Prisoner of the Queen (Tales From the Tudor Court) (36 page)

With such a show of encouragement, Ned and
I resolved to approach Elizabeth when we arrived in London. We had to work the rest of the progress to get a few council members to back us. I wrote to my mother—asking the rider to deliver my letter posthaste—informing her that upon completion of the progress, I would visit her at Sheen with Ned to discuss what previously had been forestalled.

As I fell asleep that night, beside Jane Seymour
, who’d come into my chambers and discussed the lively events of the evening until we’d both collapsed, all I could imagine was that soon I would finally have permission to marry the man I loved.

Our return to London could not
have come soon enough. Whispers at court were already running wild about Ned and I having formed an intimate relationship. Most likely by those within the council who we’d sought out for support. While we both contradicted such rumors, they were ever present, and the only way to quell them was to keep our distance—which neither of us was willing to do. But we did attempt to keep our clandestine meetings in the groves and various hiding spots Jane found for us late at night or early in the morning when court lay in slumber.

October, 1560 – London

We returned to London yestereve amid loud cheers, music and people throwing flowers upon the procession as Elizabeth’s court rode toward Westminster. Our progress was concluded, and Elizabeth was pleased that it appeared she was still beloved by the people.

After breaking our fast an
d attending the morning prayer service, Ned and I hurried from Westminster to Sheen, Jane and Mrs. Helen in tow.

When we arrived,
Master Stokes took us up to my mother’s chamber, as she was not well enough to meet us in the great hall. I was shocked by her appearance. Mother was even smaller than when I’d seen her last. She lay shriveled beneath several coverlets, and still, her lips were blue and her teeth chattered.

“How long has she been like this?” I asked
Master Stokes.

“For several weeks now.” He raked a hand through his hair, pain etching his features. “I had thought she would pass
for some time, but when she received your note, she has hung on tight to this life.”

“
Katherine,” she croaked. “Come here, let me see you.”

I stepped forward in time to hand her a handkerchief to wipe away the blood and sputum on her face as agonizing coughs wrenched her body.

“I have started to write a letter to Her Majesty.”

Master Stokes
walked to Mother’s writing desk and pulled out a parchment. “I’ve been drawing up the letter a little at a time as her energy is not so high. She informs Her Majesty”— he glanced down at the paper and read—“the Earl of Hertford doth bear my daughter, Lady Katherine Grey, goodwill. If it pleases Your Majesty, I would beg of you to give consent for them to wed. For such is the only thing I have desired before the hour of my death and should be an occasion to me to die more quietly.”

My mother
’s fingers clasped mine, and she offered a solemn smile. “I should like to see you take your vows, but I fear that knowing you will do so is all I shall realize.”

“Mother—
”

“Shh… Do not say anything. Just be careful. Hertford is a good man
. He will do right by you. And he will do right by your daughters.”

A single tear dripped down her cheek. Her words rang loud
and clear in my mind. Should I be blessed with daughters, Ned would not seek to use them for his own gain. But even knowing this, I prayed for sons. Sons would be treated differently. Sons might be stronger.

Ned and I rode back to court with promises from my mother and
Master Stokes that she would finish the letter and send it to Her Majesty posthaste. But when we returned, Cecil cornered us outside the stables, leading us both into a darkened corner between the outbuildings.

“You must cease your queries within the
council. Your suit will only agitate Her Majesty. She’s had a visit from the Swedish ambassador today who has offered Crown Prince Erik’s hand in marriage. She is in quite a state. You would do best to wait.”

“Pardon, Master Cecil, but we have been waiting for years. When will there ever be a right time to gain Her Majesty
’s attention on the matter? Lady Katherine is twenty. Is it not time she was married?” Ned argued.

“
Lord Hertford, ’tis not for me to decide. I only warn you off because the council members are wary and must concentrate on finding Her Majesty a groom she deems suitable. She appears enamored of Prince Erik, which is a plus, considering her…feelings toward another.” He need not have said who that other was, as all the court knew that if she could have, Elizabeth would have married Robert Dudley within seconds, just as they all knew how much Cecil abhorred the idea. “I should have you know that once the queen is settled upon, then you will have my full backing for marriage. Until then—hold off. Keep to yourselves. Rumor at court is that Lady Katherine is already
enceinte
.”

I gasped at his last words
, my hands moving to clutch my flat belly. Absolutely not true! And how dare people speak about me in such a way? Then I lied with an ease that scared me, but which was necessary in order to save my own life. “Master Cecil! I am a true pious woman and would never dabble with Lord Hertford without the blessing of the Lord our God in the sanctity of holy marriage. You must tamp down this slanderous rumor before the queen gets wind of it! Threaten arrest for anyone who would say such vile things about a virtuous princess of the blood.”

“You remind me of your sister, Jane, when you speak so heatedly about morals and virtues.”

Sadness enveloped me at his words.

“I must go, but please heed my warning. I will not be able to save you should you go against Her Majesty.
No one will.”

With those words spoken, Cecil disappeared into the bustle of the merchants and servants
, leaving Ned and I to stare at one another. Once again, it appeared all of our dreams would be broken.

“I do not care what he says or that the
council warns us off,” Ned said. “We will speak to her.”

October 18, 1560

“What?” Queen Elizabeth sputtered, affronted at the request Ned and I had brought before her.

My eyes widened
, and I wished to sink beneath the polished wood floor. My heart felt as though it shattered into a million pieces inside my chest and the shards of the broken organ stabbed and sliced at my insides. Beside me, Ned stiffened, and I sensed his pain as his hope for our future too was smashed.

Our mothers had approved of our marriage. Queen Mary had approved of our marriage, but not Queen Elizabeth.
She would not allow it. I felt keenly her hatred of me then. Her jealousy of one and all who would dare to marry. As if all we maidens should be virgins just as she was.

The absurdity of it left me cold.
But I thought I knew why she would bring this crushing blow upon us. For now that her Robert was free to remarry—his wife, Amy Robsart Dudley, having been thrown, or thrown herself, down a flight of stairs to her death—marry the queen he could not. The rumor of his involvement in the death of his wife was too strong, and there were too many who opposed her marrying the lowly nobleman. We should have known not to ask her now, but the time for waiting had come to an end for us both.

“How dare you come to me with such a request?” Her eyes narrowed on us as if we had conjured up a plot to ruin her.
“And to think I brushed aside the Spanish plot to kidnap you, thinking you were not willing, and now I might contemplate the contrary and yet charge you with treason! I should never have thought to call you daughter. You are no daughter of mine.”

“Majesty, we meant no harm. We have been betrothed for several years, and even your dear sister, God rest her soul, did approve of the match.”

If possible, her eyes darkened more, reminding me of a soulless retainer I’d once watched beat a man to a pulp at the order of my father. Would she have us beaten? ‘Twould have been ridiculous and uncalled for, but she was the queen. She could do as she wished.

“Then why have you not been married before now? Why at this time do you seek to do such a thing? Ironic it is
that you say my sister did approve of the match, but yet did not make you wed.” She drummed her long, slim fingers against the arm of her presence throne chair. Her gaze darted from one of us to the other, suspicion in her eyes.

“My
Queen, please accept my apologies for having distressed you. That was not our intent. Prior to now, we had not thought we were ready for marriage, as I was still studying abroad and Lady Katherine, your dear and most loyal cousin”—Ned indicated for me to step forward, which I did—“did not wish to leave you or your sister. Having loved you both so very much, she wanted only to serve you.”

“Why have I no word from your mother? She is my cousin, and yet she has not sent word at all. She might abhor the idea as much as I do!”

We had no valid answer for her for why we had yet to marry, as in truth, we had hoped to marry much earlier than now, but at every turn our desires had been thwarted. And we could not tell her that Cecil and her council had advised against it until she married. But I could explain about my mother.

“Her Grace is quite ill, on her deathbed. Her husband, Master Stokes, did read to me from a letter they had been writing to Your Majesty that states her desire for us to wed.”

“I have no such letter, and I am well aware of your mother’s health.” Why had my mother not sent the letter?
Why?
I wanted to ride all the way to Sheen to find out from her own lips.

“I can only hope she sends it to you soon, or perchance you could inform her she must send it?”

The queen laughed at this, a cold and bitter sound. “I do not think so, Lady Katherine. I care not a fig for your mother’s desires. She encouraged your sister to usurp my own sister. Why would I listen to a word she utters?”

I bowed my head, blinking to keep
my tears at bay.

Ned o
nce more attempted to assuage Her Majesty’s nerves. “Majesty, we are your most loyal subjects and regret not having brought this matter to your attention before now, and for that we must seek your forgiveness. Neither of us wished to leave your side, wanting to serve you as best we could, and now we hope that with our loyal service you might have cause to bless us with your approval of our marriage.”

The queen
’s eyes narrowed, her features stern as she further examined the pair of us for several heartbeats. Then she leaned forward and in a languid tone said, “You, my Lord Hertford, are good with your words. Let us think on it as if we played a game of shuttlecock.”

Ned looked confused and turned
, our gazes connecting for a fraction of a second. My bewildered gaze was mirrored in Ned’s eyes. What game was this?

The
queen sucked in a deep breath as if we had put great strain upon her with our entreaty. She leaned back on her throne, her nails clicking on the wood arms. “I have thought on it a moment. I have decided against giving you permission to marry.” Elizabeth’s lips curled in satisfaction.

My knees grew
weak, my legs like bread dough—spongy, unable to support my weight. How could she deny us and do so with tactless pleasure? And how would I muster the fortitude needed to hold my peace?

“My
Lord Hertford, you shall go back abroad where you might study some more the intricacies of court life and relations between our allies. I shan’t want a man in my court who is not fully educated.”

“M
ajesty—” Ned started, but the queen held up her hand to stop him from speaking.

“Do not make excuses, simply kneel.”
Her voice was icy and broached on arrogant.

Ned bent down on his knees and remained there, stock still
, just as he had before when Elizabeth had taken a sword from one of her yeomen and placed the blade on each of his shoulders, pronouncing him the new Earl of Hertford. But this time, he was not being elevated. This time, neither of us was happy with her decision. My heart was crushed at the prospect of her denying our marriage.

He mumbled his thanks
for her consideration, and then the queen waved him away. I stood to follow, desperately wanting to hold him in my arms. To run away to France with him or elope to Scotland. Even reinvent the Spanish plot, if need be. Anything so that we might be together.

“Lady Katherine, you are not dismissed,” came
Elizabeth’s harsh tone.

I stopped dead in my tracks
, my skirts swishing against my ankles. I was unsure of how to react at her tone. My insides warred. Warred with the need to follow Ned and with the duty to obey my queen. Ned turned once, our gazes locking for several crushingly painful moments.

He dipped his head and smiled, a smile that promised he would find me later, before he was swarmed by courtiers seeking news and he was no longer within my sights.
Before plans were finalized for him to go overseas and leave me behind to an uncertain fate.