This was indeed a happy day for the Prince for on it his Uncle Thomas called upon him.
If he had not been a little boy so determined to do what was right, he would have loved his Uncle Thomas Seymour more than his father. How different were those two men! They were both possessed of dazzling personality; yet the King inspired his son with fear and Thomas Seymour filled him with affection. When Uncle Thomas came into a room he would seem to bring the sea breezes with him. He was a great sailor, Edward delighted to recall, an important man in the kingdom, yet not too important to have time to spare for his small nephew.
On those rare occasions when they were alone together, Uncle Thomas became more exciting than ever. He would lift the boy high above his head and make him squeal with delight; he had actually succeeded in making him forget that he was heir to the throne, a King-to-be, and a Tudor King at that! Uncle Thomas had the rare gift of making himself so young that, in his presence, children felt that they were as grownup as he was.
Edward was not the only one who felt this. As soon as Uncle Thomas appeared, a change took place in the apartment.
Jane grew quieter before that magnificent presence. Elizabeth seemed a more haughty Princess than ever, but a very gay and excited one. As for Edward, he felt that he was a man, as gay and swaggering as Uncle Thomas, discarding all the heavy responsibilities which must rest on the shoulders of a boy of five who was being trained as a King.
“A good day to you all!” cried the gay Sir Thomas, and his bright twinkling eyes surveyed them all. “Your Princely Grace.” He kissed Edward’s hand, but mockingly, so that Edward knew he had no need to receive the greeting ceremoniously. “My dearest Princess.” The Princess’s eyes glittered, for the sailor surely had accentuated the adjective. “And my sweet Lady Jane.” His voice had grown tender as he kissed the hand of the quiet little girl who had risen to receive his greeting. “And how conspiratorial we all look today! What’s afoot?”
They all began to laugh, like small children in a nursery…any children…happy children who need not be constantly on the alert to do what was expected of them.
“Secrets, eh? Secrets! Secrets that should be kept from Uncle Tom?”
“No, indeed, dear Uncle,” said Edward. “There are no secrets we would keep from you.”
“You deceive me.” The blue eyes flashed and Sir Thomas stroked his beard and scowled wickedly from one to the other. He began to growl through his teeth. “Methinks I must make myself aware of this grim secret.”
He considered them. Poor Edward, just for a few moments a little boy! His great head was so packed with learning that his puny body seemed to protest against carrying it. Little Lady Jane, lifting her solemn eyes to his face, divorced from her habitual gravity, was at this moment, like Edward, a child just because the magic youthfulness of Sir Thomas Seymour could cast a spell upon her. And Elizabeth…? Ah, Elizabeth! She was no child. She was standing before him, against the hangings, those which had the greenish pattern upon them that would set off her flaming hair so beautifully. Her eyes were downcast, but her mouth was sly. Elizabeth was refusing to play the child; she wished to play the woman. And … she was enjoying the banter more than any of them.
“By God’s precious soul!” cried Seymour. “I shall discover this plot against me. I shall tear this secret from you. Who shall tell me? You, my lord?”
He had taken Edward in his arms and lifted him high above his head. Edward laughed aloud, as he rarely did.
“Will Your Grace tell this dread secret?”
Edward’s hand which had only just lost the pudginess of babyhood, grasped the beautiful brown locks of Sir Thomas.
“Put me down, Uncle Thomas. Put me down, I say. I will pull your hair if you do not.”
“I tremble. I am in fear. So Your Grace refuses to tell me his secret?”
“There is no secret.”
Sir Thomas lowered the Prince and gave him two hearty kisses; and Edward put his arms about his uncle’s neck. Oh why, thought Edward, are not all men like my Uncle Thomas?
Sir Thomas set him on the floor and went to Lady Jane Grey.
“And you, my lady, will you tell me the secret?”
“There is no secret, Sir Thomas.”
“I would force it from you,” he cried, “were you not so beautiful that I could not bear to hurt you.”
He let his fingers caress the soft golden curls of the beautiful child, contemplatively, sadly; for she was small and so young and it would be long before she was a woman.
“I must prise the secret from one of you, that is certain…and since it cannot be from you, my Prince, or you, my Lady Jane, it must be from the Lady Elizabeth.”
She was waiting for him, seeming cool yet inviting, her light lashes lowered over her eyes which might have betrayed too much. He noted the softness of her delicate skin, the provocative powdering of freckles.
She lacked the beauty of Jane, but, by God, thought Sir Thomas, she is the one for me.
He laid his hands on her shoulders.
Haughtily she glanced first at one hand then at the other. “You will take your hands from me, sir.” She was very proud, very much the daughter of the King.
He took her chin in his hand and jerked her face up to his. Now he could see her eyes; he could see the curve of her lips which betrayed her excitement, her pleasure in this badinage, which he knew and she knew was not the play between a grown person and a child, but an encounter between a man and a woman.
Nine years old, he reflected. Is it possible?
His hand touched her throat. She was as yet too inexperienced to hide her feelings. She was delighted to have his attention. She had known that his tricks with Edward and Jane had been the preliminaries that should lead to this encounter between them.
He brought his face close to hers. “Will the Lady Elizabeth tell me the secret?”
“How would that be possible, sir, when there is no secret?”
“Are you sure that you hide nothing from me?”
“If I wished to hide matters from you, Sir Thomas, I should do so.”
How exciting she was! A nine-year-old girl, a Princess as ambitious as himself. Was her glance telling him now: “Who are you to dare look at me in that way? Do you forget I am the King’s daughter?” And his eyes answered: “I do not forget. It but adds to your charm. And I beg of you, do not forget that the King calls you his bastard daughter, and that I am the uncle of the King-to-be. Anne Boleyn’s daughter and Jane Seymour’s brother—what a delightful partnership! How the ghosts of Anne and Jane must be laughing—if ghosts can laugh!”
“What shall I do?” he asked. “Prize the secret from you?”
“Do not disturb yourself,” she answered. “I think that to which you refer is no secret. My father is to marry again, we have heard. Is that the matter which you call a secret?”
Did she know of his ambitions? He could swear that she mocked him when she continued: “It is on my Lady Latimer that the King’s choice has fallen.”
He dropped his hands then; he could not meet her eye. She must have heard rumors regarding himself and Lady Latimer. The saucy young coquette was reproaching him with that, as though he were indeed her lover.
“We are all well pleased,” said Edward. “For we know her and like her well.”
“She is a good lady,” said Sir Thomas; and he felt depressed suddenly, but only momentarily; he had complete faith in his destiny. But he had been so fond of Kate. He had visualized such a pleasant life with her.
The Prince then demanded that his favorite uncle should sit beside him and tell him a stirring story of the sea, and this Sir Thomas was pleased to do. Very soon all three children were listening to him, under the spell of his charm, and at that moment it seemed that they were all children, even Elizabeth, excited by his stories of adventures at sea. They watched his face as he talked; he was their hero. There was not one of them who could be in his presence and remain untouched by his charm.