Secrets of the Tudor Court Boxed Set

42

Aunt Elizabeth and her husband made me welcome. They invited me to stay with them as long as I wished. Unfortunately, Sir Edward was at home because Queen Mary had already removed him from his post as lord lieutenant of the Tower. I had been hoping to make use of his position there to communicate with Will.

“Your husband was well when I last saw him,” Sir Edward assured me. “I put him in the Beauchamp Tower and ordered that his own furniture and clothing be brought to him from Winchester House. And I can assure you that he will not want for proper food and drink.”

“But he is still a prisoner.”

“So are many others. I half-expected to join their number myself.”

Aunt Elizabeth, who sat on the arm of her husband’s chair, touched one hand lightly to his shoulder. “You did nothing wrong, Edward.”

“Nor did any of them,” I interjected. “Naught but carry out the king’s last wishes.”

Sir Edward grimaced, making his mustache and his long, pointed beard twitch. “Queen Mary does not see it in quite that way. But take heart, Bess. Suffolk is free. Others may follow.”

“The Lady Jane’s father has been released?”

“He has. The Duchess of Suffolk was granted an audience with the queen at Newhall. Well, why not? Frances Brandon and Queen Mary are cousins and have always been on friendly terms, despite their differences over matters of religion. Her Grace pardoned the Duke of Suffolk the very next day. The duke and duchess have already left London for their house at Sheen.”

“What of the Lady Jane Grey?”

Sir Edward drooped lower in his chair. “Poor girl. She’s been charged with treason.”

I, too, felt sorry for Jane Grey, but I could do nothing to help her and I might yet find a way to rescue Will. Between them, Sir Edward and my aunt had a remarkable number of friends, and some of those friends had kin in the new queen’s household. Through these channels, Aunt Elizabeth gleaned more news. Thus I learned that Anne, Duchess of Somerset, who had been living quietly at Hanworth since her release from the Tower a few months earlier, had also been able to trade upon her old friendship with the new queen. Two of her daughters were to come to court as maids of honor, and young Anne, the eldest, although married to Jack Dudley, was to join her mother and sisters there.

“A pity that young woman cannot be relied upon to beg for mercy for her husband,” I said, “but she has no love for him.” Not when Jack’s father had been responsible for the execution of her father, the Duke of Somerset

My own father’s timely change of allegiance had succeeded in winning him his freedom. He’d prudently retreated to Cowling Castle to await a formal pardon for conspiring to put Lady Jane Grey on the throne in Mary Tudor’s place. Father sent word that I was welcome to come home and my mother wrote to second the invitation, but I chose to remain in Carter Lane. The last thing I wanted was to put more distance between myself and the man I loved. I needed to be close to Will, even if I was not able to see or communicate with him.

By early August, less than three weeks after Northumberland and Will surrendered to Queen Mary’s troops, most of their followers had been pardoned and released. But not Will and not Northumberland or his sons. All of them were shortly to be arraigned for treason. At that time, Will would officially be stripped of his titles, his Order of the Garter, and very probably his life.

“I could be content as plain Lady Parr as long as I had Will by my side, free and whole,” I confided in Aunt Elizabeth as I helped her inventory the plate in the Carter Lane house. With matters so unsettled, Sir Edward intended to sell some of it for ready money.

“But you will not be Lady Parr. That title, and Countess of Essex, and Marchioness of Northampton, too, will soon be restored to Anne Bourchier. I heard this morning that Queen Mary has sent for her. Her Grace means to make Lady Anne a lady-in-waiting.”

Stunned, I struggled to take in this development. “Will warned me that Queen Mary would undo our marriage, but it never occurred to me that the queen would bring a proven adulteress to court.”

“Perhaps Queen Mary does not know why Will divorced her.”

“Then someone should tell her.” Anger filled me and I snapped out the words. “Have you any connection at court able to whisper in the right ear?”

“If I had, I would not ask them to blacken her name. Think, Bess. Anne Bourchier’s presence could help Will. If he is executed for treason, the Crown will claim all he owned, including the Essex inheritance. She will have none of it. And no title. It is to her advantage that he be spared. If I were you, I would pray that she intends to plead most eloquently with the queen for the restoration of his estates, even if it is only because she hopes to claim them for herself.”

I took a deep breath. My aunt was right. Anne Bourchier could save Will’s life. She could go where I could not.

Dibs and dabs of news continued to filter down to the house in Carter Lane, but all of London knew of it when Will was attainted and sentenced to die. The Duke of Northumberland was condemned at the same time. So was Jack Dudley. And on Tuesday the twenty-second day of August, the duke was executed.

“The Duke of Somerset’s sons—the Earl of Hertford and his brother—were present to witness Northumberland’s death,” Edward Warner told us afterward. They had been two among a crowd of thousands who turned out to see the condemned traitor die. “Northumberland apologized to them for killing their father. An irony, that. Now both men lie buried together, lying between the bodies of Queen Anne Boleyn and Queen Catherine Howard. Or so they say.” He chuckled, but his expression was grim when he added, “Northumberland died in the faith of his childhood.”

“As a Catholic? When he fought so hard and so long to keep the Church of England alive?”

“His eldest son converted, too. And so did Will Parr.” His disapproval of what Will had done was a palpable force in the room.

“I do not see what difference it makes,” I said with some asperity. “All our prayers go to the same God. I can kneel at a Catholic Mass with idols in the niches as easily as I can worship in a whitewashed chapel with an English prayer book in my hand.”

“We will not have any choice in the matter now.” Sir Edward’s tone was bitter.

“We did not have any choice before. And if converting to Catholicism saves their lives, then I am heartily glad Will and Jack had the good sense to recant.”

Sir Edward glared at me, but he dropped the subject.

Northumberland’s widow became plain Lady Dudley again after the duke’s attainder and execution. Throughout those troubled days, I kept in touch with her. Neither she nor I were charged with any offense, but while I was left homeless and destitute, she was granted control of her jointure lands and allowed to live at Chelsea Manor. Although devastated by the loss of her husband, Jane continued to petition the queen for her sons’ release. She wrote to everyone she knew at court to solicit their help. As a result of her efforts, Ambrose, Robert, and Henry Dudley were allowed visits from their wives.

“To whom should I apply for permission to visit Will?” I asked Sir Edward Warner.

He snorted. “The new lord lieutenant might let Will’s wife in but, Bess, you are not his wife.” He drained his tankard. He’d consumed a great quantity of ale since he’d lost his post at the Tower. “As soon as Parliament convenes, the law confirming your marriage will be struck down.”

The reminder stung. In my heart I could not accept that ruling. Defiantly, I continued to wear my wedding ring. And, in imitation of Jane Dudley, I wrote to friends and family to solicit their help on Will’s behalf. Some, like the Earl of Pembroke, ignored my pleas entirely. Others, like my father, were in no position to take up Will’s cause because their own hold on the new queen’s favor was so tenuous. He sent a welcome gift of money but could not do more. Geraldine Clinton promised to speak to her husband on Will’s behalf, but Lord Clinton, like my father, lacked influence with the new queen.

From my window in the house in Carter Lane I could see the highest battlements of the White Tower. Half of London lay between my chamber and the walls behind which Will was held prisoner. Carter Lane was nearer London Stone than London Bridge. But each night I stood looking out at the distant lights, imagining Will pacing the confines of his cell, wondering if he was thinking of me.

And then, on the twenty-fourth day of October, I was separated from my husband in yet another way. The act of 1552 that had pronounced Anne Bourchier as good as dead, the act intended to make my marriage to Will finally and irrevocably legal, was rescinded at the order of the queen. By royal decree, I was plain Bess Brooke again.