Chapter 5 #2
Elizabeth had just learned that Lord Protector Somerset had procured Durham Place, Elizabeth’s London residence, for his own purposes. Master Parry’s recent mission in London—the one Aunt Kat had hinted to me meant more than it appeared—had been to look into the matter.
“He claims he needs it, Your Grace,” Parry said with resentment. “He plans to set up a mint. There he squats, coining more money to spend in the name of your brother the king.”
Elizabeth’s nostrils flared, her mouth white and pinched. “He presumes.”
“He does indeed, Your Grace.” Parry bent his head, but I did not miss the satisfied glint in his eyes. “I spoke with Lord Admiral Seymour about it, and he was most sympathetic.”
“The Lord Admiral.” Elizabeth’s gaze grew fixed. She moved slightly out of the sunshine, her studied pose vanishing. “Does he apologize for his brother?”
“He does indeed. He also very kindly offered you the use of his own residence when you come to London, so that you will not be inconvenienced.”
“Very kind.” A hint of frost touched Elizabeth’s voice, but her dark eyes fixed intently on Parry. “What else did he say?”
“The Lord Admiral is quite interested in all your properties, Your Grace,” Master Parry rattled on.
“He asked me whether the king’s council had yet bestowed all your father’s bequests on you.
He declared it shameful when I told him they had not.
He said he would be happy to offer advice on how you might make some savings, since you have not been given everything you should. ”
“Did he?” The frost increased. “And what did he suggest?”
“That you look over your books yourself,” Parry said.
“That … ” He lowered his voice almost to a whisper, his eyes as hard and focused as Elizabeth’s own.
“That you might make savings by the two of you sharing resources. The Admiral has many houses and gentlemen at his disposal, and he could help you obtain those that are rightfully yours.”
“What did he mean by all this, think you?” The question seemed ingenuous, but Elizabeth’s tone was calculating.
Master Parry glanced behind him before he spoke.
The ladies at the window were quiet, pretending to look out at the winter landscape, and I sewed busily on my stool.
“That perhaps he wants you near him, as well? You know he has not broken up the household of Queen Catherine—he has her ladies and gentlemen together still.”
“To wait upon Cousin Jane,” Elizabeth said quickly. “He did it so that Jane Grey might have a household of her own.”
Because, I knew, Seymour wanted Jane to marry King Edward. I had heard Aunt Kat and Parry, and even Uncle John, discussed that fact often enough.
“Perhaps.” Parry sent her a furtive smile. “And what would you say, my lady, if Seymour offered for you? Would you have him? If the council approved, of course.”
He added the last hastily. King Edward’s council had frowned on Seymour’s original attempt to ensnare Elizabeth, and well we knew it.
Marrying without their consent would not only displease Edward but might bar Elizabeth from the succession and result in her forfeiting those lands and money the council was taking its time about handing over in the first place.
I watched Elizabeth sift through these thoughts, a lady weighing the consequences of being able to love a fascinating gentleman against forfeiting all possibility of inheriting the crown.
I could have lent an argument if I’d dared, that Seymour had blatantly chased Elizabeth while he was married to Catherine.
If his stalking of me in the corridor that night was any indication, he’d pursued other dalliances as well.
Not a man who would consider it necessary to be true to his wife.
Many gentlemen were not so nice when it came to fidelity, and quick to break their wives’ hearts.
I had no way of knowing whether Elizabeth would count this as a point against Seymour. I’d met more than one woman in love with a philanderer, who held absolute conviction that if said man were with her, he’d philander no more.
Whatever debates hummed through Elizabeth’s head, when she opened her mouth to speak, it was in the tone of a man of law who’d calculated every word.
“If what you imagine comes to pass,” she said to Parry. “Then I will do as God shall put into my mind at the time.”
A lovely answer, saying neither yay nor nay. Parry bowed his head. “Of course, Your Grace.”
After Master Parry had scuttled off to his coffers, I fitted Elizabeth into the dress I was creating. Her hands were ice cold, and she scarce seemed to notice me and my maidservant pinning the brocade to her frame—that is, until I accidentally poked her.
Elizabeth jumped and slapped my hand. “Do take care, Mistress Seamstress.”
I humbly begged her pardon, words of apology now rote upon my lips. So often did I have to say them to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s mouth trembled, but I saw a gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Master Parry is a prodigious gossip,” she said abruptly. “Are you fond of gossip, Eloise?”
“Me? No, never, Your Grace.” I spoke with all sincerity.
“Liar.” Elizabeth laughed, the note shrill. “What a liar you are, my seamstress. I am surrounded by liars.”
I had no idea what she meant by this and did not reply. Elizabeth then growled with impatience at the fitting, so the maid and I unpinned the gown and laid it aside for another time.
Later that evening I came upon Master Parry closeted with my aunt in her chamber. Chatter, chatter, chatter—they nattered away about my Lady Elizabeth and Seymour, gossiping and speculating as though they had every right to arrange the lives of two important people of the realm.
I liked Aunt Kat’s chamber, small and cozy, lit with fragrant candles and warmed by a fire. Because Aunt Kat was a favorite of Elizabeth, she had candles made of true wax, a fire built high, cushions for her benches and stools, and a bed as plump as she was around the middle.
I remembered how, when I’d first joined Aunt Kat, the ladies and gentlemen of this household had ordered sumptuous meals to be served to the little princess in order that they could feast themselves.
A small child could eat only a little of the spread, and the ladies and gentlemen had enjoyed themselves heartily on the remains.
Aunt Kat put a halt to that, much to the annoyance of the spoiled courtiers.
Once Elizabeth had been restored into the succession, we all dined well and slept in comfort, lucky in our positions.
A far better life, I always reminded myself, than I would have living with my mother and Sir Philip Baldwin, her priggish husband, who pretended I did not exist.
As a child, I’d amused myself drawing pictures on scraps of discarded paper of my stepfather and then sticking him with my scissors. Then I would hastily burn the papers, afraid anyone finding them would think me practicing witchcraft.
As far as I knew, however, my Sir Philip never took harm from it. Now, I simply pretended he did not exist in return.
Neither my aunt nor Parry ceased their blathering as I seated myself at Aunt Kat’s table and helped myself to a thick slice of bread. Using this as a truncheon, I heaped warm meat and sauce across it. A watchful servant brought me a goblet and poured out a large measure of hock.
All the while Parry and Aunt Kat moved their mouths in talk.
So intent on each other they were that they never noticed me eating my meal at the other end of the table.
Which was to my advantage, I decided, as I snatched the last sweetmeat from a tray and quickly stuffed it in my mouth before either of them saw me.
“What think you of all that, Mistress Ashley?” Parry was saying in satisfaction.
They’d kept their voices muted, but now I pricked my ears, though I kept my head down over my food.
“I’ve known of his wishes all along.” Aunt Kat sniffed. “No reason she should not have the Lord Admiral to husband.”
I remembered Uncle John’s warning, the fear in his words. “Aunt Kat,” I ventured.
Aunt Kat took as much heed of me as though I were a buzzing fly—less, because a fly she would swat.
“You’ve known no such thing.” Parry laughed, confident that he possessed better gossip than Aunt Kat.
“Indeed, I do.” My aunt leaned toward him. “The Lord Admiral was always taken with our lady, and why should he not be? A lovely girl is Elizabeth, so poised and regal. The perfect lady, not like others in her family I could mention, though they be close to her.”
I stopped eating, overwhelmed by unease. Aunt Kat did not go so far as to name Princess Mary, who was small-statured and sullen, but I knew this was who she meant. This was exactly the sort of talk Uncle John did not wish his wife to indulge in.
Parry rolled his goblet between his palms. “We have ever been friends, have we not, Mistress Ashley?”
“Of course, Master Parry,” Aunt Kat returned with warmth.
This surprised me a bit, because these two had quarreled plenty in the past, as Parry had dipped his fingers into Elizabeth’s money from time to time.
We all knew it—even Elizabeth did—but Aunt Kat and I had to look the other way about it.
Only Elizabeth could dismiss Master Parry, and so far, she’d shown no inclination to do so.
“Then you will tell me all, will you not?” Parry asked. “As we both have our lady’s best interests at heart, and you know so much about it.”
Aunt Kat loved to be praised. While an intelligent woman, she had a weakness for flattery.
She sent Parry a delighted smile, then to my horror proceeded to relate the entire story of Elizabeth’s encounters with Seymour at Chelsea.
Every morning romp, the cut-up dress, Seymour’s visit to Elizabeth’s chamber in his nightshirt, and Catherine’s tacit condoning of his seduction until she could shut her eyes to it no more.
Thomas Parry lapped it up like a dog with a dish of scraps. He and Aunt Kat leaned closer and closer until their noses nearly touched, their sleeves in danger of ruin by cooling stew.
“I grant you,” Aunt Kat went on. “Even if the Lord Protector does not like the match between our Lady Elizabeth and the Lord Admiral, when the king is of age, he will certainly smile upon it.”
I could contain myself no more. “But surely the Lord Admiral is too old, Aunt Kat.” I used the argument I’d tried with her before. By the time King Edward reached his majority, Seymour would be well along in his forties.
Aunt Kat sent me an irritated glare. “He is of an age with me, Miss Impertinence, and none too old for our lady. What young woman does not want to marry a man of wise years? And for all his great age, as you term it, Seymour is strong and finely shaped. I saw this when he went bare-legged into my lady’s chamber.
” She tittered. “No quarrel there, I imagine.”
“Aunt Kat!” I put as much shock into my words as I could. Aunt Kat had gone red with wine and excitement, the drink loosening her tongue a dangerous amount.
At last, Aunt Kat seemed to realize she and Master Parry were speaking far too much about things that were dangerous to discuss. Aunt Kat shot a guilty glance at Parry, who closed his mouth at the same time.
“You’ll not breathe a word of this, of course,” Aunt Kat quickly admonished Parry.
Parry adamantly shook his head. “Never, Mistress Ashley. I’d never tell a soul what we discuss about our Lady Elizabeth. I have assured you of this time and again.”
He looked quite sincere, and after a moment, Aunt Kat gave him a decided nod. The two exchanged a secret smile, lifted pewter goblets of wine from the Rhine valley, and drank to it.
I left Aunt Kat that night, torn about whether to report the conversation to Uncle John. After much inner debate, I went to bed without disturbing him, reasoning to myself that Aunt Kat’s and Master Parry’s wild speculation in the privacy of my aunt’s chamber would come to nothing.
No matter how high the two of them might believe their positions to be, they had no true power to affect Elizabeth’s choice of bridegrooms. That was up to the king’s council, Lord Protector Somerset, and Edward himself. Idle chatter about a man’s legs would not bring down King Edward’s reign.
I also had a nasty headache and did not fancy running to Uncle John to tattle on his wife. I kept my thoughts to myself and slept fitfully.
How Uncle John got wind of the conversation, I do not know—though I suspected the attentive servants. When I rose in the morning, I heard his voice booming from Aunt Kat’s chamber.
I dressed quickly and scurried through the darkened gallery to her door.
“Gossip and meddling,” Uncle John roared as I opened the door a crack and peeped inside. “Have nothing to do with the Admiral, for the love of God, Kat. Nothing good can come of it, do you understand?”
Aunt Kat had never been a meek woman, nor readily obedient to her husband. She had a good opinion of herself, a strong will, and a voice as loud as his.
“I mean only well for Elizabeth,” she shouted in return. “Only that. You, John, are the party who needs to understand my loyalty to her.”
Uncle John banged out of the room, his eyes glittering with rage. He caught sight of me as I scuttled into the shadows, pointed a savage finger at me, and motioned me to follow him.