Her spine stiffened at his words, which had somehow penetrated her wails of despair. She abruptly fell silent and drew herself up as much as a person of her small stature could, especially when seated. She sent a cold and haughty, if somewhat damp, glare in Will’s direction. “Am I your prisoner, then?”
“You are, my lady.”
“I require time to pack a few necessities, and so do the women who will accompany me.”
“You are to bring no one with you.” Will’s voice equaled hers for coldness. Standing only inches away from him, I shivered, uncomfortably reminded of the day when Jack Dudley had forcibly taken me to Chelsea. “You will be assigned servants when you enter the Tower.”
“My women will accompany me as far as London. Go and pack,” she ordered one of her ladies. “Now, what of my sons?” It was as if her bout of hysterics had never occurred.
Will unbent a little. “You need not be concerned for them. King Edward will keep them with him. He is very fond of Lord Hertford and his younger brother.” As Jack had become Lord Lisle when John Dudley was elevated in the peerage to Earl of Warwick, so the Duke of Somerset’s eldest son had been granted his old title.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but Lady Somerset only gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. She folded her arms across her chest and waited in fulminating silence for her women to return with her baggage.
Jane and I returned to London in company with Will and his prisoner, leaving the duchess’s ladies behind. My heart came near to bursting with pride when I learned what a crucial role my dear husband had played in Somerset’s downfall. By repudiating the lord protector in public, Will had convinced his sister’s husband, Lord Herbert, who had just returned from the West Country with an army at his back, to support the new Privy Council instead of the Duke of Somerset.
“Who will be the new lord protector?” I asked as we rode toward the city. It was a perfect, cloudless mid-October day, the kind of day when it felt good to be alive and free. I could almost find it in my heart to feel pity for Anne Somerset. She rode ahead of us inside a well-guarded litter.
“The Privy Council has revoked that office. No one will assume the title.”
“Surely you do not mean to let Edward rule for himself?” His Grace was still much too young for such responsibility.
“Warwick is now lord president of the Council. He will help the king make decisions.”
“Why Warwick rather than you? You are a marquess. He is only an earl.” I did not pretend to understand political machinations, but it seemed to me that greater rank should count for something. Then again, the first thing Somerset had done when King Henry died was make himself a duke. Perhaps Jane’s husband would do the same.
“I do not want the responsibility, Bess.” Will sent a rueful smile in my direction. “And you’d not care to have me burdened with it. It would leave me with little time for you.”
A small, shallow part of me wished that Will would be just a trifle more ambitious. What if Warwick turned out to be another Somerset? But if I was honest with myself, I had to admit that Will was better suited to diplomacy than to the day-to-day administration of the realm. He certainly knew how to flatter and charm. I smiled back at him.
“I will have a great deal to keep me busy as it is,” Will continued. “From now on, to keep the king’s person secure, he will always be attended by two noblemen and two gentlemen. These will be men selected by the Privy Council to offer guidance as well as protection. I am one of the six noblemen who will guard the king’s person in shifts.”
“Are you to carry a halberd?” I asked, picturing Will in the crimson livery of the yeomen of the guard.
He laughed. “No need to go that far!” He slanted a teasing look my way. “Have you realized yet that you will also have a new role at court?”
I frowned in puzzlement. “Of what nature?”
But before he could answer, understanding burst upon me and I laughed aloud in delight. With Lady Somerset gone, and if the king’s sisters and female cousins and the Lady Anna of Cleves continued to absent themselves from court—as they likely would, since they all seemed to prefer life in the country—I would be the highest-ranking noblewoman at King Edward’s court. I would act as his hostess when foreign dignitaries visited. I would be the next thing to royalty myself.
34
It had long troubled me that I remained estranged from my family. The commission’s decision that Will and I were legally married had not brought about the reconciliation I’d hoped for. Then again, both my father and my brother William spent much of their time in Calais, where Father was lord deputy. Mother was often with them, although for the most part she remained in Kent. I thought often of visiting her there, in spite of Father’s disapproval, but I had much to occupy me at court. I did see Aunt Elizabeth, who had duly married Sir Edward Warner, having met him when he came to Cowling Castle to discuss a possible betrothal to me.
When I heard that Father was to be installed as a knight of the Garter, one of the greatest honors an English king could bestow upon a subject, I was determined to make an opportunity to mend fences. My entire family came to court for the ceremony on the thirteenth of December. At my urging, Jane Warwick invited them to sup with her, then slipped quietly away, leaving Will and myself to host the meal.
“A neat trap.” My father’s grudging acknowledgment gave no hint of what he would do next. He could walk out, taking the others with him.
Mother placed one hand on his arm and smiled up at him. “Sit down, George. This foolishness has gone on long enough.”
Soft music drifted out from behind a screen. Well-trained servants carried in platters and flagons and vanished as soon as they’d placed them on the table. Despite a certain awkwardness, we began to eat.
I studied each of my brothers in turn. It had been years since I’d last seen any of them. I was a mature married lady of twenty-three, while William had grown into a tall, sturdy young man of twenty-two. He sported a fine spade beard. As if he felt my gaze upon him, he glanced my way, hazel eyes intense. “You look well, Bess. Being Marchioness of Northampton must agree with you.”
“Are you important?” nine-year-old Edmund piped up.
Father snorted. Mother shushed him.
“We like to think so,” Will said. He dealt daily with the young king and was more at ease with a boy of Edmund’s age than I was.
“Do you think, my lord, that there will be another invasion of France?” This question came from my brother George, named after our father. He was nearly seventeen and likely to see battle if hostilities did break out again. He had shot up in height and now stood a full head taller than our brother Thomas, who was ten months George’s junior.
“As far as I can see,” I answered, “we are always at war with France, and with Scotland, too. It matters little whether peace treaties are signed.”
“Can you tell us what the king is like?” John asked. At fourteen he bore a strong physical resemblance to Father, having inherited his square face and serious brown eyes.
“King Edward is a very studious, religious youth, weighed down by great responsibilities,” Will answered. “But he excels at many sports, too. In time, I think, he will be as great a monarch as his father was.”
At eleven, my brother Henry had a particular interest in the twelve-year-old king. “I should like to be one of his schoolmates,” he declared. “Can you arrange it?”
Will glanced at Father, who merely shrugged. “I can mention your interest to His Grace, Henry, but I cannot guarantee he will invite you to court. Most of his companions have been with him for many years. He would have to displace someone to make room for you.”