The Lady Elizabeth (10 page)

The next day, the Lady Mary took Elizabeth to see their brother, Prince Edward, a solemn two-year-old whom they found seated on the floor of his opulent nursery, surrounded by building blocks, a miniature wooden dagger and shield, a gold rattle, a spinning top, a hobbyhorse, and a pretty white poodle, which, Elizabeth remembered, had once belonged to his mother, Queen Jane. His nurse, Mistress Penn, a homely woman with a white apron over her dove-gray gown, rose as the King’s daughters entered, and bobbed.

Elizabeth curtsied low before the Prince, who looked up and fixed his ice-blue gaze on her. Beneath his wide-brimmed feathered hat and bonnet, his straight fringe was very fair, his round cheeks rosy, his mouth cherry red, and his chin tapering to a determined point. Mistress Penn lifted him onto her lap.

“Say welcome to your sisters, my Lady Mary and my Lady Elizabeth,” she instructed.

“Welcome, Lady Mary, Lady Lisbeth,” lisped the infant. He did not smile.

“I have a gift for you, Brother,” said Elizabeth, holding out the finely stitched cambric shirt. Edward stretched out a fat hand to take it from her, studied it for a moment, lost interest, and handed it to his nurse.

“I am sure he will look very fine in it, my lady,” smiled Mistress Penn.

“May I hold him?” Elizabeth asked, seating herself beside the nurse and making a lap. The nurse lifted the infant carefully, and he settled contentedly into Elizabeth’s arms.

“My Lord Prince is heavy,” the child said, relishing the warm closeness of the little body snuggled against her. “Aren’t you, Brother?”

He raised steely blue eyes to her. Their father looked out of them.

“Aren’t you going to smile for me?” prompted Elizabeth, pulling a face. There was a faint reaction, no more.

“He’ll soon find his tongue, my lady,” predicted the nurse.

Gently, Elizabeth tickled the Prince’s sides. He jumped in her arms and chuckled.

“You’ve done well with him, my lady,” Mistress Penn remarked. “He’s a solemn boy and rarely smiles.”

Edward was now beaming at Elizabeth. She beamed back and bent to rub noses with him.

“May I hold him now?” asked Mary. The nurse passed Edward to her, and Mary seated him on her knee, crooning to him, caressing him, and hugging him tightly to her. The child bore this for a few moments before struggling to get down, much to her evident disappointment. He toddled over to his playthings and picked up the hobbyhorse; soon he was careering around the room on it, chasing an imaginary quarry.

“When the Queen arrives,” Elizabeth said, “I hope we will all be able to live together at court.”

Mary looked doubtful.

“We must wait on the will of our father and our new stepmother,” she said.

Just then, Edward drew to a halt in front of them.

“Bow!” he piped imperiously. His sisters looked at him in surprise, hesitating.

“Bow!” he repeated. “I’m going to be king, like my father!”

Mary and Elizabeth rose, suppressing their smiles, and swept deep curtsies before him.

“Rise,” he ordered them, in perfect imitation of King Henry. The sisters obeyed.

“Now you may go,” Edward said. Mrs. Penn was shaking her head at his forwardness.

As they left, Elizabeth took a rather sticky piece of marchpane from her pocket and pressed it into the nurse’s hand.

“Give this to the Prince,” she whispered.

Christmas had passed in a whirl of festivities, with everyone eagerly anticipating the coming of the new Queen. Now the New Year’s Eve revels were in full swing: The great hall at Whitehall was packed with people; candles flickered, the fire roared in the great hearth, dogs scavenged for scraps, and servants with ewers were passing about the room, topping up goblets. Elizabeth was enjoying herself hugely. The Lord of Misrule had demanded a forfeit of her, and she was commanded to kiss the ten most handsome gentlemen in the room. Everyone, her father included, roared with mirth as she selected first this man, then that, and, with eyes screwed shut, offered a puckered-up mouth to each. In the end, she was so helpless with laughter that she had to abandon the play for a space, holding her aching sides till she got her breath back.

“What of me?” cried the King with mock indignation. “Am I not the handsomest man in the room?” Elizabeth, still breathless, ran to him and planted a big kiss on his lips. The courtiers clapped and cheered.

“Of course you are, sir!” she panted.

It was at that point that a messenger in the King’s livery entered and whispered in her father’s ear. Henry smiled broadly, drew himself to his majestic height, and raised his hand for silence.

“Great news, my lords and ladies! The Princess Anna of Cleves is arrived safely in this kingdom and is even now at Rochester. What say you? Shall we await her formal reception before we behold our bride, or shall we ride to Rochester now, in the guise of an ardent suitor, to nourish love?”

The company, flushed with wine, shouted their approval of the latter plan, and soon Elizabeth was standing at the front of the throng gathered in the palace courtyard to wave good-bye to the King and the eight gentlemen who were to accompany him.

“The furs, Sir Anthony! My gift to the Princess! Did you remember them?” Henry cried as, swathed in sables, he hauled himself into the saddle.

“I have them here, Sire,” smiled Sir Anthony Browne.

The King grinned, clapped his bonnet down firmly on his head, and waved to his watching courtiers.

“We will see you, one and all, very soon, then we will repair to Greenwich for the wedding. Farewell!”

“God speed Your Grace!” the gentlemen and ladies cried. “Go to it, old goat!” Elizabeth heard someone mutter.

“Can I come?” she cried impulsively as the King wheeled his horse around.

“Not tonight, Bessy! I go to nourish love, and little girls might get in the way!” her father replied jovially, then he was gone, clattering through the palace gateway at the head of his train.

CHAPTER
5

1540–41

N
o one knew when the King would return, so the Lord Chamberlain announced that the New Year’s Day revels would proceed as planned without him. Elizabeth spent much of the day in her chamber with Kat, both of them kneeling before the fire and labeling the gifts they would distribute that night.

It was late in the afternoon, already dark outside, when Elizabeth clapped her hand to her mouth.

“I forgot! I promised the Lady Mary I would join her in chapel for Vespers,” she exclaimed.

“Don’t worry,” said Kat, looking at the hourglass. “If we hasten now, we won’t be late.”

She fetched Elizabeth’s cloak and gloves, helped her to put them on, then escorted her down the spiral stair to the courtyard. The chapel lay opposite, and the glow of candles could be seen through its stained-glass windows. Mary would already be at her devotions.

Elizabeth could hear hooves pounding on the hard ground, coming closer and closer. She and Kat stood back to give the approaching riders a wide berth. Through the gate they rode, trotting now, and Elizabeth was thrilled to see her father the King, back in time after all for the evening’s frolics. Thrilled, and then perturbed, because he did not look like a happy bridegroom. Indeed, his face was rigid with what appeared to be anger, and he seemed completely unaware that she was there. Glowering, he dismounted heavily, then stumped off toward his apartments, his long-faced gentlemen following at a safe distance as stable lads hastened to take the horses.

Elizabeth and Kat looked at each other, stupefied.

“Why does my father look so cross?” Elizabeth asked.

“I cannot think,” replied Kat. “Hurry, my lady, we will be late for chapel.”

Mary, on her knees, glanced up briefly in reproof as they hurried in, then quietly returned to her prayers. Elizabeth found it hard to concentrate and made the responses mechanically. Why had her father looked so fearfully angry?

She felt a chill of apprehension. She had learned by now that when her father was angered, bad things happened. His wrath was far more frightening than most men’s, for it held the power of life and death. People had even died…She moved closer to Kat and clutched her hand.

Henry frowned as he took his place on the dais for the feast. He sat there, enormous in his jeweled doublet, a feathered hat perched on his balding, graying head, obviously fuming, as his narrow eyes raked over his courtiers. The presence chamber was quiet; instead of the usual hum of conversation, he could hear muffled coughs, the odd sniff, and stifled whispers. He espied his daughters, regarding him with anxious eyes from their places at the end of the high table. They, like he, had been let down. They had been expecting a stepmother, he a wife he could love. He felt like exploding.

Where was that villain Cromwell? He should be here! And here he was, all smiles and affability, entering the room late, after his sovereign. But discourtesy was the least of it, Henry thought.

Cromwell’s eyes met those of the King, and his smile faltered and died. The court collectively held its breath, looking from one to the other. Elizabeth, who missed little, realized at once that Master Cromwell had in some way offended her father. So
that
was why the King was in a bad mood. Things were beginning to make sense.

“We missed you on our return, Master Secretary,” Henry said ominously, his voice tight.

“I crave Your Majesty’s pardon,” answered Cromwell smoothly. “I was dressing for the feast. I was unaware until an hour ago that Your Majesty
had
returned.”

“We returned, Master Secretary, because there was nothing to stay in Rochester for.” The King’s voice was icy.

“Is Your Majesty saying that the Princess Anna was not there?” asked Cromwell. The courtiers were devouring every word.

“Oh, she was there, Master Secretary, she was there.”

“That is a relief, Sire,” babbled Cromwell. “And how does Your Majesty like the Queen?”

The King leaned forward menacingly.

“I like her not. I like her not!” The last words were spat out staccato. “She is nothing so well as she was spoken of, by you and others. And if I had known as much before as I know now, she would never have come into this realm!”

He sat back in his chair, looking like a lion about to pounce on its prey.

“What remedy, Master Cromwell? What remedy?”

Cromwell looked like a man who had just been punched.

“Sire, the contract has been signed and agreed. There might be difficulties…” Looking at his master’s face, he added quickly, “But I will look at it carefully and see if there is a way out.”

“You had better find one,” said the King. “You got me into this pass, and you are going to get me out of it!”

When Cromwell had scuttled off like a whipped cur, Henry nodded at the minstrels. They began to play, and the courtiers thankfully resumed their conversations in a subdued fashion. Elizabeth felt uncomfortable. This was not the happy New Year’s Day revelry she had anticipated, and she now feared she might not be getting a new stepmother after all. Nor could she understand why, for the Princess Anna had looked so lovely in her picture. What did her father not like about her?

She realized that the King was grumbling to the Duke of Norfolk, who sat at his left.

“Poor men can marry the woman of their choice,” Henry was saying plaintively, “but princes must take as is brought them by others. Whom can men trust?”

“Your Majesty is ill served,” observed the Duke, shaking his head in sympathy. “No doubt about it.”

“Indeed I am,” agreed Henry sadly. “But must I needs put my neck in the yoke? What remedy is there?”

“We must hope that Master Cromwell will find one, Sire,” soothed the Duke. Elizabeth was surprised to see his thin lips curl in a furtive smile.

The next day, the court moved to Greenwich, regardless of the fact that no one now knew whether or not the royal wedding would be taking place there. The King had left the feast early on the previous evening, and no one had seen him since, while Master Secretary Cromwell had gone to ground somewhere.

Before they departed, Elizabeth paid a farewell visit to her brother Edward, who was to leave shortly for Hertford Castle. She had seen him several times over the past days, and he now knew her and greeted her enthusiastically.

“Lisbeth!” he shrieked as she entered the room, and he ran with arms outstretched to embrace her. Imperious he might be on occasions, but he was also an adorable toddler, and her heart swelled with love for him.

His attendant, a woman, curtsied. Elizabeth stopped. It was Lady Bryan.

“My Lady Elizabeth, you are most welcome,” she said composedly.

“I thank you.” Elizabeth nodded stiffly. She still felt the pain of her former governess’s desertion. “I came to see my lord the Prince.”

Lady Bryan recognized the snub.

“I will send Mistress Penn in,” she said, and withdrew.

“I am going to Greenwich,” Elizabeth told Edward, cradling him on her lap. “I came to say farewell. I must hurry. God grant that we shall meet again soon, sweet Brother. And God keep you until then.”