My Story: Lady Jane Grey (My Royal Story) (8 page)

I am glad I do not share a chamber! It is bad enough that the children run in and out. They have run away now but I can still hear them, galloping up and down the Long Gallery pretending they are fighting the rebels. If only the rain would stop then they could go outside to play. Thomas wants to show Katherine how well he shoots with the bow. He and Katherine have made great friends. It is hard to believe that my Willoughby cousins have only been here a week. When they first arrived they looked so forlorn, and Katherine said she heard them crying at night. I wish they had not come. Thomas wriggles and fidgets and can barely sit still. Nurse says that
all
boys are boisterous. But I cannot imagine that Edward was ever as fidgety as Thomas!

My two youngest Willoughby cousins left today. Margaret and baby Francis are to live with my father’s half-brother, George Medley, and this morning he rode up to collect them. He dined with us first and I heard him say he was mightily impressed by my learning and piety. Of course my parents professed themselves delighted. I wish they would say as much to me. Thomas is to stay. If only he was leaving too. He drives me distracted and Katherine copies him in everything, which makes it worse. Today I tripped over the skittles he had left out. If I were to behave so, I would be punished for my untidiness, but I have not once heard Mother chastise Thomas. It hurts me to see how she looks at him, as if he were the son she longs for. All her baby boys died young. Would she love me more, if I were a boy?

I have a bad cold and do not feel like writing, but I simply had to write this. The Lord Protector has been arrested! Our neighbour, the Earl of Huntingdon, brought the news. Father barely waited for him to finish before ordering his horse to be brought round. He and the Earl have ridden off now to Hampton Court.

I was sitting in the winter parlour with Mother and Father when the Earl was shown in.

“He removed the King from Hampton Court and took him with him to Windsor, claiming it was for the King’s safety!” Huntington snorted to our astonished ears. “But the King is safe now,” he reassured us. “Warwick has taken him back to Hampton Court. The Protector will regret his actions,” he said and smiled – but it was not a very nice smile. The Earl is no friend of the Protector’s. And to my mind Edward is no safer now than he was.

The Countess of Huntington has called. I can scarce believe what she told us, but I am writing it all down anyway. The Protector claimed there was a plot against the King. He even got his son, Lord Hertford – who is only ten years old – to ride all the way to the West Country where the army is stationed under Lord Herbert’s command, to beg him for men and arms. Herbert refused. He is no fool, put in my mother. It was then that the Protector fled with the King to Windsor, after first emptying the armoury at Hampton Court and calling on all men to protect the King. Some answered his call, but then the lords told them the truth of the matter. By that I am sure the Countess means what
certain lords
say is the truth. “The Protector will soon face his judges,” the Countess said. Humph. She will mean Warwick and his friends in the Council, which must be all of them. Who would be brave or rash enough to stand against the Earl?

She says the Protector has made a mess of governing the country. He has dragged us into rash wars, helped himself to the King’s treasure and refused to listen to others’ counsel. Now he has thrown himself on the Council’s mercy, and they have put him in the Tower. I vow the Earl of Warwick will be mightily pleased. He must be behind all this. But it is my poor cousin Edward I feel most afraid for. How can he be safe in the hands of a man like the Earl of Warwick?

The Earl of Warwick was made Admiral of England a few days ago. How many more titles will they bestow on him? Does Edward not see how powerful he is becoming? And now that peace has been declared between England and Scotland I expect the Earl will take the credit for that too. But I must stop writing now and make haste to put away my journal. Nurse has come to tell me that Mother wishes to see me! What have I done now?

We are to visit my uncle George Medley at his home, Tilty, in Essex. Then we are to stay with my cousin, the Lady Mary, and I am to have a new gown made. I am always pleased to go to Tilty, but I am NOT pleased that we are to visit the Lady Mary. I hid how I felt from Mother though for she is very fond of the Princess. Sister Mary cannot stop talking about cousin Margaret. She is thrilled that we will see her at Tilty. Thomas is to accompany us there; Tilty is to be his home now. Katherine is broken-hearted. I am not!

I am seizing a moment to write, while I rest on my bed at Tilty. Nurse has unlaced my new gown so I can breathe again. I felt like a stuffed chicken.

We arrived here late this afternoon. Half our household followed in our train, on horseback or squashed into carts alongside our bags and boxes. Bells rang out from every church steeple to herald our arrival in towns and villages. Windows were flung open and heads thrust out, and children ran up to stare at us. Gifts were pressed on us. Katherine told me she felt like a queen, on a royal progress. But I hate all the fuss. If only we could travel unnoticed like ordinary people.

As soon as we arrived, Mary ran away to play with Margaret. I crept into the nursery to see baby Francis. As I looked down at him I found myself thinking about the last time I saw the Admiral’s daughter, Mary. She is over a year old now. My heart aches when I think about that time. How long ago it feels, yet it is only a little over a year since the Queen died. I miss her as much as ever.

Oh that we were back at Tilty. I pray that we do not stay here long. We have only been at Hunsdon for three days, but it feels more like three years. Princess Mary greeted us kindly, calling us her little cousins and loading us with presents – beads and horrid gaudy fabrics like the ones she loves to wear. Little Mary hid behind her nurse when she heard the Princess’s gruff voice and Nurse had to coax her out. Mother looked most embarrassed and poor little Mary was hastily removed. And I had to stop myself leaning away when the Princess kissed me. I was sure I smelt incense! Now I know why. The chapel stinks of it! I can scarce believe it. Nothing has been changed. Nothing removed. All the popish icons, statues and paintings are still in their places. There is even a statue of the Virgin Mary. This morning I saw a priest light candles in front of it. As I stood there one of the Queen’s ladies entered, bent her knee and crossed herself.

“Whom do you curtsy to?” I said rudely. “The Lady Mary is not here.”

“Why, I bow to the Lord who made us,” the lady answered, gesturing at the altar, where some bread lay in a dish.

“I cannot see him,” I said. “All I see is a plate of bread, and the baker made that.” The lady did not answer, but she looked furious. I do not doubt that she will tell the Lady Mary everything I said.

What would the King say if he knew that his sister defied him? She knows it is forbidden to hear Mass. Mother does not seem to mind, or at least she keeps what she feels to herself. Father would be angry, but Father is away at Court and we await news of the Protector’s fate daily.

Lady Mary has told me she prays daily for my soul. So she must know what I said in chapel. But it is me who should pray for her. She is the heretic – not me. She will burn in hell if she does not turn to the true faith.

Father once told me that Mary held High Mass in her chapel on the day the new prayer book was first read in church. And if he knows that, so must the King. Maybe he allows it. She is his sister after all.

Mother has taken me to task for my manner to the Princess. I must be more gracious, she says. I must remember that she is a Princess as well as my cousin. I must not stick out my chin in that obstinate way of mine. One day she may be queen. I muttered that she is a heretic and Mother slapped my cheek. She despairs of me, she said. How can she take me to Court if I will not behave myself? (I do not care.) “You are stubborn and unyielding, always so sure that you are right,” she said. “I fear for you, Jane. Indeed, I do.

“Your cousin has a generous, forgiving nature. Do not test it too greatly,” she told me. I feel I have been given a warning.

Oh to be home at Bradgate. I am weary of travelling, of packing and unpacking. We are barely settled in one place when it is time to be off again. I have so little time for my studies, or even to write my journal.

Now we are settled back at Tilty for Christmas. We will be a big family party and have much to rejoice us, Mother says. Before we left the Princess’s – and I am glad to write we did not stay there long – we learnt that Father had been made a privy councillor. He must stand high in the Earl’s esteem, my uncle said – as if he envied him. But I still cannot trust the Earl even though Father says he is a staunch Protestant and has stuffed the Council full of men who share our beliefs. I do not believe it. I do not think the Earl has any strong beliefs at all. He will do or say whatever will keep him close to the throne. It is what I suspect Mother wishes we would all do – which is probably why she and I will never see eye to eye. The Protector has not lost his head, but is still in the Tower. I wonder how long they will keep him there?

I would be very afraid, if I were the Lady Mary. She will be hounded out of England, if she continues to say Mass, even in private.

To Court, where I saw my cousin Edward again. As I curtsied to him, I expected him to smile. I expected that he would be pleased to see me, but if he was, he hid it well. Has he forgotten our friendship? Nurse says I must remember that he is the King and I his subject, and that he has a lot to occupy him, but I am sad. My parents cannot have noticed his coldness. They are as eager as ever to push me into his presence. This is not hard – for though Edward is even more carefully guarded than before, my father is one of the commanders appointed to protect his person.

There is one person who Edward does seem pleased to see – the Earl of Warwick. He looks on him quite like a father. Warwick must have wormed his way into Edward’s favour, by fine words and false flattery. Everyone stands in awe of the Earl – even Father.

I have one piece of good news. Elizabeth Tilney is at Court. She is as full of life and gossip as ever, and knows the names of all the handsome men. One, Robert Dudley, is soon to marry his sweetheart Amy Robsart. It is a love match, Elizabeth says. Her father is only a Norfolk gentleman but then he is only a fourth or fifth son. Elizabeth thinks Robert’s younger brother, Guildford, is handsome too. He would be, I said, if he did not look so sulky. Anyway, who would wish to marry a son of the Earl, however handsome? Elizabeth pretended to be shocked, and whispered that I should be careful what I say. That is one of the things I hate about Court. I have to watch what I say
all
the time. I cannot wait to return to Bradgate.

Bonfires have been lit across the city to celebrate the end of war with France. We attended a service of thanksgiving where a Te Deum was sung. Looking across the aisle I was taken aback to see the Duke of Somerset! He was nodding his head as if he agreed with every word. The Duke has only recently been released from the Tower and it was hard to recognize the great Protector in the humble man on his knees. Father says he may be allowed to rejoin the Privy Council! Perhaps even the great Earl feels he needs a clever ally – and a man who must owe his life to him will surely do just what he wants.

It is a warm day but the servants have shut all the windows. If they had not, I would have. The smell of the smoke drifting down from Smithfield is quite disgusting. Joan of Kent has been burnt for her beliefs. She was condemned last year but the execution was stayed to give her time to recant. I am told that she claims that Christ was not born incarnate of the Virgin Mary. Even so the Duke of Somerset wished to spare her but the King put his seal to the death warrant and sentence has been carried out. Support for her was growing in the south, some claim, which is why she had to die.

I danced with the King today! I felt very nervous for everyone was watching as he led me out. I swear they showed far more interest in us than in the Lady Anne whose marriage we were attending. The Earl of Warwick smiled, but only with his lips. My parents looked as if they would burst with pride. I think I did not disgrace myself. Indeed, the Earl of Warwick congratulated me on my nimble feet. Edward said little, confiding that he liked to dance but that it soon tired him. I think we were both relieved when the dance was over. For both of us it was a painful duty. My slippers pinched my toes and at the banquet I could only pick at my food for fear my corset would burst. I glanced at the Lady Anne who was dancing with her husband, the Earl of Warwick’s eldest son, Viscount Lisle. How did she feel? I wondered. Was she – the daughter of the Duke of Somerset – pleased to have married a Dudley? He will be an important man – the eldest son of the great Earl.

After the banquet we sat under a canopy of boughs and watched the men tilt and joust. The trumpets, and shouts and the crash of lances made my head ache. Mother hissed at me: “At least look as if you are enjoying yourself.” So I smiled until my jaw ached. I felt resentful. Had I not done enough for them? I had danced with the King! My friend Elizabeth Tilney says that our dance has renewed all the gossip about our marriage.

It was growing dark as we climbed into the barge that was to take us back to Dorset Place. The river was full of boats and alive with torches and merriment as wedding guests were rowed back to their waterfront mansions. The King had already departed for Westminster. He looked very weary. What a burden it must be to be king.

At home I fell asleep at once – only to be woken by sister Katherine who demanded to hear about the wedding. There was a masque and dancing and tournaments, and chambers of boughs, I said sleepily. She was not satisfied with my reply, so then I told her I had danced with the King. Her eyes grew huge. “Are you going to marry him?” she asked me.

“That is not in my hands,” I said.