But he was less complacent when the news came that the Duke of Northumberland had persuaded the King to set aside his two sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, on the grounds of their illegitimacy, and to declare his cousin Lady Jane Grey the true heir to the throne; but Mary had too much support for this to be accepted and immediately a Catholic faction began to form about her and the country was divided. Families were divided. The only aspect which made me rejoice was the fact that we had a respite. The affairs of the country were so much more important than those of a single abbey and no one was going to arrest people who, were Mary to come to the throne, would be considered true and loyal subjects while those who arrested them would be the traitors.
The country was in a ferment of excitement.
My mother came over to the Abbey trembling and apprehensive. Simon had gone to Northumberland to offer his services in the support of Jane Grey, whom my mother called the true Queen.
I knew why Simon had gone. It was imperative to him that Jane Grey become the Queen of England that the Reformed faith might be preserved. He had come down too far on its side to withdraw. I suspected him of expediency but I was not entirely sure that this was all his motive. He had adopted the Reformed faith when it was not safe to do so and the greatest villains could be very firm in their views when it came to religion.
“She is a virtuous woman, Queen Jane,” said my mother. “She has lived a life of piety.”
“I believe the same can be said of those whom many call Queen Mary.”
“She is no Queen. Her father’s marriage was invalid,” cried my mother. “Was her mother not first the bride of King Henry’s brother, Arthur?”
“There are many who will support her,” I said.
“They will be the Papists,” my mother said bitterly.
“It is a strange thing, Mother,” I said, “but many Englishmen will be ready to support whomsoever they call the true Queen whatever their religion. I believe that to be so. And Mary has a great claim and after her Elizabeth.”
“Bastards!” cried my mother, almost in tears, which showed me that she was afraid that Queen Jane’s chances of holding the throne might not be good.
“Hush, Mother, do not become embroiled. It would go ill for you if any heard you call one who may well soon be our Queen by that name.”
“She never shall be,” said my mother fiercely.
The next day she came over to tell me that a vintner’s boy had been deprived of his ears because he had declared in the Chepe that Queen Jane was not the true Queen and had shouted for Queen Mary.
“You see,” said my mother firmly, “what happens to those who would deny the truth.”
There were many rumors. We heard that Jane was reluctant to take the crown. She was but a child—sixteen years old—not much older than Honey and this had been forced upon her by ambitious men. I felt sorry for poor Jane because the Princess Mary’s case was growing stronger every day. She was after all the daughter of King Henry VIII whereas Jane was only the granddaughter of his sister.
In the city people whispered together, afraid to voice an opinion openly, but I sensed that the majority of people were against Queen Jane, partly because they loathed her father-in-law Northumberland and were in no mood to accept his dominance but chiefly because they knew that Mary was the true heir to the throne.
This was in fact a division between the new Protestants and the old Catholics and the Reformed religion being so new had not yet taken a firm hold of the people.
Mary had fled to Norfolk and found thousands rallying to her cause. She was proclaimed Queen in Norwich. She crossed the border into Suffolk and set up her standard at Framlingham Castle.
Each day we waited for news. When Ridley, the Bishop of London, preached in favor of Queen Jane my mother was delighted.
“ ’Twill all come right,” she said. “Such a sweet good girl she is!”
But a few days later the Earls of Pembroke and Arundel were proclaiming Mary Queen of England at Paul’s Cross and we realized then that the nine days’ reign was at an end. Poor little Jane could not stand out against the might of right. Mary was the true heiress of England; poor pathetic Jane was cast out.
I went to see my mother because I guessed she would be very anxious.
“What is happening?” she cried, distraught. “What can people be thinking of? The Queen has the favor of the Bishop of London. Who can gainsay that?”
“Many,” I said, and I was filled with anxiety for her. “You will have to be very careful now. Do not talk freely to the servants. Heaven knows what this is going to mean.” Then I realized that, as I with my family had moved into a certain security, my mother and hers had come close to danger.
I took the books Simon had instructed her to read and hid them.
“You should not keep them here. We are about to begin a reign of the sternest Catholic rule. You must live very quietly for a while. It must not be remembered that you support Queen Jane.”
It was difficult to feign an indifference to the fate of Queen Jane. It seemed one must either support or reject. There was no middle way. I was sorry for the young girl, who had been such a reluctant Queen, knowing full well that she had no right to the title. I trusted she would be forgiven and not have to suffer for the ambition of others; but I could not help but rejoice that my home had been saved by her downfall.
Her sad little story was reaching its tragic climax. Nine days after Jane’s accession to the throne Mary was proclaimed Queen of England.
Simon Caseman had returned unostentatiously to the house before that day, and was trying to pretend now that he had been away on business and had not gone to London to support Queen Jane. He was as ready as any to shout “Long live Queen Mary.” At least he was wise in that.
I hoped he would continue to be so.
It quickly became apparent that the comparatively peaceful years of Edward’s reign were over.
Before the month was out Lady Jane and her husband, Lord Guildford Dudley, were committed to the Tower of London.
Kate came to the Abbey from Remus, bringing Carey and Colas with her.
She was excited as always by great events. She wanted us to ride out to Wanstead to see the new Queen come to her capital and the young people joined her in the clamor to go.
I was glad to get away from the Abbey and we all rode out—myself and Kate with two of the men of our household to guard us and Carey, Honey, Catherine and Colas.
Kate was excited because the Princess Elizabeth was going to meet her sister at Wanstead and accompany her into London. Indeed everyone was gay and excited. It seemed incredible that such a short time ago I had had such fears. But even now I could not get out of my mind the thought of my mother at Caseman Court and I was wondering how she was feeling since her husband had lost what he had hoped for and if his Lutheran tendency were known would be in the kind of danger which had threatened my household such a short while ago.
I could not help noticing the admiring glances that came the way of my girls. Kate of course would always dominate any scene by that incomparable charm and now that she had poise and a certain look of experience to add to it, it had in no way diminished. But Honey was a beauty—in her way even more so than Kate. She was of course a child as yet but ready to burst into womanhood, and in her russet-colored velvet riding suit and her jaunty little feathered hat I thought she was one of the loveliest creatures I had ever seen. As for Catherine, in a similar hat but of dark-green velvet, she sparkled with the love of life—in contrast to the rather brooding silence of Honey, so that what she lacked in actual beauty she made up for by her vital personality. And Carey, what a handsome boy he was—with a look of Kate and not unlike my girls either. As for eight-year-old Colas, the baby of the group, he was determined to enjoy every moment. They might well all have been sisters and brothers. Catherine and Carey sparred continuously and we had to reprove them once or twice, telling Carey to remember not to speak to a lady as he spoke to Catherine, and Catherine to be less provoking.