Chapter 11 #2
Northumberland surrendered, though he stormed from the room in fury. The Duchess of Suffolk vented her feelings on Jane, while her husband stood by in resignation. Paulet returned the crown to the casket and glided, unnoticed, from the room.
Jane would be queen, but Guildford Dudley would never be called king.
The next afternoon, Northumberland made another announcement, this one more somber. Mary had staked out a territory in East Anglia and had declared herself Queen of England. She had plenty of men at arms who’d sworn loyalty to her, and she was raising an army.
Jane paced and wrung her hands, eyes wide like a frightened child’s.
The Duchess of Suffolk swept an icy glare over her husband. “You did not secure Mary?”
I sat once more in my nook, forgotten in the dark, cutting the velvets meant for Jane. Robert Dudley lounged by the fireplace, one booted foot propped behind him on the grate. His friend Colby stood in the shadows near him.
“My men tried,” Suffolk answered his wife wearily. “She eluded us.”
“You let her,” the duchess boomed. “Go and retrieve her. You have London, you have an army, and your daughter is the queen, not Mary.”
Northumberland looked upon the duchess as though she were a roach he barely kept himself from stepping on.
“Lady Mary is a cunning woman, who uses the most of the devil’s wits,” Northumberland told her, tight-lipped. “An army shall be dispatched, and a ship is standing by to take her. ’Twill be over by the week’s end.”
“And what of the Lady Elizabeth?” the Duchess of Suffolk demanded.
My heart hammered, but I continued carefully snipping, keeping my focus on my scissors.
“My reports tell me that the Lady Elizabeth is very ill and cannot travel,” Northumberland said.
“That is no matter. She can be held at Hatfield as well as anywhere, and moved when she is better. The Tower is reinforced. It was meant to be a stronghold, and a stronghold it will be. Suffolk will lead the army against Mary and bring her to heel.”
At this, Jane shrieked. “No, Father. Do not leave me!”
Northumberland’s face clouded. Perhaps Jane had the correct blood to be queen, but she did not have a queen’s mind.
Were it Elizabeth they’d elevated to the throne, she’d face down Northumberland and the Duchess of Suffolk, her eyes glittering as she decided who had the best chance to capture Mary.
Her own feelings in the matter would be held in rigid control.
She’d not beg any man or woman to stay with her, nor would tears wet her face.
Elizabeth might rage, but only against fools.
Jane’s mother scowled at her. “Your father will not be long. He’ll command the army and bring Mary to London in a trice. You will be so busy preparing for your coronation that you will scarce know he has gone.”
But Jane was as stubborn in her own way as any of them in this room, as she’d shown yesterday. Like many gentle souls, she could dig her heels in so hard that a regiment could not move her.
“You cannot leave me, Father,” she proclaimed. “No one will listen to me if you go. They listen to you. You must stay.”
Suffolk’s hard face softened as he went to Jane and took her hands. Jane sank to her knees, gazing up at him piteously, while her mother rolled her eyes in disgust.
“Please, Father,” Jane whispered.
At the fireplace, Colby murmured something to Robert, and then the pair of them turned their gazes to me. I met their stares briefly before bowing again over my work. Colby’s eyes, I’d noted, burned with a strange light.
Meanwhile, Jane was busily getting her way.
“I will stay,” Suffolk conceded. “Never you worry.” He held Jane, letting her weep against him, while her mother and Northumberland regarded them with annoyance.
Jane’s tears were effective. Northumberland, along with his sons, agreed to go snatch Mary from the east of England and deliver her to the Tower, while the Duke of Suffolk remained behind with his daughter and wife.
That night I was awakened by a hard hand across my mouth.
I jerked upward, striking out at my assailant, struggling for breath to scream. I heard a satisfactory grunt as my fist connected with flesh, then a strong grip forced me back to the pillows.
“Do not rouse the house, you idiot woman,” a male voice came at me. “I am here to help you.”
My thoughts immediately flashed to Thomas Seymour, his fingers tight on my breast as he admonished me not to call out.
Fear lashed through me before I forced myself to banish my panic. Seymour was dead, and this voice was nothing like his. The man’s grasp held urgency, not seduction, his words tinged with alarm.
I strained to see who he was, but the darkness was complete. Nor could I place his voice. Not Suffolk or any of the Dudleys, and not a servant. The ungloved hand over my mouth was broad and callused.
“You must return to Hatfield at once,” the man commanded. “Without anyone seeing you. Get up and dress yourself. Dudley is departing with his father, but he said you were sensible. Do not give his words the lie.”
I finally realized who he must be. Colby, Robert’s friend, who’d shown him no deference and me little enjoyment when we’d danced. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I made out his tall body, long face, and glint of red hair.
I lay still to convey that I would not scream if he released me, but I do not think Colby quite believed me. He lifted his hand very slowly, ready to clap it to my mouth again if I cried out.
“Why must I return home at once?” I asked in a whisper. “What has happened?”
Colby made a noise of annoyance. Had he expected I’d instantly obey any gentleman who entered my room in the night, pinned me to the bed, and hissed orders at me?
From the growl he emitted, he had. Colby had underestimated me as much as Northumberland underestimated Jane.
“There is danger here,” Colby said. “Mary will win. Her sister must be protected.”
“By me?” I sat up, hugging the bedcovers to my body. “You are optimistic. Shall I fight with my scissors and needle?”
He ignored my ridiculousness. “You must go to the Lady Elizabeth and tell her all. There will be much confusion here, and you might not have another chance to slip away.”
Colby must know me for the spy I was and realized that Elizabeth had sent me to report what happened. Robert must as well. Why the pair had not simply dragged me to Northumberland, I could not say.
Colby backed from the cot and stood waiting. The July night was hot, but a cooler breeze wafted through the high, open windows. With it came the sounds of horses snorting, chains rattling, and men shouting to one another in the courtyard below.
They were leaving to fight Mary’s troops. Whoever won this battle—Mary or Jane—Elizabeth would be the loser for it. Northumberland had said he wanted Elizabeth secure, and I shuddered to think what that might mean.
I did not really trust Robert or Colby, but nor did I want to stay any longer in the Tower.
I slid from the bed and padded to the hooks that held my clothes. It became apparent that Colby had no intention of leaving the room or even turning his back while I dressed, so little did he trust me.
Nothing for it. I faced the wall and threw off my night rail. Cool air touched my naked skin, raising goosebumps on my flesh. It was so dark, Colby could not possibly see me, or so I assured myself as I dropped my chemise over my head.
I slid on stockings and tied my skirt around me, then I held my bodice against my chest and glanced over my shoulder at Colby.
“Lace me, please.”
Colby hesitated, a typical man who did not realize how much assistance a woman needed when dressing.
“If you want us to be so secret that I cannot call a maid, you will have to do it,” I informed him.
Colby’s breath was loud in the dark as he came to me. His fingers fumbled against my back until he found the laces, then he began the tricky business of threading them through the grommets.
Once he got them started, however, he seemed somewhat competent at the task. He tied off the laces more quickly than I’d assumed he would.
“Do you have sisters?” I asked as I hooked the bodice to my skirt and then scanned the floor for my sturdy shoes.
“I had a wife.”
Colby spoke in neutral voice, and I could not see his face, but the words were tense.
“Has she died?” I asked softly.
“Two years ago, in childbed.”
Colby was perhaps only a few years older than I, but that age was enough for him to have married and sired children. A woman dying bearing a babe was not unusual, but still sad.
“I am sorry.” I touched his arm. “That is a tragedy.”
He did not answer, and I had to leave it at that.
Colby twitched in impatience to get away, scarcely giving me time to gather up my needle case and tuck it into a bag.
I suppose he’d have liked me to simply throw a cloak over my nightgown and flee with him, but sewing accessories were expensive.
Mine were precious to me, a gift from Aunt Kat long ago.
Once I was ready, we descended through back stairs that were deserted, the old Tower cold and musty, even in the heart of July. We wound through a narrow, bricked yard in the pitch dark, the torches in the main courtyard and the sounds of men and horses not a breath away.
Colby led me to a water gate, our feet slipping and sliding on the damp stone stairs to the river. The tide was out, but a tiny boat rocked on the Thames not far from the sludge of shore.
Colby propelled me onward, his fingers biting my arm. Mud sucked at my feet as I splashed toward the boat. The two of us climbed aboard the tiny vessel, and Colby took up the oars. I sat in the bow, watching him row us downstream, my bag of accoutrements at my feet.
I was trusting him, which could be a mistake. He could be taking me straight into the arms of Mary, who might not be happy that I’d been helping Jane the so-called queen. In addition, I was deserting Jane—poor Jane, who had no one on her side.
But for some reason I believed that Colby wished to aid me in returning to Elizabeth. Robert cared for Elizabeth’s person, but Colby seemed a man who might be more loyal to her as princess.
Also, I could not object to leaving the Tower. A palace it might be, a fortress to protect kings and queens, but I could never forget its bleaker function.
I huddled in my cloak against the wind that skimmed up the river from the sea. Colby strained at the oars, moonlight brushing his dark tunic and trousers tucked into riding boots. No flashy court colors, no hat with plumes, just plain garments for escaping.
We moved as silently as smoke, my cloak and Colby’s subdued clothes blending into the shadows.
Colby rowed for an hour or more at an even tempo, taking only brief rests. After this, he angled the boat for a dark bank until we bumped against a deserted dock jutting into an inlet. Colby leapt out, then reached down and hauled me up beside him.
Beyond the jetty lay a village, typical of mid-England, with thatched-roofed houses surrounding a green. I had no earthly idea where I was. The houses were small and silent, and no lights shone as we hurried through the high street.
Where the high street became a road leading from the village, a lanky young man waited with two horses, one a well-bred animal, the other more ample and placid. The young man sagged in vast relief when we appeared out of the darkness.
He—Colby’s servant or squire, I could not tell which—helped boost me into the saddle of the fine horse, and Colby swung up behind me. He apparently did not trust me to ride alone.
The servant mounted the staid beast, and we rode off into the night.
The sun tinged the horizon with gray not long later. We headed north and west, I saw by where the sunrise lay. Colby’s charger moved swiftly, though I sensed Colby holding the horse back to prevent winding him.
I felt it safe to speak now, so I pried a fold of cloak from my mouth and turned my head to look up at him. “You never told me why you and Lord Robert decided I should return to my lady.”
Colby took his time answering, as though deliberating what to say. When he spoke, it was through tight lips, his face stained pink from the wind.
“Mary will return the old religion to England.”
I waited, but Colby pressed his mouth closed, no more forthcoming.
“Every simpleton will conclude that,” I said in exasperation.
“Let me see if I understand you aright. You supported Jane at first, because she and Northumberland would retain the reformed faith. You now believe Northumberland cannot stand against Mary, and so you want Elizabeth safe. Her claim on the throne is likely to be restored when Northumberland is overthrown.”
Colby said nothing for three or four of his horse’s strides. “Women gossip overmuch,” was his enlightened comment.
“It is not gossip but simple reasoning. You want to save the reformed faith, not the throne. At least you do. What Lord Robert wants I can only guess.”
“He wishes you to keep watch,” Colby said. “And to report any difficulties to him.”
“I will not spy on my lady,” I began.
“You will do as you are told.”
His high-handedness grated on me. I did not have much experience with gentlemen, but most in Elizabeth’s household were deferential to me, because it was well known that I was one of Elizabeth’s favorites.
Colby didn’t give a toss about my favored status, except that it would allow me to be close to her.
“I will do what is best for my Lady Elizabeth,” I informed him.
“I will watch over her, as I always have, and keep her from the grip of conspirators like you. If you drag her into your secret dealings, you will lose the very cause for which you strive. She must be free of your schemes and plans, and be able to prove it.”
“That is why we will speak to you and never to her,” Colby said tersely.
“I see. Because if I am caught and executed for treason, ’twill be no great loss for you. You can easily find another informant, but not another princess.”
Colby actually smiled, a brief flash of teeth that disappeared as soon as it came. “You learn quickly.”
I suppressed a shiver. “I am not a silly prattler you can pay to repeat everything that occurs in my lady’s household. I serve Elizabeth, not Lord Robert. If our interests coincide, then of course, I will help you. But at her command, not yours.”
Colby did not answer. We rode, as the sun rose, in complete silence until we turned onto a road that I recognized ran to Hatfield.
At that point, Colby muttered something under his breath that sounded like bloody women, but the wind was in my ears, and I could not be certain.