“The more fool he,” I said to Jane, “but I’ve no doubt you will find him another, better match.”
In a family of dark-haired, muscular men, Lord Guildford Dudley stood out by virtue of being tall, slender, and fair. Privately I thought he was conceited about his looks, but he was only seventeen. In time, he’d mature. The other boys had turned out well. The only fault I could see in any of them was their extreme subservience to their father, and most people would count obedience to a parent a virtue.
“Lady Margaret Clifford is the king’s cousin. Her late mother was the Duchess of Suffolk’s younger sister,” Jane reminded me.
“Then marry Gil to the Lady Jane Grey,” I suggested with a laugh. “She has precedence over Lady Margaret, being Frances Brandon’s oldest girl. That will put Cumberland’s nose out of joint.”
Jane chuckled. “How wicked you are, Bess.” Then her expression turned thoughtful. “It is not a bad idea. Lady Jane is about the same age as Gil, and she is sound in religion. Well educated. A pretty little thing, as I recall, although somewhat quiet and reserved. At one time, Somerset talked of marrying her to his eldest son, Lord Hertford, but nothing came of it.”
“And Tom Seymour,” I recalled, “once wanted to have the Lady Jane wed King Edward.”
Although she was His Grace’s cousin, the match would have been most unequal. Far better the royal betrothal Will had negotiated during his diplomatic mission to France. King Edward was to wed Elisabeth, daughter of King Henri II of France, at present still an infant. Only time would tell if that marriage ever came about. Peace with France never seemed to last long, and royal betrothals could be set aside just as easily as treaties.
“Hertford,” Jane mused. “I have always liked that boy. He could benefit from having a wife, as well.”
How Lord Hertford felt about his father’s execution, his mother’s imprisonment, and his sister’s unhappy marriage to Jack Dudley, Earl of Warwick, was anyone’s guess. He was a cautious young man who did his best not to attract too much attention to himself.
“If you are bent on matchmaking, there are others more likely to welcome an alliance with your family.” From our vantage point, even so late in the day, I could see into and over the river and had a clear view of Whitehall Palace. Flares of light dotted the scene as lanterns were lit on boats moving up and down and across the river. Candlelight spilled out of houses and shops on the opposite shore.
“Who did you have in mind?”
“You might consider the Earl of Pembroke’s younger son for your Katherine.” Edward Herbert, the little boy I’d played with at Chelsea, was old enough for a betrothal, if not yet a marriage. Since his mother, Will’s sister Anne, had died the previous year, I did not hesitate to promote his interests.
“Why not the elder boy?” Jane asked.
“Lord Herbert is already promised to Lady Catherine Grey, Lady Jane’s younger sister.”
“Is he indeed?”
“Perhaps the Duke of Suffolk already has someone in mind for Lady Jane. It would be a pity if Gil lost the prize simply because you did not act quickly enough to secure it.”
“Both the Lady Jane and her mother will be escorting Princess Mary to Whitehall on the morrow,” Jane said thoughtfully. “I will have to take a closer look at the girl.”
She was pleased with what she saw. On the twenty-fifth of May, in the chapel at Durham House, the Lady Jane Grey married Lord Guildford Dudley, Lady Catherine Grey wed Will’s nephew, Henry Herbert, and little Katherine Dudley married not Edward Herbert, as I had proposed, nor Somerset’s son, Lord Hertford, but rather the Earl of Huntingdon’s heir, Lord Hastings. Northumberland wanted to expand his circle of marriage alliances.
If Will and I had been free to marry when first we loved and had had a child, our progeny might have taken vows on that day, too. I could not stop the thought, but I soon pushed aside any regrets. The union of these powerful evangelical families was a triumph for which I had been partly responsible. I set myself to enjoying the spectacle.
Lady Jane, Lady Catherine, and their parents had arrived by barge from Suffolk Place. Delicate as a flower, Lady Jane wore a gown of gold and silver brocade sewn with diamonds and pearls. Her reddish-blond hair was plaited with more pearls, strings of them. Her golden-haired sister, Lady Catherine, was prettier—it was said she resembled their grandmother, King Henry’s sister Mary, who had briefly been queen of France before she married Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. It was Lady Jane, however, who had a quality about her that spoke of royalty. Although she was shorter and lacked her cousin’s vivid coloring, something in Lady Jane reminded me of Princess Elizabeth.
“The boy’s ill,” Will whispered to me. “He should not have been taken from his sickbed.”
I followed his gaze to young Lord Herbert, Will’s nephew. “The doctors said it was nothing to worry about,” I whispered back. But the fifteen-year-old looked as if he was about to keel over.
“They say the same about King Edward,” Will muttered.
I sent him a questioning look. His Grace had moved to Greenwich because the air there was more salubrious than in London, but I had not heard that he was seriously ill. I shivered, even though it was a mild day.
John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, had spared no expense to make the triple wedding memorable. He’d hired two teams of masquers to entertain, one male and one female. There were also jousts and games. The festivities lasted two full days. Afterward, the Lady Jane remained at Durham House with Gil and his mother. The Lady Catherine moved into Baynard’s Castle with Will’s nephew and his father, the Earl of Pembroke. I returned to Winchester House, exhausted but well pleased with the outcome of my first foray into matchmaking.
39
In early June, the king’s doctors told the Duke of Northumberland that fifteen-year-old King Edward was dying. They predicted that His Grace would not survive more than a few more months. Northumberland said nothing to anyone at first. He needed time to think, and to learn what the king’s wishes were. Only then did he confide in Will. The next day, Will brought the terrible news home to me at Winchester House.
“Under the terms of King Henry’s will and the Act of Succession of 1544, confirmed by the Treasons Act of 1547, Edward’s sister Mary will succeed him. That will be a disaster, both for England and for us.”
“What does Princess Mary have against you?” I asked, looking up from my embroidery to see that he’d begun to pace.
“I was responsible for limiting her right to hear Mass. She had been inviting all manner of people to attend church services with her, knowing full well that the Catholic Mass is illegal in England. It was only by the goodwill of King Edward that Her Grace was permitted to continue to practice her religion in private.”
“I suppose, then, that she will not keep you on the Privy Council.”
His laugh was short and bitter. “That place is not all I will lose. The first thing she will do as queen is restore Catholicism to England. She will reverse nearly twenty years of reforms.”
“Perhaps she will show tolerance.” I took another stitch, then set my needlework aside. “I have never heard that she is unkind.” Will’s sisters had spent time in Her Grace’s household and so had Geraldine. None of them had ever had a bad word to say about her. Even the Duchess of Somerset had remained on friendly terms with the princess, and that after the lord protector had instituted the most radical of religious reforms.
“She’ll want revenge, mark my words. Or her councilors will. She’ll release Stephen Gardiner from the Tower.”
I saw at once what that would mean. “He will not tolerate what he deems heresy.”
“And heretics who do not recant will burn.”
I remembered what Gardiner had done to Anne Askew and repressed a shudder. “Then we’ll recant. We’ll go back to hearing Mass in Latin. Statues and stained glass will reappear in churches. What difference do such trappings make? Given a choice between returning to the old faith and death, I choose life and so should you. Pretend to convert to Catholicism. Even if you do not continue to serve on the Privy Council, you’ll still be Marquess of Northampton. We will continue to have a place at court.”