Queen of This Realm

I called him “The Buccaneer of the Bedchamber,” which amused Kat.

I said: “After all he has done, after the way in which he has deceived my stepmother, you still talk about him as though he were a god.”

“There is no one like him at Court,” insisted Kat. “He is indeed a man.”

I wanted to be alone to think about him, yet I wished I could get him out of my thoughts, but I could not dismiss him as easily as I wished. If he had not been so good-looking, so commanding, so light-hearted and amusing, I could have hated him. But if I showed my fury that would indicate that I cared enough to be angry. I must not show my feelings. What effect that would have on a man such as he was, I could well imagine. He believed himself to be so attractive that whatever he did he could never be anything but irresistible.

Kat told me that Thomas Parry wanted to talk to me. Sir Thomas Parry and Kat were the best of friends, I think largely because they were both inveterate gossips. John Ashley was quite different, far more sober than either of them, and much cleverer. I often wondered why he had fallen in love with Kat, but perhaps it was because she was so different from himself.

Tom Parry looked rather sly; his lips were pressed together as though the words were ready to tumble out and he was trying to restrain them in order to savor the full effect they would have on me.

I said impatiently: “Come on, Thomas, what is it?”

“My lady, this news…it has been a shock to us all.”

A shock? Had it? I thought of the Admiral's nocturnal visits to the Palace. It must have been he whom Kat had seen skulking round to the back on that night. Forestalling his marriage, no doubt, the rogue.

“Come, Parry, you have not asked me to see you to tell me that.”

“He took the Queen, my lady. But I think he would rather it were the Princess.”

“What Princess?”

“My lady Elizabeth herself.”

“Stop talking of me as though I am not here. What is it you have to say? Say it quickly and stop hedging.”

“It was the day after the King's death, my lady. The Admiral came to me …” He hesitated.

“Came to you? For what purpose?”

“He wished for a detailed account of your possessions and felt I was the one to give it.”

“I see,” I said. “Why was I not told?”

“The Admiral made me swear secrecy, my lady.”

“Oh, I see. You serve him, do you? I thought you were my servant.”

“I am, my lady, with all my heart, but I thought it could only mean that he was seriously contemplating matrimony with you and that seemed a great and marvelous thing.”

“And you think my possessions satisfied him then?”

“He seemed as satisfied with them as he is with your person.”

“I suppose you and that gossip-monger Kat Ashley think I should feel honored to be so well endowed by my late father that I can attract the attention of the Admiral?”

“Kat Ashley and I agreed that he was as enamored of you as your possessions.”

“Master Parry, have you ever wondered what it would be like to occupy a cell in the Tower?”

“My lady!”

“Look to it,” I said. “You may discover one day. You should be more cautious and guard well your tongue. You are a simpleton, Tom Parry—and Kat Ashley with you.”

I went out for I could bear no more. He had weighed up my possessions, considered them worthy of his attention and then proposed marriage. When I had refused he had immediately gone to the next on the list.

Was that not enough to infuriate any woman particularly when—it had better be confessed—she had quite a fancy for the handsome philandering rogue?

I could see that I had betrayed my feelings too much. I had not yet mastered the trick of hiding them. Parry had gone straight to Kat and I was sure he would tell her that I was angry because of the marriage and had secretly wanted Thomas Seymour for myself.

They were a pair of scandalmongers and I was often exasperated with them both. But they so obviously loved me, and I believe I was more important to them than anyone else; and for that reason I could never be a

MY SISTER MARY wrote to me asking if I would like to leave the household of the Dowager Queen and Thomas Seymour for she was sure that to live with those who had conducted such a misalliance would be distasteful to me.

Mary was at Wanstead whither she had come from Norfolk. She was seventeen years older than I and therefore must be much wiser. She was, however, a very firm upholder of the Catholic Faith, and her desire to see it again established in England clouded her judgment and from time to time put her in considerable danger. I knew that she was horrified by the attitude of the Council toward religion for now they were mainly supporters of the Reformed Faith she considered anathema. Edward himself had always inclined strongly toward it, so I could see that I must on no account set myself beside her, for if there was later to be a choice of religion I must be free to take whichever course would help me best. I had long decided that preoccupation with the method of worshipping was not so important as faith itself and I did not intend to become involved in it or committed to any doctrine to my detriment.

I knew Mary well enough to understand that she would want the throne, not for her own aggrandizement, but for the opportunity of bringing England back to Rome. I could see great dangers for the realm in that determination, but I knew that devout Catholics—among them men like Gardiner—would agree wholeheartedly with Mary.

Thomas Seymour had written to my stepsister asking her to give her blessing on his marriage to Katharine Parr and Mary was very angry. He had written as though the marriage had not taken place, but she knew very well that the Queen was already his wife for she had her spies to keep her informed. She considered the marriage outrageous—in fact almost criminal because our father was so recently dead. How could Katharine have so quickly forgotten her husband? she would ask. I could understand Katharine's need. I had seen her terror under my father's rule and I knew of the irresistible—or almost—wiles of the Admiral. Perhaps I was more worldly than my sister even though she was seventeen years older. Perhaps I understood our stepmother's desire for marriage as Mary never could.

She had extended this invitation to me. I was so young, she wrote. It was wicked to submit me to such an embarrassing and unfortunate situation. I could come and stay with her for as long as I wished.

Life with Mary, my pious sister! I imagined it. Prayers! Morning, mid-day, afternoon and evening… and no doubt in between! “My dear sister, I am going to instruct you in the ways of truth …” I was fond of Mary in some ways. She had been remarkably kind to me despite my mother's displacement of her own. Oh, but I could not bear to be in her household. Whereas here I was at Chelsea with the stepmother to whom I was devoted, with my tutors, with this pleasant easy-going household… and the Admiral. If I were honest I must admit that I was looking forward to some encounters with that plausible and fascinating man.

But I must not offend Mary and I should have to pen my refusal very carefully. Mary could easily be Queen for I had heard secretly that the King's health was certainly not improving since he had come to the throne. Mary Queen…a Catholic country again! I must indeed tread very warily. But on one point I had made up my mind. I was not going to leave the exciting place Chelsea had become.

I wrote several drafts. Words were so important, and the wrong ones could wreak irretrievable damage. I began by deploring the marriage. It was as abhorrent to me as it was to her, but I did feel that my sudden departure from Chelsea might create a difficult situation. There was a powerful party guiding the King, and the Protector was a Seymour. My position was not very safe, nor, I reminded her, was hers. We had to walk very carefully in these dangerous times. Moreover our royal father had appointed Katharine Parr as my guardian and to leave her would be going against his expressed wish. I knew my good sister would understand my feelings and much as I should enjoy being with her, I felt that my place was in the household of my stepmother—in spite of this unfortunate marriage.