Within two days came a reply from Kat. “We were sorry to hear of the queen’s death,” she said, “none more so than the Lady Elizabeth. She loved her dearly and grieves her still, though she were advised not to write to offer condolences to Lord Thomas lest the letter be misinterpreted.”
I set the letter down on my desk. Misinterpreted by whom? I then recalled that Lord Thomas had been writing to the Lady Elizabeth the day Mary was born, and mayhap since.
This was brought into sharper focus within a week, when Edward Seymour held a banquet for several hundred and all of the households attended. My brother, Hugh, was there, of course, with Cecil’s men, and I sat with him first. His shoulders were broader and his beard fully come in now. “I shan’t remain here long,” he said. “I expect Cecily to return to London with her father after the New Year. We will then be wed, and return to Marlborough, the simplicity of which I now long for.”
“I long for peace and simple joys too,” I agreed, wishing I could return with him, knowing I would never feel peace till Mary were settled. “I have Lucy and Gerald with me here. Shall you need them to return?”
He shook his head. “Nay. Cecily will have her own lady maids and I am sure she will prefer them. ’Tis not necessary. And you?”
I explained to him that I was to stay with Mary till Thomas was remarried.
“’Twill not be long then,” Hugh said. “Rumor is that Lord Thomas means to make the Lady Elizabeth his bride, one way or another.”
“Will the council give permission?” I asked.
“Nay, never,” he said. He finished his glass of mead. “His brother told Lord Thomas that he had better not be thinking upon marrying one of the king’s sisters, and Lord Russell told him that it would be his undoing if he did.”
“What did Thomas reply?” I asked, nibbling on a cheese wafer.
“He denied having any ideas of it and rebuked them soundly. Then another man came forth and told Lord Thomas that if he did not watch his language the lord protector would have the right to arrest him. Lord Thomas said he wouldn’t dare.”
Oh, but he would, I thought, he would more than dare.
“And what of you, sister?” he asked. “Where will you go when Thomas remarries?”
“Mayhap home, if I am still welcome,” I said. He assured me that, as family, I was his responsibility to care for, and a welcome one at that. “Hugh … there was a widower who spoke with me some months ago. His name is Sir Richard Hibbart. Could you find out if he has returned from Scotland?”
Hugh raised his eyebrows and grinned. “I shall make discreet inquiries.”
After Hugh moved along to speak with a friend, Lady Tyrwhitt, who had remained with Lord Thomas’s household for the moment, drew alongside me. She, of course, knew not of my connection to Thomas but well knew my love and loyalty for Kate.
“See there?” Lady Tyrwhitt nodded toward where Thomas had pulled John Dudley, a competitor of Edward Seymour’s on the council, to the side. “It has not taken Thomas more than a week to sniff out that his brother has alienated some on the council and, even now, he be seeking support to work his will and marry the Lady Elizabeth.”
“Already?” I asked, horrified.
“How long did he wait after His Majesty died to pursue Kate?” Lady Tyrwhitt inquired. She had a point. “He’s already promised the Marquess of Dorset that Dorset’s daughter, Jane Grey, shall marry King Edward.”
I put my hand to my mouth. “He can promise no such thing!”
“He believes he can, so he does. Which is why she remains yet in his household. Wait and watch. The privy councilors have already warned him, strongly, against a marriage consideration with either the Lady Mary or the Lady Elizabeth. But Lord Thomas hears not what he does not want to hear. He draws the net ever closer about his feet till one day it shall spring upward with him in it.” She left me then to make small talk with Elisabeth, after which I sought to talk with my dear friend Lady Fitzgerald Browne.
Late that night, after Lucy had helped me ready myself for bed, I lay there and wondered, for the first time, what would happen to the babe if her father did spring the trap. Traitors were attainted, stripped of their lands afore being beheaded, their heirs left without title, shamed and penniless.
’Twas a cliff, and next to the cliff, a tiny patch of green upon which grew some flowers. They were bright and bold, flos solis, sunflowers, with beautiful faces that turned toward the sun as it arced across the lustrous blue sky.
Toward the end of its arc, a seed dropped from one flower’s bosom and implanted itself deep within the soil. Within a moment, a tiny shoot sprang forward, unsteady and green. As it began to grow, the larger flower nodded under the heavy weight. Suddenly Lord Thomas’s dagger sliced through the stem right below the head and, thus lopped off, it fell on top of the tiny shoot, which was crushed to the ground beneath it.
I wakened out of breath and disturbed. I had earlier taken that dream to mean that Kate, after having her child, would die, and she had. But the fact that the dream persisted meant that it warned of something yet to come. I left my room and made my way to Mary’s room, opened the door, and went in. Mrs. Marwick stirred, but saw ’twas me and lay back down. I eased the child from her cradle and Mary cooed and woke up and gazed at me without flinching. I felt a rush of love for her and drew her tight to me, feeling her little heart beat against my own. I took her to the rocking chair and held her till she felt a part of me, which she was. I rocked back and forth and kissed the feathery crown of her head, and was overcome with the fierce desire to protect and defend her. I prayed for guidance, wisdom, and help, for little Mary’s sake, and, mayhap, for the Lady Elizabeth’s.
A week later Lord Thomas came to tell me to ready myself to move the child, and her household, to Seymour Place. I was surprised, as we had not long been there, but agreed to get the household prepared. His steward readied his own household and sent word ahead that we would shortly thereafter arrive. We soon made our way to Seymour Place and settled into a routine. I ordered goods and materials for the Lady Mary’s household, managing it for Lord Thomas, and spent time with my friends from Kate’s household, many of whom had remained, when I was not otherwise occupied.
One day Thomas Parry, in charge of the Lady Elizabeth’s monies as her cofferer, came to visit and sup with us. It was an unusual visit, and during the meal, Lord Thomas asked many questions about the Lady Elizabeth’s household, her finances, her estates. He offered the use of his properties whenever she wished it. Thomas Parry indicated that the Lady Elizabeth would be receptive to that, and that application should be made through Kat Ashley.
“I have recently corresponded with Mistress Ashley,” I said, “as Her Grace the queen had indicated that Kat was a governess who always looked out for her mistress’s best interests and that the household of her own child, Mary, should seek to model itself upon it.” I hoped by introducing the queen into the conversation I could shame Lord Thomas from his folly and unseemly pursuit.
But he was not to be turned. Instead, he came later that evening to Mary’s quarters. He spent time visiting with her for a moment—which was, I admit, more than many noble fathers did—and then rejoined me in her reception chamber, where we were alone.
“It seems right that you make inquiries upon Mistress Ashley,” he said. “She being governess to the Lady Elizabeth, daughter of a king, and my daughter, Mary, being the daughter of a queen. I should like you to make a visit to them at Hatfield, presently.”
I nodded. “Certainly.”