Her Highness, the Traitor

by Susan Higginbotham

  “My dear lady—”

  “She has even laid hands upon me in anger,” Jane continued. “Do you see here, Master Ascham? This was where she pinched me the other day, when I did not sew one of her precious shirts to her satisfaction. There seems to be no pleasing her, for no matter whether I am speaking, keeping silent, sitting, standing, sewing, playing, dancing, or anything else, I must do it perfectly, just as God made the world. I cannot count the pinches she has given me, as well as the nips and bobs, over the years. It is sheer hell! And then my mother wonders why I have no interest in being in her company! I would much rather be in the company of John Aylmer. He makes learning so agreeable, it is all I can do to keep from crying when I must leave him and spend time with my mother.”

  “Your ladyship hardly needs any inducement to learn, however.”

  I had heard enough. I turned away from the door, tears fogging my vision. Bess took my arm and helped me toward my chamber.

  How could my daughter think so ill of me? I had pinched her arm the other day, it was true, but not because she had sewn her shirt poorly; it was because I knew she could have done a much better job if she had bothered to take the time. The poor people who were the intended recipients of the shirts would hardly appreciate having them fall apart after a couple of days’ wear. Nips and bobs I had given her, too, usually when her arrogance was too insufferable, or when she had spoken slightingly to her younger sisters or to a servant. I had received plenty such in my own day when I misbehaved, most usually from my nurse, but also from my beautiful mother herself on the occasions when my conduct was so bad as to merit it. It had never occurred to me to complain of such treatment, or even to resent it. I had simply determined to be a better girl so it would not happen again.

  When we had reached my chamber, Bess said, “My lady, that is blatantly unfair! You spoil the girl, if anything, if you do not mind my saying so, and you know that I am fond of her. You should confront her.”

  “No,” I said. “I would have to tell her that I was listening, and that would only add eavesdropping to my list of sins.” I sank into a chair.

  Bess patted my shoulder. “In any case, my lady, you should not take this too much to heart. Girls are like that, my lady, about their mothers. They believe them stupid and hopelessly old-fashioned, until they have children of their own and suddenly realize they weren’t so stupid after all. Lady Jane is just a more extreme example.”

  But I had never thought my own mother was stupid. Neither had my sister Eleanor. For us, she had been a fairy queen come to life, a woman who had married both the King of France and the man she loved. How many women could say that? Our favorite activity as girls had been to go into our mother’s wardrobe, not to try on her clothing, for that struck us as a sacrilege, but to finger each garment carefully and to wonder to what glamorous occasion she might have worn it—despite that my mother had lived a relatively retired life since her marriage to my father. When she died, soon after my wedding to Harry, Eleanor and I had been desolate, even though her health had been poor for some time. I even tormented myself with the notion that traveling to attend my wedding had caused the final crisis, although nothing could have kept her away.

  “Maybe I could speak to the lady Jane, as we’re not that far apart in age,” suggested Bess, who was in her early twenties. “She likes me well enough. If she knew how she had hurt you…”

  “No. I shall let it pass.” I wearily rose and allowed Bess, stepping back into her role as my waiting woman, to help me out of my riding clothes. “At least now I know exactly what she thinks of me.”

  15

  Jane Dudley

  November 1550 to April 1551

  Have you heard the latest gossip about Father?” Robert said.

  I sighed. In the past year, I had discovered that John’s newfound power brought with it a heavy price: the rumors that dogged him. Each was more absurd than the last, which stopped no one from believing them. “Evidently not. So tell me. He is planning to murder Somerset? Somerset is planning to murder him? He is going to lock the lady Mary in the Tower?”

  “No. He’s planning to cast you off, marry the lady Elizabeth, and make himself king through her.”

  I turned to stare at Robert. I could laugh off the other rumors, but this one… “Who told you this nonsense?”

  “The lady Elizabeth, actually. The imperial ambassador heard the rumor and passed it along, and it made its way to her, so naturally she wrote to ask if I was indeed going to become her stepson. She thought it an excellent jest.”

  “It is not the least bit amusing, Robert.”

  “It’s just the same old rubbish, Mother. Don’t look so concerned. The imperial ambassador would pass along a rumor about his own mother if he heard it in the streets of England. You know that.”

  “But he believed it. Did he not?”

  “Who knows? He’s terrified that there might be a pearl hiding in a pile of horse dung, so he passes along the dung and leaves it to others to find the pearl.” Robert kissed me on the cheek. “Amy and I are off to dine with friends tonight. Don’t worry about this fool rumor, Mother. I’m sorry I spoke to you of it.”

  ***

  “What’s wrong, my dear? You’ve been very quiet tonight.”

  “It is just a cruel and stupid rumor.”

  “Cruel, maybe, but it can’t be all that stupid if it has you brooding about it. Tell me, Mouse.”

  “Very well. The—the imperial ambassador—says you mean to divorce me and marry the lady Elizabeth.”

  “The imperial ambassador is an ass. Where does he come across these things? Surely you don’t believe this rumor.”

  “No.” I stared at the large salt cellar in between us; we were dining privily. “But it could happen. I mean—” I faltered, then pressed on. “I am no longer young, and I never was all that pretty, and I do not believe I can bear you children anymore—I have some of the symptoms of the change of life. I hardly knew what to say to people at Jack’s and Robert’s weddings. I was so nervous, I just babbled. The lady Elizabeth is so striking and young and clever—”

  “Jane! The lady Elizabeth is nothing to me, and you are everything. You know that.”

  “I should, but we have hardly seen anything of each other lately. You are so often ill, and when you are well, you are meeting continually with people. This is the first time we have dined together in weeks, just the two of us. And”—I swallowed—“we have not had marital relations in weeks. Months, maybe. I know you have had so many new responsibilities, and that you cannot shirk your duty to the king and to your country, but I have been so lonely, and when one is lonely, it is easy to believe stupid rumors. Or at least not to dismiss them out of hand.”

  John rose from his chair.

  “I have offended you,” I said.

  “No. I will be back presently.”

  A while later John returned, followed by a man bearing a large, covered cage. John nodded, and with a slight flourish, the servant swept off the cover. Inside the cage sat a handsome green parrot. “He was to be an early New Year’s gift to you, my dear, but now he is to be a very early New Year’s gift to you. It’s just as well. I couldn’t have kept him hidden here indefinitely.”

  “Can he talk?”

  “He most certainly can. We’ve been working on some things.” John bent and looked at the parrot. “Pretty Jane.”

  “Pretty Jane!”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you,” croaked the parrot.

  “John!”

  “John?” queried the puzzled bird.

  I wrapped my arms around my husband. “John, he’s wonderful!”

  “I can’t take that much credit for him, in truth. A petitioner brought him to me, as an inducement to show him favor. I would have helped him without the parrot, but I thought it was the type of thing y
ou might like. But there’s more.” John opened the cage and stretched out his hand. With complete self-assurance, the parrot hopped onto his wrist. “He’ll do the same for you after he’s come to know you, my dear.” He turned and faced me, the parrot perching on his arm. “Now, answer me, Jane. Do I look like the sort of man who would cast off my wife, the mother of my seven living children, for a seventeen-year-old girl?”

  I shook my head. “Assuredly not.”

  “And as soon as I get this bird off my hand, we shall go to bed. Just make sure the parrot’s in the other room; God knows what words he might pick up.”

  ***

  In April, we had a visitor at Ely Place: Henry Sidney, a young man of one and twenty who had been part of Edward’s household since the king’s infancy. He was a great favorite with the king, and had recently joined his privy chamber. He had asked to see both of us. “I hope nothing is wrong with the king,” I said as he was shown in.

  “No, my lady. His Majesty is well. My business concerns myself—and another.” Henry Sidney swallowed. “In short, I have taken a wife.”

  “Who?”

  “Lady Mary.” In a small voice, Sidney added, “Your lord and ladyship’s daughter, that is.”

  My first instinct was to marvel that Mary had at last found something other than a book to command her attention. The second was to gape at Henry Sidney. “Our Mary?” I said stupidly.

  John rose. He was a tall, powerfully built man, and it must have taken a great deal of courage for Henry to stand his ground when he asked, “Did you dishonor my daughter, boy?”

  “No, my lord! She came to the marriage bed a virgin, I swear it! I would not treat her—or your lordship—with such disrespect.”

  “But there was a marriage bed,” I said.

  Henry’s voice grew small again. “Yes, my lady. We did… er… consummate the marriage.”

  “Several times,” said a voice behind me. I turned as Mary strode into the room, her face devoid of its usual dreamy expression. “We married at Esher,” she said. “On the twenty-ninth of March.”

  Esher was a manor in Surrey that John had been recently granted by the king. Mary had been ailing after New Year’s and had been sent there to recover her health. “Do you mean to tell me you were feigning illness?”

  “No, Mother. I was ill. Henry came there to see about me, and we decided to get married. I was feeling better by then,” my daughter added.

  “No doubt,” I muttered. I looked toward John, but for some reason he was leaving me to handle this matter on my own. “Why didn’t you simply ask your father and me before making this match? Your brother Robert showed us that much respect.”

  “I knew you had been considering other matches for me,” Mary said. “I feared you would say no.”

  “As we might well have done,” I said. “What do the two of you plan to live on?” Henry Sidney was the eldest son, but his father was still alive.

  “My father might allow me something,” Henry said. “Or even the king.”

  “You were married by a priest?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Mary said. “And we had witnesses, too. Say something, Father.”

  John shrugged. “What can I say? Congratulations? You’ve behaved deceitfully and disrespectfully. If you’re expecting any largesse from me, I would put that idea out of your heads. I hope you weren’t expecting my blessing for this carnal marriage of yours, for you’ll get no such thing.”

  He stalked out of the room, letting the door shut behind him with a thud. Mary started weeping, while Henry stared after John in bewilderment. “My lady, I am truly sorry. We meant no harm, I assure you. My motives in marrying her were not mercenary—”

  “Comfort your wife,” I said, almost shoving poor Mary in Henry’s direction. “I must speak to John.”

  ***

  “John, what on earth is the matter with you? I know Mary did wrong in marrying as she did, but did she deserve such unkindness? Henry Sidney is from a perfectly good family, and the king is fond of him. He will inherit a more than adequate estate. You had not promised her in marriage to someone else, had you?”

  “No.”

  “Then why speak to her so harshly? It is unlike you.”

  John stared straight ahead.

  “Please, John. Don’t be like this. Mary was weeping as hard as a girl could weep after you left. Think of all of the romances she reads. It must have seemed like such to her. I know she did not think she was dishonoring you. After all, they revealed the marriage to you themselves. They were honest, if only after the fact.” I touched John’s hand. “Something else must be on your mind, to make you act so. Don’t hide it from me.”

  “They chose an ill time for this escapade of theirs. I had not wanted to frighten you, but I suppose it’s best that you know. The Duke of Somerset is plotting against me.”

  “John?”

  “It is true. He has been discontent for some time, I knew, about being just another member of the king’s council, and we have quarreled over matters of policy, as well, but I did not believe there was anything to be concerned about. But today, I found just how far it has gone. There was a plan to stir the people of London to rise up, and tonight one of my men was in an affray at Holborn Bridge. There are bills being put around the city urging rebellion. If Somerset is not behind these plots, they are at least being organized in his name.” John sighed. “There is no shortage of men to come to his side. You know our difficulties. King Henry left little in the treasury, and Somerset depleted it even further with his vainglorious Scottish wars. The coinage is debased; the harvests have been poor. You hardly need me to tell you these things, though. Our government is trying to improve matters, but it is a slow process. Too slow for the people, who either cannot or will not understand the difficulties involved, and Somerset has been exploiting this.”

  “But do you have proof that he is plotting against you?”

  “Not enough, and that is the problem. If I return him to the Tower, it must be with good reason and clear proof. If he were tried and found innocent, it would be my own death, either at the hands of the people or on the order of the king. And in truth, I do not want to act against him without good proof. The king has lost one uncle to the axe; I would not have him lose another without the best of reasons.” John stared out the window. “And Somerset has children. I know all too well what it is to have a father executed as a traitor. I am not eager to make his own children suffer so.”

  “You could imprison him and keep him there, like the Duke of Norfolk.” The old duke, imprisoned when King Henry was alive, had been spared execution by the king’s own death, but the council had rejected all calls for his release.

  “I have thought of that, but Somerset has been imprisoned and released once, with the consequences you see now. No. If he goes into the Tower, I cannot risk ever having him come out alive again.” John stared bleakly into space. After a while, he said, “They shall be married here at Ely Place, in public. Soon.”

  “John?”

  “Mary and Henry Sidney. I don’t like this secrecy. It could be used against them or their children someday. It won’t be as grand as Jack’s wedding, or even Robert’s, but it will be better than this clandestine affair at Esher. He’s a fine young man. I suppose she could have chosen worse, after all.” He rang for a servant. “Send my daughter Mary to me, along with Henry Sidney if he’s around. Don’t hurry. Let them worry a little while longer about the consequences of their headstrong behavior.”

  I wrapped my arms around John and kissed him as the puzzled servant departed. “No goose, please. I hated that.”

  “No goose,” John agreed. He sighed. “I wonder if I should invite Somerset to the wedding.”

  16

  Frances Grey

  July 1551

  In early July, as I sat sewing with my daughter
s, I received a message from Harry, who was with the king: the sweating sickness was about. By no means were the girls and I to leave Bradgate, unless the sickness reached Leicestershire, in which case we were to move to one of our more isolated manors.

  I stared at Harry’s scribbled message and fancied I was sweating already. “What is the matter, Mother?” Kate asked.

  “The sweating sickness.”

  “The what?”

  “Like the plague,” Jane said knowingly.

  “Not quite,” I said. “It does not produce the tokens the plague does, and it is not as deadly as the plague, but it is close. A person can be dead from it within hours. It causes lethargy and a great deal of sweating. That is why it has that name.” I looked at Jane, almost expecting her to contradict me or roll her eyes at the obviousness of my remark, but she merely nodded.

  “Have you had it, Mother?”

  “No. There has not been a major outbreak since 1528, when I was about Kate’s age. I was lucky. Some people in my father’s household did contract it. They died.” I stared at my sewing. “It is a strange illness. It is more likely to strike rich households than poor ones. Indeed, the lady Elizabeth is lucky to be here. Her mother, Anne Boleyn, was stricken when she was, er…being courted by the king.” I put down my sewing. “It is odd the way things work out. Had the sweat taken Anne, as some certainly hoped it would, King Henry might have never remarried, and Mary might be queen today.”

  “And we would all be clutching rosaries and praying before saints,” said Jane acidly. “Thank goodness the sweat spared Mistress Boleyn.”

  ***

  We were lucky at Bradgate. No one fell sick, although some of our neighbors in Leicestershire were not so fortunate.

  Then a messenger wearing the livery of Katherine Brandon appeared at the house. I knew as soon as I saw his downcast face that some misfortune had befallen my stepmother. “It is the Duke of Suffolk and his brother, my lady.”