My Story: Lady Jane Grey (My Royal Story) (10 page)

I was admitted into the King’s presence today. We did not talk long, but then we seldom do now. Edward seemed tired. He takes a bigger role now in Council meetings. They must be long and wearisome. Mother, of course, wanted to know what we had talked about.

“The new reforms,” I said. “And then he told me about the robes the King of France sent him, which he wore at Michaelmas.” It was the wrong thing to say. Any mention of the King of France or his daughter sends Mother into a passion.

“We do our best by you, and all you find to talk about is the French king,” she shouted, and boxed my ears. They still ring.

I cannot help but notice how much time Father spends with the Marquess of Northampton and the Earl of Warwick – when the Earl leaves the King’s side, which is not often. It makes me uneasy. The Earl has got a new gold chain and it has puffed him up even more. The air feels heavy with whispers and gossip. I hate it. If only I could go home to Bradgate! The Duke of Somerset looks haggard and as soon as he leaves the room heads turn and the gossiping starts. I try to shut my ears to it. I feel sorry for him. I have met his daughter Jane. She has made great friends with my sister Katherine. An odder friendship I cannot imagine. Jane loves books like me – and that cannot be said about Katherine!

My father was invested today as Duke of Suffolk by the King. I should rejoice but I feel sad when I think of the two boys, who died so young. Their wealth now falls into our family’s lap.

Father was not the only man to receive a dukedom today. The Earl of Warwick has been made Duke of Northumberland. That does not surprise me. The wonder is it has taken Edward so long to grant it! Our kinsman William Cecil is among the newly created knights, and at least I can write that he seems to deserve it. He is thought to be very capable and is committed to the religious reforms Father is trying to hasten through. His wife is one of the cleverest women in the country. Sir William Herbert is made Earl of Pembroke. His wife – now a countess – was the Queen Dowager’s sister, Anne Parr. I was thinking about the Queen, her sister, when I was summoned with news that has made my heart sink. I am to be one of the ladies who will attend on the Scottish queen regent when she comes to London. She has been visiting her daughter Mary, in France, and will soon set sail for home. Mother is delighted; it is a great honour she says. If only I had been more humbly born, then I would not have to endure these honours. But I could never say so to Mother. She would not understand.

Father is now the premier duke in England. I hope that the other newly created duke – Northumberland – manages to remember that! I am trying to understand why I dislike him so much. Father says the country is lucky to have such a clever man to govern it. (I thought it was the Privy Council that governed it!) But there is something in those dark watchful eyes I mistrust.

The King has returned to Westminster. He has urgent business to attend to, Father says. Whatever it is Father is in a very good mood – as is Mother!

The Duke of Somerset has been arrested and taken to the Tower. Sitting here, in a corner of the nursery, I am trying not to think about what Elizabeth Tilney told me. But it is hard to order my thoughts. It is so noisy! Downstairs servants are wrapping paintings and valuables in cloths, and heaving turkey carpets and furniture into carts drawn up in the courtyard outside. At least I do not need to conceal what I am writing, for everyone is too busy to bother with me. Nurse banished me from my chamber so that she could pack in peace. And Katherine and Mary are hanging over the staircase watching the activity below. Our steward has been kept busy for days while Mother decides what to take and what to leave behind. We are moving into our new home, Suffolk Place.

Tramp. Tramp tramp. Feet march in and out of the house. As I listen I fancy I hear the tramp of the guards’ boots as they marched down the long corridors at Whitehall.

What did the Duke feel when he realized that the guards had come for him? One by one the plotters are being rounded up. The Duke after he had dined, Master Lawrence Hammond (who I do not know) at a shooting match and Sir Thomas Palmer as he strolled on the terrace in the autumn sunshine.

The Duke must have known that such a thing would happen soon – whether or not he did plot to assassinate the Duke of Northumberland – and neither Elizabeth Tilney nor I think he did. It is a trumped-up excuse to get the Duke of Somerset and his allies out of Northumberland’s way. Is this the urgent business that has brought the King back to Westminster?

The Duchess of Somerset followed her husband to the Tower today. I never liked her but surely no one can believe she had any hand in the plot to murder Northumberland? Some blame her for her husband’s downfall, but that is not a good reason to put her in the Tower. John Seymour has been put in the Tower too. John is Somerset’s son by his first wife. Davy Seymour, another of the Duke’s sons, is being held under house arrest. And what of their other children? Now that both their parents are in the Tower, they are alone and friendless. Who is to take care of Jane? Katherine would like her to stay with us. I can imagine what our parents would say to that! Father, it is rumoured, signed the warrant consigning the Duke to the Tower. I am disgusted if it is true. And I fear it is. My parents can hardly hide their glee at Somerset’s downfall. I wonder what Somerset thinks as he waits for his trial? Does he remember how he ordered his own brother’s arrest on trumped-up charges? If it were me, I would feel an uneasy crick in my neck.

The higher one rises, the greater is the fall, our chaplain preached on Sunday. I wish someone in our house would take heed. The higher our family rise the more afraid I feel.

Others have been taken. Sir Francis Newdigate, Somerset’s steward, was arrested when he obeyed a summons he thought came from the Duke. The Earl of Arundel has also been taken – as has our kinsman, Lord Grey of Wilton! James Wingfield has been arrested for publishing seditious bills. Others more lowly have followed them to the Tower, too. Every time a face vanishes from Court I feel sure they must be one of the Duke’s friends or servants – for it is they who are being so thoroughly rounded up. Details of the plot are slowly being circulated. It is so absurd I cannot understand how anyone could believe in it. Somerset, it is said, planned to invite Northumberland and other nobles to a banquet and there have their heads cut off! Then 2,000 men under Master Vane were to make the Tower “safe” and Sir Miles Partridge was bidden to be ready to raise London.

Cannot the King see how absurd it is? Yet it is he who ordered the arrests. How can he be so blind?

Elizabeth and I have been talking about it – quietly, for we are afraid that we might be overheard. It is shocking, we agree, that innocent men and women are being imprisoned because of one man’s ambition.

I write huddled as close to the fire as I can. Not that it matters where I sit – I cannot keep warm anywhere for long. Our new home is cold and draughty, even when the wind isn’t howling, which it is now.

The Regent will soon be in London. She landed at Portsmouth a few days ago in a raging tempest. Her ship was driven off course, but I dare say she was glad she landed at all. She will continue her journey home by land. It is what I would do in her place. The mere thought of being on the sea in weather like this makes my stomach heave.

Mother has just left me. Our official invitation for the Regent’s state visit has just come and she is trying to decide what I will wear. I will have to wear my chopines and have been practising walking in them. Katherine came in as I was wobbling back and forth across my chamber. She says I am bound to fall over. She is jealous. Your turn will come, I told her. I wish it had come now. She would gain more pleasure from the Regent’s visit than I will. There is to be a state banquet too.

Father spends much time with the other lords – debating the fate of the Duke of Somerset, I feel sure. Nurse says there are rumblings – the conspiracy is much talked about in the streets, but few believe in it. The Duke is greatly loved by the people. I cannot forgive him for cutting off his brother’s head, but they say he has the people’s welfare at heart – and can anyone say that about the Duke of Northumberland? I think not.

The Regent has arrived at Hampton Court. Many lords and ladies have been summoned to welcome her, but we will not meet her until she arrives in the city on 3 November. I wish Mother would stop reminding me what an important occasion it is and how impressed the Regent was by the Lady Elizabeth. It will be my first big role at Court. Does she not realize how nervous I feel?

Elizabeth will not attend on the Regent in London and nor, to my relief, will the Lady Mary. Word is that she shares the people’s dismay at Somerset’s arrest. That is a snub for the mighty Northumberland.

I am writing a few lines while I wait for my women to come and dress me. Soon Mother and I will greet the Regent at her apartments at the Bishop’s palace. Father has already left. By now he and the Duke of Northumberland will be standing shivering in the rain at St Paul’s Wharf waiting for the Regent’s barge to arrive from Hampton Court. They are to escort her to her apartments. The King will meet her tomorrow when there is to be a great banquet. I am to wear my hair loose and curled for it. Mother says it is the fashion amongst Scottish ladies to wear their hair loose on their shoulders. Now I must put down my pen. My women are waiting to dress me. They have laid my gown on the bed. I confess I do like it. It is rich red velvet and feels so soft.

Katherine has been asking so many questions, but I am too tired to answer. If only she would leave me alone. Who did I dance with, why did I wear my hair loose, what did the Scots ladies wear, what did we eat? She was disappointed to learn that I did not sit at the same table as the King, or even in the same chamber. We ate off silver plate, but the King and the Regent were served off gold. I feel sick when I think how many dishes were served us. Mother sat by the King. I wonder what they talked about?

I am sitting here, my journal on my knees, my feet in a bowl of warm water. They are all over blisters. Those awful chopines! The Regent has left the city and is riding north now on her journey back to Scotland, 300 in her train. I am glad the state visit is over. I could not enjoy myself. I felt my mother’s eye on me even when it wasn’t and when I wasn’t worrying about that I was trying not to fall over. The Regent was attended by many Scots ladies. I could not understand everything they said. I pretended I did but I felt very embarrassed. I, who speak several languages, could not understand the Scots dialect. Their speech was peppered with many strange words. They say “och” for “oh” and I heard one lady say that I was a bonny wee thing. What does “wee” mean? I have not been able to find out.

The Duke of Somerset’s trial has begun. He denies all the charges and demands that his accusers be brought into court to repeat their accusations to his face. They will never allow that, of course. He is bound to be found guilty, though Father says the King will be merciful. Ha! I think not. The King will do what Northumberland wants – which is to cut off Somerset’s head.

It is quiet again now, but I still keep my seat by the window. When the shouts rang out – I can well believe they were heard
as far away as Charing Cross – I sent out a servant to find the cause. Six times they rang out, and such mighty bellows.

“Why do they shout?” I asked my servant when she returned.

A broad smile lit her face. She does not want the Duke to die, any more than they. “’Tis said that no case can be proved against him.” I can imagine their joy if it is true. But can it be? I fear it is a vain hope. In this battle, it is Northumberland who has the upper hand.

Somerset has returned to the Tower now, his trial over. The people are wandering home, but are none the wiser as to his fate (though I can guess it). As they watched him pass they will have looked to see if the axe’s blade was turned towards or away from him. When a prisoner is pardoned, the axe is always turned away. But it is very odd – there was no axe. I can imagine the reason. Great numbers have swelled the streets around Westminster all day. Northumberland must have feared a riot if Somerset was shown to have been found guilty.

Sat through our chaplain’s railing against the evils of card playing and the wickedness it leads us into. It was no trial to me – I agreed with every word. I stole a glance at my parents. Both my parents play and for high stakes. Father sat with arms folded, his face thunderous. Mother’s lips were drawn into a tight line. Afterwards I heard Father grumble: “By God’s blood, the man goes too far.” It is probably as well that our chaplain is to leave us soon. He has been appointed Dean of Exeter. I should be pleased for him, but I will miss his guidance sorely.

The Duke of Somerset is found guilty, and awaits execution. The King has gone to Greenwich, and I am in my chamber, in disgrace. Father had been telling us of the wonderful entertainments Northumberland has planned to entertain the King this Christmastide. There are to be masques, a tourney, plays and music. That will help distract him from Somerset’s fate, I could not help muttering. Father heard, or rather he heard something and asked me to repeat my words – and I cannot lie, so I did. Nurse says I should have kept my thoughts to myself. But how can I rejoice knowing that so many innocent men lie condemned? For it is not only Somerset who is to be executed. Many others are condemned with him. And if he is innocent – as many think he is – so must they all be.

On Twelfth Night we go to Greenwich. Father says I do not deserve to accompany them.

“Then leave me behind!” I begged.

“No!” Mother stormed. “You
will
accompany us.” She is as determined as ever to keep me in the King’s eye. I cannot think why, when he is to marry someone else. My back still burns from its beating. I will have to sleep on my stomach tonight.