We met frequently and there were times when he and I were alone together. Then he talked of his family, all of whom—with the exception of Geoffry, who had tried and failed to take his own life and was now living abroad in exile—had been murdered. What affected him most was the death of his mother, who, he said, had been butchered on the scaffold.
“My mother,” he said, “was a saint. She was the most pious of women who had never harmed a living soul… and to be murdered so.”
I wept with him, remembering so much of my life with her.
“But it is over, Reginald,” I said. “Life dealt harshly with you and yours, and we do no good by remembering.”
He said, “I see myself as the son of a martyr, for such was my mother and I shall never forget her.”
“The past is over,” I said. “Many died and your family among them. We cannot bring them back. We have to think ahead. We have to continue with this great task which God has set us.”
He was certainly zealous in that cause. Three days after his arrival, the two Houses of Parliament were assembled to hear Reginald speak. He told them he had come to restore the lost glory of the kingdom.
A few days later Philip and I were presented with a petition from the two Houses to plead with the Legate to absolve the country from its schism and disobedience.
We were moving toward our goal. High Mass was celebrated at St. Paul's. The Act restoring supremacy to the Pope had not yet been passed but it was on the way.
There was a ceremony at St. Paul's at the end of November to celebrate my condition. It was very moving. The Virgin Mary was referred to, and the similarity of our names seemed significant. “Fear not, Mary,” the angel had said, “for thou hast found favor with God.”
The fear meant that they were all remembering my age and the dangers of childbirth, even to the young and healthy. They would certainly be remembering the last prince to be born, my brother Edward, whose coming had meant the death of his mother.
I listened to the prayers with emotion.
“Give therefore unto Thy servants, Philip and Mary, a male issue.” I was always a little apprehensive about this manner of giving commands to God. Few would have dared treat me in the same manner! “Make him comely and in wit notable and excellent.”
All I wanted was a healthy son; and I was the happiest woman in the world at the prospect of having one.
CHRISTMAS HAD COME. I was delighted that my sister would be at Court to celebrate it with me. She did not appear often in public—only when her presence was commanded. Then she was subdued, and there was a secretive air about her. Philip was immensely interested in her. I often noticed his eyes following her.
I told myself: He is a little suspicious of her; he fears she may be plotting against me.
Dear Philip, he was so careful of me, and I was very happy that I had conceived so soon. It was a sign of fertility.
I was feeling quite ill at times but I rejoiced in my suffering. It was all part of pregnancy, which could be very trying to some women. I expected it would be particularly so for me, in view of my previous weakness.
I said to Philip, “Until this child is born, Elizabeth is the heir presumptive, and I believe she should be treated as such.”
He said he had no objection and was very affable to her, often seating himself beside her and engaging in conversation.
It was a great pleasure to me that they seemed so friendly toward each other but I did feel a little dismayed when Elizabeth was inclined to be coquettish. I thought Philip might have been a little disgusted. He was no Thomas Seymour to smile on or encourage such conduct. But so determined was he to be amiable that he made no objection.
I mentioned to him that he seemed very interested in her, and he replied that she was too near the throne for him to ignore her.
“She seems to be happy about the child,” I said, “but it has blighted her hopes.”
“She will understand that it is God who decides what is to be.”
“As we all must,” I said.
I put my hand over his, but his lay cold beneath mine. It was his Spanish nature. He did not seem to know how to respond to those little endearments, and therefore pretended he was unaware of them.
I said, “Philip, you do think it is right to treat my sister as heirpresumptive, do you not?”
“We must until the child is born.”
“So thought I. Then she must be seated at my table. And she must receive honors. That is right, Philip?”
“I believe that to be right,” he said.
“I am glad that she will have an opportunity to become acquainted with Emmanuel Philibert.”
Philip nodded gravely.
When it was seen that I was treating Elizabeth with the respect due to the heir presumptive, there were many to flock round her. Philip's eyes were speculative as he watched her success. If I had not known him well, I should have thought he was interested in her as a woman.
As for Elizabeth, she was in her element. I had never seen anyone recover so quickly, whether it was from sickness or fear of death; as soon as it was over, she seemed able to dismiss it from her mind.
Emmanuel Philibert was paying court to her. She accepted his attentions and then wide-eyed declared that she could never marry. I was irritated with her. She must have known what was expected of her, yet she put on that pretense of innocence which I knew was entirely false.
I sent for her and told her she was foolish. The prince was a good man; she was fortunate that he should agree to marry her.
“My dear sister,” she said, “I have a repugnance for the state of marriage. I wish to remain a virgin.”
“What! All your life!”
“It would seem so…at this time.”
“You are a fool, sister.”
She piously raised her eyes to the ceiling, accepting my judgement. But I could see the stubborn look about her mouth.
Later I consulted Philip.
I was feeling very ill now, and I know I looked wan. Philip was most anxious about me, and I was gratified that he showed such care for me.
He said, “She should not be forced to marry.”
“It would be difficult to force her.”
He nodded. “Let her stay. She is watched. No harm can come that way.”
I thought how kind he was, how considerate of others.
I told Elizabeth that the King thought she should make her own decision about marriage.
Her eyes lighted with pleasure, and she smiled secretively.
THE ACTS SETTING OUT the return to Rome were now confirmed, and those nineteen statutes against the See of Rome brought in during my father's reign were repealed.
It was not to be expected that the country would easily change, and there must certainly be dissenters. When Gardiner came to me and told me that the Council were going to enforce the old laws against heresy, I was disturbed.
I questioned this. In my imagination I saw the pale, martyred face of Anne Askew, and I remembered those days when my stepmother Katharine Parr went in fear of her life. Anne Askew and Katharine Parr had been good women, though misguided. I could not bear to think of people being tortured and burned at the stake.
“I think persuasion would be the best way to proceed,” I said.
“Your Majesty, with all respect, when has persuasion ever persuaded? These people are as firm in their beliefs as…”
“As you or I?”
“They need guidance.”
“Then let us give them guidance.”
“The Council are of the opinion that the old laws should be enforced. Moreover, it is the Pope's wish.”
“All I wanted was to bring the country back to Rome, for the Mass to be celebrated openly and with due reverence. I must think of this.”