Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set (127 page)

Remarkably, even after Suffolk tried to rebel and the queen had him executed, along with Frances’s eldest daughter, Lady Jane Grey, Queen Mary had invited her cousin Frances to become one of the ladies of her privy chamber. Frances had brought her two remaining daughters with her to court. Lady Catherine, now sixteen, seemed unaffected by the tumultuous events of the past two years.

“What a shallow girl she is,” I remarked to Will on our way home from the christening.

He laughed. “She’s pretty. She does not need to be clever.”

Oh, yes, she does, I thought. If she hopes to survive at court.

I told myself that I was glad we were no longer in royal service. Although we lacked material luxuries in our new life, we were comfortable, and nothing had changed in the way Will and I felt about each other. We were still as passionate in our loving as ever. I thought, sometimes, about children, but when I remained barren, I accepted my fate. I had Will. It would have to be enough to remain as we were, hidden away in Blackfriars, just the two of us.

That first summer after we were reunited was cold, bleak, and sunless. It rained almost every day. If one were inclined to bouts of melanchony, the weather would have been unendurable, but my optimism had been restored. I was further cheered when word reached Blackfriars that King Philip had left England, thwarted in his effort to raise an army to fight the French. England was not prepared to go to war just to please the queen’s husband. Soon after that, the Lady Elizabeth was released from confinement at Woodstock and allowed to return to her own house at Hatfield. Apparently, Queen Mary no longer considered her a threat.

I thought that shortsighted of the queen. As long as Elizabeth Tudor lived, there was a possibility that she would one day succeed her sister and restore all we had lost by King Edward’s death and our failure to put Queen Jane on the throne.

The only thing that caused me any real concern during our first year in Blackfriars was the queen’s war on heresy. In the fires of Smithfield, many of those who’d been called evangelicals under King Henry and
King Edward were burnt at the stake. Their only crime was refusing to recant. Others we had known at Edward’s court fled into exile on the Continent, even the dowager Duchess of Suffolk, Frances Brandon’s stepmother. Will and I were careful never to miss church services at the little church of St. Anne’s in Blackfriars.

Before I knew it, another winter had passed and it was early May again. I had exchanged no visits with kinfolk in all that time. Father and I continued to be estranged. Every time I’d heard from him while Will and I had been separated, he’d tried to convince me to wed some stolid country gentleman he’d picked out for me. My stubborn insistence that I was already married, no matter what the queen or Parliament said, had annoyed him so much that he’d stopped writing to me. I still exchanged letters with Mother, Kate, and William, and knew my brother George was at court, serving in some minor capacity, but I had no warning of what my mother’s brother, Lord Bray, was up to until the day Grandmother Jane suddenly appeared in Blackfriars.

My grandmother was well into her seventh decade, but she looked exactly the same as she had at sixty. She did not like Will one whit better than she had when her daughter, Dorothy Bray, had been his mistress. “Still living in sin, I see,” she greeted him.

Will ignored her rudeness. When she was settled in our most comfortable chair, he offered her Malmsey, her favorite wine.

Grandmother gave a disdainful sniff but took the cup he extended. After a few sips, she ran critical eyes over our furnishings. “You have come down in the world.”

I bit back a sharp retort. It was certainly true that we had lived in far more luxurious surroundings, but the hangings were warm and attractive, the chair cushions nicely embroidered and stuffed with fleece, and the rushes on the floor had been changed only a few weeks earlier. The room was redolent with the scent of spring flowers.

Will sat next to me on a cushioned bench, and slung one arm possessively around my shoulders. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit, Lady Bray?” Although Grandmother Jane had remarried, her second
husband was a mere knight and she continued to be addressed by her title.

“My son, John Bray, is in prison,” she announced. “I mean to get him out.”

I felt Will go rigid. “On what charge has Lord Bray been arrested?”

“Treason.”

My blood ran cold at the word. “No,” I said. “We cannot help you. We dare not.”

I had seen my uncle once or twice since we’d lived in Blackfriars, since he had a house in the precinct, but although we were the same age, we had never had much in common. He reminded me too much of his sister Dorothy for me to feel entirely comfortable in his presence. I was not willing to risk the quiet, peaceful life Will and I now had for a virtual stranger, even if he was my kinsman.

“Do me the courtesy to hear me out.” Grandmother Jane’s glower was fierce. “No doubt you have already heard rumors of what Sir Henry Dudley is up to.”

I gave a start. “The Duke of Northumberland’s son?” The second boy named Henry, married to the wealthy Audley heiress, had been living with his wife at Audley End the last I’d heard of him.

“Not that one. This Sir Henry Dudley is a distant cousin of some sort. One of the Sutton branch of the family. He was dispatched to the French court when that whole debacle over Lady Jane Grey began, sent to recruit help from King Henri. When Northumberland failed, Sir Henry wisely stayed abroad. Less wisely, he began to plot against the Crown and my son is accused of plotting with him.”

“I’ve met the fellow,” Will said for my benefit. “Another hothead.” He shifted his attention back to my grandmother. “What is it you think we can do to help Lord Bray?”

“You won your freedom. Twice. I want to know how you did it. You were guilty as sin both times. Queen Mary had no reason to spare you, and yet she did.”

“Bess won my freedom for me.”

Those simple words warmed me to my soul and had my grandmother sending a speculative look my way. “Well, girl, what did you do?”

“I begged. I pleaded. I humbled myself. I swore to do whatever was asked of me.” As I spoke, I realized there had been an additional reason for my having been successful in the end. “And,” I said slowly, working it out in my head, “I gave Her Grace the means to punish Will in a way mere imprisonment could not. Queen Mary used me to exact revenge. Under King Edward, Will helped deprive her friends of the Catholic Mass. She forced him to give up what he valued most—me.”

“And yet, here you are,” Grandmother said. “Together. Perhaps Her Grace would reward me with Bray’s freedom if I shared this information with her.”

Shocked, I sputtered an objection, but she waved it aside.

“I suppose not. You are my own flesh and blood, just as John is.”

“And as such will do all she can to help her uncle,” Will said smoothly. “Within reason.”

“Then tell me how to get in to see the queen,” Grandmother demanded. She polished off her wine in one gulp and banged the cup down on a nearby table.

“Your best hope is to apply to the Spaniards. The Duchess of Northumberland did so.” I gave her the names of those she had found most compassionate. “But do not approach their wives. They are not received at court. The queen did not want them to come to England and will not receive them.” They were also contemptuous of English noblewomen. One had been unforgivably rude to Jane Dudley.

“You must come with me, Bess,” Grandmother Jane said.

But I balked at that. “I dare not risk attracting the queen’s attention.”

As it turned out, the queen would not have noticed had I danced naked in the gardens at Whitehall. According to Nan Bassett, the only courtier with whom I dared communicate, Her Grace had sequestered herself after receiving word that her husband, King Philip, would not return to England as soon as he had promised. He had his own lands to rule, and his enmity with the French to pursue, with or without English help.

Grandmother installed herself in her son’s house, along with her ladies and her young second husband. He made himself useful soliciting information in the taverns and alehouses of Westminster, but otherwise was as much a part of the background as any of Grandmother’s servants. I felt a little sorry for him until I learned that she was not his first wife and that he had gained a considerable fortune by that earlier marriage.

Grandmother Jane was nothing if not tenacious. She visited us often during the months that followed to keep us apprised of her lack of progress. In contrast to the previous summer, when we’d been inundated with rain, this one was blighted by widespread drought. I found the dry, still air more unnerving than I had the constant damp. So dismal was my outlook that I felt no surprise when my uncle was indicted for treason, even though it had taken the Crown six months to decide to charge him.

Grandmother was frantic. She increased her efforts to find supporters at court. She even ignored my advice and went to the Spanish noblemen’s wives. She railed for days about their superior attitude and their refusal to help.

Little changed until March, when King Philip did, at last, return to England. Within days, he granted my grandmother an audience. John, Lord Bray was released in the first week in April, with the promise of a pardon to follow. His Most Catholic Majesty, it seemed, was still intent upon building an English army to fight in France.

When Grandmother Jane went home to Eaton Bray, Will and I breathed a sigh of relief and celebrated by spending an entire day in bed. The servants took that in stride. We had always reveled in the physical side of marriage, although many people regarded it as odd to be so affectionate with one’s own spouse. I might have been thirty years old, but Will could always make me feel like a giddy girl again.

“Are you content, my love?” I asked him when we were temporarily sated.

The brief hesitation before he assured me that he was told me more than his words.

“You miss being at the center of power,” I murmured. “You enjoyed life at court, even with all the pettiness and backbiting.”

He sighed. “I was brought up to it, Bess. I value having you in my life more but, yes, if I had all I desired, I’d be at court again with you at my side.”

“Queen Mary will not live forever. Someday—”

He touched a finger to my lips. “Hush, Bess. Speak no treason, not even here.” He caught me at the waist and rolled until I was on top of him. “We have better ways to occupy us in our own bed than longing for what cannot be. I would rather enjoy what we have.”

As always, our lovemaking both reassured and distracted me. But afterward I found myself brooding. I wanted Will to be happy, to have
everything
he desired. And I had to admit that, occasionally, I, too, missed our old life. Who would not relish being wealthy and influential?

At Easter that year, we talked of paying a long overdue visit to my family in Kent. Mother’s letters were no substitute for spending time with her and she wrote that she was sure Father had given up the idea of marrying me off to someone other than Will. Since the queen appeared to have lost interest in us, we deemed it safe to go.

Before we could make any firm plans, however, my brother George came to call.

The last time I’d seen him, he’d just been freed from the Tower. He looked considerably better now, and his clothes, though plain, were finely made and expensive.

“Whatever your duties at court, they seem to agree with you,” I commented after I’d provided him with a tankard of ale and a bowl of nuts.

Will stood by the empty hearth, his own tankard in hand, his eyes narrowed suspiciously at my brother. I could hardly blame him. It had taken nearly a full year to rid ourselves of the last family member who’d sought us out. “What is it you do, George?”

“As it happens,” George drawled, amused by the wary reception, “I am an undersecretary to the Privy Council.”

I exchanged a startled look with Will. The post might be minor and
lack influence, but it was one of trust. I was amazed George had been given it, considering that he’d once been condemned for treason for taking part in Wyatt’s uprising against Queen Mary.

As if he read my thoughts, George grinned. “Do you doubt my loyalty to England, Bess? I obtained my position by showing proper gratitude for the pardon Her Gracious Majesty granted me, and by reminding certain influential parties that Father was taken prisoner by our wicked cousin Wyatt. I told them of how that showed me the error of my ways, and Father was pleased to confirm that I helped him escape from the rebel camp so that he could make his way into London with crucial information about Wyatt’s armament and manpower, thus giving the queen’s men an advantage.”

Some of that was likely true, but not all. George was too glib in telling the tale. And he had been too passionate a follower of our cousin, Tom Wyatt, before the rebellion failed. “I never thought to see you support Spanish rule in England.” If I had not been watching him closely, I would have missed the brief tightening of his jaw and the spark of anger in his eyes. I smiled. “Why are you here, George? The truth, this time, if you please.”

He glanced at Will first, then fixed his steady gaze on me. “England needs you, Bess.”

I blinked in surprise. “
England
does?”

“It is true that I am employed by Queen Mary’s Privy Council,” George said, “but I have also been serving my country in another way, as an informant.”

Will pushed away from the hearth, no longer the casual observer. He reached George in three long strides and seized him by the collar, jerking him to his feet. “Serving England? How does it serve England to be a spy? Who is your master?”

“He cannot answer you while you are choking him.” I circled warily around them, having no desire to get in the way if they began to exchange blows.

Will released my brother. George coughed, then held both hands
in front of him in surrender. After a moment, when he could speak normally again, he directed his words to me. “Call me spy if you must, Bess, but what I do, I do for England. I have been trying to prevent the spilling of English blood in this accursed war between France and Spain.” As soon as he’d returned to England, King Philip had once again begun to recruit an English army to fight with the Spanish against the French.