Three Maids for a Crown: A Novel of the Grey Sisters (23 page)

I saw Henry’s fists knot, his throat constrict. He looked at me. I had seen that expression on a different face. Memory carried me back to Bradgate Hall. Jane, lying upon the stone floor, her back torn and bleeding from the bundle of willow switches my mother had used to whip her. On her ashen face I had recognized just what I saw in my husband’s face now. Heartbreak. Defeat. The moment before surrender.

Chapter Fifteen

J
ANE
T
OWER OF
L
ONDON
J
ULY
19, 1553

o one troubled themselves to talk to me now. My sister Mary was nowhere in sight. I had not the energy to find her. My mother had worn herself out. My ladies drooped like storm-battered roses, stabbing halfheartedly at their stitching.

They had not been sleeping any better than I had, each woman wondering what would happen to the husband, father, or brother who had placed her in my service. These men were now fugitives, running from the retaliation of the Tudor whom they had tormented through the years of Edward’s kingship, the woman whose crown they had stolen for me.

Now the question was this: though my cousin had loved her mother, Henry’s cast-off queen, would she prove her father’s daughter when it came to vengeance?

Surely many of the women were wondering the same thing, but I could not voice my fear. It seemed as if the sound of a voice might shatter people like glass. I loved quiet once, but silence in this room seemed foreign now. I had spent nine days with everyone around me scurrying to grant my every command, anticipate my needs. They had even quarreled over who would win the honor of distracting me from my cares.

Now the lute they plucked to please me stayed silent, the deck of cards fanned out across the table in disarray. A red queen had fallen to the floor sometime during the day, her printed eyes staring up at the cloth of estate over my head.

Even that mark of my queenship seemed a mockery. We had lost. Northumberland had quit the field, fled before Mary Tudor’s army. It was only a matter of time before the crest of that inexorable wave crashed over us all. Guilford himself had brought the news just this morning in my privy chamber. How strange this tenuous truce between us felt. When he entered the room, I was almost grateful to see him.

“Has Pembroke returned?” I had asked.

“He has not.”

“I would see my sister as soon as I am able.”

“It is hard not knowing how they fare beyond the Tower’s walls.”

His face carried an uncertainty that echoed my own. A dependence that neither of us wanted had been forged between us.

“I wish I was with my brothers,” Guilford said. “At least then I would know what was happening.” All the Dudley sons save him were out where blood flowed.

My gaze met his, and real regret filled his eyes. I remembered that he had not wanted our marriage any more than I—even if he had coveted the crown I might bring him.

Guilford drew in a steadying breath. “Katherine will not be returning to the Tower, Jane. Pembroke joined Arundel, Cobham, and the other ministers in supporting Mary.”

Part of me had expected it. That did not make the lonely ache for my sister any less.

“The traitors rode out from Baynard’s Castle. The crowds that gathered to watch the humbling of the lords were so thick, the horses could barely get through.” Guilford made a sound of disgust. “The cowardly bastards put on quite a masque, weeping with shame for betraying Mary. Pembroke even filled his cap with gold coins and threw them into the air for the simple folk to squabble over. Doubtless he hoped gold could buy the people’s good will and tears secure him Mary Tudor’s forgiveness.”

Was it possible to secure my cousin’s mercy, at any price? Perhaps some could. Even Pembroke might manage it, despite his son’s marriage to Kat.

Poor Kat. If Pembroke extricated himself from this tangle, he would cast his son’s unfortunate Grey bride off with no more thought than a mare who had gone lame.

It pained me to imagine my sister so cruelly used. How often had I felt impatient at Kat’s too-open heart? What could she expect but to end up bruised? I had often thought. I had even hoped that she might learn to be more careful in the future.

But now I only wished the world were half as good as my sister believed it was.

The faces of the men who had betrayed me rose in my mind. Of all those who had knelt before me at Syon House, swearing to live and die for me, only two remained loyal—my father and Guilford. But then, their fates were hitched firmly to my own.

I looked across the room to where Guilford sat, stiff in his chair. His mother perched near him, but he did not look to her for the reassurance that no one could really give him: that all might come right in the end. All would not end well. The only mystery was how brutal the ending would be. In the hours since Guilford’s revelation, I had much time to think on that.

Fear slid cold blades under my skin, but I concealed it as best I could. The tambour, forgotten on my lap, began to fall, and instinctively I grabbed for it. My knuckles struck something beside me.

I heard a small, startled gasp, then saw something skitter across the floor as if it had been flung: Mary’s poppet, its cloth arms and legs splayed out. How vulnerable, how fragile it looked. Its black bead eyes seemed to plead with me. It seemed a hundred years since I had stitched them onto that cloth face.

My little sister pressed her finger to her lips, begging me not to reveal her hiding place as she grabbed her doll and snatched it back into the shadows.

In the days since I learned Mary Tudor had evaded Robert Dudley’s attempt to capture her, my youngest sister had been barely visible in my life. Mary—just disappearing around a corner, ducking behind a tapestry, withdrawing to the darkest place in any chamber. But then, Mary had always been a shadow.

When had my little sister stolen beneath the cloth of estate and concealed herself behind the fall of my skirts? It tugged at my heart to think of how often she had hidden herself just so at home. The fact that my mother had not noticed Mary’s trespass and chased her away from me told me just how locked she was in her own misery.

Now Mary tugged my skirts. “I want Kat. She promised she would come back.”

“Kat will not be coming back for a while. Be patient until things settle out.”

I could see that my sister was wise enough not to believe me. Then footsteps approached, and my ladies jumped to awareness. Every muscle in my body tensed. My gaze leaped from my mother to Guilford and the Duchess of Northumberland. I felt sympathy even for my daunting mother-in-law. Her face had aged since we received news of Northumberland’s flight. Now it contorted as if waiting for a blow. Guilford stood. I sat erect, gripping the arms of my throne.

Were they coming to warn me that the new queen’s forces were outside the walls?

The final confrontation must come. Soon the council troops would break through into the courtyard. I surveyed the room, the last remnant of my court. A court I had never wanted. Yet to lose it this way—was I sorrowful or relieved?

Before I could decide, my father strode through the door. Illness and strain had gouged lines in his face. The man who had swaggered about Bradgate and raced at the hunt was gone. He had shrunk, somehow. I knew I should never be afraid of him again.

“The council’s troops have arrived,” he said. “I told your soldiers to lay down their weapons.” His voice rasped. “Daughter, I come to tell you that you are queen no more.”

He strode to the cloth of estate. He gripped the velvet in his fist and ripped the canopy down. The poles it had been mounted on almost struck Mary. She leaped up, and I felt her press against my leg as the staves clattered to the floor, sounding like breaking bones.

“God save Queen Mary!” Father decried.

I was not sure what I should say. I decided to speak the truth. “I am much relieved the crown is gone, Father. You know I did not want it. I would not have taken it if you had not insisted.” I gave him an uncertain smile. “Can we go back home to Bradgate now?”

He turned away. “There are horses waiting outside to carry your mother, sister, and me. Katherine will reach us as soon as she is able.”

“I am glad of it. I long to see her. I can leave whenever you are ready. I want to take nothing from this place but my books.”

“You will not be leaving with us.”

I pressed my hand to my chest, unable to breathe. “What? But I did not want the crown. You know that. Everyone knows that. It is not fair—”

“The council soldiers are charged to hold you in the name of the queen. Of course you will be moved to different quarters until Her Majesty arrives.”

“I am under arrest. That is what you mean, is it not?”

“What can you expect? You took the crown.”

“I did not want it!”

“Do you think anyone will believe that? Even if they did, it would not matter now!” He turned to my mother. “Frances, Mary—make haste.”

Mary rushed from her hiding place. “I will not leave Jane!” She clung to me, tight.

“You will, or I will drag you out,” Father threatened.

“You must go, Mary,” I urged, wishing it were not so.

“They cannot make me leave you.”

“You have to.” I searched for some way to convince her to go to safety. “There is something important you must do for me. Something I cannot trust to anyone else. You must tell Kat how sorry I am that we argued. Will you do that for me?”

“Are you afraid?” she asked.

I almost lied, wishing to spare her feelings, but Mary was so wise that if I did so, she would not believe it. I did not want to say goodbye to her now with a lie between us.

“I am afraid. I do not know what will happen once you are gone. But still you must go. I need to know you are away from here and safe, even if I cannot be.”

“Will they lock you in chains and put you where rats live like they do the other prisoners I saw in their cells?” When had she seen such miserable wretches? Had she gone burrowing about where she was not supposed to? Witnessed horrors she could not understand? I had no time to question her now.

My throat closed, but I squeezed out a reassurance. “They do not put princesses of the blood in chains, sweeting. I do not know where they will lodge me, but I am certain it will be comfortable enough. Anyway, you know how I am once I begin reading. I would not notice if there were a whole army of rats.” I could only pray that that much was true. “I will tell you all about it in nice long letters.”

“I will keep them in my Thief’s Coffer with the other letters you wrote me.”

“By God, we have no time for this nonsense!” Father swore. “We must be off before the queen changes her mind and decides to keep us all imprisoned.”

Panic struck me as he stalked toward us to drag my sister away. “Mary, write to me. Promise.” She nodded, her lower lip quivering. “You cannot know how much it will mean to me.” My voice cracked as Father’s hand clamped on her arm. She tried to wrench free.

“Do not make me leave Jane! I want to stay with Jane!” she wailed, thrashing against Father’s grasp. Her poppet, still crushed beneath her arm, seemed to flail against him as well, but its cloth arms were no more effective than my heartbroken little sister’s.

Father struck Mary in the face. The blow spun her around, her elbow slamming square into his blue velvet codpiece. He doubled over with a hoarse oath, letting her free. I wondered at my sister’s courage and her love for me as she threw herself against my skirts.

I scooped her up in a hug, wishing that I could press some of her courage into me. “I know it is hard, but you must go with Father,” I told her, watching out of the corner of my eye as my mother flew to him and helped him right himself. “He will see you safe home.”

“I hate Father!”

“You must not say that, or even think it. It is a sin.” But the possibility of being caught out in a sin had never frightened Mary the way it did me.

“I will not leave you! They cannot make me leave you!”

I buried my face against her small shoulder, one of Jennet’s black bead eyes cutting into my cheek. My salt tears stung. I grasped onto the one chance I might have to soothe Mary. I forced a smile. “You must be a good mother to Jennet. I am sure she is even more frightened than we are. She will be very glad to see the Myrmidons when you get back to Bradgate. Our magic oaks will keep you both safe.”

Mary looked at her doll, its gown bedraggled from loving. I could sense a battle raging in my sister. “Jennet wants to stay with you.” She pressed her doll into my arms.

“No, Mary!” My chest felt as if it might crack. “I could not take your poppet.”

But as swiftly as she had evaded my father, Mary now eluded me. She limped toward the door. It was as if she had loosed a stiff wind upon fallen leaves.

In a flurry my maids scattered to gather their belongings, find their own ways out of the Tower, and return to country estates where they might avoid Mary Tudor’s wrath, or at least postpone it until it had a chance to cool. One maid looked toward the Duchess of Northumberland. “You must hasten. I am certain there is a cart that will take you to Warwick.”