An Uneasy Crown: Power and politics at the Tudor court (The Tudor Saga Series Book 4)

by David Field

  Suddenly Elizabeth became alert to the danger. ‘Affection in what way, Sir Thomas? Certainly I was very much in his debt for the opportunity to reside in his house in Chelsea, where I could be closer to my dear friend the Queen Dowager and occasionally be granted audience with my dear brother.’

  ‘And how was that debt repaid, madam?’

  ‘I’m not sure that it ever was,’ Elizabeth replied evasively, but Wriothesley was too much of a lawyer to allow her to wriggle that loosely.

  ‘Not even by way of the natural affection of a young female to someone old enough to be her father?’

  ‘To what do you allude, Master Wriothesley, because for the life of me I cannot fathom your meaning.’

  ‘You kissed him?’

  ‘On the cheek, occasionally, on the occasion of our arrivals and departures.’

  ‘You allowed him to visit your bedchamber?’

  ‘He was present on several occasions, certainly, as was my governess, who can give good account of what transpired.’

  ‘Given that something “transpired”, to employ your description, why should it be necessary for your governess to give “good account” of it — again your words?’

  ‘Because,’ Elizabeth replied haughtily after drawing a full breath for effect, ‘it would seem from your questions that there might be some suggestion that it was other than seemly. It is well known that you are seeking evidence against Thomas Seymour to justify his execution, after the event it would seem, but I can save you further expenditure of breath by assuring you that you will hear nothing from me that will assist your mission.’

  ‘My mission concerns more than the fate of Seymour,’ Wriothesley replied ominously. ‘It is believed that even he, foolhardy idiot that he always was, did not act of his own volition, since the crown was not his to gain. He was not of royal lineage and it is believed by some that his actions were intended to benefit someone who is — someone who had perhaps inflamed his passions with thoughts of lust beneath queenly sheets.’

  Elizabeth almost laughed out loud, but instead opted for cool sarcasm. ‘It is as well that the nation is not governed by those with such wild imaginations, Sir Thomas. Nor, with all the love that I bear my sister, could I contemplate for one moment that she could so inspire a man such as Thomas Seymour, who was probably sampling more carnal beauty long ere he attained manhood.’

  ‘What put it into your mind that I might be referring to the Lady Mary?’ was Wriothesley’s next penetration question, to which Elizabeth shrugged.

  ‘Who else could it have been? There is only myself of the royal line, apart from Mary and since it was not me, then could you perhaps be referring to the Lady Jane Grey, who is somewhere in the line behind me?’

  ‘Do you deny that Thomas Seymour visited your bed chamber dressed only in his nightshirt?’

  ‘Since his nightshirt was down below his knees,’ Elizabeth replied flippantly, suppressing a giggle at the memory, ‘then I cannot of course be sure that there was nought underneath.’

  ‘And were you, at that time, dressed for bed?’ Wriothesley persevered.

  Elizabeth realised with some relish that she was beginning to shake his stern resolve. ‘Since it was my bedchamber, I would hardly be dressed for the hunt,’ she replied sarcastically.

  ‘What transpired thereafter?’ Wriothesley demanded.

  ‘I went to sleep.’

  ‘With Thomas Seymour?’

  ‘Of course not. After he was chased from my bedchamber by my governess.’

  ‘And what gave her cause to take such action?’

  ‘That you must enquire of her, since I do not inhabit her mind.’

  ‘This dissemblance does you no great honour, my Lady.’

  ‘I do not dissemble. You are asking the questions and I am answering them as well as I am able. If the answers are not to your liking, that is hardly dissemblance. Rather, it smells of the truth, which I suspect is not what you came here in search of.’

  ‘I shall speak with your governess.’

  ‘And I shall see to it that you are accommodated in that desire. Are we finished?’

  ‘For the time being only. And so I take my leave, my Lady.’

  He bowed stiffly from the presence and once the chamber door was firmly shut behind him, Elizabeth allowed herself a long exhalation of breath to release the tension.

  ‘He tickled her feet, then he slapped her backside,’ the now-married Kat Ashley admitted to Thomas Wriothesley with a red face.

  ‘Do you not agree that for a governess to allow that to happen to a girl of fourteen under her care was a gross dereliction of duty, compounded all the more because the girl in question is heir to the throne of England?’

  ‘For all I know, it was merely in jest — a game,’ Kat replied defensively. ‘By all means take the same view that I have already heard third-hand from the Lady Mary, but I cannot say that there was aught in it that smacked of bawdy or licentiousness.’

  ‘A girl of fourteen and a man of almost forty years?’ Wriothesley asked cynically.

  Kat sighed. ‘I pity men of your age, Master Wriothesley, that they are capable of imagining themselves still attractive to young girls. As for my Lady Elizabeth, I have no doubt that she is capable of much greater discernment than to be attracted by wilting old flesh.’

  ‘So you say that Thomas Seymour was not likely to have been performing his treasonous act at the urgings of the Lady Elizabeth?’ Wriothesley asked.

  ‘You did not ask me that question directly before, my Lord, but my answer would have been the same as that I give you now. Not only is my Lady Elizabeth not given to any carnal pursuits, not even minor ones, not only was she in no way sexually attracted to Sir Thomas, but in no way would she betray her natural love and regard for King Edward, her brother.’

  ‘And so I take my leave, Mistress Ashley.’

  ‘And not before time, Master Wriothesley.’

  ‘She was in league with Seymour, of that I am convinced,’ Lady Mary insisted as Thomas Wriothesley stood reverently before her in her Audience Chamber at Hunsdon House, not having yet been invited to take a seat.

  ‘She denies that, as does her governess, my Lady,’ Wriothesley told her softly, mentally bracing for the bad-tempered response.

  ‘Of course they deny it, Wriothesley,’ Mary replied in cold, clipped tones. ‘Did you ever know a traitor admit guilt without torture, knowing the fate of traitors?’

  ‘My Lady,’ Wriothesley whispered, sick to the stomach, ‘you cannot mean —’

  ‘Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot, mean, Wriothesley,’ Mary barked commandingly. ‘Just tell me what more you propose to do to explore the depths of this conspiracy against the true succession.’

  ‘We cannot be sure that Seymour acted on anything other than his own urging, my Lady,’ Wriothesley assured her, only to be wilted where he stood by a baleful glare.

  ‘That idiot Seymour was fit only for managing a whorehouse. Can you seriously stand there and contend that he did not have the benefit of another’s brain? His own did not rise above the cods, or so I am informed.’

  ‘While you are undoubtedly correct in your assessment of the traitor Seymour, my Lady, that does not assist in identifying whose might have been the brain that he borrowed.’

  ‘Obviously someone who sought to inherit the crown on Edward’s death, you cretin! I thought I had instructed you to unearth that person.’

  ‘In truth, my Lady, it was His Majesty who instructed me to enquire into the whole affair.’

  ‘But it was I who alerted him to the distinct prospect that Seymour was urged on by others. And Kat Ashley has admitted that he was intimate with my sister Elizabeth, has she not?’

  ‘I may have misunderstood what she said, my Lady. The word “intimate” was never employed by Mistress Ashley — she merely suggested that there may have been a little horseplay.’

  ‘Have you ever known horses tickle each other’s feet, Wriothesley? Or, for that matt
er, smack each other on their rear ends? Mistress Ashley is to be commended for her loyalty, but that hardly makes her testimony any more reliable. I do not suggest that you have her put to the question, but all the same she must be more severely questioned.’

  Wriothesley’s gut heaved at the prospect of the genteel Kat Ashley being tortured in order to wring from her what Mary clearly wished to hear, but was probably far from the truth and he sought to divert matters. ‘The Lady Elizabeth was not, of course, the only female residing with the Seymours at around the time when any plot could have been hatched.’

  ‘You are surely not suggesting the Lady Catherine herself?’ Mary retorted contemptuously. ‘Think, man! She had already been Queen, she was already wealthy beyond avarice and she was carrying a child!’

  ‘I was referring to the Lady Jane, my Lady.’

  Mary thought for a moment and her stern face set even more resolutely. ‘You may be right, Wriothesley. She is of royal lineage, although well behind myself and the Lady Elizabeth, should Edward be no more. And given that she is only a few years younger than Elizabeth, she would, in the ordinary course of things, be an old woman ere the crown became hers, even assuming that neither I nor Elizabeth are blessed with offspring. Have you questioned her yet?’

  ‘Not as such, no, my Lady, since she is reported to have been at Sudeley when the attempt on the King’s life occurred.’

  ‘That does not mean that she was not the one who urged Seymour to the deed when she was residing with him in London. The old goat was ever attracted to young flesh. And what better for her, than to be hidden away in the country and free from any suspicion of complicity in the deed itself?’

  ‘You wish me to interrogate her, my Lady?’

  ‘I wish you to unearth everyone involved in this dastardly plot — did I not make that clear from the outset?’

  ‘If indeed it was a plot, my Lady.’

  ‘Believe me, Wriothesley, it was a plot. Seymour would have been incapable of hatching anything so devious on his own. And when you have revealed who his conspirators were, they should all be put to the question. I shall be watching closely how you conduct this business, if I am not to conclude that you yourself were part of this treasonous attack on the line of succession. And since I am the next in line, I leave you to contemplate how seriously I regard this matter and how I will adjudge loyalty when the time comes to appoint my own senior advisers.’

  The two girls looked apprehensively down through the lead mullioned window of the Great Hall on the first floor as a group of horsemen clattered in towards the stables of Durham House. The two girls had been anxiously waiting for news ever since Guildford and Allan had been sent to fight against a rebellion that had broken out against the King.

  Jane let out a squeal of delight. ‘They are led by Guildford!’

  ‘I can’t see Allan down there!’ Grace wailed, then turned and ran down the staircase and into the stable yard in time to grab Guildford’s tunic sleeve as he emerged from the stables. ‘Is Allan with you?’ she asked breathlessly, the tears starting in her eyes.

  Guildford took both her hands in his and smiled. ‘Have no fear, Mistress. He was alive when last I saw him and I would take a guess that he is less than half a day behind me. But I must return with my father and more soldiers, if we are to put down this rebellion.’

  He had barely finished speaking when Grace was pushed roughly aside by Jane, who threw her arms around Guildford and hugged him tightly. ‘Thank God!’ she croaked though her tears, just as Sir John emerged from the house and walked swiftly across to Guildford.

  ‘The time has come for me to save the day?’ he asked of Guildford, who nodded.

  ‘The royal army has fallen back on Cambridge and we need to regain Norwich.’

  ‘We leave at daybreak tomorrow,’ Sir John told him. ‘But we go by way of Leicestershire.’

  ‘You are taking us home?’ Jane asked. ‘Are we not safer here?’

  ‘From armed rebellion, certainly,’ Dudley replied, ‘but not from smallpox. I have just returned from Council. There is another outbreak here in London and they say that King Edward has caught it this time and may not see the end of the week.’

  XV

  After two weeks back in Knighton with Mary Calthorpe, Grace was in two minds whether having a younger brother was a good thing or not. Thomas was now seven and very lively and inquisitive, which meant that in addition to her duties at Bradgate in respect of Jane, Catherine and Mary Grey, her Nanny had less time on her hands to supervise what Grace was up to as she roamed the modest estate and the countryside that surrounded it. That was obviously a benefit to Grace, but Thomas could also be very annoying and one of his great delights seemed to be tormenting his eleven-year-old sister. He had put more than one frog down the front of her bodice and was particularly accurate when it came to launching dried mud from some sort of home-made catapult.

  He was also very keen on soliciting bribes, as Grace discovered on the very day of her return. They had spent three days on the road from London, bumping and swaying in the Dudley family coach along dry and dusty Midlands roads with a modest armed escort led by Sir John himself, with a saddle-weary Allan by his side, leaving Guildford to lead the main army back to Cambridge. They had stopped off first at Knighton, which lay to the south of Bradgate, and Grace and Jane had made their brief temporary farewells after Grace promised to coax her father into a visit within the week. Then the Dudley escort had headed north on the final delivery of Jane back to her parents, but not before a very mischievous Thomas had hidden behind the cattle barn on the Ashton estate while Grace bid a tearful farewell to Allan, who was again heading for the uncertainty of battle.

  This farewell was intended to be a private one, out of full view of the manor house. Ordinarily the side of the cattle barn furthest away from the house could have been guaranteed to ensure them some privacy as they kissed and hugged each other with the growing passion to which each of them was rapidly succumbing, but they had failed to allow for the possibility that a mischievous seven-year-old had sneaked around the back.

  Allan had not been gone more than an hour when Thomas gleefully informed Grace what he had witnessed and was even able to repeat a particularly embarrassing part of their conversation.

  ‘I’ll tell Mother and Father,’ he threatened.

  ‘And why should I care if you do tell them?’ Grace demanded. ‘Go ahead and see if it causes me any concern.’

  Thomas slouched off and Grace dismissed his threat as a boyish prank until the following morning, when she was sitting watching the sheep being led back into the enclosure after they had been shorn. The bench in front of the manor house was meant to hold several people and her mother Kate sidled into the seat next to Grace and took her hand.

  ‘Is it good to be home?’ she asked.

  Grace nodded without taking her eyes off the sheep. ‘Yes, it is. It was busy enough in London for Jane, as usual, always going backwards and forwards to visit the King, but I had little enough to do unless the Lady Elizabeth was indoors and we could talk about her horses and things.’

  ‘But you had a young man to occupy your interest, did you not?’

  ‘Who might that be?’ Grace asked in an attempted evasion, as her heart sank with the realisation that Thomas must have carried out his threat.

  ‘Your brother tells me that there was a young soldier in the party that escorted you back here and that he saw you and he kissing just before he departed. Why would you not want us to know about this young man, Grace? Is there something about him that you wish to keep hidden from your parents? Let me guess, you imagine that we will object to your relationship because we believe him not to be good enough for you. Is that the reason for your reluctance to let us know of his place in your affections?’

  ‘Yes,’ Grace conceded.

  Kate squeezed her hand. ‘How will we ever know if he’s good enough for you, if we know nothing about him?’

  ‘Do you want to?’

&nbs
p; ‘Of course, darling child, since he’s obviously important to you.’

  ‘His name’s Allan Bestwick and he comes from a place called “Attenborough”, which is only a day’s ride north of here, on the banks of the River Trent. He comes from a large family and his father’s a farrier, but he’s a squire to Sir John Dudley and he hopes to be a knight one day, but of course there’s always the risk that he’ll be killed in battle. He’s riding with Sir John to put down a rebellion in Norwich and I don’t know if he’ll ever come back alive and ... well and... Oh, he will come back safe, won’t he?’ Grace’s voice cracked at this point and the tears began to collect behind her eyes as Kate put her arm round her and kissed her gently on the cheek.

  ‘I think that you’ve convinced me that he’s important to you, which is perhaps as well if you allow him to kiss you. But how does he feel about you?’

  ‘I think that he may love me,’ Grace replied.

  ‘Well, if the two of you have genuine affection for each other, why should your father and I object?’

  ‘Because,’ Grace replied uncertainly, ‘he’s only a squire at present, with nothing to offer a wife.’

  ‘Other than love and support, you mean?’ Kate teased her. ‘And why are you thinking in terms of marriage at only eleven years old?’

  ‘Perhaps not marriage — not yet anyway,’ Grace conceded. ‘But even in years to come, what is he likely to have to offer the daughter of an estate?’

  ‘And you think that your father and I would object, purely on that ground, if he’s a good man and true and respects you and is faithful to you?’

  ‘But I’ve seen life in London,’ Grace argued, ‘and Jane tells me all about the goings on at Court, where the conversation is all about wealth and estates and titles and suchlike.’

  ‘I think you need to have a long conversation with your father,’ Kate replied. ‘Now come inside and eat some of the breakfast you left untouched.’