'You'll look beautiful in this blue silk,' her sister Katherine said enviously, thinking how well it would compliment her own fair colouring.
Thus, Jane set out for her new home with a rich supply of clothes, books and gifts, and the threatening sermons of her parents still hammering against her ears.
Chapter 6
Life trundled along at a carefree pace at the Dormer Palace and Jane settled in with ease, gladly welcoming the change of atmosphere. She spent the long days riding about the surrounding countryside with the Admiral, Catherine and Elizabeth, playing with a childlike gaiety that had not been in her before.
Tom teasingly told her that, if she wasn't careful, so much outdoor activity would give her a fresh crop of freckles, which sent her scurrying to her bedroom mirror.
'And for all his jesting, it's true enough,' Mistress Ellen scolded. 'And I warn you, I have no intention of scrubbing them with lemon juice throughout the winter.'
'I won't get any freckles,' Jane promised solemnly. 'I'll be very careful.'
In Tom Seymour's jolly, rollicking household, there were fewer restrictions than there were at Bradgate and Court etiquette was usually quietly disregarded. Jane found it strange to be the youngest member of the household. Catherine treated her sometimes as a trusted friend and sometimes as her youngest and favourite child.
She had not been at the Dormer Palace for many weeks before she noticed the relationship between the Admiral and the Princess. They flirted with each other recklessly, and under Catherine's very nose. Their flirtation consisted mainly of childish taunting and teasing, and yet their feeling for each other was obvious. Jane had seen Tom's eyes gleaming with desire as they rested on Elizabeth. She had seen the colour rising uncomfortably in Elizabeth's cheeks when Tom entered a room. Catherine, however, seemed happily oblivious of any tension in her home. Being of a simple, trusting nature herself, she was blind to the faults of those she loved. Hers was a strongly maternal nature. Her love for her husband was partly maternal, because he reminded her of a mischievous but lovable schoolboy. She loved Elizabeth because Elizabeth was her stepdaughter, and therefore almost her own child.
'Elizabeth is such a dear child,' she remarked to Jane, as they walked together by the pond. 'Are you not glad of her companionship?'
'Yes, Madam,' Jane said quietly.
'I have often said to Tom that she is like our own daughter. And you, Jane, you have always been as my child, ever since ...'
'It's unwise to let memories of the past blemish your present happiness.'
'You're right, of course.' Catherine dropped a kiss on the child's nose. 'You were such a comfort to me in those days, always so quiet. Though I often wondered what would have happened if my enemies had succeeded in bringing about my downfall. Could I have faced it with courage, when I knew there was no other way?' She shivered suddenly, glancing over her shoulder, but there was nobody there and she laughed at her own foolishness.
'You were very lucky,' Jane said, looking up at the elegant woman whom she thought of as a mother and guardian.
'Yes, I was very lucky — and am more so now.'
'You are happy in your marriage,' observed Jane. 'God's Faith, Madam, you deserve to be.'
Catherine sighed. 'Whether I deserve it or not, Jane, I'm sinfully happy. It's the best thing that can happen to anyone. One day you will marry and then you'll understand.'
'I shall never marry,' Jane declared stoutly.
'Don't be silly. Every woman wants to marry and have children.'
'Not me.' It suddenly occurred to Jane that she didn't know what she wanted from life. A husband would want to dominate her, and she was too thoroughly her own person to tolerate that. And, though she loved babies, it was surely more amusing to play with someone else's child than one's own.
'Perhaps you will marry Edward and become our Queen,' said Catherine. 'It is what Tom wishes for you, you know, and he thinks your chances are good.'
Jane, Queen of England! The words tasted sweet on Jane's lips, but that wasn't it. That wasn't what she wanted. She fancied she would never know, until it happened.
The autumn dulled into winter. Jane was happy, yet she couldn't help but notice the change in her cousin Elizabeth, and it disturbed her. The girl was subject to strange moods. Sometimes she was as blithe as a meadow lark, and at others she was plunged into inexplicable melancholy. She laughed and sulked and cried erratically, but she was always sweetly penitent after one of her untimely rages.
'She is in love with Tom,' Jane told herself, a little startled. Privately she condemned Elizabeth for deceiving Catherine, but at the same time she pitied her. Like her father, Elizabeth would never love easily, but when she did, her love would be deep, defiant and passionate — and her love for Tom Seymour was desperate.
Christmas that year was a merry affair. They played Blind Man's Buff in the huge hall, and ate fawn, peacock, baked swan with gilded feathers that had been replaced on the cooked bird, apple pies, quince pies, mulberry tart and cream. Catherine read a long French poem to them, Jane sang, Tom told some amusing stories about his many voyages. Elizabeth entertained the company with a very realistic imitation of the Lord Protector and his aggressive lady.
Early in the year of 1548, Catherine knew for certain that she was pregnant. Like most tender women, she adored children and had always craved a baby of her own. Joyously, she confided her secret to those closest to her and abandoned herself to plans for the child.
'You must rest this afternoon, darling,' ordered Tom lovingly. 'I will see to it that you take every care.'
'But it's early yet,' protested Catherine. 'Oh Tom, you are ridiculous.' She stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
Elizabeth, who was standing by, turned away, sick with lonely jealousy. Why should everyone make such a fuss of Catherine simply because she was pregnant? she thought. Women had had babies before, hadn't they? And why should Tom want to cosset and pamper her? God knew, he must have a dozen brats to his name! The tears spilled down her face as she slipped away to the schoolroom. They didn't even notice her leaving, so engrossed were they in each other. It seemed to Elizabeth that, though many people admired her for her wit and intelligence, few really loved her, not even Tom.
'God's Teeth!' she declared, using her father's favourite oath. 'When I am Queen, which I swear by the blood of Jesus I shall be, I'll truckle to no man, nor let him take the credit for my greatness. I shall rule England alone.'
She let out a small scream as she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder. So he had the audacity to follow her! She tried not to grin at his boldness.
'Sir, I fear you are intruding. I wish to be alone,' she said haughtily, jerking her chin up proudly. He saw then that she had been crying, and was surprised.
'Alone with whom?' he murmured. 'Tell me, why are you crying?'
'I ask you to go.' The flash of blood was in her face. She felt bruised and humiliated. She could not bear to look at him, for fear he should see her weakness and laugh at it.
But he didn't laugh. His hand touched hers and she gasped, as if she had been touched by a flame. He bent his head to kiss her, then she broke away, angry, frightened, scowling.
'There, Elizabeth, confess you liked it,' Tom Seymour teased, twining a strand of her long red hair about his fingers.
'You flatter yourself, my Lord. Should I report this to your wife, you'd be hard put to convince her of your innocence. All that charm would be useless.'
'She'd think it a lie - the result of one of your jealous tantrums.'
'Yes, I dare say she might,' jeered Elizabeth. 'She's so sweet and pure, so utterly insipid she would never believe you'd be unfaithful to her, even if she found you in bed with another woman.'
He hated her for the cruel malice of her temper, and her ingratitude to Catherine, who had always been kind to her. But he saw in her a wildcat quality that appealed to everything that was savage in himself. Instead of defending his wife as he knew a gentleman should, he found himself embracing t
he cruel young vixen who insulted her. And this time Elizabeth professed no reluctance. It was thus that Jane found them when she entered the schoolroom.
'Spy! Sneak!' Elizabeth flew at her startled cousin, and would have clawed her with her sharp nails, had Tom not held her back.
'Mistress Ashley wants you to go and try on your new gown,' Jane said coldly.
Elizabeth quietly left the schoolroom, burning with guilt, hating Jane Grey, who had unintentionally spoiled her adventure.
Tom, striding up and down by the hearth, turned to the grave little girl.
'Well, Jane, you probably think your cousin Elizabeth and I have done wrong.'
'It is not my business, my Lord,' replied Jane, clasping her hands behind her back.
'But you will tell Catherine?'
'No. It would hurt her terribly, and she's so happy because of her baby.'
'So you're loyal to Tom Seymour, eh? Lord, Janie, you're quite unique.'
'I'm loyal to your wife, my Lord, and couldn't bear to hurt her. If she learns about your relationship with the Lady Elizabeth, I will not be responsible.'
He sat down heavily and pulled her on to his lap.
'You think badly of me, I know, but there are some things you can't understand. I have the sweetest wife a man was ever blessed with and I don't deserve her. I don't want to cause her any suffering, but nature never intended me to be a faithful husband.' His voice was angry and wistful. Jane glanced at his bitter eyes and drew away slightly, alarmed. He squeezed her small hand. 'Jane, Jane, you've no cause to fear me. I love Catherine, and you know it. But, in a way I can't explain, I also love Elizabeth. I always have done. I felt so sorry for her after her mother died and she had scarcely a rag to her back. My love for Catherine is noble, dignified. With Elizabeth, there's all the excitement of the chase, the thrill and the agony of the unattainable. I'm not like the Princess Mary or Bishop Gardiner. I cannot comfort myself by rejoicing in my virtues, for I haven't any. I know that my intentions towards Elizabeth are wholly dishonourable; that, if the opportunity arises, I'll seduce her and I probably won't regret it. But I do care about hurting Catherine. If she knew, she'd break her heart and I couldn't bear it. Bad as I am, I couldn't hurt her.'
How could she condemn him, when his charm and his candour were so irresistible? Her heart brimming with compassion for him, Jane leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Catherine was astounded. She wept incessantly, unable to believe that Tom could betray her. Nor would she have believed it had she not strolled into a room and found Elizabeth in his arms, her red hair tumbled on his hard chest, her face vibrant with adoration. She could no longer dismiss the sly murmurs of her servants as spiteful gossip. As she faced him in her apartments, her eyes red-rimmed with weeping, she saw him for the light-hearted philanderer that he was. How could she have been so foolish, so unutterably gullible? He was speaking to her now, the waves of his charm rippling over her but not touching her.
'I wouldn't have thought it of you in a hundred years,' she cried, turning her tear-ravaged face away from the light in a final, pathetic attempt at dignity.
'Catherine, she's only a child. It's you I love. Elizabeth merely - well, to be truthful, we were only teasing, darling. You know how she loves to taunt and tease?'
'You're lying,' sobbed Catherine. 'How can you blame Elizabeth? She's so young, and you have a wicked way with women. Oh, I can see now how you must have led her along all these months, flattering her, telling her pretty stories, laughing at me no doubt.'
He made a movement towards her, but she turned away, unable to look him in the eye, lest she saw contempt there.
'Catherine, my love.' Tom seized her hands and tried to reason with her. 'Remember your condition. You'll hurt yourself and the child unless you pull yourself together. You're with child, that's why you are so upset about this silly little matter. Smile now, and relax.'
'I can't believe you'd care if I died in childbed.' Catherine's voice rose in something like hysteria. 'Why Tom, if I died, you would be free to marry her. But she'd never have you, or any other man. She's too cautious and too selfish.'
Tom began to protest vigorously, but Catherine ignored him.
'For the time being, the Lady Elizabeth must leave my home. She can re-establish her household at - at Cheshunt.'
Tom Seymour stared at her in dismay. Was this iceberg of a woman really his sweet, adorable Catherine, who trusted everyone? Perhaps, he pondered, looking sadly at her swollen eyes and disarranged hair, it would be wise to send Elizabeth away. Maybe when Catherine had recovered from her pain and shock, she would learn to love and trust him again, but that was not possible while Elizabeth remained under the same roof.
'It shall be as you wish,' he answered gently. 'Would you prefer it if I left you alone now, sweetheart? There are only three months left now and you'll need rest, so put your feet up and I'll send Lady Jane Grey to keep you company.'
Catherine didn't seem to hear or see him go. Left alone, she raised a hand to her aching head and tried to think what she should do. The child stirred within her, reassuring her, but somehow the wonderful mystery and magic that had surrounded the baby had vanished, and her pregnancy now seemed slightly repugnant.
She sent for Elizabeth and calmly instructed her to be prepared to leave the Dormer Palace at the earliest notice. Elizabeth concealed any feelings she might have had behind a demure pose. The sight of that carefully composed face broke Catherine Parr's control.
'Why is it that you, a child of fourteen, can hide your feelings so well, whereas I, a woman past thirty, can't begin to?' she burst out.
'Madam, I don't understand,' murmured the Princess.
'I think you do. I've always felt that you are a person who sees and understands all. Even as a little girl, you had that guarded, clever look. Yet you remain silent and I envy you your wisdom.' Catherine tried to check the bitter note that had crept into her voice. 'It is best that you leave my household, since little good can come of your remaining here. We can only hope that any gossip born of this distressing incident won't endanger your position. Even the best of servants are inclined to be indiscreet.'
'My position?' breathed Elizabeth, her heart fluttering like a restless white bird in her breast.
'I see you understand me. Well, since you've so obviously thought about it, I will be honest with you. You do have a remote chance of being Queen of England one day. Don't set your heart on it, child, for your chance is so very remote. Your brother may well marry when he's a little older, and then there's Mary. And women were not born to rule, though I think you have it in you to be successful. You have the gift of seeing into the heart of a matter at a glance, and you have the clear-headed diplomacy that makes great monarchs. But it is largely a question of luck.'
'And wit,' added Elizabeth, in her thoughts. 'Of which I have plenty and you. Madam, scarcely none.'
There was no mistaking the gleam in her eyes. Catherine's lips tightened until they hurt her. The girl's selfish lust for the crown made her oblivious to the fact that she had wrecked a happy marriage. Catherine began to tremble. She tried to tell herself that she must blame her husband and not Elizabeth, who was young and impressionable. Were it not Elizabeth, it would have been another, Tom being the way he was. But her heart hardened itself against the red-haired Princess.
There were so many questions she wanted to ask her. Did she really love Thomas? More important, had he ever told her that he loved her? How far had their clandestine relationship gone?
Elizabeth stood beside her and patted her hand. Then she must have shed tears. How could she be so undignified?
But Elizabeth was also crying. Catherine gazed dumbly at the streaming cheeks of the young Princess, for she had never seen Elizabeth cry. She had never imagined that cool, self-assured, scornful people like her were capable of weeping. But Elizabeth was kneeling before her, her face washed clean of defence. 'Please, Madam,' she whispered 'don't send me away without first giving me your blessin
g.'
Catherine could almost pity her. After all, she was heartbreakingly young and she had been jostled in and out of her father's favour for as long as she could remember. It must have been hard for the child to struggle through her young life without the love of her natural mother.
'You must go now,' whispered Catherine, very softly. 'I promise you I'll inform you if I hear any slander against your name.'
They were so close that they might have touched, but Elizabeth merely bowed her head, and left the room quietly, squaring her shoulders bravely. The gesture went to Catherine's heart as no words could have done.
A few days later, the Tudor Princess and all her possessions were safely out of the palace and it was as if she had never been there. But the atmosphere was charged with tension and remorse. Catherine went about the palace sullen and stony-eyed, her hair uncombed and no paint on her face. She seldom spoke, not even of the child, whose birth she had so joyously awaited.
One evening in early summer, Tom tried to draw her out of her bored lethargy by talking about the child.
'It will be a fine boy and I shall teach him to draw the bow before he's out of the cradle,' he boasted jovially. Then, seeing Catherine's frightened look, he hastily added: 'But if it's a girl, I shall be equally pleased.'
'That I can well believe,' Catherine snapped. 'For you have a weakness for the fair sex.' She gathered up her embroidery and walked away, awkward in her pregnancy.
The heat was oppressive on that late August day, especially in the small, airless room where the Dowager Queen lay, racked with the pangs of labour. All the windows were closed, as fresh air was believed to be fatal in a sick room.
Listlessly, Catherine lay on her bed, ignoring the hum of life around her. There was Lady Tyrwhitt, now talking to the midwife and to Lady Herbert, but casting occasional sharp glances in the direction of the bed. And Meg, her faithful little maid, who had never deserted her.
A crown in darkness : a novel about Lady Jane Grey Page 10
