The Fallen Queen (45 page)

But Lady Jane seemed to understand, and as she draped the heavy, fur-trimmed, forest green velvet cloak around Kate she paused to give her shoulder a comforting pat.

“Kate …” I took a step forward and put out a hand to her, but she brushed me aside.

“
Go away, Mary!
I haven’t time for you now!”

I thought I caught a flash of purple and white as Kate snatched up her green velvet reticule and stuffed something inside. Then she was gone, out the door as though her life depended on it, leaving Lady Jane to flash me an apologetic smile as she quickly threw on a cloak of blue velvet edged with grey rabbit fur and hurried out after her, even though the rapid pace brought on a violent coughing fit.

I know I shouldn’t have, but I followed them. Even though it was very difficult, as they chose to brave the busy London streets instead of taking a barge, and I was much jostled and even knocked down twice, I refused to stop. Soon I found myself standing in Cannon Row, watching as my sister and her friend hurried up the steps of Hertford House, Ned Seymour’s fine redbrick London residence. As though he had been watching for them, Ned Seymour himself, in a brown velvet doublet richly worked with gold, opened the door and let them in. He came out onto the stoop and glanced swiftly left and right before he followed them inside and shut the door.
How curious,
I thought,
to see a nobleman open his own front door.
The Seymours were wealthy and had many servants. Why had Kate and Jane come out unchaperoned when both had ladies’ maids who might have accompanied them? Kate had always put great trust in Henny, who had been with her since birth, and was robust and strong-armed enough to make any man who might have dared accost the girls think twice. Something strange was happening, and I was determined to know what.

Boldly, I squared my shoulders and strode toward the door, only to nearly be knocked down by Lady Jane Seymour as she ran out in a swirl of blue velvet and grey fur. She caught me before I fell, and her face paled even more if that were possible, and the spots of red in her cheeks glowed even brighter. But she didn’t try to stop me.

“It’s not right to keep it from you. You’re her sister, and you should be there,” she murmured as she took her hand from my shoulder and hurried away, down the street, intent on some seemingly urgent errand.

I squared my shoulders and walked straight into Ned Seymour’s house, unhindered and unannounced, and followed their voices into the oak-panelled parlour. Kate’s green velvet cloak lay draped over the fireside settle, and they stood embracing before the hearth’s bright warmth. They broke apart, gasping guiltily, at the sight of me. Ned murmured something about seeing to the refreshments and hurried out, leaving Kate alone to face me.

“What are you doing, Kate?” I asked wearily, for I was suddenly very tired of deceptions, secrets, and games. I wanted only to have the truth full plain even if it killed me.

“We’re to be married, and you can’t stop us!” Kate said hotly with a defiant toss of her curls, which I noticed now were crowned with a wreath of gilded rosemary, purple velvet violets, periwinkles, heart’s ease pansies, and yellow gillyflowers: a bridal coronet, all fashioned from silk and velvet, to bring warm, bright, and beautiful spring into cold, wet, white, and grey winter.

Married!
I staggered back, as though the word were a dread disease I would avoid. Only if Kate had told me she had the plague, I would
never
have drawn back. I would have stepped forward and done anything and everything I could to save her.
Oh no, no, no, no!
All of a sudden I felt faint and reached up to clasp my head, to make sure it didn’t float away, it felt so dizzy, sick, and light. Now I understood. They were marrying in secret because it was the only way; Elizabeth would
never
give her consent to Kate, with her royal Tudor blood, marrying Ned Seymour, scion of a powerful family with Plantagenet blood, albeit a dilute strain, coursing through his veins. It was too dangerous and potent a combination to allow Elizabeth to sit easy on her throne, and heaven knew she already had cause to be vigilant and wary. As much as she was loved by her people, she was hated by many who had the power to finance a rebellion or pay an assassin.

And if Kate should conceive a son …

If Kate gave birth to a boy, all who opposed the petticoat rule of Elizabeth would know
exactly
where to turn; they would think an infant male was better than any full-grown woman, even one as shrewd and savvy as Elizabeth. Some might even be tempted to usurp the throne in that child’s name, even if Kate wanted no part of it. She and her son would become, like Jane, innocent pawns in the game powerful men played, men who would not scruple to take Elizabeth’s life, just so a Tudor crested instead of cloven betwixt the thighs, and untainted by talk of illegitimacy and debate about the validity of his parents’ marriage, could sit upon England’s throne.

“Kate, this is
madness!
Think what you are doing! You are defying the Queen! You know you cannot marry without her permission—neither of us can! Elizabeth is
not
Mary; she doesn’t love us! Elizabeth’s a tigress, fighting for her life and throne, kill or be killed, and she will
not
hesitate to kill you if she has to! She’ll
always
put herself and England first because, to herself and most of her subjects, she
is
England!”

“Stop it!”
Kate put her hands up to block her ears. “You’re only trying to scare me, but I won’t let you!
I won’t!
It will not come to that; I won’t let it!”

I crossed the room and took her hand, which I saw now wore a pale blue diamond, pointed at one end, like a great glimmering tear. “Kate,” I sighed, “I am not your enemy; do not treat me as such! Talk to me, as your sister, and your friend, as you used to. Confide in me!”

With a great, heaving sigh, Kate sank down onto the settle and hung her head. I came and stood before her, taking both her hands in mine.

“Kate, look at me,” I pleaded.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Mary. My heart has been troubling me sorely, but I did what I did only to protect you. If you didn’t know … no one could blame or hurt you.” She pulled one hand away from mine and caressed her yellow and purple skirt. “You made my wedding gown, even though you did not know that was what it was, with your love for me in every stitch, as in every garment you have ever made for me. It’s
so
beautiful! So how could I even think of shutting you out? On the happiest day of my life too!” She raised her head and gave me the full glory of her smile. “I love him, Mary! I have to follow my heart, even if it leads me into danger. We will keep our nuptials secret … for now, but later … someday … when the time is right, I will go on my knees before the Queen and confess all and do whatever I must to assure her I harbour no royal ambitions, I make no claim, now or ever, for myself or any children I may, God willing, bear. I will sign or say whatever I must to renounce it all, permanently, and Ned and I will go away, to live quietly in the country. All I want—for myself and for my family—is love and to be happy.”

It was a beautiful dream, but I couldn’t quite believe it could ever come true. I hated myself for doubting, but I couldn’t help it; to do otherwise would be willful blindness and self-deception. I hung my head, so that she would not see my tears.

“I don’t want to lose another sister, Kate. I don’t want to see you die a traitor’s death or rot your life away in prison. No man is worth such a sacrifice.”

She reached down and cupped my face between her soft hands and smiled at me. “That will
never
happen, Mary; God wouldn’t let it. What I do, I do for love—all for love. All will be well in time; you will see. You’re just scared and imagining the worst. But our union was meant to be, all signs point to it, and God
will
bless us.
I know!
And, even if it did—but it won’t!—you’re
wrong,
Mary! Ned is different from other men; he
is
worth
any
sacrifice Love demands of me. Sometimes the greatest loves come hand in hand with suffering and sorrow. If you would have music to dance to, you have to pay the players; ’tis only just and fair.” She shrugged and smiled brightly, as though this were a trivial matter like doling out coins to a troupe of musicians instead of
treason
.

I wished with all my heart that I could believe and share her auspicious euphoria, but I couldn’t keep the fear from clutching my heart like a hand of ice. It made me shiver and not even Kate’s warm smile could melt the fear away; I was afraid it would never leave me.

I took a step forward and reached up and gripped my sister’s shoulders and stared deep into her bright, joyful eyes that were blind and heedless to all danger. “Kate, for God’s sake, listen to me and see reason. If you do this fool thing, if you marry Ned Seymour you are committing treason—high treason! You can be burned or beheaded at the Queen’s pleasure or sent to rot in a prison cell!”

But Kate just smiled at me. “Don’t worry, Mary; everything’s going to be all right! But … just in case … you were
never
here, and if you say you were, I shall deny it and say you are lying to try to protect your sister’s honour.”

That she would say such a thing told me clouds of concern lurked behind that sunny smile. Kate wanted to believe everything would be all right, to think she could will into being the bright future she wanted so much, but doubt and worry would dog her steps like trainbearers she could never shake off or leave far behind her.

With a smile and a carefree laugh, she was up and dancing across the room as Ned came back in, smiling broadly over a great silver tray laden with heaping platters of sliced meats, a sampling of cheeses, fresh baked bread, festive piles of dried and candied fruits and nuts, sliced apples draped with melted cheese, glass bowls filled with sweet, syrupy berries stewed in wine, creamy custard, a compote of honeyed pears and another of peaches, candied violets arranged upon a pretty yellow plate to match Kate’s wedding dress, and at the heart of it all, a pretty pink cake made with raspberries crowned with candied pink cabbage roses. “A sweet repast for my sweet,” he said as he set it down on a table where goblets and bottles of wine were already arranged. Kate gave a delighted squeal and clasped her hands as she admired the cake, lamenting that Father was not here to enjoy it with us, he would have been so pleased. “He always loved raspberries and said pink was a heaven-sent colour for confections!”

“I am glad you are here, my soon to be sister Mary.” Ned smiled as he knelt down to face me. It was very kind of him to do so; many enjoyed the lofty feeling of superiority they experienced when they towered high above and looked down on me. He had a very pleasant face, and a smile so charming and disarming, and there appeared to be genuine warmth in his hazel eyes. I had to stop myself from impulsively reaching out and brushing back the wing of sun-lightened brown hair that fell over his brow.

Looking at him, this great, smiling overgrown boy of twenty, I could almost believe he loved my sister as much as she loved him. But there was always
something,
I can’t put it into words; I only know that it was
always
there, niggling at the back of my mind, never letting me truly trust Ned Seymour. Possibly my soul was too sullied from all the ambitious machinations I had witnessed almost from the cradle, power plays, coups, conspiracies, and court intrigues; perhaps it made me overly conscious of the royal lines that would be united with their marriage and what this could mean for their, and their children’s, futures. Kate was, after all, the unacknowledged heir presumptive, and thus a splendid catch for any ambitious young man, and one with Plantagenet blood in his veins could make much of that if he were so inclined, and might even consider such a wife worth feigning love for. After all, many had pretended passion for far less. How many men since time began had declared their love just to woo a maiden into bed? Maybe it was because this “great love” had blossomed so suddenly? To my suspicious mind it just seemed too choreographed, too much like a romantic stage play; those sweet dreams we want to believe but know rarely do come true. Or perhaps it was just that I was too cynical to believe in love at first sight? Or maybe Kate was right—I was scared and imagining the worst. I just don’t know.

“I know it broke Kate’s heart to think you wouldn’t be here. And now you are here, and it all ends happily!” Ned’s face brightened with a broad smile. Oh my, he was
very
comely! “It was meant to be,” he declared, making so bold as to kiss my cheek, before he rose and went back to Kate. He led her to sit upon the settle and stood beside her, smiling down at her, as she gazed up at him, holding her hand, until the moment we heard the front door open again.

Her face terribly flushed and her shoulders shaking with a hacking cough, that by the looks of the handkerchief she tried to conceal, squashed tight in her fist, had brought up blood, and by its violence had shaken her fair hair from its pins, Lady Jane came in, tugging with all her fragile might at the hand of a big, black-gowned man with a long, tangled, greasy, and unkempt red beard.

“This way, Father, this way!” she cried between coughs, pulling hard at his hand and urging him toward Kate and Ned as he was apparently incapable of walking straight and finding the bridal couple himself. As he weaved his way across the floor, his unsteady gait aping the undulations of a slithering snake, he brought with him the fumes of the tavern, along with those of his own unwashed body, and his bleary, bloodshot eyes roamed the room as though the bride and groom might be hiding on the ceiling or concealed in a corner. As he stood, belching and swaying, before the bridal couple, I discreetly moved away; as I was shorter than the others, and thus nearer his nether regions, the stink of urine was unmistakable and undesirably near my nose.

Many burps and hiccups and fumbled words marred the marriage service he tried to read from the
Book of Common Prayer
he held upside down in hands like a pair of great pink bear paws, their backs thickly covered with coarse red hair. But Kate and Ned never seemed to notice, their eyes rapt and adoring, never leaving each other. They smiled, clasped hands, and spoke their vows staring into each other’s eyes. Kate, I know, spoke straight from her heart.