To Crown A Rose

by Anne R Bailey

  She wondered what Catherine thought seeing Henry honor his favorite wife in this way. But Catherine’s eyes were dry, and she seemed lighthearted. In essence, she had been set free.

  After Gardiner’s attack on her, she had been subdued; she worried over everything she said and stopped hearing lectures that weren’t expressly approved by the King.

  Now she could do as she wished.

  Frances did not miss the way her eyes moved away from the coffin to the Seymour brothers. The younger, Thomas, seemed just as distracted. His handsome dark head tilted up towards the private chapel as if sensing her stare though he could not see her.

  Frances couldn’t help but wonder.

  They stayed on in London until February not wishing to miss the coronation of her cousin. It was imperative they be seen at court. After all, Frances was in line for the throne.

  She would never say it out loud, but with Prince Edward being so young and his sisters still being considered formally illegitimate, she had begun to dream of the crown of England sitting on her own head. She had always dreamed of such a position for herself.

  When she was younger she dreamed of marrying a Prince or a King. Now she dreamed of ruling herself.

  But she dared not think on this for long, fearing that somehow someone would peer into her soul and see her treasonous desires. Nor did she confess these thoughts to her confessor. There was no safety for her there. So she took her sinful thoughts and begged God for forgiveness every night.

  Thankfully, like his father, Prince Edward was fair and well-built. Dressed in white velvet and a sable coat, he looked magnificent for a nine-year-old boy. It was hard to imagine that this boy was the head of the English Church.

  Her husband was the King’s sword bearer, a role he had played often for King Henry. It was perhaps not the illustrious role he would have hoped for, but he was happy enough to be placed apart from the other nobility.

  A dais had been erected in Westminster. The Abbey was transformed from the dark blacks and blues of a funeral to gold and silver. A throne was placed center stage. Frances noted the cushions placed upon it to make the young Prince look taller.

  Archbishop Cranmer performed the ceremony and anointed Edward as King of England. Holding the orb and scepter, with a crown on his head, King Edward waited as the nobility approached and swore fealty to him, kissing his left cheek.

  There was feasting in the great hall after, in the usual extravagant fashion. More celebrations were to follow at Whitehall.

  Frances curtseyed low to the boy King and kissed his cheek.

  “Your Majesty, I was honored to witness your coronation ceremony,” she said. “I know how proud your blessed father and mother would have been to see you on this day.”

  “Thank you, cousin Frances.”

  He may have only been nine, but he spoke with the self-importance of someone much older.

  “Your husband has served me well,” he continued.

  “Thank you. I know we all endeavor to serve you.” She curtseyed again as he nodded and walked backwards away from the dais.

  Henry was riled from what he saw as further insults to himself.

  “John Dudley, Thomas Seymour, William Parr… they all have new titles and have been elevated above their rank. If I have served him so well, where is my title?”

  Frances hushed him and took the cup of wine in his hands.

  “I think, perhaps, we should retire for the night,” she suggested calmly. There was no need for the whole court to know of his animosity. This was no time to make enemies.

  They received a strange visitor at Bradgate one day in early March. He had ridden up to their great house unannounced with a small retinue of attendants. Frances was surprised to be receiving Thomas Seymour, who had never been a great friend of theirs, into her home, but she did her best to be a good host.

  Henry seemed just as apprehensive as her.

  “Lord Seymour, what can we do for you?” her husband asked, not beating around the bush.

  Thomas smiled at his frankness. Frances imagined a grinning snake and was on alert.

  “I have come to inquire about your daughter, the Lady Jane.”

  “What about her?” Frances asked, apprehensive. She looked at Thomas and wondered if he had any designs on her daughter, but she was too young to be a prospective bride for him.

  “She has always been friendly with King Edward since their youth.”

  Frances wondered if they were still not children.

  “And she is of an age that she could be placed in a household to further her education.”

  “We provide her the very best tutors here,” Frances scowled.

  Thomas turned to her. The smile faltering on his lips.

  “I meant no offence. But I believe she would do very well in the household of the Dowager Queen Catherine or my own at Seymour Place in London.”

  “I don’t understand why you would trouble yourself over this matter?” Henry spoke up. “What interest is it of yours?”

  Frances was quicker on the uptake and she peered at Thomas suspiciously. Had he dared to strike up a relationship with the Dowager Queen so soon after the death of the King? There could be no other explanation.

  “I have it in my power to place Lady Jane in the Dowager Queen’s company. It is my design to see her married to King Edward.”

  Frances’s glass smashed on the ground as it fell out of her hand in shock. Silence descended upon the room. Henry dismissed his gentleman usher from the room.

  “How… why would King Edward marry my daughter?” he asked.

  Frances could see the sheen of greed in his eye as he imagined his daughter being crowned Queen.

  “He knows her and has always been fond of her. Her position is such that it would be an advantageous marriage, seeing as she has royal Tudor blood, from her mother.” He nodded in Frances direction.

  “He would marry a Princess. Why should he marry an English girl?” Frances frowned, not believing Seymour for a second.

  “His father did before him,” Thomas said, with a casual shrug as if this was a small matter to overcome.

  “That is not enough assurance to be plotting with you.”

  “Frances,” Henry said with a tone that told her to stop.

  “This is no plot.” Thomas turned on the charm again. “Merely an agreement between two old families.”

  Frances wanted to say that the Seymours had only risen to greatness through their sister, but she kept silent.

  “King Edward is my nephew, I am his favorite uncle.” He ignored Frances’s snort of disbelieve. “It would be a simple matter to convince him. I would, of course, pay for the wardship of Lady Jane so that I might bring about this settlement that would be beneficial for both of us.”

  Frances could see Henry was sorely tempted by this. She was thinking of herself though when she interrupted.

  “You must give us time so we can dwell on this matter. It cannot be decided so quickly. I am sure you understand. We love our daughter very much.”

  If he was annoyed he did not show it. “Of course, I know how you care for your children very much.”

  Frances did not even bother to be insulted by the backhanded compliment. She rose out of her chair and encouraged her husband to do the same.

  “I shall make sure you have the very best rooms and anything you could wish.”

  Seymour went back to London the following morning, but Frances knew that was not the last she would see of him. In another day, John Harington, Thomas Seymour’s trusted servant, appeared on their doorstep.

  It took three days, but the man managed to wear down her husband and she could hardly protest. Even if the plan were not to succeed, they would still gain two thousand pounds for his effort. Money was needed to settle their debts and Jane would be placed in the household of a great lady of the realm. What was the problem?

  There was hardly anything she could argue against. Except in her heart she felt set aside once again. If they
plotted to put Jane on the throne, then that would mean she would never get to sit there herself.

  Another part of her knew this would be a most advantageous marriage she could make for her daughter. It would raise her and their whole family to the pinnacle of power in the Kingdom. Perhaps they could surpass the Seymour family.

  With an initial payment of five hundred pounds paid in coin, Frances oversaw her daughter sent off to Seymour Place. She went without complaint, though seeing her now-pretty daughter ride off left Frances feeling a twinge of worry in her heart.

  They had been reassured Jane would be looked after by several women of good breeding. Harington had also suggested and hinted that the Dowager Queen had remarried or would do so soon to his master, for they were very much in love.

  Frances did not need him to spell it out for her but found safety in playing dumb.

  What would King Edward think of this? She doubted the country would react positively to hasty secret marriage. But if anyone was clever enough to come out of this mess on top it was Thomas Seymour. But one thing was certain; the secret that Catherine Parr had married Thomas Seymour would not remain so for long.

  Mary Tudor was livid at the news that her stepmother had insulted her father’s memory with such a marriage. Frances was there as she railed against the woman who had been so kind to her.

  “I shall never speak to her again,” she swore.

  Frances wanted to calm her but let her finish ranting.

  “I hear that the Lord Protector is upset by the marriage, but the King has forgiven them and allowed the marriage.”

  “Did you know he has written to me privately to stop hearing Mass? As if he could command me!” Mary turned her rage away from Catherine.

  “Your brother… was educated in the reformed faith. He likely wishes to continue the work of your father,” Frances speculated.

  She did not point out that her daughters were being raised in the same fashion. Perhaps Mary thought of her as a Catholic still, but she could hardly turn her back on her husband’s religion.

  “I pray that when he comes into his majority, he will realize his error. I pray God will help him see the light. But for now, bad advisors cloud his judgement,” Mary said, stalking the rooms.

  “Troubling times indeed,” Frances mused.

  “What?” Mary had not heard her.

  “I am sorry for the troubles between your brother and yourself.”

  This was not the end but the beginning of a drama that played out far from Bradgate. As she watched the bear baiting in the pit, and rode through her large parkland, the councilors were grumbling. Many thought Seymour should be arrested and that Catherine had lost all right on the dower lands left to her by the King.

  Frances swore she would visit Catherine at Chelsea Manor soon but found a peace in the tranquility of neutral ground. She did not wish to get involved in such squabbles. At least Jane had Catherine to look after her now. She could sleep easier knowing that.

  Shaking with fear, Frances ran down the steps of Bradgate. The red brick house was not meant to be a defensible castle. There was no moat or cannons that could be shot from the turrets. They had only a small retinue of yeomen.

  The rest of the household could be issued weapons but they were hardly soldiers, and, if those attacking were their family members, then they could hardly be trusted to stay loyal.

  Even from here she could hear the bells of the church tolling. All Frances knew was that a gang of armed papists had gathered in the town nearby. It was reminiscent of the previous year when reformists stormed into the churches, pulling down rood screens and smashing windows. They had felt no fear then, believing that the Lord Protector would send an army to quell the rebellions and make an example of the traitors.

  He had failed to do so.

  Now the people felt safe to rise again. She didn’t know what was happening, but they weren’t safe here if they decided to take their revenge upon the gentry for trying to impose the English prayer book.

  She cursed Henry for being in London at such a time.

  There was no time to pack away their items. A gown and night shift were thrown haphazardly in a cloth sack. Her jewels were locked up and she retrieved a heavy purse of gold from their coffers.

  “Girls, are you ready?” She was in the stable yard, a flurry of activity all around her as the servants and attendants rushed to prepare for them to leave.

  Jane, talking to John Aylmer, looked at her and nodded.

  “Get on your horse then. There will be time for lessons later.” Frances turned to her younger two daughters. They were riding pillion behind two trust yeomen.

  Adrian Stokes had the reins of her horse in his hand. She accepted his help into the saddle.

  “You are to ride with us?” She hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question.

  “My lord would never forgive me if I let you go unattended. I have some military experience if it comes to that.” He touched a hand to the dagger at his belt.

  They would ride hard for the safety of London. Their small party should be able to pass unmolested.

  “No banners,” Frances shouted, seeing some silly servant bring one out. “We don’t want to announce to the world who we are.”

  By noon, they set off at a break neck speed. As soon as they put Leicester behind them, they slowed their pace. Though anyone could see the tension on the face of their company.

  They stopped at Apethorpe Palace for the night. The staff was surprised to find them at their gates, but, upon realizing who Frances was, they opened the gates and made rooms ready.

  This was one of Lady Elizabeth’s homes in Northampton. Frances would not have wished to stay in her home after all the business with Thomas Seymour, but there was hardly time to be picky and safe lodgings were hard to come by.

  Jane might have felt uncomfortable as well, but she didn’t let her thoughts be known. She had seen firsthand Elizabeth’s flirtations with Seymour and the devastation it caused to Catherine Parr.

  Frances said a silent prayer for the soul of her departed friend. She had given Seymour a child but paid the ultimate price. She thought sadly of how excited Catherine had been when she wrote to Frances the news that she was with child.

  Ever since her marriage to him, she had faced difficulties on all fronts.

  The council disapproved, the Lord Protector refused to give her the royal jewels left to her by King Henry, her family and the public at large muttered about her behavior. The popularity she had gained as Queen of England seemed to vanish in one stroke.

  Though she had continued to study and publish, she must have felt besieged. So the news that she would become a mother must have lifted her spirits.

  Frances kept a copy of Lamentations of a Sinner in her library, proud of her friend’s achievements and in memory of her. She was glad Jane had not been dragged into the drama that followed the investigation into Thomas Seymour’s behavior and intentions toward Elizabeth.

  When news reached them that he was to be executed, Frances looked to her husband with a satisfied grin as if to say she knew he was trouble and would come to this.

  Henry was at Dorset House and was pleased to see them arrive.

  “Are you well?” he asked scanning his family.

  “Tired but nothing a bit of rest won’t help with, but you must tell me what madness is happening in the country.”

  “I shall.” He patted her shaking hands. Turning to his girls, he commended them for their bravery and sent them inside.

  In their private rooms, they dined on pheasant and meat pies while Frances listened to what he had to say.

  “It is in Exeter that the worst of the trouble is happening. The papists have risen to rebel against the Act of Uniformity. They won’t have an English prayer book in their churches. Those misguided fools,” he shook his head.

  “How serious is it?”

  “They say there are over two thousand laying siege to Exeter.”

  Frances gasped.
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br />   “The council is pressuring Seymour to act.”

  Frances noted her husband’s lack of respect for him. The rumors were true and Edward Seymour was losing his grip on power then.

  “You shall stay here. London is the safest place for you now.”

  “I know that.”

  She didn’t wish to be caught in the middle of a civil war.

  Not even a week later, disastrous news reached London. Robert Kett, a landowner in Norfolk, had taken up leadership of a large army of over sixteen thousand who were rumored to be marching on Norwich.

  Meanwhile, Lord Russel had refused to attack the rebels in Essex until the Lord Protector sent reinforcements. He seemed out of his wits and at a loss for what he should do. Frances did not envy him, but she had expected this to happen. An upstart like him with no royal blood in his veins could not command the country.

  Henry came from court looking surprisingly jubilant.

  “This is the start of his downfall,” he promised her.

  “It means nothing to us if someone else replaces him,” Frances said.

  He gave her a knowing smile, but, no matter how she pressured him, he would not reveal what he knew.

  “We shall see how this plays out. Luck might turn and Seymour might take control again. There’s no point giving you hope.” Henry paused. “But I should tell you this. The Lord Protector has asked to speak to me of Jane. I think he wishes to arrange a marriage between his son and hers.

  “Tell me you didn’t agree to it?”

  “Nothing of the sort. I said I would think on it and perhaps an informal arrangement could be made.” He was quick to add: “Nothing in writing. This way we have all sides covered, whether he retains power or not.”

  Frances nodded slowly. “He must be desperate for friends if he would agree to that.”

  “I believe he is.”