The Lady in the Tower

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  ‘I did not know,’ I said softly. I looked at my mother in a new light. She had been married against her will, and then treated so badly. ‘I thought you loved Sir Walter,’ I said. ‘You always seemed to, before … ’

  ‘I did grow to love him,’ Mother admitted. ‘He was my husband, and for many years he was a good husband. But I never forgot Sir Thomas.’

  I did not ask any more. It seemed almost indecent to pry into my mother’s private feelings. But I felt a new tenderness, a new solicitude towards her.

  Neither of us could eat any breakfast. We kept to our room all morning, where we were soon joined by Sir Thomas. I tried to like him, for Mother’s sake. He was perfectly friendly to me, but he had fussy, almost womanish, manners that I found irritating. He flattered her and fussed constantly about her comfort, placing a rug over her knees to protect her from draughts, and ordering refreshments in case she should be hungry. To all of this she patiently submitted, smiling tenderly up at him. After an hour or so of this, I felt like a fifth leg on a horse. I put on my cloak and went to check on the horses once more.

  As I approached the stables, I almost ran into one of Sir Walter’s men. He was standing on a street corner watching the passers by. I barely had time to dive down an alleyway before he turned. I stood concealed in a doorway and watched as he was joined by one of Sir Walter’s grooms. To my dismay, I saw them disappearing into the stables. If they had not already found Beau and my father’s hunter, they soon would.

  When they emerged ten minutes later, Sir Walter was with them, and they were leading both the horses. I pressed myself back into the doorway, not even daring to watch them go. I felt despair at the loss of the horses, but I had one thing at least to be thankful for. The stables had no idea where Mother and I were lodging, I had been careful of that at least.

  I fled back to the lodging house, frequently turning to check I was not being followed.

  I burst into our room, panting and hot. ‘Mother!’ I cried. ‘They have our horses! I was nearly caught by one of Hungerford’s men! We are not safe here!’

  Both Sir Thomas and Lady Jane were with Mother. They all looked up at my words.

  ‘Ah! Eleanor!’ exclaimed Lady Jane. ‘We were just talking about you. Heavens, child! Whatever is the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!’

  I related what had happened in a breathless disjointed way, and the adults exchanged serious looks.

  ‘Are you sure you were not followed?’ asked Mother fearfully.

  ‘Quite certain,’ I told her.

  ‘Well, my dear, that confirms what we’ve just been saying,’ my aunt told me. ‘Although Mistress Myers is completely to be trusted and will protect you as much as she can, if they are searching the city, and they have a warrant, there will be nothing she can do. You need to leave Bath.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ I agreed warmly. ‘But how? Will they not be watching the city gates?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lady Jane briskly. ‘But they are looking for a mother and a daughter. So you will have more chance of getting away undiscovered if you leave separately.’

  This made sense to me, but I could see my aunt and Mother exchanging uneasy glances.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Eleanor, my dearest child, we think it safest if we are parted for a spell,’ said Mother gently.

  I jumped to my feet. ‘No!’ I cried.

  Sir Thomas got up also and made me a fidgety little bow.

  ‘Mistress Eleanor, forgive us, but this is for your own safety. My mother, who is an invalid living a few miles outside Bath, has need of a companion. Your mother has very kindly agreed to fill that post. Under an assumed name, of course. We believe she will be quite safe from your father there.’

  I looked at Mother desperately. She rose and embraced me. ‘It’s for a short while only, I hope, my darling,’ she said.

  ‘Your mother,’ I said to Sir Thomas. ‘Does she live quite alone then?’

  ‘Ahem, well, no, not quite. I am there much of the time to attend to the farm and other business. My house in Bath is not my main residence, you know.’

  I regarded him with gathering hostility. ‘It sounds as if she already has a companion. So why does she need another?’

  ‘Hem, well, female companionship, you know, is quite a different thing. I do not always have the leisure … ’

  ‘So, in fact, you are asking Mother to come and live with you,’ I stated rudely. I could hear my mother and aunt murmuring protests in the background, but I ignored them.

  ‘It will be quite proper, you know,’ Sir Thomas assured me. ‘It is a large house, and they will have their own apartments, quite separate from mine.’

  ‘And what about me?’ I asked. ‘Where do I fit into all this?’ I felt hurt and abandoned that Mother was prepared to consider any plan that separated the two of us.

  ‘You are invited to stay with me and my husband in London for a spell,’ my aunt said quickly. ‘Posing as my young cousin, Mary. My friend Mistress Aubrey has promised to take you out of the city in her carriage this very afternoon. We will meet at the inn in the village of Box, some miles from Bath. It should be safe for you to travel with me from there. And I promise you, Eleanor: I shall look after you as if you were my own daughter.’

  I looked at Mother again. ‘This afternoon? And when do you leave?’

  ‘I am going in an hour or so, Eleanor. Sir Thomas thinks it safest.’ She took my face in her hands and looked at me lovingly. ‘Please, Eleanor. It’s only for a while. Just until the hue and cry has died down.’ She looked as though she meant it. But then, as she let me go, I saw her exchange a glance with Sir Thomas, and I realized they were in love. I felt a fierce stab of jealousy and resentment. I had gone through so much to be with Mother, and now she was going to be with this man instead. I knew, in some part of my mind, that I was being selfish. I knew Mother deserved happiness after suffering so much. But the truth was that I wanted her all to myself and I was hurt, angry, and humiliated.

  ‘Very well, Mother,’ I said tightly. I curtseyed stiffly to my aunt and said, ‘Thank you, Aunt Jane, for your kind offer. I accept. But now, if you excuse me, I shall take a walk.’

  No one stopped me. No one pointed out that I had had one lucky escape already that day. They understood that I needed some time alone to accustom myself. I walked the streets of Bath for an hour, not caring where I was going. I just needed to keep moving to hold my misery at bay.

  When I returned, Mother was alone in our rooms, her few possessions packed. She held out her arms as I came in, and I went to her. As she held me close, I breathed in her sweet scent, soaking it up to remember her by.

  ‘I know,’ she said simply, and stroked my hair as I leaned my head against her shoulder. We stood thus until there was a soft knock upon the door. Sir Thomas had arrived to collect Mother.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The journey to London took several days and was very tedious. I begged to be allowed to ride, but my aunt was afraid I would be recognized.

  I had visited the city before, so its sights and smells were not completely unfamiliar to me. I quickly found myself longing for the hills and valleys around Farleigh. I missed the green of the fields and woods and the sweetness of the summer air, which here was turned to foul corruption. The narrow, dirty streets were filled with noise and bustle. They were crowded with carriages, street sellers, dogs, horses, and people in a hurry to get somewhere. I had been jolted for endless hours over bad roads and longed for peace.

  We crossed into the city by way of London Bridge. It was evening, but being high summer, it was still light enough to see the grisly sight of heads impaled on the spikes. I looked at the rotting shapes and shuddered. My aunt followed my gaze.

  ‘They parboil them, you know,’ she said conversationally. ‘To preserve them.’

  ‘I am not sure I wished to know that,’ I replied. Then I gasped with terror and a small scream escaped me.

  ‘What
is it, my child?’

  I pointed to one of the heads, rigid with fear.

  ‘Cromwell,’ I whispered. ‘I would know him anywhere.’

  The sightless eyes of my father’s friend stared at me, livid in death.

  My uncle Sir Edward Cranbourne, a blustering, hearty man some ten years older than his wife, met us in the hallway of my aunt’s London home.

  ‘Welcome home, my dear Jane!’ he said, greeting her fondly. ‘I’ve missed you greatly whilst you’ve been jaunting around England! And this is Cousin Mary,’ he said for the servant’s ears, turning to me. ‘Well, you are very welcome too. Come in, come in!’ So saying he shook my hand and gave me a conspiratorial wink. He ushered us into a fine apartment, furnished with bright tapestries, and containing a large fireplace, unlit today in the warm summer weather.

  ‘Have you heard the news?’ he asked gravely as soon as the door was shut behind us.

  ‘News, my dear?’ asked his wife. ‘We have heard nothing.’

  ‘A week ago Cromwell was accused of treason and thrown into the Tower. He was executed this morning.’

  ‘Oh my, then it was indeed his head you saw on London Bridge, my dear!’ exclaimed my aunt. ‘I scarcely credited it at the time.’

  I nodded, but could not speak. I felt numb. If Cromwell was dead, what of my father?

  ‘Oh, Edward!’ said my aunt. ‘Do tell us everything you know. When did the arrest take place?’ She was agog with curiosity about this latest scandal. I sat silent, feeling sick, wondering if this arrest had anything to do with me. Another piece of news from my uncle startled me from my uneasy reverie.

  ‘The king has had his marriage to Anne of Cleves annulled,’ he announced solemnly. ‘We heard a few days ago. He is to marry Catherine Howard instead.’

  ‘Mercy!’ cried my aunt, pleasantly shocked. ‘Well, I declare, I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks, and the country has been turned upside down. What a lot we shall have to talk about, Edward. And we have not gone short of adventures either, I can tell you.’ She leaned forward to pat her husband’s hand and he twinkled merrily back at her. ‘You shall have to tell me all about it at supper, for that is the bell ringing now,’ he replied.

  I was touched to see these two people so happy in each other’s company.

  Supper was served in a large, cheerful apartment, which overlooked the pretty garden, just now bursting with summer growth and flowers of every colour. I reflected how much more comfortable such a house might be to live in than a rambling, draughty castle.

  As soon as the servants had withdrawn, my aunt recounted our adventures to my uncle, calling on me to corroborate many details. I was pressed to tell of the escape from Farleigh. Finally I summoned up the courage to ask the question which was troubling me.

  ‘Sir, Cromwell has been executed. Have you heard anything about Sir Walter Hungerford?’

  ‘No, though rumour has it he was not with Cromwell when he was taken. I heard he had set out for Farleigh some time before. General opinion is that he is in grave danger. He and Cromwell stand together, you know. They were too close not to be implicated in one another’s actions.’

  I nodded dumbly, my hands clenched together in my lap. It mattered not that I loathed my father: I still did not wish to be guilty in his downfall. More than ever, I wished my words to the king unspoken.

  ‘At least if the scoundrel is arrested, you and your poor mother will have some peace,’ my uncle said gently.

  I got little rest that first night in London. The noise was far worse than anything Mother and I had endured in Bath. The town crier and the night watchman startled me awake several times, and the morning bustle of the city began very early. I arose heavy with tiredness to face an anxious day.

  A week passed with no news. My aunt and I were sitting over our stitchery in the shade of the garden. It was stiflingly hot, and despite the abundant verdure surrounding us, the scents of honeysuckle and roses could not entirely mask the stench of the city beyond the garden.

  I was bored to tears both with waiting and with sewing. I longed to throw it in the bushes and go for a ride over the hills or through the woods, anywhere where there would be some air. But I had neither Arianna nor access to pleasant countryside here.

  Suddenly my aunt yawned and tossed her own embroidery aside. ‘Well, that’s as much as I can stand in this weather!’ she announced, and rang for a servant to bring some drinks out to us. I laid aside my own sewing. My aunt was watching me, eyes twinkling. ‘Do I detect some relief there, Eleanor?’

  ‘To be honest, Aunt, my needle has never been my favourite occupation,’ I confessed.

  ‘Nor mine, indeed!’ said my aunt merrily. ‘I would rather sit idle and gossip at any time. But your mother—now there is a fine needlewoman! She is younger than me, you know, but I could never equal her neatness or her industry. Such beautiful work she did. Our mother was always holding her up to me as an example, shaming me with my own sloppy work! I thought your mother must have brought you up to sew like her, so I have been trying to set you a good example.’

  I laughed. ‘I wish you had told me before,’ I said. ‘Mother tried, but failed to instil any skill or love of sewing in me.’

  ‘Well, now we know, Eleanor. We need only pick up our sewing when there is someone by to impress.’

  I looked ruefully at my piece. ‘Sadly, I fear this would impress no one,’ I said. I told her the story of my sampler that Mother had thrown in the fire the very day she had been arrested. We laughed merrily together over this story, and then my aunt wiped her eyes. ‘Your poor mother,’ she sighed. ‘I wish I had not believed Sir Walter’s smooth tales of her illness. I had letters sent to her, you know. And begged to be allowed to see her. But he assured me that any visitors disturbed her deeply and that she needed absolute rest. If our parents had been alive, he would not have got away with it so easily.’

  ‘You came as soon as you knew, Aunt Jane,’ I told her soothingly, for she looked quite tearful. ‘And I think Mother is happy now.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ smiled my aunt. ‘Sir Thomas is a lovely man. I’ve known him for most of my life. Your mother will meet nothing but kindness at his hands.’

  I must have looked sceptical, because my aunt spoke earnestly.

  ‘I know it is hard for you, Eleanor, to let someone else in, when you have longed to be with your mother yourself. But nothing could be better for Elizabeth than this. She will be taken care of, respected and valued—’

  We were interrupted. A servant entered the garden with a visitor following her. I did not recognize him at first. Then I gasped.

  ‘Why, Doctor Horde!’ I cried. Impulsively, I rushed to shake his hand. He embraced me and then held me at arm’s length to look at me.

  ‘You are looking very well, Mistress Eleanor,’ he told me.

  ‘You look so different out of your habit!’ I exclaimed, before realizing how tactless such a remark was. A shade of sadness crossed Dr Horde’s face.

  ‘And how do you do?’ I asked him hurriedly. ‘Or should I ask what do you do now? I feel so dreadful that I brought all that trouble upon you. I am glad of the chance to say so. And I want to thank you from my heart for sending my aunt to us.’

  Dr Horde and Lady Jane exchanged a smile.

  ‘I told you at the time, my child, it was only ever a matter of time before the priory was closed. And as to how I do, why I have been singularly fortunate. I have truly seen that God is good—and some men too.’

  I clapped my hands delightedly. ‘Tell me!’

  ‘I have been so fortunate as to be befriended by a gentleman who has several livings in his gift. He was deeply sympathetic to my situation, and has most generously offered me one of them: I am to be a vicar, Eleanor. I exchange my priory for a comfortable parsonage and a village church. Hence my change in clothing.’ He indicated his priest’s robes with a sweep of his hands. ‘It will be a great change, to be sure, but not an unpleasant one.’

  ‘I am so happy,’
I told him sincerely. It was a great relief to me to know that this friend at least had not been so very harmed by my actions after all.

  ‘And so, who is this kind gentleman?’ asked my aunt curiously. ‘I know him, surely.’

  ‘I imagine you do, my lady,’ responded Dr Horde. ‘Eleanor most certainly does, for I first met him at Farleigh, in the spring.’

  I was intrigued at once. ‘Who can it be?’ I wondered.

  ‘Can you think of no one, Mistress Eleanor, who is so charitable?’ asked the Doctor. I sensed he was teasing me, and that there was a smile lurking behind his serious manner. I shook my head.

  ‘Truly, sir, I took little notice of most of the guests, and became acquainted with few of them.’

  ‘I think, though, that you had some acquaintance with Lord Stanton?’

  I was dumbstruck. But Dr Horde clearly expected some response from me.

  ‘I am certainly happy to hear he has been so kind to you, sir,’ I said with a slight curtsey.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked, with a glance at my aunt. ‘Are you not betrothed?’

  ‘Yes, they are,’ replied my aunt.

  ‘No,’ I said at the same time.

  Dr Horde looked from one to the other of us, puzzled.

  ‘Eleanor?’ asked my aunt.

  ‘I broke it off,’ I told them, my voice sounding oddly tight. ‘At Bath.’

  ‘But, Eleanor!’ exclaimed my aunt. ‘It was not in your power to do so! That would be breach of promise. You could be sued. Did he accept your decision?’

  ‘Not exactly. I am not sure. If he wants to sue me, he’ll have to find me first,’ I said. I was angry with them both. What did they mean by standing there looking at me disapprovingly? ‘The betrothal was not of my making,’ I added.