by Georgina Lee
I hesitated and she looked at me questioningly.
“There is still no sign of a husband for me.”
“You must be patient, I know you find the waiting difficult; a husband will be found for you all in good time, when his majesty is ready.”
“I have been waiting for too long, perhaps I should find my own husband.”
“Do you not remember the last time you attempted it? To do so again, would be extremely dangerous. The king might not be so lenient with you. Really child, have you learnt nothing since I last saw you? Put such foolish notions out of your head once and for all.”
There was a long silence and I felt myself growing hotter and hotter in the fierce heat from the blazing fire. I got up and moved to stand by the window, anxious to change the subject.
“The king spends a vast amount of money especially on...” I stopped abruptly, not wishing to mention the recipients of his generosity.
“...his favourites,” she finished for me. “I know about all these young male friends of the king. Just because I am here, many miles from London, it does not mean I am out of touch. I know more than you think about what goes on at Court.”
“It is shameful to witness,” I murmured.
She shifted in her chair. “Yes, I imagine it is. Did you ask the king to write to me?”
I held my head high, I was determined not allow to her to intimidate me.
“Yes, lady grandmother, I did ask, as I was afraid of the welcome I would receive at your hands.”
“It was not necessary to involve his majesty, do you doubt my love for you?”
I was silent, but she persisted. “Well, have I ever abandoned you, child?”
“I suppose not.”
There is a gold cup and £300 waiting for you to take back to Court.
“Thank you. I have never doubted your love, I...”
The words stuck in my throat, coward as I was, I could not tell her my true feelings, even when I knew she may not live to see another birthday. I looked at the floor, my habitual stance when confronted by her. How easily had I slipped back into my supressed role, despite my determination to appear otherwise. When I looked up she had her hand over her eyes.
I thought she was starting to tire and suggested we saw one another downstairs for supper later. This idea was met with a dismissive wave and her voice became full of self-pity as she told me that this chamber was now like a prison, as she never left it. But when she said that I could not imagine how that felt, I had to use all my nerve to stay in control of my emotions. Her comments made me very angry, but I knew I had to remain calm.
I bobbed a curtsey in deference to her status and infirmity before leaving to change for supper. As I approached the door, I saw the key in the lock and removed it impulsively, stopping to study it in my hand. It was large and, like everything at Hardwick, bore her proof of ownership in the scroll work ES at one end. The letters stared back boldly, mocking me.
“Are you going to lock me in, child?”
Her voice was as clear as a bell and for a moment I felt I have been transported back to my childhood and she was her usual, strong self again. I told her that was a foolish thought and to my intense annoyance, she then laughed before saying it would make no difference her. Once again, she had the upper hand, and I felt disadvantaged. How can that be when she is a sick, elderly woman? Supressing a sudden desire to shake her so hard that she screamed for mercy, I clenched my fist tightly over the key until it cut into my skin. I wished I could break it in two. If she called me ‘child’ one more time, I thought I would scream.
The key brought back vivid memories of the locked doors that the Scots Queen Mary was forced to endure, as well as my own years of captivity. Those endless days and nights of being constantly watched and kept away from the world, as if I was a nun. Always being told that I was so very important, a princess just waiting for a prince who would one day take her place as the highest lady in the land.
I felt tears pricking my eyes as I thought of my parents, whom I was sure would have loved me more than my grandmother. Standing there in that unbearably hot chamber, I wished I had never come back; she did not deserve to see me. Stepping out into the passage, I closed the door and threw the key on the floor. Not stopping to look where it had fallen, I went to my bedchamber, where it was at least an hour before I felt calm enough to go back downstairs. I told myself that I would never be kept under lock and key again. How wrong I was.
1605
On my return to Court for Princess Mary’s Christening, I was delighted to see William again. Now graduated with Edward from Oxford, they were both waiting for me at breakfast the morning after I arrived. My first meeting with Edward was awkward, he was not like William at all; I found it hard to believe they are brothers. William was his usual self, but Edward seemed sullen and pessimistic and I wondered if he found meeting me an embarrassment.
No mention was made of my pathetic attempt to marry Edward, but between the three of us, there was an atmosphere, and I was ill at ease with the two of them together. I just could not take to Edward at all and wondered how I could have been so reckless as to propose marriage to him, for we would have been completely unsuited. It was my hope that I did not have to spend much time with him; I supposed I might have to, for William’s sake. But the two brothers seemed to get on well together, and although William is the younger, he was definitely the more mature. They arrived at Court at a particularly dangerous time, because an event occurred that threatened to overturn the very heart of our society.
One evening in early November I was getting ready for supper when William appeared at the door to my chamber.
“My lady, I must speak with you,” he told me, his voice urgent.
“Why are you out of breath? What is it?” I put down my sewing at once.
“I have run from the other end of the Palace, everyone will know soon. There is a plot to blow up the king and Parliament. Robert Cecil discovered it and the conspirators are being arrested as we speak. You must remain here, where it is safe. There are guards coming to stand outside your door.”
I looked at him in shocked disbelief; this sounded a serious plot indeed, the most potentially damaging yet. He went over to the window where a large group of armed soldiers were running through the gates in the direction of Parliament. I joined him and saw the courtyard was in a state of disarray, as men armed themselves with pikes and horses were being harnessed; there was much shouting and confusion. Dusk was beginning to fall and soon there would be no natural light.
He turned back to me. “Are you all right? I am sorry to bring such news.”
I started to shake with shock and he led me to a chair, asking Mrs B. to bring me wine. After a few sips, I felt a little better, but still very afraid.
“I am grieved to hear the king is in danger. Where is he now?”
“The king and queen are quite safe, hidden here in the palace and under heavy guard.”
“This is always something his majesty has dreaded, you know his own father was murdered by gunpowder at Kirk o’Field in Scotland. He has always been afraid of the lone assassin, but this is beyond anything anyone could imagine.”
“Is that why he always wear a thick doublet?”
I nodded and burst into tears, I could not help myself. It was all very terrifying, and such events always had repercussions on me, as I still have a claim to the throne, despite the king’s children. Many questions started to surface in my mind: were all the royal family at risk? Who would replace the king as sovereign if the unthinkable happened? Would I be suspected of involvement and any evidence found to implicate me? What was my future now? William put his arm round me and helped me into a chair. Crouching down, he looked at me earnestly.
“Do not distress yourself, it has all come to nothing. You are safe, I shall stay here with you if you wish.”
I was too upset to reply and sobbed noisily into my handkerchief.
“Come, let me read to you as a distraction.”<
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He picked up some manuscripts of John Donne’s poems, which had been lent to me, and I lay back with my eyes closed. To hear the perfect combination of William’s voice and Donne’s exquisite prose, was heaven sent, and it was not long before I felt a little better and opened my eyes again to study the reader at close quarters. Pretending not to notice, he continued undaunted, until he paused, and regarded my gaze steadily as our eyes locked.
“How can we find out what is happening?” I asked him.
“I could try and speak to Robert Cecil, although I doubt he will see me.”
Just then Prince Henry’s voice was heard outside the door and William got up to see him. After a brief exchange, he returned to me, his expression still anxious.
“I am going with the prince to see what the situation is at the moment.”
“Should he not be somewhere safe?”
“He has ignored the orders of the king to hide. I will return as soon as I have news; you must remain here, you are in danger until the conspirators are caught.”
“Do not leave him,” I begged, then William went and I was alone with Mrs B.
We sat in silence, not knowing what to say to one another. She asked if I would like some supper, but I could not face eating, and went to lie down on my bed. It was hard to believe there was another plot to remove the king after he had only been on the throne of England for less than two years. I must have drifted off to sleep as I woke to find her gently shaking me.
“Wake up my lady, his lordship is back and has some news.”
William stood by the fire, rubbing his hands to warm them.
“What news? Do you know how the plot was uncovered?” I asked, trying to control the tremor in my voice.
“I have managed to speak to one of the soldiers who just got back from Parliament. He said that an anonymous letter was delivered to Lord Monteagle at Hoxton earlier this evening, telling of a conspiracy that would kill the king when he was with Parliament. He alerted the authorities and when the soldiers got there, they found barrels of gunpowder in the cellar, enough to blow the whole city sky high.
“Imagine, what would have happened,” he shuddered at the thought. “Hiding amongst them was a man identified as Guy Fawkes; he has been arrested and taken for questioning. It will not be long before all the conspirators are rounded up, it will be over before it has begun. They say the king is horrified, but also angry that it could been allowed to happen.”
“Where did all the gunpowder come from?”
“ Since the war with Spain ended, there has been no use for it; they must have obtained it quite easily.”
“But how did they manage to hide it?”
“They could have brought it by barge at night along the Thames. It is simple enough to go inside Parliament, it is never guarded. All that will change now of course.” He rubbed his forehead in a gesture of weariness.
“I am sorry, you must have some refreshment. I will send for food and drink.”
“Just some wine, thank you. I have escorted Prince Henry back to his apartments where he is under heavy guard too. He seems to take all this in his stride, what a fine king he will make one day. He has been refusing to rest until he is satisfied the palace is secure.”
I poured wine into a glass and handed it to him. “You should get some sleep now, what time is it?”
He sank into a chair and started to drink.
“Past midnight. I shall stay here, if you will permit me. I do not want to leave you until I know you are quite safe.”
“You are very kind, William.”
I hoped he realised how grateful I was for his concern. I took a pillow and covers from my own bed and arranged them around him.
“I feel much safer now you are here,” I whispered.
He smiled at me and my heart turned over. I knew Mrs B. would have misgivings about this arrangement, but I would not change my mind. Under the circumstances, I did not think anyone could object and I would be chaperoned, so there was nothing improper about him staying in my apartments overnight. Within a short while, we were all quiet; I was the last one to fall asleep just as the church bell was striking one. I watched William’s sleeping figure for a long time and wished I could be close to him, instead of lying alone in my large, cold bed.
It was several weeks before all the facts about this plot were known and the news came gradually, like the drip of water from a leaf. There was some mystery concerning the letter; apparently it contained many hidden metaphors and sentences that were absurd, but we all knew that codes, riddles and word games were a popular diversion for learned individuals. William told me that there was a rumour circulating that Robert Cecil knew about the plot a while ago and sent the letter himself, as part of political strategy to discredit the Catholics and convince the king of his diligence. But rumours and uncertainty always accompany such events, the facts however, could not be denied.
The aim of the plot was to kill the king and all of Parliament, then kidnap Princess Elizabeth and place her on the throne as a puppet ruler. The leader was Robert Catesby, who had grown discontented with the king’s failed promises of greater religious tolerance towards Catholics. The other conspirators fled and tried to gather support wherever they could, Catesby being killed in one of the skirmishes. Torture and the usual gruesome death for treason awaits such miscreants.
The affair caused a mixed reaction from Court. I did not know what to believe except that I knew we came close to anarchy that night, and I thanked God that we were saved. I had to write many letters to family and friends reassuring them that all was well and everyone unharmed. The trial was set for the following March; some were afraid that this was just the beginning of a series of planned attacks and that there would be more to come.
Others were jubilant that the plot had been thwarted, and said it proved the king’s advisors were diligent, and therefore we were safe. The king had been warned by his Scottish barons about the possibility of such a major plot and now the suspects were in the Tower, he was said to be a little more reassured. But with Christmas approaching, it was not so easy to feel relaxed enough to look forward to the usual celebrations. I suspected that the Christmas festivities would be rather subdued this year.
William was due to return home to spend the time with his family and I knew I should miss him sorely, but we wrote often and I would have to make do with that until he returned. Our written correspondence was still a source of worry for me and before he left I had a chance to speak to William alone about it.
We were in the Great Hall at Hampton Court Palace, where the king had again decamped in time for Christmas. I never failed to be impressed by its grandeur. I loved to gaze up at the high hammer beam roof, painted in blue, gold and red, together with the beautiful wall tapestries, which are still the grandest I have ever seen. Commissioned by Henry VIII, it is a place of great beauty, and never more so, than when the sovereign entertains. Visitors from far and wide also marvel at the astronomical clock in the main courtyard, and seeing it every day, did not diminish its wonder for me.
Outside it was blowing a gale, with heavy rain and leaden skies. Inside, about 300 courtiers were sitting at tables, drinking hot mead and gossiping. Some of the men were out hunting with the king, oblivious to the weather. There was an air of infectious boredom and discontentment; I almost felt an envy for the servants who were busy bringing in logs and coal or hanging swags of ivy and holly round the walls. They had plenty to occupy themselves and no time to think. It was to be a quiet Christmas, with no gifts, for which I was heartily grateful, although I bought William a gold clasp for his cloak from one of the shops in the Royal Exchange in the city. We found a couple of empty chairs in a corner and I proudly gave it to him once we had sat down.
“Thank you, but you should not have bought me a present,” he protested, but opened it with glee and I could see he liked it.
“I wanted to, you can think of me whenever you wear it.”
“I shall, but I do not need a cl
asp to think of you.”
He reached into a pocket in his waistcoat and produced a small box, wrapped with pink silk ribbon.
“I hope you will not think me too forward in giving this to you, it is a token of our friendship and the high esteem in which I hold you.”
I took the box and opened it with a gasp of delight. Inside was a gold and sapphire ring, the most pretty, cornflower blue; it was the best present I had ever received.
“It is beautiful, thank you. Without your company this Court would be a dull place for me.” I slipped the ring on my finger and admired it, hiding the box in my sleeve.
“ A perfect fit! How clever of you.”
My eyes scanned the area to see if anyone had noticed. “Do you remember we talked about how careful we must be?”
“I do, but is it really necessary? I would have thought the king has enough on his mind at the moment.”
“I believe it more necessary now than ever before. Two more European names have been put forward as possible suitors for me, Stephen Bogdan and the Prince of Moldavia. Of course I am not in the least bit interested in them, but I must pretend. You see, this is a familiar scenario and one that I have had as long as I can remember.”
I paused, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise as I continued, my words coming out in a rush.
“This is what happens; the name of a prince or noble is suggested to the king or to Queen Elizabeth when she was alive. An artist is commissioned to paint a miniature of the aforesaid man, which is brought back to the sovereign so that it may be examined and discussed over weeks and months, sometimes even years. A similar portrait is sent of me, and the negotiations become a source of great debate to both parties, not that I am involved of course and so it goes on.”
“You sound very tired of it all.”
“I wish it could be different, but I have lost count of the number of names that have been mentioned as husbands for me. Not one of them has made my heart beat as fast as yours does.”