A crown in darkness : a novel about Lady Jane Grey

by Mullally, Margaret, 1954-

  'I'm glad you're back, Jane,' he whispered, taking her small hands in his.

  Jane was fairly aloof. She could not forget that this delicate, scholarly boy had signed Tom Seymour's death warrant; that the frail hand that held hers was the hand that had applied the fatal signature. 'I mustn't be so unforgiving,' she reproached herself at length. 'After all, Tom died three years ago, and perhaps Edward isn't entirely to blame. He was too weak to defy his bullying Council.'

  Edward liked to talk with Jane about religion, since her views were similar to his. He discussed his sister Mary's obstinate papist views with mingled amusement and annoyance.

  'It must be said,' insisted Edward gravely, 'that we Protestants have the power. And since we're trying to overthrow papacy, I must forbid my sister to hear Mass.'

  'She'll never give in,' said Jane. 'She has a lion heart — a Tudor lion heart.'

  Edward's mouth set into priggish lines. 'Then she'll never rule the country. I shall exclude her from the succession unless she obeys me. After all, I am the King, and if need be, I'll take Northumberland's advice and send her to the Tower, where she can cool her fanatic head.'

  'Why must you strike at her?' Jane said, feeling a twinge of pity for the badgered Mary, whose sole comfort was her religion. 'She isn't hurting anyone. Don't you care that she has suffered so much already?'

  'I'm not striking at her!' the King declared. 'But one simply cannot be too tolerant with rebellious subjects. My Uncle Somerset employed that policy and it cost him his head.'

  Edward was very hurt by his cousin's antagonism. Once he had loved her for her kindness and her compassion. In the old days, she had tended him patiently, as neither Mary nor Elizabeth had ever done. She knew wonderful stories of romance and chivalry which she had heard from Master Aylmer, and she could tell them in Greek, which used to enthrall him and take his attention away from his illnesses. When he had had headaches, she would sit gravely beside him while he rested, her silence cool and refreshing. She was brave and generous, as he had always wanted to be. He had loved her tenderly in the old days, when they used to sit at the feet of his nurse. Mistress Perm, and tell stories of heroes and dragons. But time had changed all that. He was a King now, whose thin shoulders could not bear the burden of State responsibilities, and she was an insecure girl trying to find her way at Court.

  At fourteen, Jane was sharp-tongued, outspoken and rebellious. She had lost too much of her childhood gentleness. Her manner could be most unpleasant at times and she was losing friends rapidly. Jane was puzzled by the change in herself, for she was aware that her temperament was changing swiftly and quite dramatically. Although it made her very unhappy, she was powerless to control her sharp tongue. Recently, she had begun to have severe headaches and her menstruation periods were violently painful and irregular. Her mother and Mistress Ellen assured her that these problems would go in a year or two, but she did not believe them. She thought she was different from other girls. She was afraid of the future and what it might hold for her, but she dared tell no one of her fears for she knew they would mock and jeer and call her a coward.

  The old nightmare that she was running headless among the trees at Bradgate often terrorized her nights, so that she would wake up with a start, trembling from head to foot, and lie staring into the darkness while the tears streamed down her cheeks, until she could bear it no longer and would cry out to her women for candles.

  Knowing that she had displeased Edward, Jane decided to leave him before she offended him further. As she was leaving his rooms, she almost collided with the Duke of Northumberland, who was on his way there. Fairly alarmed, Jane sank to the floor in a curtsy, muttering an apology. Northumberland surveyed her astutely. His sharp eyes were swift to notice the insolence in her confident manner. But she was the Duke of Suffolk's daughter and of some note.

  'Good afternoon, Lady Jane,' he greeted her cordially, and passed, smiling affably, on his way.

  Something in his cold impassive eyes chilled Jane's blood, so that for a few seconds she could not move. Then, lifting her voluptuous skirts, she ran swiftly to the apartments which she shared with her sister.

  The large bedroom was lit with amber flecks of sunlight and wavering patterns spun on the rich scarlet and gold hangings. Katherine Grey, beautiful and fragile, sat in the cushioned window-seat, idly playing her harp, like an angel shepherdess. Lady Jane Dormer was with her.

  Lady Jane Grey, who had been looking forward to a peaceful afternoon with her younger sister, glanced at Jane Dormer impatiently. The two Janes had never liked each other, and it demanded a great effort from both of them to be civil in each other's company.

  'Katherine, the Princess Elizabeth is at Court and we've been invited to sup with her this evening,' announced Jane Grey, deliberately ignoring the unwelcome visitor.

  'Can Jane come with us?' Katherine asked eagerly.

  'Since Elizabeth hasn't invited her, it would be rude of us to take her.'

  The other Jane, grossly insulted, rose from the window-seat and, gathering up her embroidery, left the room with dignity.

  'Oh Jane, now you have offended her,' Katherine cried in distress.

  Jane sat down and lifted her pet spaniel on to her lap. She glanced at her sister's anxious face and was almost ashamed. 'I'm sorry if she's a friend of yours, but you need not have brought her here. You know I don't like her.'

  'I didn't bring her here. She asked to come.'

  'Well, you could have refused. Really, Kate, have you no will of your own?'

  Katherine, who was easily moved to tears, began to protest that it wasn't her fault, that Jane Dormer had cornered her into inviting her and she did not want to be rude ...

  Jane hurried over to comfort the younger girl and to apologize for her shortcomings. Katherine, still sniffing, forgave her readily, but Jane could not forgive herself. Why was she so sharp, intolerant and impatient? What evil demon possessed her that, at the slightest provocation, she would utter a torrent of unkind words that she didn't always mean and which, afterwards, it was too late to retract?

  'I shall probably never understand until I'm old and senile and then it will be too late to alter my selfish ways,' Jane said to herself, and she eased her conscience a little by giving Katherine an embroidered cap of which she was particularly fond. She then tried to discard her depression, for there were so many entertainments at Court that it was absurd to dwell morbidly on one's personal failings.

  Young, gifted and attractive, with a formidable personality, Jane had her share of admirers, but though many of them could stir her senses, none could touch her heart. Jane did not love easily, although she had some affection for her friends and for most of her suitors, and while the girls around her distributed their favours generously and seemingly without thought, she retained her virtue. She had the happy gift of being virtuous without seeming prudish, and she never presumed to preach chastity to her less virtuous friends. She was honest enough to realize that, when she fell in love, she would give herself completely, with or without the sanctity of marriage. She was willing to confess to herself that she would gladly surrender herself to John Aylmer but the opportunity never arose. He did not seem to want her. With a sad little sigh, Jane kissed the tiny locket that contained her tutor's portrait and slipped it beneath a cushion. Then she ran down to the courtyard to join Lord Guildford Dudley.

  The day was warm for April, and she had shaken loose her reddish-gold hair, so that it fell freely to her hips. Tall, fair-haired Guildford smiled his admiration and kissed both her hands, his blue eyes paying her tribute, even if his greeting was sardonic.

  'Madam, you have a happy disregard for punctuality. I hope this isn't another feminine trick to capture my affections.'

  'Rest assured that no such tricks will ever be played by me,' retorted Jane, the hot blood of dislike rushing to her face. She wondered idly why she accepted his invitations to ride and walk. Certainly he cherished little affection for her, for he baited and teased her mer
cilessly.

  Guildford lifted her on to the back of his bay mare as if she weighed no more than thistledown and, swinging into the saddle, rode down to the river, while she lay across the saddle before him. Her long hair was tumbled across his chest. Beneath it, his heart was hammering and, surprisingly enough, so was her own. She stared up at him, but his face told her nothing, although his arm suddenly tightened about her waist.

  A milkmaid, leaving the City, nodded courteously to them as she passed by and suddenly Jane felt afraid.

  'I expect we'll have a warm summer,' she remarked nervously.

  Lord Guildford roared with laughter. 'Who the hell cares what the summer is like? Lord, are we reduced to discussing the weather? Let us sit down.'

  He spread his cloak over the grass and Jane sat down on it, nervously conscious of his eyes on her. He saw her expression and sneered. 'Don't worry, I won't hurt you.'

  At once her irritation flamed. 'Oh, why must you be so beastly, just when I am beginning to think you are human? I sometimes think you deliberately try to annoy me.'

  Guildford cocked a comical eyebrow but said nothing.

  'I really don't understand why you take the trouble to dance with me and walk and ride with me,' continued Jane, rather sulkily. 'You behave as if you thoroughly dislike me, yet you stay. Why?'

  'Because you amuse me.'

  'Amuse you!'

  'Yes, I find you highly entertaining.' His wide grin had become somewhat malicious. 'You assume such airs of wisdom, but I'm sure you know nothing of men's nature.'

  'I know enough to get me by,' replied Jane coolly.

  'Now don't get angry. It isn't just because you amuse me that I court you so relentlessly. I have a weakness for freckles and your freckled nose enchants me, even though some people might consider it a flaw to an almost pretty face.'

  Really annoyed and upset now, for her freckles were a sensitive point with Jane, she leaped to her feet and, before he could stop her, she had mounted his horse and cantered away.

  It was a long walk home and the warm spring afternoon made Guildford feel uncommonly drowsy. Cursing, he stumbled along unfamiliar green lanes, pausing at an inn for ale and bread and to flirt with the landlord's daughter.

  He intended to punish Jane for her conduct, but next day he looked for her in vain. She had gone home to Bradgate, his sister told him. The Court seemed unbelievably dull to him without her.

  Lady Jane Grey came sedately out of the room where she had been sitting her portrait, tired but relieved. 'It seems to me such a petty waste of time,' she complained, catching sight of Aylmer at the end of the gallery. 'But I've finished for today.'

  'I hope you managed to conceal your impatience,' laughed Aylmer, knowing only too well how irritable she must have felt, for Jane had little patience with such matters and rarely troubled to hide the fact.

  'Well, even if I didn't, he'll manage to alter my expression so that I look suitably demure,' Jane said.

  'That is sacrilege! Never say that to any artist unless you want to make a lifelong enemy.'

  'How do you know so much about it?'

  'I used to paint — quite regularly, at one time.'

  'Was it before you came to Bradgate?'

  'Yes, and sometimes since. I find it relaxing, but I never hope to produce anything I can sell.'

  'Well,' Jane heard herself say, 'I prefer to read or write, and Katherine has her pets to keep her happy.'

  He put his arm around her and they went to his room, to examine his collection of paintings. He was certainly not professional. His work no doubt would have been sneered at by the talented Holbein, who had been Henry VIII's painter. But the paintings were not without charm and, to Jane's inexperienced eye, they seemed perfect.

  A chestnut-haired woman with pale green eyes and a secretive expression featured often in his paintings. Again and again she appeared, sly, watchful, disturbing. Jane did not like her.

  She glanced up at her tutor and saw that he too was looking at her. She tried to collect her disturbed thoughts. She knew that he wasn't married. In which case ...

  'Is she your mistress?' she asked impetuously.

  Aylmer was not startled, or even mildly surprised by the forthright question. Something flickered behind his dark eyes but otherwise his expression did not change. 'Yes,' he said simply. 'She has had two children by me.'

  Jane knew that it was vulgar to ferret into his private life, but her sharpened jealousy and curiosity blotted out all niceties. 'I don't think she's beautiful — though,' she added hurriedly, 'she isn't plain either.'

  'Every woman has beauty of a sort, and every man too, if we look hard enough to find it. I found her alert mind, her subtle movements, the cool light in her eyes, beautiful.'

  'And you love her?' Jane waited miserably for him to confirm that he loved his mistress.

  'No, I don't love her, though long ago I thought I did. But between us is the unbreakable bond of two people who have lived and quarrelled together, who have worked and suffered, borne children and watched them grow.'

  Jane didn't like the way he spoke of this woman who knew him as a lover and who had given him children for whom he evidently felt some affection. She began to wish that he hadn't brought her to see his paintings.

  'If you don't love her,' she persisted with juvenile sullenness, 'why do you keep her as a mistress?'

  'For reasons you would never understand.' Something in Aylmer's face warned her to say no more. 'I only ask that you don't mention this to your parents, for you know what store they set by virtue. They will think I'm guiding their daughters towards a total moral collapse.'

  'I shan't say anything.' The hot blood drummed in Jane's throat. Minutes ago, they had been warm and friendly. Now his mysterious concubine had come between them. In her heart, she reached out to him, but he stubbornly kept her at a distance and the pain was more than she could bear.

  Muttering inaudible excuses, she fled from the room, trembling. Her feelings for her tutor had amounted to worship. She had dreamed of marrying him. He had been the only man she had really cared for. And now her dreams were in shreds about her and she didn't know what to do.

  It was at times like this that she missed her old friend. Queen Catherine Parr. Catherine would have understood, would have helped her, soothed her. There was a dull, nagging ache in her heart and her head, which she knew would later burst into searing pain. She couldn't go to her bedroom, for Mistress Ellen would notice how distraught she was, and ask questions, and nobody must ever know.

  Although it was raining, Jane seemed not to notice it. She stood in the garden in the long shadow of the trees, her white stricken face hungrily turned towards the sky, her hand pressed against her throat, as if in a silent prayer for help. Her eyes burned mercilessly with unshed tears.

  A few weeks later, she accompanied her family on a visit to Norfolk, where the Princess Mary was waiting to receive them.

  John Aylmer had gone to Cambridge to commune with the learned dons and was not expected to return to Bradgate until the autumn. He had kissed her hand very correctly before he left, but there wasn't a spark of warmth in his eyes, nor did he contrive to see her alone, as he normally did. No doubt her behaviour during the past few weeks had puzzled and offended him. He called her 'My Lady' not 'Jane' or 'Sweetheart', and he didn't ask her to write to him. Well, she could be equally cool. With a polite smile that told him nothing, she swept him an elegant curtsy and wished him a pleasant journey, her heart cringing with misery.

  And now she, too, was setting out on a visit, one which she dreaded. Katherine and Mary sat on either side of their mother in the family litter, wincing feebly every time the vehicle jolted. The Duke of Suffolk rode at the head of the cavalcade of litters and mounted servants. Jane rode on horseback during the major part of the journey.

  The visit would be tiresome, she knew. One had to be as careful and sedate with Mary as if one were with one's great-aunt. She had already been warned to avoid conflict with Mary, b
ut Mary courted conflict. She was never happier than when she was hotly defending her Creed. And she would insist on trying to convert Jane to Catholicism.

  The Princess Mary was sitting alone on the terrace, her embroidery lying idle in her lap, when her guests arrived. She was genuinely delighted to see them, for few people troubled to visit an ageing, neglected Princess these days, and attention of any kind pleased her. Smiling shyly, she rose to meet them. Suffolk grandly assisted his wife and daughters out of the litter and lifted Jane from her horse.

  Jane pecked dutifully at her cousin's proffered cheek. There was a look of almost terrible patience in Mary's Spanish eyes that made the younger girl shudder. To be with Mary was to be reminded of death and darkness. Whenever the Princess entered a room, she brought with her an air of sorrow. Yet Jane pitied her, even though she could never like her.

  'I heard that you were ill,' she said gently. 'I do hope that you have fully recovered.'

  'Oh, I can't complain.' Mary laughed gruffly and turned to embrace the Duchess.

  'You're looking extremely well, Mary,' Frances gushed. 'I never saw such a glorious complexion.'

  Muffled snorts came from Katherine's direction. Mary regarded her with surprise.

  'Behave yourself, Katherine,' her mother snapped.

  During dinner, the Grey sisters sat on the edge of their chairs, obviously on their best behaviour. Katherine, desperately trying to ward off a fit of giggles, kept her eyes fixed on her dish, not daring to look at the grave faces gathered about the table.

  'It distresses me to see you in such a simple gown, cousin,' Mary said to Jane. 'You must let me replace it with a prettier one.'

  'I thank Your Highness but my religion forbids for everyday use the excessive finery of which you are so fond,' answered Jane blandly.

  A nasty little silence followed her remark. Then Mary, firmly turning her back on Jane, addressed Frances. 'I have some new tapestries which you might care to examine, Frances. You know how I value your opinion.'