Queen of This Realm - Plaidy Jean. Страница 11

When I had written it, I read it through once and hastily sealed it. Then it was dispatched.

I had moved with my household to the Dormer Palace of Chelsea which my father had built after he had possession of the Manor of Chelsea. It was a charming place with gardens running down to the river. I was looking forward to being there with my stepmother for we had always been good friends and I was delighted that the Council had decided that she should have charge of me.

I was feeling very excited. Ever present was the realization that I could have a glorious future and in the meantime I would have the attentions of the most handsome man at Court. It was a pleasant prospect. But my good sense insisted that it would be folly to agree to any engagement with Thomas Seymour. If the Council were against it—and I felt sure that Somerset would never agree to it—we should both be in trouble. The Admiral was a daring sailor and might be ready to risk that sort of trouble for the sake of a crown. I was not. I was vulnerable because I was so young but I had acquired one bit of wisdom inasmuch as I realized I was too young and inexperienced to put myself in a dangerous situation. Perhaps I was by nature cautious— the opposite I was sure of my dashing Admiral. But I had seen what folly women exposed themselves to for love.

Kat tried to persuade me to accept him with constant references to his charms. He was adventurous both at sea and in the ladies” boudoirs. “You'll have a very accomplished lover, my lady,” she said, and although I told her that I most certainly would not have him and had written him to tell him so, she did not believe me. “My lord is not a man to take no for an answer,” she declared. “We shall see…”

She talked and I listened—I must admit, with mounting excitement.

“He'll come courting, I know it,” she said.

And I realized that although I was averse to marriage, to be courted seemed to me a rather pleasant and exciting pastime.

My stepmother was delighted to receive me.

I complimented her on her appearance for she looked younger than I had ever seen her look before and there was a brightness about her. She looked like a girl though she must be thirty-four or -five years old. Then I considered how she had lived as Queen of England, the butt of my father's irritations; I thought of her dressing that leg which must have been revolting at times, of the manner in which he used to put it on her lap and expect her to nurse it; I remembered most of all that hysterical fit of weeping in her bedchamber when she must have felt the axe poised ready to descend on her defenseless neck. No wonder she had become young again.

What an example of the joys of single blessedness! For the first time in her life she was free. She said how happy she was to have me with her. We would sit together over our embroidery and she would talk to me of the Reformed Faith just as she did when Edward, Jane Grey and I were in the royal household. It was not such dangerous talk now for the Reformed Party was in the ascendant. Sometimes she mentioned Edward and shook her head over him. He was so young for such responsibility.

I replied that Edward was not allowed to have much responsibility. There were those who told him exactly what to do.

“Meaning Edward Seymour,” said my stepmother, her lips tightening a little.

“Who else?” I asked. “Who commands the King but his uncles and their family?”

“It is Lord Hertford—now the Duke of Somerset—who sets himself up as master of us all,” she replied. “And his wife would do the same if she could. I never could abide Anne Stanhope—a greedy, ambitious woman, highly suitable for Somerset, I dare swear. Oh, it is my lord Somerset who is our King now. I have always thought that my lord Admiral should share the responsibility of looking after the King. I am sure he would prefer Thomas to Edward Seymour.”

I agreed that he would.

My stepmother had grown pink with annoyance. She really did dislike the Duchess.

“Do you know,” she went on, “I verily believe the elder Seymours plan to marry their daughter to the King.”

“They would never do that,” I said. “He should have someone royal.”

“They say how interesting it would be to have another Jane Seymour as the Queen.”

“Jane Seymour the first was not so fortunate,” I cried. “She bore Edward but did not live to see him grow up.”

“Edward is very fond of Jane Grey,” said my stepmother tentatively. “She is such a clever, good girl.”

“Oh yes,” I replied with a touch of asperity, “she is a model of virtue.” I was a little tired of hearing of the brilliant scholastic attainments of Jane Grey. I could challenge her in that field, of course, but I could not match her saintliness and it was that which irritated me. Jane Grey has no spirit, I used to say.

My stepmother understood and laughed at me. “Edward thinks so, I am sure,” she said.

“I wish I could see him more often,” I went on. “I wish he would come here and we could all be as we used to be.”

“He is the King now, Elizabeth.”

“Well, why should he not live with the Dowager Queen?”

“If he were a little younger…”

“Everyone is saying if only he were a little older! Poor Edward, I don't think he is half as happy as he was when we were all together.”

And so we talked and very often I was tempted to tell her of Thomas Seymour's proposal and that I had seen fit to refuse him. But I never did. Something seemed to warn me to keep it to myself.

One evening Kat was seated at the window. It was dark and I was just on the point of retiring to bed. She stood up suddenly in a state of great excitement and cried: “My lady, I saw him!”

“Saw whom?” I demanded.

Her eyes were round with wonder as she whispered: “My Lord Admiral.”

“At this hour! I don't believe it.”

I was at the window. She went on whispering: “I thought he was going in at the main door, but he moved away—round to the side…”

“I believe you dream of the Admiral. Really, Kat, if Mr Ashley knew he could be jealous, and certainly very angry that his wife should talk in such an unseemly fashion of another man.”

“Oh, he would know it is not for me that the Admiral comes into the Palace.”

“And suppose it was the Admiral? For whom should he come sneaking into the Palace?”

“For one fair lady…my lady Elizabeth… whom one day I am going to call Her Majesty.”

“Kat, you are mad. If you talk so, you will find yourself lodged in the Tower one fine day. Have you no sense? How could you have seen him at this hour?”

“I would know him anywhere.”

“Let us wait and watch awhile. If he has come calling at this time of the evening, my stepmother will soon send him away. I'll swear it was one of the grooms you saw going round to the back of the Palace. You conjure up images of that man out of nothing.”

“My lady, did you ever see a groom who looked like my Lord Admiral?”

“No.”

“Then wait with me. He will come out in a moment. He will look longingly at your window. Perhaps he will climb the ivy. Shall we let him in, my lady?”

“Sometimes I wonder whether I am your governess not you mine. If it were known what a frivolous creature you are and the mischief in which you try to involve me, you would not stay a day longer in this household.”

“I'll try to be sober, my lady, but with such as you, with such a gallant admirer…it is not easy.”

We waited at the window for quite an hour but no one emerged.

I told Kat she had been carried away by her fancies.

THE WEEKS BEGAN to pass quickly. Spring had come and it was beautiful at Chelsea. I used to ride with a party in the fields and gallop along by the river. People came out to see me ride past. They would smile and curtsy and some shouted: “God Bless the Princess.” That was sweet music in my ears. The people's approval was very precious to me. I loved the sun on the river and the green fields. England! I thought. My country! To be Queen of England! I could ask no greater prize from life than that.