Queen Of This Realm Read online

  “You would be safer talking of such things.”

  She laughed and I laughed with her and she went on to tell me that Sir Thomas Seymour had been created Baron of Sudeley and made Lord High Admiral. “The late King left him two hundred pounds in his will and I verily believe, my lady, that had His Majesty lived there would have been the honor of marriage into the King's family for him. The King loved Thomas Seymour … and who would not love such a fine, witty and handsome gentleman?”

  “I believe there are some who do not love him.”

  “Oh, that brother of his—the Duke of Somerset if you please now. He is the big man. He has the King in his charge. They say Thomas is a little jealous of his brother.”

  “They say, Kat? It seems to me that it is Kat Ashley who says this and that, and she is the very mistress of gossip throughout this land.”

  “And who profits from what I discover more than my lady?”

  That was how we talked and there was hardly a day when Thomas Seymour's name was not mentioned between us.

  I had to admit I was thinking a great deal of him. I had known for some time that he was interested in me… even before my father's death. He was my brother's favorite uncle. I believed that Edward was not very fond of the elder Seymour. Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset to give him his newly acquired title, was a man of immense ambition and extreme ruthlessness. Now that my father was dead, he had become Protector of England and was in a position of complete authority. It was natural that Thomas, the younger brother and favorite uncle of the young King, could not happily accept a subordinate position.

  However the Seymours were the important family in the country now. They had nothing to fear from the Howards. Surrey had been beheaded and the Duke, his father, was still in the Tower; his death warrant was to have been signed on the night before the King died, but the King being too weak to add his signature to the documents, the execution had been waived, though Norfolk continued a prisoner.

  Almost immediately after that conversation with Kat, a letter arrived through her from Thomas Seymour. She brought it to me with an air of intrigue, and when I opened it and saw from whom it came, my hands trembled.

  It was brief and to the point. The Admiral had long admired me. He was a little older than I but age was unimportant when love reigned. He admired my beauty more than that of any other and was asking me to give him my hand in marriage.

  I was overcome with emotion. I had to admit I had been a little fascinated by the Admiral. He was the most attractive man at Court and, having been a person of little importance for so long, I was very susceptible to admiration. I was not beautiful enough to be sure of my attractions. I had youth, of course, and a fine clear skin, milk-white and fair; I had good reddish hair, the same color as my father's, and I resembled him in my appearance. He was a handsome man but what is handsome in a man is not necessarily attractive in a woman. I had lively tawny eyes to match my hair but my eyelashes were too fair; my nose was long rather than short, but I was thankful that I had not inherited my father's mouth, which was small and cruel and had been really the most expressive of his features. I wished I had inherited my mother's appearance with the attributes of my father—not all, of course—but the best, those qualities which had made him a good sovereign. I think I had to some extent, but how I wished I had my mother's ravishing and singular beauty! Perhaps because of a certain lack of assurance as far as my personal charms were concerned I always wanted to hear them proclaimed. So with Thomas Seymour's letter before me I tried to convince myself that I was loved for myself and that his affections had nothing to do with the fact that I was the King's daughter who might one day inherit a crown.

  Kat was in a state of twittering excitement and tried to get me to reveal the contents of the letter. I would not, but she guessed. She went on and on talking of the good looks of the Admiral, how my father had singled him out for favor, and how she was sure that had the King lived he would have betrothed me to him by now.

  I listened and thought about the Admiral. My brother Edward was very fond of him. He would certainly have the favor of the new King. But Edward was in leading strings and it was not the Admiral who was holding them but his brother. There were moments when I allowed myself to dream silly girlish dreams, when I thought how pleasant it would be to listen to the Admiral's compliments and allow myself to believe that I was the most desirable girl in England.

  But there was another side to my nature—that shrewd observer who had never allowed any event of importance to be passed over. I hesitated while I brooded on what the future might bring and at last I came to my conclusions. I would not be fourteen until September. I had a great deal to learn and I was in a most unusual position.

  I took up my pen and wrote to Thomas Seymour telling him that I had neither the years nor the inclination to think of marriage at this time, and I was surprised that anyone should mention the subject to me at a time when I was entirely taken up with mourning my father to whom I owed so much. I intended to devote at least two years to wearing black for him and mourning him; and even when I arrived at years of discretion, I wished to retain my liberty without entering into any matrimonial engagement.

  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 hou
sehold. 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.

  Once I met Thomas Seymour at Blandel's Bridge, which was also known as Bloody Bridge because it was the haunt of robbers who thought nothing of slitting a traveler's throat for the sake of his purse.

  Thomas bowed low and gave me such a look that there could be no doubt of his feelings for me. I asked him if he was on his way to the Dormer Palace and he said that he was but since he had met me in the fields, might he be permitted to ride with me?

  I knew this would be dangerous and if we were seen, which we almost certainly would be, it would give rise to gossip, and what if that reached the ears of the Council? So I haughtily refused permission. He bowed his head in submission and I whipped up my horse. I had thought he would pursue me. Surely that was what one would expect of a reckless admiral. But when I looked round he had disappeared.

  I was tingling with excitement.

  It was a few days later when my stepmother and I were seated over our needlework and she dismissed all her attendants so that we were alone together. She began to talk to me about her life in a strange sort of way, telling me things which I knew already.

  “I am not an old woman,” she said, “and until now I feel that I have never been young. I was little more than a child when I was given in marriage to Lord Borough of Gainsborough. He seemed very old to me. His children were older than I. I was his nurse until he died. You would think, would you not, that I would have been allowed a free choice. But I was given to Lord Latimer. He, too, was elderly, and I was a wife and stepmother all at once. It seemed to be my fate… until now. I suppose I seem old to you, Elizabeth. You are so young. Imagine, not yet fourteen years old! Oh, I think back to the days when I was fourteen. I had my dreams. And then my first marriage. I was terrified, Elizabeth. Can you imagine a girl little more than a child to be given to an old man? But my Lord Borough was kind to me … so was Lord Latimer. I had my stepchildren but none of my own. It was something I longed for—a child of my own. And when Lord Latimer died I was thirty years old and I told myself, I am free.”

  “Then you married my father.”

  She nodded and I wondered afresh why she should be telling me this which I knew so well. There was a reason I was sure. She was leading to something which she was finding rather hard to tell me. I listened patiently.

  “I thought,” she went on, “now I shall marry for love. There was one man, and I was not the only one who considered him the most attractive man at Court. There is really something rather magnificent about him. We would have been married. But the King chose me… and because of that Thomas had to leave Court.”

  “Thomas,” I repeated.

  She smiled tenderly. “Thomas Seymour and I were all but betrothed before my marriage to the King. But I became the Queen. Sometimes I dream of those years …” She shivered. “I
have had dreams, Elizabeth.”

  “I understand.”

  “Nightmares when…”

  “Please don't talk of it. It distresses you, my lady. I understand.”

  “You know I came within a day of death.”

  “Yes,” I said quietly.

  “Only those who have undergone such a trial could know what that means. Perhaps with some it is different. They can face the axe… and some worse. To do it for one's faith I suppose would be different. There was Anne Askew. You remember her.”

  “Yes. She was burned to death.”

  My stepmother covered her face with her hands. “She was a saint, Elizabeth. I am not made of the stuff martyrs are made of.”

  “Perhaps none of us knows what stuff we are made of until we are called on to face the supreme test.”

  “You are a wise child. That is why I talk to you. I want you to know before it becomes common knowledge. I want you to understand.” She had lowered her hands and was looking at me. Now her emotions had completely changed. No longer was she looking back; she was looking forward, and the radiance had returned to her face. “I could not wait any longer,” she went on. “I was afraid, Elizabeth, that happiness would once more be snatched from me. I had to seize it and … he said we must. We would marry and tell afterward.”

  “Marry! You cannot mean…”

  She was laughing now. She looked lovely for she was a beautiful woman, particularly now that the little signs of age which had begun to appear when she was looking after my father and had lived in fear of losing her life seemed to have been wiped from her face. She looked almost like a girl.

  “Yes,” she said, “Thomas and I were married secretly.”

  “Thomas!”

  “Thomas Seymour, Lord Sudeley. He always loved me… all the time I was married to the King. And I loved him, but of course we dared not show it. I was entirely faithful to the King. But as soon as I was free… Elizabeth, do you know, he asked me a week after the King's death.”

  A week after the King's death! It must have been when Thomas Seymour had my own letter refusing him!