Chapter 8
Tyrwhitt tried, every day that Elizabeth was well enough to leave her bed and meet with him, to make her say what he wanted her to.
He never succeeded. With the precision of an expert swordsman, Elizabeth evaded his every question about Seymour and his plots.
She constantly brought Tyrwhitt back to the fact that she firmly intended to obey her father’s last wishes, which had been that she’d never marry without the advice and permission of Edward’s council.
Whatever Seymour’s plans had been, Elizabeth implied without blatantly stating it, she’d had no intention of participating in them herself. She held herself apart, aloof.
I understood as I watched these interviews that Elizabeth had fallen out of love with Seymour as thoroughly as I had. When once her eyes would brighten at the mention of his name, she now spoke no word in his defense nor made any sign of protest about his arrest.
She had finished with him. Elizabeth could not stop what happened to him now, and so she strove to remove herself from the incident.
Tyrwhitt, faced with Elizabeth’s coolness and her iron will, seemed amazed by her. The only human feeling she had, I heard him mutter to his wife, was for her governess, Mistress Ashley.
“They must have collaborated on a story,” I also heard him say to Lady Tyrwhitt. “They sing the same tune, the three of them.”
“She will have counseled them,” his wife answered darkly. “The princess, I mean.”
“She is a child, for heaven’s sake,” Tyrwhitt retorted.
“God’s grace, she is but a girl, for all her haughty ways.
I will wager it was Parry who advised her.
” He sighed. “Though Denny and Paulet swore that they never allowed Mistress Ashley or Master Parry speak to Elizabeth after their arrest. I do not know how they managed it, but they must have.”
I turned away from them, a smile on my lips.
A piece of gossip came to us soon after that, which brought Elizabeth out of her cold aloofness and sent her into a towering fury.
“It is untrue,” Elizabeth exclaimed hotly to Tyrwhitt when he, torn between embarrassment and smugness, shared this news in her chamber. “As you can see.”
She spread her arms, showing her slender figure hugged by a close-fitting blue satin bodice coming to a point over a skirt of the same color.
I’d heard the whispers myself before Tyrwhitt brought them to light and had made certain that the gown denounced the slander.
Tyrwhitt flinched at Elizabeth’s outburst. “It is rumor only, Your Grace,” he said hastily. “No one will believe it.”
“Of course they will believe it,” Elizabeth shouted.
“Here I am, shut away from the world, unable to refute the tales. Take me to court and let me show myself. ’Twill be easy to make a mockery of the story that I am heavy with the Admiral’s child and locked in the Tower if I am seen in my brother’s company. ”
“I cannot allow you to leave Hatfield,” Tyrwhitt said miserably.
Elizabeth whirled and abruptly swept all books and papers on her table to the floor.
Tyrwhitt jumped, but secretly I was pleased to see Elizabeth in a fine rage. The coldness into which she’d retreated in the last several days had unnerved me. I was used to her hot tempers—her icy control was new.
“Then I will write to His Grace Somerset.” It was all Elizabeth could do to give the Lord Protector the honorific. “And ask him myself.”
“My lady … ”
Elizabeth sent Tyrwhitt a freezing glare. “My reputation is at stake, Sir Robert. The people of England shall not be laughing at me, or pitying the princess who has fallen so low. I have not fallen, and these slanders are insulting. How dare the Lord Protector allow them to persist?”
I could guess how he dared—it would be in Somerset’s interest to paint Elizabeth as a whore and Seymour as a whoremonger. He’d state that the two had readied themselves to take over the kingdom, easily stopped by Somerset, of course.
Elizabeth won this round and wrote her letter: Master Tyrwhitt and others have told me that there goeth rumors abroad which be greatly both against mine honor and honesty …
which be these: that I am in the Tower and with child by my Lord Admiral.
My lord, these are shameful slanders … I shall most heartily desire your lordship that I may come to the court after your first determination, that I may show myself there as I am.
I heard reports that when Somerset received this letter, dutifully delivered by Tyrwhitt, he turned nearly green with fury.
Somerset’s wife had snarled at the impudence of Elizabeth, she who’d behaved so wantonly, nearly committing adultery with her own stepfather. What right had Elizabeth to write so peremptorily to Somerset, the first lord of the land, while Elizabeth was one step from being condemned as a traitor?
Somerset, it was said, ground his teeth before writing a curt and severe reply.
Thus began the battle of wits between Elizabeth and the Lord Protector of England.
While Elizabeth exercised her rage at Somerset, I worried about Aunt Kat. She remained in the Tower, how sequestered I did not know. Lady Tyrwhitt assured me she was well, but one of Tyrwhitt’s manservants whispered to me that Aunt Kat had been put into a dungeon and made to sit in chains.
I recalled my vision not long ago of this very thing happening and could not ease the chill that took me. I did not believe I had second sight—I could hear my grandmother scoffing at such a notion even now. I must have simply realized what dire troubles Aunt Kat’s meddling could bring.
I fretted about her and also about Uncle John, who was still in London. Finally, I begged Elizabeth for leave to journey to visit him.
Elizabeth at first was not inclined to let me go.
“I need you, Eloise,” she said when we met for a fitting one afternoon. She still pretended to be put out with me, so that I could watch, listen, and report to her without anyone believing I was her confidant. “You are the one point of comfort in the madness.”
I warmed to hear her say this, but even her praise could not banish my fears.
“I have to know what is happening,” I said as I straightened a hem I was pinning. “I can find out things so much easier in London.”
Elizabeth went silent as she weighed my argument until she at last gave me a nod. “Go then. But keep your eyes open and tell me what truly goes on. Master Ashley will know some of it, and you are clever enough to invent a way to learn more.”
I had intended to question Uncle John thoroughly and try to gain admission to the Tower to visit Aunt Kat. Thus, I had no trouble agreeing to Elizabeth’s stipulation. I doubted I’d succeed in speaking to Aunt Kat myself, but I meant to discover everything I could, regardless.
When I rose to my feet and helped Elizabeth step out of the unfinished skirt, she caught me briefly in her arms, crushing me in a spontaneous embrace.
“Do not let any harm come to her.” Her whisper was hot in my ear. “She has always loved me, even when no others would.”
It was true that when Elizabeth’s mother had been condemned, many deserted her or were taken from her. Elizabeth was now proving fiercely loyal to the ladies who’d remained. The gentlewoman who’d been her protective nurse was one, and Aunt Kat another.
I did not know what I could do to prevent Somerset from condemning whomever he pleased, but I nodded and dared to kiss the pale cheek so close to my lips.
“I will keep her safe,” I promised.
Elizabeth lifted her chin, her dignity returning. “See that you do,” she commanded, then turned from me for her other ladies to re-dress her.
I rode to London on horseback with a contingent of Tyrwhitt’s and Uncle Denny’s gentlemen, who’d been dispatched there to deliver messages to Somerset. We traveled at a swift pace—very unlike the stately journeys I took with the princess—and reached Moorgate in the north of London late that night.
Because the riders bore messages for Somerset, we were speedily admitted into the city.
Two of Uncle Denny’s guards were ordered to escort me to the house where Uncle John lodged, which they did, if grudgingly.
I was glad of their company, truth to tell, because London could be a frightening place after dark.
“Eloise,” Uncle John exclaimed when his manservant ushered me, travel-worn and dusty, into the sitting room of his lodgings. “What do you here?”
“I feared for you, Uncle.” My voice cracked with fatigue and anxiousness, and I longed for a sip of hock to wet my throat.
Uncle John was gray-faced and weary, his hands shaking as he reached for me. “Worry not for me, but for poor, silly Kat.”
He pulled me into an embrace, and for a moment, we both shed tears for her.
I drew away and wiped my cheeks. “Surely the king will not condemn his sister’s beloved governess. He could not be so cruel.”
“Young Edward, perhaps not.” Uncle John led me to a seat, and the hovering manservant who’d admitted me brought us warm, spiced wine.
“But the Lord Protector might. He has fixed all his jealousy and suspicion on Seymour, and he will pull in any he believes will help condemn him. Somerset has always been the bland, do-good Seymour while Thomas had the charm and received all the attention. Naturally that rankles.”
“Hardly fair to punish Aunt Kat because Thomas Seymour is more dashing than his older brother,” I said heatedly. “That is not her fault.”
“But Seymour is a traitor, or as good as one.” Uncle John sighed heavily, while I took an indignant slurp of wine.
“Seymour’s apparent plot, as far as I can learn, was to marry either Mary or Elizabeth, overthrow Somerset, and rule behind Edward’s throne, with Seymour’s princess wife aiding and abetting him. ”
“Mary or Elizabeth?” I repeated with incredulity. “It made no difference to him which he wed?”
“I imagine he preferred the pretty and young Elizabeth,” Uncle John said dryly. “But yes, either would do.”