Chapter 6 #2
He gave me a nod, perhaps expecting me to utter words of delight. Or maybe he wished me to rush straight back to Elizabeth and share with her the intriguing hints the Lord High Admiral had dropped to me in the middle of the Strand.
I contrived a blank expression, pretending not to understand him. Seymour’s eyes narrowed, and his ingratiating smile faded.
“You will come with me, little seamstress. I have need of you.”
Seymour did not reach for me but instead jerked his head at his attendants. The men wheeled about with precision and proceeded to herd me back past Temple Bar and along the Strand the way they had come.
I intended to slip away the first moment I was able, but for now I was hemmed in by guardsmen with swords and pikes. My maid and footman had vanished, and I hoped they’d fled back to Aunt Kat for help.
I wondered what Seymour meant to do—confine me in one of his houses until he pried out of me what he could about Elizabeth? Or were his designs darker than simply wanting information?
I believed Seymour was not above holding me captive until Elizabeth agreed to aid him. Speculating what he would do to me while I was in his power reawakened my direst fears. Seymour was a ruthless man, and I was no one very important.
“Eloise Rousell, where do you go?”
Never had my uncle’s deep voice sounded so beloved. The tall figure of Uncle John broke through Seymour’s retinue, he the most welcome sight in the world.
“Why are you in London, niece?” Uncle John went on, as though Seymour and his men were not there at all.
Seymour scowled at the interruption, but I watched him check whatever sharp words had sprung to his tongue. He knew Uncle John for a trusted gentleman of Elizabeth’s household, one he could not manipulate.
“Ashley,” Seymour said in a neutral tone.
Uncle John bowed diffidently. “Your lordship.”
I wondered what excuse Seymour would offer for attempting to kidnap me, but he did not bother to explain. His flattering, beguiling manner returned, though I could have told him it would not work with Uncle John.
“The seamstress is a credit to you and your good wife,” Seymour said.
“Your lordship is kind,” Uncle John replied stiffly.
“I will make you a gift. Some trifle, to express my appreciation for looking after Her Grace so well.”
Alarm flickered through me, which I saw reflected in Uncle John’s eyes. Accepting a gift, even a small token, could be interpreted as conferring loyalty to Seymour, and pledging loyalties was a dangerous pastime these days.
“You are kind, my lord,” Uncle John repeated. “But serving the princess is reward enough for us.”
Seymour made a negligent flick of his fingers. “A bauble, perhaps, that your niece might present to the princess. I will send a messenger to her at Whitehall.”
A man of single-mindedness was Seymour. He sought even now to learn whether we had traveled to London in Elizabeth’s company.
“Her Grace is not at court,” Uncle John said without changing expression. “I left her in Hatfield.”
Seymour sent me a sharp look, and I did my best to appear ingenuous. I nodded to affirm my uncle’s words, my eyes wide, as though I was a bit simple.
Having ascertained that his quarry was nowhere near, Seymour took his farewells with Uncle John. Seymour was scrupulously polite, so that Uncle John could repeat to Elizabeth what a pleasant and courteous fellow the Admiral was.
After that, Seymour signaled to his retinue and walked off once more toward Temple Bar, utterly ignoring us.
As soon as Seymour was out of sight, my two borrowed servants emerged from around a corner, both stuffing sweetmeats into their mouths.
I glared at them, but they showed no contrition. If I’d dragged them out into dirty London in the cold, their expressions said, then it was only their due to run off and gobble treats when my attention was engaged elsewhere. I doubted they’d even noticed that Seymour had tried to make off with me.
“What are you doing in London, Eloise?” Uncle John demanded as he towed me into a narrow lane, out of the crowds. “Where is Her Grace?”
“At Hatfield, as you told the Lord Admiral,” I replied, the air fogging with my words. “Aunt Kat and I came to London on our own.”
“Why?” Uncle John peered at me in anxiety. “Never tell me it was to speak with Seymour. What is she—”
“No, no, not the Lord Admiral,” I said quickly. “To speak with you.” My voice gentled. “Aunt Kat is quite sorry she quarreled with you, and she misses you so. She made the excuse that she needed to seek a physician, but in truth, she is waiting for you to send word that she is forgiven.”
Uncle John’s grip on me relaxed, and tenderness entered his expression. “She is foolish sometimes, is your aunt.”
“Perhaps, but she is willing to be guided by you.”
Uncle John frowned. “Cease when you have won, Eloise. Your aunt is not the most obedient of wives, though, to be honest, I prefer her that way.” His mouth softened. “I miss her, too.”
“Return to the house with me now, then. She is staying with the Slaynings, and will be glad to see you.”
To my relief, Uncle John nodded, and we fell into step together, making our way toward the house where Aunt Kat waited.
My assurances did not curb Uncle John’s questions. “If your aunt came to London to make it up with me, why were you out here conferring with his lordship?”
“Hardly conferring,” I said indignantly. “I was being abducted.” I told him what had occurred, and Uncle John looked troubled.
“He is scheming something, as ever.” Uncle John shuddered. “I hope whatever it is never touches us.”
I fervently shared the wish. The conspiracies of the highborn could be perilous, and I knew Seymour for a dangerous man.
Aunt Kat was so pleased to see Uncle John when we reached the house that she welcomed him with open arms, all quarrels forgotten. Uncle John stayed to supper at the Slaynings’ request, which was a happy reunion with his wife and friends.
By tacit agreement, neither I nor Uncle John spoke of my encounter with Seymour.
That evening, Aunt Kat retired with Uncle John to her chamber, and they did not emerge again until much later. I admit that before I went to sleep, I pressed my ear to their chamber door and was happy to hear their contented murmurs.
In the morning, Aunt Kat and I broke our fast with Uncle John, and Master Parry, who’d likewise come to London on business. We made no mention of Seymour, and Aunt Kat seemed to understand that the topic of the Admiral—and marriage at all—was forbidden.
Once we’d finished the meal, Aunt Kat told me that Uncle John had persuaded her to return to Hatfield with him. We packed our meager belongings, thanked our hosts, and departed on horseback, me clinging to Aunt Kat as I rode behind her on a calm palfrey.
We wended our way north through London to Smithfield and then took the long road to Hatfield.
By the time we returned home, news reached us that Thomas Seymour had begun a dangerous new mission.
He’d decided to use his position as Lord High Admiral to try to overthrow his brother and the stranglehold he and the privy council had on King Edward, and to grip Edward in his own fist instead.