Within hours, I could hear someone arrive at Bedford House. “Look and see who it is!” I told Bridget.
She peered out of our courtyard-facing window and nodded. “Yes! It’s Lord Northampton!”
Fifteen minutes later, Christina Abrahamsdotter knocked on our chamber door. We opened it and quickly let her in. “He’s speaking to the princess about you,” she whispered.
“And?” I asked, clasping my hands in anticipation.
“At first the princess refused to give permission for your hand. She said she was commissioned to act as your mother, but she did not know if she could do without your service on the journey back to Sweden.”
“And his response?”
“He offered to pay fifteen hundred pounds of her debts. And she agreed!”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I was to be married!
Bridget held herself steady, however. “The princess has that many debts?” she asked.
“And more,” Christina said. “I’ve heard her speaking with the margrave. He’s to slip out of England soon, to Germany, escaping his English debtors and finding a way for us to return home.”
Both Bridget and I were shocked at that. Fifteen hundred pounds was an unimaginable amount of money, and I did not want the payment of the princess’s debts to be the manner in which I started married life. William would have to pay a dowry, of sorts, rather than receive one. But I quickly moved to thinking of my wedding, and what I should tell my mother, and if she would receive a letter if it were quickly sent.
I sent that letter off to Sweden, telling my mother that I would be married here, begging for her approval, and steeling myself to tell her that I was giving my blessing to Philip and Karin should they choose to marry. I was to remain in England! I would become an Englishwoman. The thought terrified me, and thrilled me, and I tried not to think upon the fact that I may never see my mother or sisters again but rather that I would be the beloved wife of a marquess and would make my way, somehow, at the Queen of England’s court. William could not have been more kind. He was attentive and presented an expensive necklace and a new gown to me as New Year’s gifts. I made a fine ruff for him and did the lacework on a delicate pair of gloves for the queen.
One of the queen’s men arrived at Bedford House with a New Year’s gift for me from Her Majesty.
“For me?” I said. “Are you certain?” I hadn’t attended the New Year’s ceremonies, as the princess had pled illness.
“Yes, my lady,” he said. “I’m certain.” He unloaded the gift from the cart and brought it into the great hall, where he took the satin sheet off it with a flourish. It was a gilded cage with a pair of lovely songbirds.
The other Swedish girls tittered politely behind their hands while I stuttered out my thanks. After the queen’s man left, we all let free our laughter. They knew, though the English didn’t, that I cared not at all for songbirds. I hadn’t, of course, informed the queen, who’d assumed I shared her love of them.
“These you must care for, no matter what,” Bridget said.
“Indeed, I understand that,” I said. “I shall write to Her Majesty immediately, offering profuse thanks.” I took the cage to our room, held at arm’s length. Songbirds. Milde makter.
To my utter dismay, Princess Cecelia had rather another kind of gift in mind for me, and it was an unwelcome surprise of a much stronger sort. She called me to her chamber one morning in March after the margrave had fled for the Continent.
“I have changed my mind,” she said.
“About what, my lady?” I asked.
“About your marrying Northampton. I’m revoking my permission. You will return home to Sweden with us.”
• • •
I hid my anger and feigned willing obedience as I sank to my knees on a cushion before her. “Madam? Surely you cannot mean that. I have already written of this to my mother and given my blessing for my sister Karin to marry my, er, former fiancé, Philip Bonde. I have given Lord Northampton my answer, my word. As have you,” I dared to point out. Of course, I said nothing about the £1500 debt as I did not desire to be slapped.
“The Lord Northampton may be a marquess, but I am a princess, and I shall write to the queen. Shall you act as my secretary, as I have been deprived of my own?”
“Indeed, I shall, if you wish it,” I said, though I could scarce keep my wits about me with this news. With one half of my mind I was thinking how to untangle the knot in this delicate thread and with the other I was putting to paper the words she spoke.
We do not doubt, most gracious and powerful Queen, that you remember how we once complained to your Majesty of wrongs done to us by certain of your subjects, who until now have gone unpunished, which fact has caused us great grief of mind. This grief has been further increased today by a great wrong done to us by Ephippiarus, who, not satisfied with any of the reasonable terms which the other creditors have accepted, has arrested and detained our Secretary, and has spread a false report about us through the whole city, that we are planning a secret departure from here. . . .
May it please your Majesty graciously to call to mind our love toward you, and that we came into this kingdom for no other reason than to declare the same. Therefore we do not doubt that your Majesty will equally reciprocate our love and ward off from us every harm, and kindly restore to us our Secretary out of arrest; and this kindness we will labor to deserve by our love toward you, whatever injuries we may receive.
“There now, quickly seal it and hand it to a court messenger,” the princess said. I did as I was bade, but I knew there were mistruths therein and it disgusted me. It was indeed true that the princess was planning a quiet escape; the margrave had cut his beard and disguised himself to reenter the city with plans for the Swedish party to meet him at Dover, where he would have a ship from the Continent waiting. Christina Abrahamsdotter had told us that not only the jewelers and the tailor but the butcher, the poulterer, the grocer, the baker, the butter man, the fishmonger, the brewer, and the grocer had all petitioned the Queen’s Privy Counsel for overdue payments. The margrave had also fallen in with some unsavory persons to whom he owed great gambling debts.
That night William came to call for me and conveyed Bridget and myself to his manor to dine. One of his friends took Bridget from hall to hall to show her some of the statuary while William spoke with me privately. “You do know that Princess Cecelia would like to revoke her permission for our marriage.”
I nodded. “I do. I’m distraught about it. I wish to remain here, and to become your wife.”
“Must you do as she insists?” he asked.
“I have had no word from my mother. I shall write her again tonight and tell her of my affection for you and my desire to remain. But the princess is likely to sail before I hear back.”
“I shall write to your mother, too, to reassure her of my protection and care, and enclose my letter with yours,” he said. “In the meantime, perhaps you could speak with the queen?”
“She would be interested in so mean a matter?” Hope rose within me. I had already begun to imagine a sweet and meaningful life with William.
“ ’Tis not a mean matter to me,” he said with deep emotion, taking my hands in his own. “And therefore it is not to her, friend that she is.”
• • •