by Alison Weir
Their spokesman was the Archbishop of York. He informed her that all the universities of Europe had determined that the Pope had had no authority or grounds to issue the dispensation permitting her marriage to the King, and that it was worthless.
Jane was appalled to see the Queen fall to her knees and raise her hands in supplication.
“I am the King’s true wife!” she insisted. “He has yielded to mere passion, and I cannot think that the court of Rome and the whole Church of England will consent to anything that is unlawful and detestable. But still I say I am his wife, and for him I will pray.”
The lords were implacable. “It is our duty to warn your Grace of what the King might do to you if you persist in your defiance,” the Archbishop said.
“I will go even to the fire if the King commands me!” she cried.
“It may yet come to that,” the Archbishop snapped, and they departed, leaving her shuddering and unable to rise, and her ladies and maids swooping to succor her. As Jane fetched a damp cloth to mop her brow, she was trembling with indignation at the way her beloved mistress had been treated. It was the Pope who should rule on the royal marriage, not the universities!
A few days later, the command came from the King: the Queen and her household were to remove to the More, a house near Esher once owned by Cardinal Wolsey. It was a magnificent mansion and, as before, Katherine kept great state there. Visitors came, among them the Venetian ambassador and his suite of thirty elegant gentlemen, and Jane was one of the eighty maids-of-honor in attendance when they came to watch the Queen dine. Jane had always wondered how royal persons felt about eating in full public view, almost as entertainment. I could never do that! she thought. I would not be able to eat a thing, I’d be so embarrassed.
Afterward, when hippocras and wafers were served, and the company mingled, a young man with dark eyes and olive skin appeared before Jane.
“Bella signorina!” he addressed her, kissing her hand. “You English ladies are so beautiful and fair.”
Jane did not quite know how to respond. It was astonishing to have a young man address her so enthusiastically—and very pleasant! “I thank you, Sir,” she said. “I hope you are enjoying your visit to England.”
“We are seeing many marvels,” he answered, “but never anything as magnifico as all you lovely ladies! Tell me, you serve the Queen? She is nice lady?”
“She is a most gracious lady,” Jane said. “Where do you live in Italy?”
“In Venice, signorina—La Serenissima! You must visit one day. She is beautiful city. I take you there, eh?” He gave her a meaningful look. But just as Jane was seeing herself in Italy, the mistress of a palazzo, with her handsome Italian husband at her side and a brood of olive-skinned children, to her surprise, the young man bowed and moved on, patting her backside as he did so. She spun around in indignation, but he was gone from her reach.
“He did that to me too!” Dorothy fumed. “The nerve of him!”
“The first man in years who shows an interest in me, and he disappears after two minutes—and insults me!” Jane exclaimed. Then suddenly they both found themselves laughing. “It was good to be called bella signorina, even if he didn’t mean it,” Jane said.
* * *
—
Gloom descended on the More in early December when Lady Parr died. The Queen had loved her, and was much broken by her death.
Now she had only Lady Willoughby to confide in. Lady Willoughby’s loyalty was steadfast, but her manner was bracing and she had a fierce Spanish temperament. She nagged rather than coaxed, and Jane felt that Katherine needed someone gentler at this time. She wished that she herself could comfort her, but the Queen did not confide in her maids.
A ray of light in the gloom was a letter from Thomas, informing Jane of his return to England. He had enjoyed his time in France, but although King Henry had been unfailingly courteous to him, he had not offered him preferment, so Thomas was going to stay in Bryan’s service. Thank goodness for Bryan, Jane said to herself. We all owe him so much. She no longer hoped that he would ask for her hand; he could never do it now, even if he wanted to. No man so close to the King would look for a bride in the fallen Queen’s household.
* * *
—
They spent a mournful Christmas at the More. The King had again refused Katherine’s request to have Mary with her, and he had forbidden her to communicate with Ambassador Chapuys.
Jane had a letter from Lizzie, who was enjoying life in Yorkshire, although she missed everyone very much. Sir Anthony was an indulgent husband, and she was growing to like him. At his behest, she had made the King a fine shirt with a high collar, and sent it to him as a New Year’s gift.
Father wrote, sending Jane the greetings of the season, which made her wish herself at home, and Edward sent a gift of venison. Jane presented it to the Queen, along with the silk purse she had made her, and was heartened to see Katherine smile.
The Yule log was brought in on Christmas Eve, and there were feasts on Christmas Day, New Year’s Day and Twelfth Night, but they were sad affairs compared with what would be going on in their absence at court, and at Wulfhall. Katherine put on a cheerful front, but Lady Parr’s absence made everything seem sadder still. Jane was glad when the maids-of-honor organized a treasure hunt, and they all ran shrieking around the house.
Chapter 10
1532
Eliza Darrell had helped to smuggle in a letter from Messire Chapuys. The Queen read it as she sat in her chair by the open window, where she could enjoy the May sunshine. Her ladies and maids were with her, listening to Bess Chambers reading aloud an old romance.
Jane, watching Katherine, saw that the news was of some grave import. The Queen looked up from the letter, her expression pained.
“The clergy have renounced their authority to make new Church laws without the King’s consent. That is bad enough, but there is worse. When the bishops were gathered in convocation, his Grace addressed them, and said he had thought that the clergy of his realm had been his subjects wholly, but he had now perceived that they were but half his subjects, for they had all made an oath to the Pope, contrary to the oath that they made to him. So they have had no choice but to renounce their allegiance to Rome. Henceforth, they will answer to the King only, not the Pope.” Her voice was choked.
Jane felt sick to her stomach.
“Does this mean that the King has broken with the Pope?” Lady Willoughby barked.
“I fear it does. I cannot believe he has gone that far.” So great was Katherine’s distress that she had failed, for perhaps the first time in her life, to give the King his due title in front of his inferiors. “That is not all. Sir Thomas More, who has been a stout friend to me, has resigned as Lord Chancellor. He cannot countenance these changes. If only the Pope would speak! I know that my husband wants to return to the fold. He does not want to be cut off from the rest of Christendom, or risk excommunication.”
The women expressed their shock at the news. Only Nan Stanhope stayed silent.
“Of course,” Katherine said, “the way will now be clear for Master Cromwell to push through his reforms unhindered.” Jane had been hearing a lot about Master Cromwell lately. Enforced exile was breaking down the barriers between the Queen and her faithful maids, and she had begun to express her views more freely to them, and keep them informed of what was going on.
People sneered at Thomas Cromwell, for he was the son of a blacksmith who had made good as a lawyer. But they did not do so to his face. He had long been in Cardinal Wolsey’s service, but had transferred to the King’s after his master’s fall, and since then, he had made himself indispensable; the Queen had said it was because he was ready at all things, evil or good.
She had told them of Ambassador Chapuys’s warning that Cromwell had risen above everyone save the Lady Anne, and now had more credit with the King than ev
en Wolsey had enjoyed. It was no secret that Cromwell was hot for reform. He supported the King’s supremacy. Like Anne, he wanted the Bible in English. Like Anne, he was opposed to the Queen and everything she stood for, including the Church of Rome.
Jane shivered, fearful for her mistress. If Cromwell was as ruthless as people said, the future would be bleak indeed.
* * *
—
That month they were ordered to move to the palace at Hatfield, a red-brick house ranged around a courtyard amid lovely gardens, which were all in colorful bloom. Jane could have thought of worse places to sit out one’s exile, as she walked in the surrounding park, admiring the scenery, or danced in the great hall with the other young ladies for the Queen’s pleasure.
One day, strolling alone in the park under a blazing sun, with not a soul in sight, she sat down to rest in the shade of an old oak tree. Suddenly she felt a slight frisson of—she knew not what! It was not fear, certainly. Rather, it was a sense of import, of triumph even. She got up and walked away. The feeling ebbed. When she returned, she felt it again, undeniably. And then, although the words were not spoken aloud, she heard them, in her head. This is the Lord’s doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.
It seemed to be a woman speaking; she could barely tell. What she did experience was a rush of joy, for there was no doubt in her mind what it portended. The Queen would be vindicated: the Pope would speak in her favor. What she herself had just felt and heard had been prophetic, and that God had vouchsafed her, His humble servant, such foreknowledge was thrilling indeed.
Hurrying back to the palace, she slowed her steps. Maybe it would be best not to say anything of it to the Queen for now—just in case she was wrong. It would be cruel to raise Katherine’s hopes. But when she returned, she almost changed her mind, for there was her good mistress being comforted by Margery and Bess.
“The King has dismissed Lady Willoughby,” Isabel told her. “He is a bad man, a wicked man, for he thinks she plots with the Queen! And now she has no great ladies to talk to, only us maids.”
It was as well, Jane thought, that Katherine had allowed them to draw closer to her. Aloud, she said, “I am sure the Pope will speak soon and that all will be well. It’s nearly three years since the case was revoked to Rome, so it cannot be much longer. And then right and good order will be restored, you’ll see.”
“I do pray so,” Isabel said fervently.
* * *
—
August brought a visit from Thomas, a welcome diversion for the maids. Jane was astonished and delighted to see him as he bowed before the Queen, looking so handsome with his fine eyes, the hint of humor in his expression, and a luxuriant chestnut beard. The King, he said, had appointed him master forester of Enfield Chase, and seeing that Hatfield was nearby, he had come to pay his respects to her Grace and visit his sister. The post was a minor one, Jane knew, but by the way Thomas had announced it, you would have thought he’d been made Lord Chancellor. She suppressed a smile. She had long grown used to his inordinate ambition and sense of entitlement. She was surprised that he was willing to visit the Queen, but of course he had wanted to show off.
He stayed for only an hour or so, and they spent most of that time walking in the gardens and catching up on family news.
“Mother and Father are well,” he told her. “The boys are shooting up. Harry likes working for Bishop Gardiner, who has replaced Wolsey at Winchester. And Lizzie’s husband has left for Jersey. He has been appointed governor, and he and Lizzie will be living in a royal castle! But she is not to go until it is ready to receive her.” He paused. “You will not like this, Jane. Because she did not want to stay alone in Yorkshire, they closed up their houses and Sir Anthony obtained for her a place in the Lady Anne’s household.”
Jane did not like it. She walked on, shocked.
“You should sue for a place too,” Thomas said. “I am sure Sir Francis will be pleased to help. I still work for him. I could ask him.”
Jane turned on him. “How could I serve a woman who is the scandal of Christendom, and who has done her utmost to break the Queen’s marriage?” she flared. “I could never betray my good mistress thus.”
Thomas was unmoved. “It would be a wise course, sister. Perhaps you have heard that Archbishop Warham has died.” Jane had. Katherine’s chaplain had given them the sad news, and the Queen had been very worried about who would take Warham’s place. “As you know, he was against the divorce,” Edward went on, “but this new man who is to replace him, Thomas Cranmer, is for it, and a passionate advocate of reform. He was chaplain to the Boleyns. I think there will be great changes, very soon, and you would do well to prepare for that.”
“Only the Pope can pronounce a divorce,” Jane pointed out, chilled at the prospect of what Cranmer’s appointment would mean for the Queen.
“It was Dr. Cranmer’s idea to canvass the universities. With learned opinion on the King’s side, he may not wait for the Pope to give sentence. The word is that Cranmer will do it.”
Jane stared at him, horrified. At length, she found her voice. “He has not the authority. It would not be lawful.”
“Sweet sister, where have you been these past years?” Thomas was losing patience. “We are in the process of another divorce, between England and Rome. It is all but complete, and lacks only the ratification of Parliament. Believe me, this marriage will go ahead, and soon.”
“Then I shall stay with the Queen—the rightful Queen!” Jane could not hide her distress.
“That would not be wise, and it would reflect badly on our family. These are dangerous times. The Lady Anne rules all. Any who favor the Queen are her enemies. She has even made threats against the Princess. You would do well to consider your position. Think of the rest of us. The King is taking the Lady Anne to France, and Father will be in attendance on his Grace, to show where his loyalties lie. Lizzie is going, and Edward. I hope to go too, if Sir Francis permits. Think of your future, Jane. There will be no advantage in remaining with the Queen—quite the contrary!”
“No,” Jane said. “I will not compromise my principles for anyone.”
Thomas snorted in exasperation. “You are a fool,” he told her, “and I will not let you persist in your stupidity.”
* * *
—
Soon afterward, Jane received a letter from Bryan. The Queen looked at her questioningly as she handed it to her. Why would Bryan write to her?
She read the letter with dismay. He was proposing a marriage with William Dormer, the son and heir of Sir Robert Dormer, the Member of Parliament for West Wycombe.
“Lady Dormer was Jane Newdigate, and is descended from King Edward III through the Nevilles,” Bryan had written. “The Dormers cannot but approve of you, and you of them. They are staunch Catholics, and Sir Robert prefers to live a quiet life in the country because he despises and fears the power and ambition of those who are in command at court, and is in grief over the break with Rome. William is twenty years old, and will inherit goodly estates.”
“Who is the letter from, Jane?” asked the Queen, as was her right and duty, for she was in loco parentis to her maids. Jane showed her. There was nothing in it of which she could disapprove.
“It is an honorable proposal, and a good match for you,” Katherine said. “I shall be greatly saddened to lose you, dear Jane, but you cannot let an opportunity like this slip. How old are you now?”
“Nearly twenty-five, Madam.”
“It is a good age to be wed. I was about your age when I married the King.”
“But William Dormer is five years younger than me, Madam.”
“His Grace was five years younger too.” The Queen smiled. Yes, Jane thought, and look what happened when you grew old and he did not. “Sir Robert is clearly of the true faith, and it sounds as if he does not support the King’s desire for a divorce,” Katherine said
approvingly. “But it surprises me that Sir Francis Bryan, who is all for reform and bends with the wind to retain the King’s love, has suggested a match with a family that cleaves to the old ways.”
It did not surprise Jane. This was Thomas’s doing, all part of a clever plan to detach her from the Queen. “He is my kinsman, Madam,” she said. “He has ever been helpful in advancing my family, and he knows that I too cleave to the old ways, and that I am utterly loyal to your Grace. He has chosen well, but Madam, I do not want to leave your service.”
“Nonsense, Jane!” the Queen replied. “You are dear to me and have served me well; yet when your father placed you with me, it was surely in the hope that I would help you to make a good marriage. Why do you think I invited all those young gentlemen to my chamber? It was for you maids. So you should accept this marriage, especially since Sir Francis states that your father gives it his blessing.”
Jane felt trapped. “Yes, Madam.” Bryan had presented her with a fait accompli. It would have been nice if she had been consulted too. She looked at the letter again. “If I am agreeable to the match, I am invited, with your Grace’s permission, to visit Sir Robert and Lady Dormer, to meet their son. They live at Wing, near Aylesbury.”
“That is a very good idea,” the Queen said, “and of course you should go. I think it is not far away.”
“Aylesbury is about thirty miles from here, Madam,” Nan Stanhope said, looking at Jane with envious eyes.
“You must take one of the grooms with you, and Margery will accompany you.” Margery looked pleased at the prospect. They had so few diversions in their lives. “I myself will write to Sir Robert Dormer, signifying my approval,” the Queen added, “and we shall arrange a date. In the meantime, Jane, respond to Sir Francis and tell him you are well content with this marriage, and that you look forward to visiting the Dormers soon.”
