To Crown A Rose

by Anne R Bailey

  She dared not argue with him or show him any disrespect.

  When she had heard that Henry had agreed to betroth Jane to Guildford, she had wanted to complain about the insult done to their family. A fourth son in exchange for an heir so close to the throne? But Henry had decided keeping his own council, and there was little she could do without risking Dudley’s wrath.

  The day of the wedding, the promised clothes arrived at Durham House — the Dudley residence. Frances fingered the precious velvets and tissues. She recognized many as belonging to Anne Seymour, the wife of the fallen Duke.

  She chose a silver brocade overcoat to wear. It was embroidered with pearls and tiny white roses. The silver thread danced against the light.

  “Jane, you are to wear the purple,” she said, spotting her daughter touching a dark black velvet.

  “The show of wealth…”

  “Jane,” Frances said warningly. Her other daughters did not seem to find the wealth displeasing.

  Catherine was her prettiest daughter with golden hair and a sweet face. If it wasn’t for her tendency to be dower all the time, Jane would be pretty as well. It was her third daughter that she had a hard time seeing.

  The girl was an embarrassment to her. They kept saying that she would grow out of her small stature, that she was still just a child, but soon it would be harder to tell this lie. It had been eight years since she had last been with child and she cursed her barrenness. Perhaps it was her punishment for all the pride she had in herself.

  Looking away from Mary, she focused on the jewel box, picking a few items out of there before Jane Dudley came to steal the best pieces for herself.

  With everyone dressed and ready, they moved to the chapel. Hundreds of people had come to attend these weddings. Everyone had been invited except for the ambassadors and the King’s half-sisters. Frances would have liked to see Mary at the wedding, knowing she would have taken joy in seeing these weddings.

  The ceremony was simple. There was no muttering in Latin by the priest or any Catholic ceremony. After, the couples were led to the great hall where plate after plate of food was brought out.

  Frances watched her children sitting at the table on the dais so everyone could see them. Catherine was blushing and smiling at all the compliments she was receiving, but Jane beside her looked as sour as though she had been fed lemons. Guildford looked less than pleased as well.

  Her lips tighten in irritation. Jane should be lucky anyone was taking such an interest in her.

  Someone squeezed her hand, and she turned to find Henry had taken his seat beside her.

  “Don’t worry about her,” he said misinterpreting her feelings.

  “She will embarrass us if she continues looking as though she was facing her execution.”

  He laughed and kissed her hand.

  “She is young, and she shall learn that God has called her to a great destiny.”

  Frances thought no more of what he had said as Jane Dudley, parading around with ermine trimming her gown, was approaching.

  She had never disliked the woman, but, ever since her husband had taken control of the council, they had fought in a thousand little ways. From who would walk first through the door, to who would draw on the best clothes from the royal wardrobe.

  She was no Anne Seymour, but Frances thought she had become just as self-important.

  After the wedding night, Jane returned to Suffolk Place with them. It was a small victory for Frances that Jane preferred her company over that of her in-laws. She knew Jane Dudley had pushed for her to remain at Durham House.

  Feeling kindly to Jane, she allowed her some freedom and left her to her own devices.

  Henry did not seem to care that the couple was ill-suited to one another. He always walked around with a dreamy look on his face. If Frances was any other woman, she would suspect him of being in love.

  Jane was laughing as she told her what Jane Dudley had told her. Frances was struggling to maintain a calm countenance.

  “She said the King has named you his heir?”

  Jane nodded. “Can you believe it? She has lost all sense or is teasing me.”

  “You should rest, you are looking unwell.”

  “But shall I have to go to Durham House?”

  “Not for now anyways.”

  Frances was not paying attention to her, she was thinking where Henry could be right now and left her bewildered daughter in her study without a look back.

  “Henry!” she called, seeing he was on his horse ready to ride away.

  She ran as fast as she could towards him.

  “Is something the matter?” He looked past her, worried.

  “Jane has told me the most peculiar thing…” She watched his every move like a hawk watching its prey. “Has she been named the King’s heir? Is this what the Dudley marriage was all about?”

  First, his eyes widened in shock, then his features settled into stony resolution as though he was preparing for a fight. This set her on edge. She grabbed hold of his reins.

  “Henry?”

  “We cannot talk here.” He jumped down from his horse and called over a groom to hold the horse ready for him. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  He pulled Frances along by the arm, but she couldn’t be bothered to struggle. With each step, a horrifying thought became more real. Finding a quiet alcove, he stopped and turned to her.

  “The King is not expected to last until Christmas. He has altered your uncle’s will. He dares not allow Mary to take the throne so he named your male heirs as next in line to inherit the throne.”

  “But?”

  “The matter is complicated.” He was trying to brush her away but Frances wasn’t having it.

  “Tell me now,” she commanded in an icy tone she had not used with him since the early days of their marriage.

  “The King is concerned and wishes for a male heir to the throne as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, I am assuming that’s why Jane was married so hastily.”

  “And you know that his health has only declined even more… Jane and her male heirs shall inherit the throne, and if she should die without issue then the throne would go to Catherine.”

  Frances blinked.

  “And me?”

  “You shall be the Queen’s mother.”

  “My claim to the throne.” She pounded her fists on his chest.

  He grabbed them and held her close. “You will renounce it in favor of your daughter. It is the King’s wish.”

  “It is your wish!” she seethed. “Yours and that crook John Dudley.”

  “Hush, do you want everyone to hear you?”

  She took a moment to catch her breath.

  “Why would you forsake the throne? I would have had you at my side crowned King,” she said, trying her hardest to keep her voice from shaking with emotion.

  “Who would support us? We would have too many enemies. The only reason John Dudley is supporting us is to consolidate his power and to see his family married into the royal Tudor line. He will see his son on the throne beside Jane. He would support us for nothing less.”

  She pulled away from him.

  “It is because you are too weak. Even if she is crowned Queen then he will merely hold the reins of power as he did with Edward. He would be in control. Not us.”

  “It is too late now. I see you aren’t seeing sense.” He looked away.

  But she forced him to look at her.

  “Is this what you have been planning all this time? Why wouldn’t you have spoken to me sooner?”

  “You are my wife. I knew you would be upset and I wanted to spare you. I am your husband and you shall obey me.”

  “I am not your children to be ordered around. I shall refuse to step aside.”

  “You cannot. I shall refuse on your behalf if necessary.” He was frowning at her as though she was a petulant child he had to discipline. “See sense. We could not have held the throne, but through Jane there is more than just a ch
ance. Dudley holds the council’s support. You shall have all the privilege you have always desired.”

  “But not as Queen.”

  He nodded. “Not as Queen,” he parroted back to her.

  He lifted her face towards him; she had not wished him to see the hot angry tears welling up in her eyes.

  “My love, you shall see this is all for the best. Tell me I have your support — Jane shall need someone to guide her.”

  Defeated, she agreed.

  Henry bent forward and placed a kiss on her quivering lips. “You see, I have always looked out for what’s best for you. I am taking care of this family and ensuring it rises to the greatness it deserves. Now, I must go, Dudley has summoned the Privy Council and Bishops.”

  She did not even notice him leaving. She supported herself on the stone wall with her right arm to stop from falling to the floor. Once, she had feared being put aside but not like this. Her worst fears had come true, but not perhaps in the way she had imagined.

  She suddenly felt robbed.

  He had taken her father’s title, taken her childhood home and now he had taken her crown too. She had given everything she could to him. He had not risen through his own merit but through hers. Shouldn’t she be the one to decide?

  Did everyone have such little faith in her that they would prefer her daughter Jane? What had she done to merit such punishment?

  Her breath was coming in hard, she knew she mustn’t faint. Not here.

  Slowly, she made her way to her rooms. Dismissing her ladies and forbidding anyone from disturbing her. She lay on her bed until the late hours of the night.

  Her room, illuminated by the light of the moon, casting strange shadows about the room. She thought of her jealousy and hatred of Katherine Willoughby and her sinful happiness at being able inherit the Dukedom. She touched the mark on her shoulder.

  Was some witch’s curse flowing through her veins?

  Suddenly, she remembered Princess Mary who had always been her friend. Her daughter would be stealing her crown, and she was going to let it happen. Had she ever been truly loyal to her friends? Did she not abandon Catherine Parr to face the wrath of her uncle alone? Her lists of grievous sins seemed endless. Why should she be surprised that God had decided to punish her in this way? The pain in her head seemed to move to her heart. She felt she was being crushed more and more until she thought she might die on the spot.

  She all but crawled to the crucifix hanging on the wall in her bedroom and knelt before it.

  “God, forgive me…” she began a lengthy prayer. Her daughter Jane would approve.

  When the first signs of light lit her room, she was still on her knees, her voice raspy. She found a dull peace sometime during the long night. The more she prayed, the quieter the voices in her head became. This was all in God’s plan. She had no control over any of it. She was but a sinner. The lessons of her childhood repeated themselves over and over again in her head.

  In the resulting emptiness of her mind, a thought bloomed.

  It was her daughter Jane on the throne, she was standing beside her, looking proud. Jane looked up at her, and, like the benevolent mother she was, she placed a leading hand on her daughter’s shoulder. They could find a way to wrestle power away from John Dudley. She could be the guiding influence in her daughter’s life.

  She thought of her great-grandmother Margaret Beaufort — who signed her name Margaret Regina. She had been all but Queen, though she had never worn a crown. Frances could be like her.

  By the afternoon, Frances could no longer stand the pain of her parched throat. She rose from the floor and felt reborn. She opened her locked bedroom door to find her ladies waiting outside anxiously.

  “G-get me so-me water and food,” she ordered.

  Once she was better, she would send for Jane. Her daughter would have to go to Durham House.

  “She’s staying at Chelsea now. Jane Dudley wrote to me and said she was feeling unwell.”

  Henry sighed. “Well at least she is close at hand. The Privy Council have finally agreed to the King’s device for the succession. He is slipping further away from us with each day.”

  “And the others?”

  “They shall fall into line. Dudley has enough money and arms to quell any rebellion.”

  Frances nodded.

  “We have been invited to stay at Syon House in the meantime. I think you and Mary should go. I shall be at court with Dudley.”

  “Very well,” she said, though she thought how horrid it would be to share a roof with Jane Dudley.

  When they arrived, Frances found the house quite full of Dudleys and their affinity.

  “Welcome, your grace.” Jane greeted her.

  Both women curtseyed to each other careful not to show more deference to the other.

  “I see you have made a merry house here,” Frances said, noting the new rich tapestries hanging on the walls, and the fresh rushes.

  The household seemed prepared for a celebration rather than one awaiting sad news that must come from court any day now. While the country was anxious over their sickly King, the people in Syon House walked around without a care in the world. Confident of their power and position, no one dared to think of a world where the Dudleys could fall.

  Frances thought dryly that they looked like a child itching to receive a gift at any moment. That gift was the Kingdom of England.

  She almost felt in the shadows, especially as the Earls of Arundel and Huntingdon arrived, paying every homage to their host.

  It was not long before the news that the King had passed made its way around this inner circle of conspirators. Frances watched with hitched breath as more nobles arrived. Finally, her daughter was sent for. Mary Sidney, John Dudley’s daughter, was sent to fetch her by barge.

  Dressed in a gown of deep red, rings with precious stones on each finger, Frances waited beside her husband at the forefront of the group assembled in the presence hall. Her headdress sparkled with diamonds and rubies, nearly a crown on her head. No one looking at her could see anything but the poise of royalty.

  Time seemed to stretch on and she remained frozen in place, her eyes never moving from the door where her daughter would enter from.

  Tomorrow she would accompany her daughter to the Tower, carrying her train, and see her crowned in Westminster in only a few days. These thoughts kept her occupied until, finally, Mary Sidney came through the door, Jane following behind her, almost apprehensive.

  They greeted her gently, seeing she was already on edge. But the deference shown to her did not put her at ease. Then, almost as if they were one, the congregation knelt.

  Jane’s protests went unheard as John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, announced in a loud clear voice that the King had drawn his last breath and named Jane his heir as stated in the King’s amendment to his father’s will. Jane was Queen.

  “God Bless the Queen,” the room said as one.

  Frances, who had not taken her eyes off her daughter, saw her go white and lose her balance. In an instant, she was at her daughter’s side, catching her before she fell to the floor.

  “Get a hold of yourself, Jane,” she whispered to her.

  Jane, still weak and in danger of fainting again, protested loudly that it was her cousin Mary who should inherit. John Dudley protested and reaffirmed that the King had desired her to take the crown. Finally, with some reluctance Jane accepted.

  Drinks were passed around and the nobles cheered. Jane was taken out of the room to rally her spirits. She was but a pawn in this game, and her presence was no longer required.

  Frances did not sleep that night.

  Pride swelled in her chest. She thought of the power she would hold as the Queen’s mother. The adoration of the people. She would be influential. The night of penance was forgotten. She would find a way to atone for her sins. Tomorrow they would process to the Tower and all the world would hear of her triumph.

  The next day, she was so elated that she barely heard
the flourish of trumpets and the herald’s cries.

  “Lady Jane Grey is Queen of England.”

  Afterword

  As with all my books, this was a labor of love, written for entertainment.

  Frances Grey has been labeled by history as an evil, unfeeling woman.

  I wished to explore her character and perhaps shed her in a more positive light.

  Please know that while I have done my best to be as accurate as possible, I have embellished facts and created events that likely never happened.

  Frances Grey would live to see all her hopes and ambitions dashed. John Dudley failed to capture Princess Mary, who had fled to Norfolk and raised an army.

  The country, though mostly Protestant by now, felt that it was Princess Mary who was the true heir and rose to support her.

  Jane Grey would never leave the Tower and was executed in February of 1554.

  She became known to history as the Nine Day Queen and held up as an innocent martyr for the Protestant faith. Frances Grey and her husband became notorious villains in her story. First, by forcing her to wed Guildford Dudley and then by pushing her on the throne.

  Instead of speculating on what we can never truly know for certain, I tried to imagine the life of a woman first overshadowed by her mother and then her daughter.

  Following her death, Frances’s other two daughters met equally tragic ends. One would die in prison following a secret marriage, and the other would die of the plague after a long imprisonment.