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The first of the plots was devised by Sir Henry Dudley, some remote co

De Noailles had become very friendly with me since the Spanish marriage and took great pains to let me know that he would do anything to help me. His was a very dangerous friendship, I knew—and of course there was no true friendship in it; it was expediency. Two of the officers of my household named Peckham and Werne were involved in the plot and this disturbed me because it immediately increased the suspicions which would come my way whenever these plots were revealed.

The two men were arrested and what was so disconcerting was that Kat Ashley was taken off for questioning again with a very i

There was one matter for rejoicing. Gardiner had died—not violently as would have been fitting for a man who had caused so much misery, but of dropsy, quietly in his bed.

There was one enemy the less; but I doubted not that many more would spring up to take his place.

I kept to my bed while Kat's apartments were searched. Nothing concerned with the plot was found in her rooms but certain pamphlets which were called seditious—which meant Protestant—were found there and I was in a state of nervous prostration, seeing Kat brought to the stake and hearing her piteous cries as the fire touched her limbs.

I thought: I can bear no more of this. Nothing is worth it. I ca

There was another development. A young man appeared at a place called Yaxley and declared he was Edward Courtenay and my husband. It was such utter nonsense that I was not afraid of this one. The young man was a tall golden-haired giant with the Plantagenet looks. This was easily explained because my great-grandfather had been a man who had had countless mistresses of all sorts and conditions in every corner of the country, so there were a great many people who bore a resemblance to him.

I was sure I could not possibly have been arrested for complicity in such a plot as that but had Gardiner been alive he would have found some reason for implicating me.

I was receiving communications from de Noailles who had shown such friendship for me since my sister's marriage. His letters were urging me to take advantage of his King's invitation to visit the Court of France where I should be safe until the time came for me to mount the throne.

A few months before I should have scorned the invitation, seeing it for what it was. I knew that the aim of Henri Deux was to set his daughter-inlaw Mary Stuart on the throne of England. I think I must have been very weak just then. I could not sleep. I became so ill with anxiety that I did not greatly care what happened to me.

When I look back I marvel at myself. But it is strange what illness can do to one, particularly the sort of mental anguish from which I was suffering since the fresh wave of insurrections and the fear aroused by wondering what evil could befall a country which sent good men to a horrible death because of their faith.

I wanted to get away. I felt I could endure no more and the thought of the elegant French court was inviting.

I sent a message to Lady Sussex who had always been a good friend, and I asked her to discover in secret more of this plan from the French Ambassador. I really believed—I must have been suffering from hallucinations— that I could remain at the French Court and come back at the appropriate time to claim the crown.



Then there happened one of those miracles which seem, looking back, like Divine intervention and made me certain of my destiny.

When Lady Sussex was able to meet the French Ambassador she found not de Noailles, whom she had been expecting and who had been the instigator of the plot to get me out of England, but another in his place. Because the Dudley rebellion had begun in France with the backing of the King, de Noailles's communications with me had been noted and some intercepted. Consequently, he had been dismissed abruptly and his brother, the Bishop of Acqs, had been sent to take his place.

I never did understand why the Bishop should seek to protect me. He was certainly not following in his brother's footsteps. Or it may even have been that the King of France did not wish me to leave the field of action, and it had been seen by him that the de Noailles policy of capturing me was not the best for France. Whatever it was, the Bishop told Lady Sussex that if I went to France now, I should never come back, and if I hoped to wear the crown I should be on the spot when the moment came to take it.

When Lady Sussex told me this I saw how foolish I had been. I went onto my knees and thanked God for His merciful act in saving me.

Whatever happened, I must stay. I had come through great dangers. The end must be in sight, and if I could manage to keep alive for a little longer I should be triumphant.

I wrote to my sister assuring her of my loyalty. It was true that the men Peckham and Werne were of my household, but I had known nothing of their schemes any more than I knew of this ridiculous man who turned out to be named Cleobury and who had called himself the Earl of Devonshire.

Kat and the other members of my household returned to Hatfield and as soon as I saw them I began to feel better; my old strength returned and I marveled afresh that I could have been so foolish as to have almost committed an act which would have been fatal to my future.

So there I was at Hatfield—almost a prisoner inasmuch as I could not leave without the Queen's permission, and everything I did was reported to her.

IN THE FEBRUARY of the following year Philip returned to England.

Reports came to us that my sister's health was much improved and my immediate thoughts were that there might yet be a child. Moreover I wondered what Philip's reaction would be to the attempted risings which were an indication of the rumblings of dissatisfaction throughout the land. He must have had a purpose in coming. I was sure it was not merely to be with Mary.

The result of his return was a cordial invitation for me to go to Court. Mary appeared to have accepted my protestations of i

When I rode into London through Smithfield and Old Bailey and Fleet Street to Somerset House the people cheered me. I had wondered what effect my submission to my sister's will in religion, which had now become the law of the country, would have on them; but I was sure the dear good people were wise enough to know that I did what I did to preserve my life so that when the time came I could be alive to serve them.

At every turn they showed their love for me and I managed to convey to them that I was aware of the immense debt of gratitude I owed them.