Jane the Confidant Page 5

  Sir John’s advice and Lady Seymour’s attention proved beneficial. Within a week Jane was alert to her surroundings and the worst seemed to have passed. Soon Jane was strong enough to hold Edward herself and to reign over the dinner served after Edward’s baptism.

  Lady Seymour proved not to be as lucky, however. Only a day after Edward’s baptism, the old lady fell ill and quickly passed away. Between her mother’s death and her own brush with illness, Jane had taken to wandering the halls of the priory where we were resided, tears flowing down her face. Due to the nature of the talks, I had ruled that Edward was to remain at Greenwich with a secure royal guard, another fact that seemed to upset Jane.

  “Your Majesty?”

  I stirred from my chair and looked over at Cromwell, a bland smile upon his face.

  “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I request that we adjourn until tomorrow.”

  I held back a groan but nodded my ascent and rose from my chair. The three rebel leaders did as well and were quickly escorted from the room. Although my body hummed with boredom, I could not seem to find the energy to depart, instead falling back into my chair.

  “I believe that shall be our last day of discussion,” Cromwell said quickly, gathering up his papers, filled with notes on the rebel leaders. After the first day I learned that nothing Cromwell wrote had to do with the discussion being made, but were instead notations on the behaviors of his adversaries, a trick he had learned as a lawyer.

  “And then?” I questioned.

  “And then we shall have three days of peace before the opening of Parliament,” Charles grumbled. I understood his frustration. While I would merely have to preside over the opening of Parliament, Charles would attend every excruciating day of arguments, attempting to forge my wishes into law.

  ******

  Cromwell seemed pleased by the progress made in the talks. He assured me that we had given up very little and that the recent attacks the rebels had made against my army were mere skirmishes that would cease once Parliament was through.

  I spent a chilly morning opening Parliament, and after that I was returned to St. Mary’s Priory, where Jane and I were residing during the proceedings. Though I had reigned for twenty years, I had yet to visit this far north, and the city was therefore ill-equipped to handle my presence. While I found the priory dreary and small, Jane seemed enchanted by it, often visiting with the Lady Superior and sewing with the nuns as they read aloud from the Bible. It worried me that the only joy in Jane’s life at the moment seemed to come from the ladies of the priory.

  But soon Jane’s excessive time with them would come to an end. Today my daughter, the Lady Mary, was to join the court, and I knew her presence would bring joy to my wife. True to my word, I had summoned Mary and told her to meet the court here in York during Parliament. It was an ideal time. Many courtiers had left their wives at home for this journey, and the men would be occupied with their proceedings in Parliament. But, aside from my daily meetings with Brandon and Cromwell, I had few responsibilities and was available to entertain Mary.

  The afternoon she arrived proved to be warm. The few courtiers who were not in Parliament had fled outside, for a game of tennis or bowls. This suited me, as it was only Jane and myself who were on hand to receive the Lady Mary.

  When the doors parted and my herald announced her presence, I was glad we were alone. The woman who walked into my chambers shocked me. It had been six years since I had seen Mary properly, and in that time she had flourished into her mother. Immediately I could see Catherine, standing before me as she had been when we were young and she had seemed like the consummate princess.

  Fortunately Jane’s reaction covered my shock; instead of wheeling back as I had done, she rushed forward to Mary, who immediately dropped into a curtsy.

  “Your Majesty,” Mary muttered as she sank down before Jane.

  “Come now, my lady,” Jane said with a smile. “You must rise and not bow before me again.”

  Mary rose with a slight smile on her face and it was then I began to see the differences between her and Catherine. Where Catherine had always looked proud and sure of herself, Mary seemed withdrawn and shy. Though she was well fed, her face looked gaunt and it was almost like looking at more of a ghost than a girl. The dress she wore had obviously seen many alterations through the years and her dark eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an assassin. She seemed much older than her twenty-one years.

  “Your Majesty,” Mary said again, her voice strained against fear. “I thank you for allowing me back to court and for interceding on my behalf with my father.”

  Jane smiled gently and reached out to pull Mary to her side. Together, arm in arm, they approached me, two opposites of each other. Jane, now happy and light, shone past Mary’s dark coloring and gloomy look. A stranger would have mistaken Mary for the older woman.

  “Your Majesty,” Mary said when they had reached me, her head bowed in supplication.

  “Mary,” I whispered and found myself at a loss for words. When Jane had requested Mary’s presence at court I had at first denied her because I wanted to punish the girl for her stubborn Catholic pride. I had not anticipated how much seeing her again would make my heart ache.

  There were a few moments of horrible silence that followed before I looked at Jane. Out of all of us, she was the only one who seemed at ease. She smiled up at me and then nodded to the pile behind me.

  “Mary,” I repeated, causing the girl to look up at me. “I have here for you a gift; one that I believe will please you greatly.” I nodded to a page boy who lifted up the small pillow and brought it to Mary. With a trembling hand the girl pushed away the cloth to reveal a beautiful pendant underneath.

  “Oh Your Majesty, thank — thank you,” she whispered, but made no move to take the item. It was a beautiful golden locket holding a portrait of myself, exquisitely designed by Hans Holbein, my talented court painter. I was about to prompt Mary to take it when she suddenly began grasping for breath.

  “Mary?” Jane asked and the girl turned to look at us for a moment, her face pale, before her eyes fluttered closed and she slid to the ground.

  “Someone retrieve Doctor Butts!” I called out, and a page boy dropped his standard to dash out of the room. Jane backed away as I fell to my knees, careful not to crush Mary’s dress. I placed my hand behind her head and attempted to shake her awake.

  The next few minutes felt agonizingly slow as Jane called for salts and a glass of ale to be brought for Mary. Looking down at my daughter, I could only see the other children I had lost before, her brothers and sisters who I had never gotten to hold, and her half-brother, Henry, the Duke of Richmond, who had died at the age of eighteen. He had been dear to my heart and his swift illness had affected me deeply. Though the doctors had assured me it was tuberculosis, I could see Anne’s hand in his death, her scheming eyes looking to take down anyone she saw as a threat. Was her reach still so great that she could affect Mary as well?

  “Your Majesty?” the doctor said as he flew into the room, moving fast for someone at his age. He looked at Mary for only a moment, checking her wrists and eyes.

  “She has merely fainted,” he said finally. I let out a sigh of relief and held out my hands as two boys came to help me to my feet.

  “Perhaps she should be taken to her room,” Butts advised, and I gestured for one of the sturdier boys to lift Mary up, which he did without trouble, her light frame being nothing for the fifteen-year-old.

  “We will take her to the rooms the Queen has prepared for her,” I ordered and took Jane’s hand. We led the strange party, the boy with Mary in her arms behind us, and the smaller page boy who still held the locket walking alongside, the aging doctor and bringing up the rear. My prayer that we would not meet any courtiers along the way was granted and we reached Mary’s room, attached to the Queens, quickly.

  The page boys both deposited what they held and faded into the background, ready for any requests of the doctors. I sat
next to Mary’s bed, taking her small hand in mine as Doctor Butts began to make sure Mary was comfortable.

  “I believe it will be best to allow her to remain asleep,” he finally said. “And I do not believe there is anything else I can do for her.”

  “Very well,” I responded. “You may take your leave, along with the boys. Post a guard outside the room.” The older boy nodded and the three walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my family.

  I brushed away a lock of hair from Mary’s face, something I had often done as she had slept as a child. I heard Jane’s skirts rustling behind me as she sat on a small chair that lined the wall. Like the rest of the priory, there was only a small sliver of a window to let in any amount of light and candles had been lit to allow the doctor to see as he worked.

  “Jane,” I said after a few moments of silence.

  “Yes Henry?” she whispered back, her voice echoing around the stone walls.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For bringing me my family.”

  I knew without turning around that Jane would be smiling her small, pleased smile.

  “You are welcome, my love.”

  Chapter Five

  July 1537

  Mary had been at court for more than a week and I had only seen her once. My assumption that I would be quite bored once Parliament was called had been wrong — notes from Cromwell barraged me and Charles Brandon was in my chambers every moment he could manage. It seemed that Parliamentary sessions were not going as well as Cromwell had predicted.

  The only time I had seen my daughter had been for a brief time at a midday meal that I had taken in my chambers to avoid the angry stares of the York commoners. Often in London or the surrounding countryside I would take a number of my meals in public, it being considered an honor to watch me dine. However, here in York, the peasants came not to stand in respectful silence but to glare at me and whisper to one another as each new dish was brought forth.

  Mary and Jane had both entered to dine with me in my private chambers. Once again Jane had her arm through Mary’s, walking next to her, rather than slightly in front as would have been proper. I recalled Jane’s desire to have someone of her rank at court for her to be familiar with, and saw that she had found this companion in Mary.

  “My two darlings,” I said, rising to greet them, each with a kiss on the cheek. We moved away from the small desk where I had been reading through Robert Aske’s most recent demands in Parliament and took our places at my dining table, which had been cleared of all recent dispatches.

  “Mary, you must forgive me for not being available to you before now,” I said as we sat around the table. “Parliament is proving to be most taxing.”

  “I — did not realize that Parliament was meeting to raise taxes,” Mary said in a small voice.

  I looked at my child, startled that she could be so naïve in her words. Jane, however, reached across the table to pat Mary’s hand.

  “He means that they are taking much of his time,” she said gently.

  Mary blushed and looked down at her empty plate. I knew that after her mother’s marriage to me had been annulled that her regular tutorage had stopped, but I had not realized how little she truly knew.

  “But surely Cromwell can see to most of that,” Jane said as the first course was brought to the table. “That is his purpose.”

  “It seems that the members of the Pilgrimage of Grace are not interested in talking with Cromwell,” I responded with a sigh. “They have already called for another meeting with me, and prefer to speak to one of the dukes. Charles Brandon is quickly losing patience with them, and Norfolk refuses to speak at all. They are not used to being the voice for the kingdom.”

  Jane nodded but did not speak of it again.

  “Mary,” I began, taking a bite of my brewet, the cinnamon sauce on the meat sticking to my fingers. “Tell me how you have entertained yourself here at court.”

  “Queen Jane has been most kind to me,” Mary said, glancing up to smile at Jane. “And I have ridden out through the town twice now, taking in the fields and pastures. I have not had a chance to ride much lately, and I do love it.”

  I grimaced and patted her hand.

  “Mary, you must be careful,” I admonished. “Only last week a riot went for Cromwell while he was dining in Sir William Jenkins’ home. These people are not friendly to the court.”

  “Yes, sire,” Mary said with a bow of her head. “I will not ride out again.”

  “I hardly think that is necessary,” Jane said, her confident tone surprising me. “I believe your father merely means to make sure to have a strong escort. And the town has seemed very friendly to me.”

  I looked at Jane for a moment and she gave me a bland smile. It was hard for me to imagine that Jane had meant to contradict me, she merely wished for Mary to be happy. But it still stood that she had gone against what I had said, even if she had not realized it.

  “That is sound advice,” I said finally. “And perhaps not travel with Cromwell.”

  Both women laughed gently at my joke as the second course was brought before us. The chef that had been provided for us here in York was not as skilled as the team I had left behind in London—there were no eel pasties, few fish, and many courses had shrunk from hosting an array of dishes to merely bringing forth one item at a time. This was the only time in my history that I could remember the second course containing nothing but broth with bacon.

  I made to snap at the boy who had brought it when Jane laid her hand across mine.

  “This looks delightful,” she said elegantly and smiled at Mary to dip into her bowl. Mary smiled up at her stepmother and it was then that I saw the tight grip my daughter held onto her piece of bread. So she was still afraid of my temper — I made a note of this and went to my broth, determined not to frighten Mary further.

  “Now, Mary,” Jane began after the bowls of soup were whisked away. “Have you read your Psalms today, as I asked?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Mary said with a smile, gaining some confidence. “And I have translated them from Greek into English, French, and Latin as you also requested.”

  “Very good,” Jane said. “We will give them to your father, to read and to look for any mistakes.”

  Mary turned slightly pale and I moved to tell Jane that I would not have the time to look over a school girl’s work; both Cromwell and Suffolk were meeting with me this afternoon and a way to appease Robert Aske must be found. But looking at Jane, who had begun delicately eating her Cornish hen, I realized why she had passed the works onto me. Jane could not read French or Latin — or even the original Greek that the Psalms had been in. And without a tutor at the court, she would naturally look to me to read Mary’s translations.

  “It would be an honor,” I said to Mary. “However, I remember the translations you sent me as a child, and I am sure I will be unable to find any errors.”

  Mary beamed at me and finally began to eat her own dinner with more energy. Jane smiled at me as well and it felt strange to have such harmony within my family. And to be at the head of this family filled me with pride. As the final course of sweets was brought to the table, I began quizzing both girls on the teachings of St. Augustine, rewarding them with pieces of sweetmeat. Both seemed pleased when Mary ended up with more correct answers, and as the women left my chambers, I kissed Mary’s cheek and declared that she was still the smartest girl I could remember.

  “Thank you, Papa,” she said, in Greek. I smiled, remembering her doing the same thing as a child, when she did not want anyone to understand our conversations; few members of the court, and even fewer of the page boys, could understand the language.

  “And thank you for welcoming me, on my return to court,” she continued, curtsying to me. “It is an honor to be in your presence once again.”

  Taking both of her hands, I drew her up to look me in the eyes.

  “It is an honor to have a daughter such as you,” I returned, still in Greek. The smile
that overtook her face was startling, as were the tears that filled her eyes. Kissing both of her hands, I released her to Jane, who took her arm once again. As they left the room, I heard Jane’s voice trailing off.

  “Mary, Bishop Simon has spoken to me about the sermon he is preparing for Sunday. Perhaps you can be of some help to me in understanding it.”

  Sighing, I watched the door close behind them and returned to my table, ready to prepare for my afternoon meetings. But, remembering the kind words of my daughter, I found myself humming as I did so.

  ******

  “He is claiming that Your Majesty has broken his promises.”

  “What promises have I broken?” I cried, turning on Cromwell as if he spoke for Robert Aske. “I have held Parliament here in York, as he requested. I have traveled here, as he requested. By St. George, I have even halted all commissions sent to investigate the monasteries, as he requested. What more could I have done?”

  Cromwell did not respond. He and I both knew what I had not done — Cromwell still stood here, my closest advisor and the leader of my Privy Council.

  “Well, the man cannot tell me who I can have as my own advisor,” I muttered, turning my back to him.

  “Indeed, Your Majesty,” Cromwell responded.

  “There must be something he desires,” I continued. “What have we learned about the man?”

  “There is very little,” Cromwell said, shifting through the stacks of papers he always seemed to travel with. “Three children, religious wife. He seems to have never had an ambition before leading the Pilgrimage.”

  I grimaced as my herald announced Charles Brandon.

  “Your Grace,” Cromwell said, sweeping down before him. Charles glanced at him, his nose crinkling in slight distaste before bowing to me.

  “Charles, we are at a loss,” I say. “You’ve spent the past week with him. What could he possibly desire?”