. “I do not favor her in any iuel [evil],” she wrote, “(for that I wolde be sorye to do), but for thes consideracions wiche folowe.” Numbering these “consideracions” in turn, Elizabeth proceeded to put the case for Mistress Astley with as much skill and eloquence as the most highly trained lawyer. First, she asked the Lord Protector to consider Kat’s service to her: “she hathe bene with me a longe time, and many years, and hathe taken great labor, and paine, in brinkinge of me up in lerninge
and honestie.” Second, she pointed out that whatever Kat did to further Lord Seymour’s cause with Elizabeth, she did on the assumption that he would have kept
the council fully informed of it, being a member of it himself. Finally, she claimed
that if they continued to detain her former governess, “it shal and doth make men
thinke that I am not clere of the dide [deed] myselfe, but that it is pardoned in me
bicause of my youthe, bicause that she I loved so wel is in suche a place.”
In writing all of this, Elizabeth was putting herself at great risk. She had not been charged with treason because there had been insufficient evidence that she had acted without the council’s knowledge and consent. But it had been a close call, and she knew that her favor with the Lord Protector and his councillors was tenuous at best. She had already succeeded in persuading them to proclaim her innocence, but all the signs were that this had exhausted their scant reserves of goodwill toward her. In trying to persuade them to now pardon and release the woman who had been unquestionably at fault in the whole sordid affair, Protector
Somerset could well have decided that Elizabeth was pushing her luck too far and
ordered her arrest. But the gamble paid off. To Elizabeth’s joy and relief, Kat was
released from the Tower, along with her partner in crime, Thomas Parry.
Though Kat was released, it would be two long years before both she and John were re-instated into Elizabeth’s household. Yet, it would not be long until, in 1554, Kat and Elizabeth were imprisoned again. This time, Elizabeth had been implicated in the Wyatt Rebellion against Mary, who was now queen. One must wonder how Elizabeth would have physically survived the initial summons to court by Mary if Kat, who was so dear to her, were not there to care for her. As Borman
recounts, As Elizabeth waited anxiously at Ashridge, the stress of the situation became too much, and she collapsed with nervous exhaustion.
Throughout her life, Elizabeth would suffer from attacks of sickness at times of extreme stress, and this was undoubtedly the most stressful situation that she had faced since her interrogation over the Seymour affair some five years before. Kat Astley was frantic with worry and tended her at her bedside throughout the desperate hours and days of her beloved girl’s illness.
Elizabeth and her ladies, including Kat and Blanche Parry, made their way to London and were detained at Whitehall awaiting the interrogators who would take them to the Tower. Upon their arrival, Borman tells that Elizabeth “succeeded in delaying them by insisting that she first be allowed to write to the Queen. The longer she wrote, the less time they had to catch the tide, and she knew it. By the time she had finished the letter (thereafter known as the “tide letter”), they had missed it. Elizabeth had won only a temporary reprieve, but the words she wrote to her sister may have won her a good deal more.”
Though Elizabeth had other tutors beside Kat as she grew older, it is worth consideration to think how the classical conversations she shared with Kat and John Ashley influenced her intelligence and presence of mind. It could be that the experience of such interactions—ones very similar to those that her mother, Anne Boleyn, enjoyed—may have saved her life more than once. As Borman suggests, Although she could rejoice at having narrowly escaped her mother’s fate, Elizabeth
had been deeply affected by the whole episode. She would remember it for years to
come, and it would have a profound impact upon her own development as a ruler.
Years later, she would recall: “I stode in dangere of my lyffe, my systere was so
ensenst [incensed] ageynst me.” The experience had taught her two valuable
lessons: first, the need to strenuously safeguard her reputation, and, second, the
strength of her own ability to talk—and write—her way out of danger. The Seymour
episode had given her a taste of the latter.
Now the Wyatt conspiracy fostered
within her a new sense of confidence that would grow ever greater as Mary’s reign
progressed, equipping her for the task of one day taking the throne herself. Elizabeth was taken to Woodstock, and though her ladies were also released from the tower along with her, the council replaced Kat and all the others, save Blanche Parry, while Elizabeth was under house arrest. Here, Elizabeth was unable to see or correspond with Kat. However, Kat was eventually restored to her household. Kat was indeed a complex woman. At once bright and intelligent, she was also humorous and often led by her own emotions—sometimes even speaking out of
turn. Though Anne Boleyn was perhaps more poised, there is certainly a form of “quantum entanglement” between these two women that is hard to deny; which is why, when Elizabeth became queen, one can hardly keep from imagining the hushed joy which likely passed between Kat and Elizabeth while they quickly changed Elizabeth’s wardrobe in the dark confines of St Edward’s chapel on the
young queen’s coronation day.
It is easy to envision within the bustle of moving fabric, time stopping and all that had passed between them—the dangers, fears and
triumphs—all was now fixed in the flash of a single look, perhaps followed by a mutual smile and even a giggle before a restrained composure took hold, remembering the day.
The arrival of this jubilant time also seemed to make all of Anne Boleyn’s pleading
whispers, her transfer of precious possessions to trustworthy kin and servants and even her humble scaffold speech —everything from that frightening spring long before—to now feel as though they had all come to triumph. One cannot fully measure how much Kat’s proximity to Anne’s cousin and this flow of Anne’s possessions and ideas may have touched both her and Elizabeth, but one thing is for certain, Kat filled the mother-shaped vacuum in Elizabeth’s life.
Kat would be very instrumental in Elizabeth’s reign, as well. As Georgia Whitehead, for The Tudor Society notes, Upon her accession, Elizabeth awarded Kat the place of Chief Gentlewoman of the Privy Chamber, the most prestigious position in the royal household, giving Kat continuous access to Elizabeth as she attended her both night and day. Kat advised and influenced Elizabeth in both private and public matters in the early part of her reign, with one ambassador stating that Kat had “such influence with the queen
that she seemed, as it were, patroness of all England…” Kat’s life, spent at the side
of Elizabeth I, is a testament to loyalty, devotion and the impregnable friendship
and love that these two women shared.
During Elizabeth’s reign, Kat’s husband became the Master of the Jewel House and
Kat, as Chief Gentlewoman of the Privy Chamber, was the perfect conduit for the
flow of information to and from the queen. She offered intel to Elizabeth, and
nobles would often pursue her to have a word with her, knowing it would go
directly into the queen’s ear. This likely gave the queen an upper hand, controlling
the aristocracy and giving her dominion over the governance of her kingdom.
However, perhaps nothing demonstrated Kat’s motherly role more than when she
implored the queen to quit the gossip at court regarding Elizabeth’s married favorite, Robert Dudley and to commit instead to a sturdy royal alliance. Borman recounts, Desperate to salvage her mistress’s reputation and prevent her from throwing away everything for which they had fought so hard, Kat did what nobody nobody else dared and confronted the Queen. One day in August 1559, she flung herself at Elizabeth’s feet and passionately implored her to see reason and put an end to the “evil speaking” by marrying one of the many suitable contenders for her hand.
She pleaded that if she did not do this, the country would be plunged into civil war,
because Dudley had such powerful adversaries. Rather than see this come to pass, Kat said, she would have “strangled her majesty in the cradle.” A shocked hush
descended among the ladies of the privy chamber who were witnessing this
extraordinary scene. Nobody had ever dared to speak thus to the Queen: she had made it clear, even to the most senior members of her council, that her marriage was not a fitting subject for lesser mortals to meddle with.
Furthermore, her temper was already gaining notoriety, and one of the surest means of inflaming it was to challenge her authority. Now here was Mistress Astley chiding Elizabeth as if she were her own daughter rather than the Queen of England. But to their
surprise, Elizabeth responded graciously, thanking her old governess for her
words, which she said were “outpourings of a good heart and true fidelity.” She went on to assure Kat that she would consider marrying in order to dispel the rumors and set her subjects’ minds at ease, but added that marriage was a weighty matter and that she had “no wish to change her state” at present.
Borman continues to confirm that Kat “had a profound effect on the girl’s intellectual, spiritual, and, above all, emotional development.
Those who saw them together were astonished by the close bond that existed between them. Many said that she was the mother that Elizabeth had never had.” Kat’s love and loyalty toward Elizabeth as she grew up, gave Elizabeth a safe and sturdy place to abide as queen. Elizabeth learned well the value of loyalty and she learned how to
recognize it in others. This understanding was foundational to not only her life, but her long and glorious reign.
Nearly thirty years after Kat’s death, Shakespeare wrote the play Romeo and Juliet.
Given it was likely performed during Elizabeth’s lifetime, one wonders if she saw
the play at court—and if perhaps a smile came upon her aged vermillion lips as she
watched Juliet’s jovial nurse cry out, “Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour…I lay fourteen of my teeth—And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four—she’s not fourteen…!” And while she gently twisted the clasped ring bearing a tiny portrait of her mother, Anne Boleyn, did the queen’s smile broaden all the more, remembering her own humorous, outspoken governess? Did all melt away as she thought once more of this other mother in her heart?
Sources
Borman, Tracy. Elizabeth’s Women: Friends, Rivals and Foes Who Shaped the Virgin Queen. Bantam Books, 2010.
“Flemish School, 16th Century – Elizabeth I When a Princess.” Royal Collection Trust,
http://www.rct.uk/collection/404444/elizabeth-i-when-a-princess. Accessed 1 Oct. 2023.
“Katherine Ashley (Astley, Née Champernowne).” The Tudor Society, 3 Aug. 2023,
http://www.tudorsociety.com/katherine-ashley-astley-nee-champernowne/.
Magazine, Smithsonian. “The Royal Scandal That Rocked Elizabeth I’s Teenage Years.”
Smithsonian.Com, Smithsonian Institution, 9 June 2022, http://www.smithsonianmag.com/
history/royal-scandal-rocked-elizabeth-i-teenage-years-starz-180980199/
#:~:text=Soon%20after%20Thomas%20moved%20in,nightgown%2C%20was%20still%
20in%20bed.
Special Recognition to
Portrait of Kat Ashley created by Ashley Risk
@tudors_reimagined on IG
Anne Boleyn Obsessed on FB:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/825030480906864/)
About the Author
Rebecca Monet is an artist and writer, creator of The Queen Anne Boleyn
Paper Doll book and the Holbein & History YouTube Series:
@rebeccamonet2 on IG
facebook.com/rebeccamonet2 on FB
anneboleynpaperdoll.com
Link to Holbein & History: https://www.youtube.com/watch?
v=70wb65Bj798&ab_channel=Holbein%26History
ahpurse's Blog: Tudor and Victorian Historian 