by Sue Reid
Mother says she grieves that I cannot find it in my heart to be grateful to them. But I am not grateful, and I will not lie by pretending that I am. She says as she always does how much it hurts them to hurt me. That is a lie. Oh, was there ever a girl more unhappy than me?
28 April 1553
Suffolk Place
My sister Katherine is to be betrothed to Lord Herbert, the Earl of Pembroke’s son. She and I are to wed on the same day.
Mother said she found Katherine more biddable than me. And from talking to her she seems to have no great reluctance to marry the fifteen-year-old boy who she already knows and likes. She is more fortunate than me!
18 May 1553
Suffolk Place
I have tried on my wedding gown. I have grown thinner since it was made and now it hangs loosely on me. As I stare at my face in my polished looking glass I see eyes that look huge and frightened in a small thin face.
“Why, you have lost weight,” Nurse said, pinching in the fabric at my waist between thumb and finger. “As do all brides to be,” she added, as if that would make me feel better. She smiled. “Soon you will fill it out again.” I am trying not to dwell on what she means – that I might soon have a baby. It is my duty to provide heirs to Father’s title, but not yet. I have the Duchess’s promise that I may return home when the wedding festivities are over. I do not think Guildford will care. He shows as little liking for me as I for him.
Katherine’s and mine are not the only marriages that have been arranged. Most strange of all to me is that the Earl of Cumberland’s daughter is now to marry Northumberland’s brother. Yet it is not long since the Earl refused to let his daughter marry Guildford. What can the Duke have said to the Earl to gain his consent to this match? The Duke is like a great spider who draws us all into his sticky web. And struggle as we might, we cannot escape.
Whitsuntide 25 May 1553
Durham House
I am writing in black. Black is how I feel, black is what I should have worn today – the saddest day of my life. Instead I was gowned like my sister Katherine in cloth of silver and gold – gifts I was told were sent by the King. He himself was too sick to attend our weddings. Northumberland’s daughter Catherine was wed alongside us to Lord Hastings, the son of our neighbour, the Earl of Huntingdon.
I could hardly bring myself to look at my husband – oh, how I detest that word! – as we pledged our troths. I feel as if I am living a nightmare from which I cannot awake. Oh, I bewail my fate. How can I ever learn to love such a spoilt mother’s boy? He is handsome, he is respectful – but that is all. Even my dear nurse does not understand how I feel. She says I am lucky to wed such a handsome young man. If only no royal blood ran in my veins. If I had been born a plain gentleman’s daughter, I might have married a learned man and read and studied to my heart’s content.
I ate little at the banquet and while Guildford attended to me, his eyes never left the dancers. Once I caught the eye of my dear friend Elizabeth Tilney. She smiled at me and I forced myself to smile back, but I felt like crying. She does not know how I feel. I have confided to no one but my nurse and the pages of my journal how I hate this marriage – and I have not even been married for one whole day yet! The years stretch ahead like a barren desert. I wish I were anywhere but here, under the roof of a man I both despise and hate.
26 May 1553
Durham House
Guildford is ill. He woke vomiting in the night – as did several of our wedding guests. All the kitchen staff have been questioned as have the guests – and now they think they have found the cause – some inedible leaves in the salad. I am glad I did not touch it, or I would be ill now too. The cook is apologetic, but has been dismissed.
I feel sorry for Guildford, he looks very pale, but at least I will not have to spend any more time with him for now. Tomorrow the festivities end and I go home, though I will return to visit Guildford from time to time. If only there was somewhere else I could go.
I envy my sister Katherine. She is only too eager to go and live with her young husband at her father-in-law’s gloomy London home, Baynard’s Castle. When I see how their faces light up in each other’s company, I feel an aching loneliness. If only I could feel like that about Guildford.
3 June 1553
Suffolk Place
I am home and have settled back to my books now. The days pass pleasantly enough and I feel a certain peace return. Indeed I begin to have the oddest feeling, as if my marriage and the past few days were all a dream.
4 June 1553
Suffolk Place
Mother has been to visit the King. But in answer to my anxious questions she merely said that everything was being done that could be done. However, she seems very cheerful, so maybe there is still hope for my cousin.
10 June 1553
Durham House
I honoured my promise and visited Guildford today. I wish I had not bothered!
“Where have you been?” was his petulant greeting to me. “I have been ill.” His lips trembled, like a child’s.
“I am sorry for it,” I said gently – and gained a weak smile from him. But I swear he does not care if he sees me or not. It is his mother who pushes for us to be together. I promised that I will visit him often and am trying to grow used to the marriage. But in truth, as the days pass I grow less and less used to it. His mother regards me balefully as I refuse to swoon over her beloved son. I would be better satisfied if he would behave more like a man and less like a child. But reluctantly I must write one thing that surprises me. My lord’s father is a different man amongst his own family. The warm affection they share I wish I had known in my own family. I find I could almost like the father, but I fear the Duke as much as ever.
18 June 1553
Suffolk Place
Public prayers are being said for the King. I have been to the chapel to pray for him but I fear all prayers are in vain.
19 June 1553
Suffolk Place
My head is still in a whirl. I have just escaped from Durham House. I slipped out of a back entrance with my nurse and hurried down to the waterfront. I had to leave my things behind – I was in too much haste to allow Nurse to pack for me. She could not understand the reason for our flight so I explained that I feared the Duchess meant to keep me there against my will. That quickened her step. Nurse has no more love for the Duchess than I do! Fortunately the barge was moored ready by the watergate to take me home. Instructions to detain me could not have reached the watermen and I clambered aboard quickly, urging them to row as fast as they could. As I took my seat in the bows I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead. The Duchess’s words hammered against my head. I still cannot make sense of them.
“You must not leave,” she had said to me. “The King has not long to live and has made you his heir. You must be ready to go to the Tower.”
I would be truly frightened if I believed her. But I do not. The Lady Mary is the King’s rightful heir. What can this be but a trick to keep me by her precious son’s side?
26 June 1553
Suffolk Place
A messenger from Durham House arrived with a letter from the Duchess this morning. I felt a bit sick when Mother opened it but it said nothing about Edward’s wishes. So, I was right. It had been a lie. When Mother had finished she screwed up the page in her hand and tossed it into the grate as if to show her contempt. If Mother continues to keep me at home, then, the Duchess writes, she will keep her son with her. Ha! Does she think that threat will make me run to his side? I would not care if I never saw either of them again. And – somewhat to my surprise – Mother has made no attempt to make me return.
29 June 1553
Suffolk Place
I sit here fanning myself. It is so hot! The city feels hushed and still, but down at Greenwich, where the King lies sick, great crowds throng the courtyard of the palace. For two days now he has not been seen in public. One of my wome
n has just brought me a cooling drink and told me that her brother managed to push his way through the crowds into the courtyard and caught a brief glimpse of the King at an upper window. He did not stay there long, she said, and was as pale as a ghost. Tears shone in her eyes and she put up a hand to wipe them away.
“He cannot last long,” she said. Tears filled my eyes too. I feel so sorry for my cousin. He is so young still – only fifteen years old.
The Duke made a secret visit last night to the house of the French ambassador. But it is not a secret now. One of the ambassador’s servants recognized him and blurted it out at the marketplace. People say that he is plotting to make himself king with French help. There is even talk that he is poisoning the King! Two men have been flogged for saying so, but tongues still wag.
The Duke more than most must fear what Mary’s accession will mean for him. He has treated her with great respect these past months, but there can be little love lost between them.
1 July 1553
Suffolk Place
My women are packing up my bags. Reluctantly I have agreed to return to Durham House. My heart is heavy, but I cannot let things stay as they are – much though I would wish to. This marriage is hateful to me, but my place is at my husband’s side.
2 July 1553
Durham House
Now that I am stuck here at Durham House I keep my journal close by me. I live in terror that someone might find it. What would the Duke say if he read what I wrote about him, or his son, Guildford? My dear nurse says that love takes time to grow, and that I must be patient. If only Guildford were not so tied to his mother’s apron strings. And he is petulant – conceited too. He tries to impress me with a show of his learning. But if he thinks by that I will respect him more, he is wrong.
I have heard no news of my cousin. A strange sort of silence has fallen over the city. Nurse says that the crowds gathering outside the palace grow bigger every day. But no one has caught even a glimpse of him. Is Edward even still alive? It cannot be long now. How he must be suffering and I wish I could offer him comfort. I say prayers for him daily. The Duchess repeats how concerned she is, and says that the Duke goes daily to his bedside. That would make me sicker, but my poor cousin still trusts and reveres the Duke.
3 July 1553
Durham House
I have sent everyone away, even my nurse. I still feel weak, but am well enough now to sit up and write. They fuss about me, pretending to be worried, yet I am sure it is they who made me sick. What do they care? They have done well out of me. When Father dies, Guildford will inherit his title. Two dukedoms should be enough for one family – even Northumberland’s. This morning I felt too low and dispirited even to try and sit up, but when the Duchess told me I might go to Chelsea to recover my health, I forced myself to get out of bed for a while. My legs wobbled as I stood up, but I insisted Nurse dress me. I even managed to force down a little broth. I am pretending I feel better than I do, and tomorrow I hope I will be well enough to travel to Chelsea.
In churches yesterday prayers were said for the King’s health as usual, but, Nurse says, none were said for the princesses Mary and Elizabeth. Their names were not even mentioned. This is very odd.
4 July 1553
Chelsea Place
I sit in my old seat by the window at Chelsea Place, and feel so sad. I almost wish I had not come. What sweet memories this place holds for me. Nurse says I will feel more cheerful when I am well again. One of the windows in my chamber had been opened, and she shut it, declaring the river air to be unhealthful, but now that she has gone, I have opened it again. It can do me nothing but good to breathe in the scent of the gardens. The roses are in full bloom and I remember the day we picnicked there, among the flowers. Oh happy days! What would I do to bring them back!
But I feel calmer now. To look at the flowers soothes me. I understand why the Queen loved her gardens so much and tomorrow I hope I will be well enough to walk in them.
9 July 1553
Syon, Richmond
I am queen. Edward is dead – and I, Jane, am queen – Queen of England. It does not matter how often I write those words, I still cannot believe them. Queen Jane – it sounds false and wrong to me as I am sure it must to many others. I have no wish to be queen. But, I told them, the men that made me queen, that if it were truly the will of God and the late King, I would accept the crown. In truth, what choice did I have? I feared they would kill me if I refused them. If only it were all a dream – those terrible events of last night. If only I could wake up and find myself back in my chamber at Chelsea.
I had gone to bed early as I was still not well. When Nurse came to wake me, I was surprised to see that it was light.
“Is it morning already?” I asked sleepily.
Nurse shook her head. “No, but you must get up. Your sister-in-law, Mary Sidney, is downstairs.” She set her lips in a thin line as she added, “She has come to take you to Syon House.”
“To Syon House!” I exclaimed. “But why?”
Nurse shook her head resignedly. “I do not know. I told her you were not well,” she said, “but she insists it is important, most important.” I heard her grumble as she went to fetch my gown.
“Could this not have waited till morning?” I exclaimed when I saw Mary.
She gave me a deep curtsy. “I am sorry,” she said. “Your nurse said that you are not well. But it is important that you come with me now.” I asked her to explain, but Mary merely said that all would soon be made clear to me. I have never seen her look so embarrassed.
As the door was opened Nurse threw a fur over my shoulders. “I do not want you to catch a chill,” she said. She took my hands in hers and held them tightly. “God keep you safe, precious child,” she whispered.
As I looked into her withered cheeks I felt like crying. “Dear Nurse,” I whispered, “God speed you.”
I sat almost in silence as the watermen rowed us down the river. Mary chattered politely, asking if I was warm, if I was comfortable, and was it not a pleasant evening to be on the water. I hardly know what I replied, my mind was busy. In truth I was terrified. What was so important that I had to be got out of my sickbed?
At Syon we were escorted into the Great Chamber. And it was there that I learned my fate. One by one the lords of the Council were ushered into the room. As they assembled before me, my heart began to beat heavily. Their faces looked so grave. Why, I wondered again, had they sent for me? My eye fell on Northumberland, who had entered the room last. His face looked very solemn too. I felt very frightened and hardly knowing what I did I rose from my chair and curtsied.
Their lordships shuffled their feet, looking mightily confused. “Has she not been told?” I heard one of them whisper. Then to my utter astonishment the earls of Huntington and Pembroke stepped forward and fell to their knees before me. “Your Majesty,” they said, and kissed my hand. I felt the room begin to swim and gripped the arm of my chair.
“Why do you address me as your monarch?” I whispered, my mouth so dry I could barely speak. At this their lordships looked even more awkward and began to whisper among themselves. A servant left the room and a few minutes later returned with my mother and the Duchess of Northumberland. “Your Majesty,” they said, curtsying. I felt myself begin to shake. My own mother curtsying to me – as queen!
Then the Duke of Northumberland stepped forward: my cousin Edward was dead, he told me, and in his will had declared me his rightful heir. As soon as the words were out of his mouth everyone present fell to their knees. They told me they were bound by oath to the late King to serve me, even to lay down their lives for me. I collapsed into my chair and hid my face with my hands. I had never wished this. It was wrong wrong wrong! Oh Edward, I grieved, what have you done? Is this truly your wish, or did the Duke guide you to change the will your father made? When at last I managed to speak again I said as steadily as I could: “The crown is not my right
and pleases me not. The Lady Mary is the rightful heir to the kingdom.”
They had not expected this. Mother’s face went white with anger. But it was Northumberland who spoke. He sounded displeased. “Your Grace does wrong to yourself and to your house,” he said. “It was the late King’s command that you succeed him.”
I met Father’s eye. Surely he did not agree with the Duke? “It is your religious duty to accept the crown,” he said. “Aye,” said my mother, grimly, “accept it you must. It was the King’s will that you do.”
“Jane,” I heard a voice say softly. I started as a tall fair-haired lad stepped out of the shadows. Guildford! Was he in the plot too? I flinched as I felt him take my hand in his. He squeezed my fingers. “Jane, they speak truth. It was the King’s will that you accept the crown. I swear it.” I pulled my hand away.
But what could I do? What could I say? Everyone was clamouring for me to accept the crown – Mother and Father angrily, Guildford gently. They were all of one mind. If it was truly the King’s will, I must submit and do my duty. So I turned to the assembled crowd. It was not my wish to accept the crown, but – I told them as strongly as I could – if it was truly God’s will and the late King’s then I prayed that God would grant me strength to rule my people wisely and well.
The lords are of good heart, but a dreadful foreboding seizes me. The Lady Mary I have learned was asked to present herself at Edward’s bedside, but has instead fled east. Someone it is clear warned her that it was a trap. A force led by Guildford’s brother, Lord Robert, has been sent to capture her. When I think how firmly Mary refused to give up the Mass, I cannot believe that she will ever agree to give up the crown.
