My Story: Lady Jane Grey (My Royal Story) (11 page)

On the bed in front of me lies a gown – its tinsel of gold and velvet shimmers in the candlelight. It is my New Year’s gift from the Lady Mary. When it was laid before me I was aghast. “What am I to do with it? I cannot wear it!” I exclaimed. The lady who brought it from the Princess could not understand my reluctance. “Is it not beautiful?” she protested. But how can I wear such garments when the Lady Elizabeth herself does not? When it is she – not the Lady Mary – who follows God’s true way.

Nurse muttered that I do not make enough of myself. “You looked so pretty in your red velvet gown,” she said. Katherine thinks it is the most beautiful gown she has ever seen. She is too easily charmed by fine clothes. Dr Aylmer should speak to her. He says I acted rightly. He had made plain his disappointment to see me tricked out like a gaudy butterfly on the Regent’s visit. And Father agrees with him. I confess I liked that gown exceedingly well, but I put it away. And it is no hardship to me now to dress soberly, as all good Protestant ladies should. Doubtless my words will offend the Lady Mary, but I must follow my conscience. Dr Aylmer says he wishes more ladies at Court would follow the example shown by the Lady Elizabeth and me.

This afternoon, well wrapped in furs, we went by barge downstream to join the Court for Twelfth Night. We sat and listened to a talk, and then there was a play. I remember little of either now. Mother took me to task. “Can you not smile?” she said. Afterwards we took our places in the gallery and watched the young lords tilt. As they galloped across the yard, I looked across at the King, who was seated some distance away. He was smiling, but it was a wistful smile, as if he wished he could join them – as his father did, when he was a young king. Father said Edward does not want to sign the Duke’s death warrant – Somerset is his uncle, after all – but no one doubts that the execution will go ahead. I had felt angry with Edward – I had longed for him to stand up to Northumberland. He is the King! They must do as he orders. But as I looked at him, I felt my anger fade. All the rich velvets and furs that swathe him cannot hide that he has grown thinner. It is not his fault. He is not well. Is it any wonder that he leans on those who are stronger than him? I looked up suddenly to find
Northumberland’s eyes on me. I withdrew mine hastily. I
saw him turn to Father and say something. Father nodded. He was smiling. Does he not see in Northumberland what I do? If only our lives were not so intertwined with his. The Duke’s eyes slid back to me. What lies behind those eyes? He smiled, but I did not smile back.

I fell ill soon after the festivities were over and it is only now that am I well enough to sit up and write.

The Duke of Somerset was beheaded this morning. I am told he met his end bravely. Yet, poor man, just as he was preparing to kneel at the block, a party of horsemen rode up, sending the crowd that pressed up to the scaffold wild with joy.

“Reprieve! Reprieve! A pardon for the Duke!” they cried, tossing their caps into the air. But it was merely more soldiers sent to help hold the enormous crowd back. And so down the Duke knelt. With one swift blow his head was taken off. And I swear there is no man in England more powerful now than the Duke of Northumberland – and surely none more hated!

Father is in a jovial mood these days. And I think I have found the cause of his good humour. The King is no longer to marry Elizabeth of France as he refuses to ally with the French king in his war against the Emperor. But is Edward well enough to marry anybody? Father insists that he is in stout health. Does he not see like me the dark circles that ring his eyes, the pallor of his cheeks?

News has come that my cousin Edward is seriously ill. It is too early in the year for either the dreaded sweat or the plague but it is bad, enough according to Father. He is all over spots. The Court physicians cannot make up their minds what ails him. Some think it is measles; others that it is the pox. I wish I could offer him comfort but my parents are too afraid of infection to let me go to Court. Plans had been made for the King to go on his first Royal Progress this summer, but there begin to be doubts whether he will be well enough for such an arduous undertaking now.

I rejoice. Edward is much recovered and was well enough to attend the celebrations for St George’s Day in the abbey, though he is still weak and was well wrapped up against the blustery April weather.

Katherine is overjoyed to learn that Somerset’s daughter Jane – she is plain Jane Seymour now, the family having lost their wealth, property and titles when the Duke was executed – is to live not far from Bradgate. Jane and Katherine will be able to see each other often. Her elder brother Edward is to live with his sister Ann and her husband, who is now the Earl of Warwick. Poor lad – I feel sorry for him.

Little time to write. Mother is ill. Three days ago she woke hot and feverish in our house in Sheen and the physician was sent for. He stood by her bed and stroked his beard and talked nonsense. It is clear he has no idea what ails her. Mother does not make diagnosis any easier either. She insists there is nothing much wrong with her, has sent him away twice, will not follow his advice and has to be forced to keep to her bed. She is not a good patient! Father is away but Mother will not let us write to him and I dare not disobey her.

I am so afraid. Mother did not even attempt to get up today. The physician says she has a burning ague and a stopping of the spleen. He placed leeches on her to let out the bad blood, but in vain. It merely made her weaker. He asked her many questions then said privately that it was clear from the querulousness of her replies she has too much heat! She must eat only a little, he says, and it must be warm. Stupid man! Mother cannot eat anything at all. Each plate sent to her chamber is returned to the kitchen untouched.

My mother’s ladies are frightened, though they try to hide it. When one of them told me that Mother had asked for the chaplain, I felt sick. Nurse tried to comfort me, but made me feel worse when she said, “Your mother believes she is being punished for her sins, and wishes to repent.” Then that must mean… No, I will
not
let myself think that. But at least a servant has been despatched now to fetch Father. He is away, attending the King on his summer progress. How many days will it be before he reaches us? Oh hurry, Father. Hurry!

Katherine and Mary came to my chamber last night. They climbed into my bed and I tried to comfort them. I pretended that Mother is not as ill as I fear she is. Either they believe me – or they must think me very hard-hearted, for no tears will come. Why cannot I cry when their tears flow so freely?

Father returned last night! He rode all the way from Salisbury. His face this morning looked drawn and anxious – as if he had not slept at all. He has spent the day in Mother’s chamber. Now, at last, I am able to cry. I thought I would never stop.

“Oh, Nurse,” I wept, clinging to her. “What if she dies?”

“Hush, my sweeting, she will not die,” Nurse crooned, holding me close. I dug my head into her shoulder. I cannot bear to think of the awful things I have written about Mother. What will I do if she dies?

Mother is well enough today to sit up and eat a little food. She has dismissed the physician. Father begged her not to but she says the man is a fool. She is clearly much better! The King will return to Windsor soon and by then Father hopes Mother will be well enough to go to Court. I am not happy to learn that the Duke of Northumberland will be there. He has been away in the north, trying to put down the disorder on the border.

There is an extraordinary rumour, and since it concerns a cousin of mine, it may well be true. It is that Northumberland is trying to force the Earl of Cumberland to marry his daughter Margaret Clifford to the Duke’s only unmarried son, Guildford Dudley – and that the Earl being unwilling he has even got the King to try and persuade him. Is there any limit to the Duke’s ambitions for his family? Or the grip he holds on my poor cousin?

If only a Scots arrow would put an end to him.

Saw young Barnaby Fitzpatrick, the King’s closest friend, at Court. Barnaby has spent some long time at the court of the French King. He returned only recently and in a low voice told me he is glad he did. His eyes were on the King. They were full of sadness.

I pray that this will be a happy year, but I am as disturbed as Barnaby by Edward’s cough. It racks his body, which has never fully recovered from his illness last year. There could not be a greater contrast than between the two boys. Barnaby so strong and healthy, Edward so thin and pale.

The Lady Mary arrived in London today. She rests tonight at her house in Clerkenwell. She has come to see the King. It is said she is alarmed by reports of his continued ill health, but he is too unwell to see her today. Mother says this is not a slight, the relationship between brother and sister has improved and the King has granted her lands and money. I wish it was a slight. I cannot rest easily knowing that Edward is not well enough even to receive his sister.

Today I rode with Mother in the Lady Mary’s train. As we rode down Fleet Street towards Westminster people came out of their houses and shops to watch. Some cheered and I swear I heard a voice cry “God speed Your Grace”. Suddenly I felt frightened – why, I might be riding in the train of the monarch-to-be! And we rode in some state. Two hundred ladies and gentlemen rode behind the Princess. The same courtiers who once threatened her and her followers when she refused to give up the Mass now fawn at her feet. Father and the Duke of Northumberland were amongst the noblemen waiting to greet her at the palace gate. I could not help but notice how they bent their knees to her almost as if she was queen. If I were her I would gloat. But has she noticed how bare the churches are – few of the trappings that once filled them remain – statues, vessels, primers, missals, all are swept away and the Archbishop of Canterbury has revised the new prayer book. Oh that he could hasten the glorious day when it will be read in churches across the land. It cannot come soon enough for me.

They say the King is better but it is a lie. For two weeks now he has not been seen in public, then came news that he had recovered and Mother insisted I accompany her to Court. I could see that her hopes were raised again. As I was laced into my best gown, I felt resentful. What am I but a pawn – to be pushed hither and thither at my parents’ will? But Mother will have to lay her hopes aside now. As soon as he tried to speak Edward began to cough. He held a handkerchief to his mouth and when he took it away I saw that it was spotted with blood. Mother saw too. She looked aghast. An attendant was called and we curtsied and hastily backed away.

As we sat in the barge that took us back to Sheen I was trying not to cry. I knew that he would die. I had seen death in his face. Mother was silent; she must have seen what I had, and I could see that her mind was working busily. I am sure many are thinking busily as Mary grows ever closer to the throne. What will happen to us then? Mary is as unrepentant about her Catholic beliefs as ever.

If only Elizabeth were the elder sister. She must be as fearful as us what fate will hold for her if her Catholic sister ever becomes queen…

The King was well enough to travel by water to Greenwich today. As the royal barge swept past the Tower the great guns thundered a salute and all the ships moored nearby shot off their guns too. The guns are silent now; the smoke that drifted across the sky has vanished. I feel awfully sad. How many more times will the guns sound for my poor cousin?

The Lady Mary is to have her full coat of arms restored to her – is this the King’s doing, or the Duke’s? The Duke has his eye on the future, it is clear, and will trim his feathers to whichever wind is blowing.

My dear nurse has just left me. She has been trying to comfort me but her kindness only made me feel worse. I have managed
to staunch my tears now, but my back still hurts so much. Most cruelly I have been beaten – for saying I would not wed the man
chosen for me. And what a fine choice it is! Oh, a very fine one. The fourth son of the Duke of Northumberland! Why, even the Earl of Cumberland turned him down as a suitor for his
daughter. But I, Jane, of royal stock, am to be given to him now.

I had no wit what lay before me when I was summoned to my parents’ presence. My father was smiling broadly as if something wonderful was in store for me. I wondered briefly if he brought good news about the King’s health – it has improved a little since I last wrote.

“Daughter,” he said, “I have news for you which I am sure will bring much joy to you, as well as prestige and honour to our house.” When he went on to explain that a husband had been chosen for me, I felt my heart sink. But when he gave me his name, I found myself shaking my head in disbelief. I took a deep breath and told him I had hoped to embrace the single life.

I knew I was clutching at straws. But how could they think that I would willingly wed a Dudley!

“Jane … Jane…” said Mother, unusually gently. “Guildford will make you a fine husband.” She took my hand and patted it. I tried not to withdraw it.

“I cannot like him,” I said stubbornly.

“You will marry who we think best,” Father said. “You should thank us for our care of you.” Was this how they showed their care of me?

“Marry Guildford Dudley. Who, pray, is Guildford Dudley? The fourth son of a scheming upstart and grandson of an executed traitor.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I know no good of him. A conceited booby, strutting about the Court. What talents does he have? What—” A blow to my head sent me spinning to the floor. I picked myself up slowly, my ear ringing.

“How dare you insult the noble Duke and his son,” roared Father, rubbing his fist. If it hurt as much as my ear did, I am glad! “Guildford is a fine young man, aye and comely too. As virtuous and goodly a gentleman as ever lived. As for the Duke – he is a clever man who has governed wisely, and brought the country back from the edge of near ruin – aye, daughter, ruin caused by the Duke of Somerset. I am proud to count him friend. It is a great honour that is being bestowed on you.” He paused, and looked at me. I felt myself begin to shake. How could this be happening to me?

“I cannot like him enough to marry,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could.

Father shook his head sorrowfully. He turned to Mother. “Then, wife, we will have to find another way to persuade our daughter,” he said slowly. “For by God’s blood, daughter,” he said turning back to me, “you will obey us. You will marry him.” He nodded to a servant and the whip was brought to him. I quailed as he ordered me to bend over my stool. I cannot bear to think of the blows that rained down on my poor back. But worse than the pain was the misery I felt. Somehow I held back my tears until the blows had stopped but as soon as they had left me I sobbed till I felt my heart would break. I have given in now. What choice did I have?

Mother says she grieves that I cannot find it in my heart to be grateful to them. But I am not grateful, and I will not lie by pretending that I am. She says as she always does how much it hurts them to hurt me.
That
is a lie. Oh, was there ever a girl more unhappy than me?