To Crown A Rose

by Anne R Bailey

  “If they whisper to the King…”

  “There is nothing they can say.” She kissed him again. Hushing him as she would a child. She kissed him again until she saw the worry melt from his face.

  “Come, I don’t think we are hunting until later and it has been days since we last slept together.” She pulled him towards their bed.

  If only she could give him a son, then their position would be cemented.

  She bit into a roasted apple, savoring each bite before reaching for some gingerbread. She had a hankering for sweets and hoped she was right about the cause.

  It was late by the time she made her way to the Queen’s rooms. The group of ladies was listening intently to a lecturer from Cambridge. She curtseyed to the Queen’s back and took a seat silently beside Lady Mary so as not to interrupt the speaker.

  She was surprised her Catholic cousin was attending, but perhaps she did not wish to antagonize her new stepmother who had thus far been more than kind to her.

  She found her mind slipping as he droned on, reading from the work of Erasmus, interpreting his words. He made his case and then the Queen began debating with him, challenging his views and inviting her other ladies to do so too.

  Frances never had much to add, though she found it strange to be so absorbed in learning. She thought of Anne Boleyn’s court of debauchery and excitement, then the childish antics of Katherine Howard. This was more of a University than a court, though some of the most beautiful and powerful women were here, not serious theologians.

  In the corner, the Bishop of Chichester was listening with interest to the Queen speaking. His face all but shouting his encouragement. Perhaps Catherine could not see, but Frances was not blind to his attempts to push her further down the path of reform.

  Her husband warned her of Gardiner’s displeasure at discovering that Queen Catherine was such a supporter of the New Faith. He suspected she might be a secret Protestant.

  “Don’t be seen sharing your opinions too often. We must conform to the King’s wishes,” he said.

  But he needn’t have warned her. She had seen how quick the King was to act when he felt he wasn’t being obeyed. Thomas Moore had tried to stand up to him, and look what happened to him. A head on a spike was his reward for years of service. Thomas Cromwell tried to push too much for reform and forced an ill-suited wife on the King. He suffered the same fate.

  The King was the Head of the Church, and, though it may have been wrong to close monasteries and confiscate the lands of the Church, Frances was not about to argue with her uncle.

  She had no wish to be martyred.

  The tricky part was keeping up with the King’s ever-changing mind and moods. But she looked to her father — the only one to survive so long in the King’s good graces — and she had managed to follow from his example.

  Frances looked at the straight back of Catherine Parr and wondered how long it would be before her uncle tired of her. She would say a special prayer every day that she was able to survive.

  The day was not filled with lectures, though, and the Queen had hired a group of venetian minstrels. After the lecture was done, she called for them and they enjoyed music until it was time for supper.

  “You look well in crimson,” Frances said, adjusting the Queen’s hood.

  The red velvet gown was cut in the Italian fashion, and, coupled with the French hood, Catherine looked stunning, but she was frowning and looked uncomfortable.

  “What is wrong?”

  “A woman should wear such apparel as becommeth holiness and comely usage, with soberness.”

  Frances laughed. “You are a Queen. How can you be comely?”

  “I do not wish to appear… extravagant.”

  “There is no reason for you to worry. You are expected some level of extravagance. The King would be most displeased if you stick to your dowdy gowns. Don’t think the other ladies and I haven’t noticed that you ordered nothing but dull colored fabrics.”

  For the first time, it was clear to Frances that Catherine had not been bred for such a high office. She had not been raised at court and had not seen how things were done. It might have been commendable for her to dress conservatively in the country, but, here at court, there were different expectations — no matter what the priests preached.

  “I shall order something more suitable,” Catherine said.

  “That is good, your grace,” Frances replied, finding it funny to show such deference to her though she had seen those even lower than Catherine rise to power and positions that should have been beyond them. “May I also suggest a Dutch jeweler — Mister Richardson.”

  “I have heard of him. I shall write to him.”

  “You should have your secretary do so,” Frances reminded her gently.

  If it wasn’t for Catherine’s sweetness, then Frances would be tempted to think ill of the new Queen, but it had been only mere weeks since her marriage to the King and she was still growing used to her position.

  “As we are alone for the moment, might I ask you a favor?” Frances said.

  “If I can, I will see it done.”

  “I believe my daughter Jane would flourish at court among your ladies. She is young but very learned. She does nothing but study…”

  “You can stop,” she interrupted. “I would love to have her at court.”

  “Very well, I shall speak to my husband. She can join the court at Christmas.” Frances was exuberant. She knew she was grinning from ear to ear. Catherine mistook her excitement.

  “I have it within my power to give those closest to me positions at court. I am more than happy to give you this. Though, if I could ask anything of you in return, it would be that you reconcile with the Duchess of Suffolk.”

  Frances took a sharp intake of breath; she tried to hide the flash of fury that crossed her face at the mere mention of that woman.

  “I… cannot, but I have been respectful, have I not?”

  Now it was Catherine’s turn to laugh. She didn’t say anything else on the matter as her sister the Countess Hertford came in holding a box of jewels.

  Jane at Bradgate was pensive when she was told that she would be joining Catherine’s court. It was another distinct difference between Frances and her daughter. She had leapt at the chance to go to court, but Jane seemed to think of it as a trial for her to bear.

  “What is the matter with you, Jane?” Frances was irked.

  “I wish to stay here and study.”

  “This isn’t about what you wish to do. You are to serve your family as the bible says you are to obey your mother and father.” Frances felt ridiculous quoting the bible to her young child, but it was the only effective way to get her to listen.

  “And what does father say?”

  “He thinks it is a very good idea.”

  Frances was not exaggerating. He was surprised by the news but ecstatic to have his daughter shown off at court where everyone could see her brilliance.

  “Then I shall do as you wish,” she said.

  Frances rolled her eyes at the solemnness with which she spoke and searched within her for some shred of patience.

  “The Queen enjoys studying and she is planning to learn Latin, Greek and even Hebrew. You shall find many of the ladies of her court are intellectually inclined. You shall have the very best tutors around you. I promise you shall enjoy it. Before you know it, we will be home.”

  This finally seemed to spark an interest in the young girl.

  “But there shall be dancing. I shall be expected to dance.”

  “You are a lovely dancer,” Frances said, thinking she was worried about her skill as she had been at her age.

  Jane scrunched up her nose. “But it is not good to be seen to dance. A good Christian woman does not parade around…”

  “Am I to be lectured to by my own child?” Frances threw up her arms. “I am going riding. This is ridiculous.”

  She left Jane in the library and walked to the stable yard. Her master of
horse came running up beside her.

  “My lady, what can I help you with? They told me you wished to go riding.”

  “Yes,” she threw over her shoulder. “I was just planning to go for a bit. Not an actual hunting party.”

  “It would be wise to take someone with you,” he said.

  “Master Stokes, I believe I have nothing to fear in my own lands.”

  He looked as though he was about to argue but could do nothing more than bow. She watched him call for the groom to bring out her horse. He ran a hand over the horse’s haunches and checked to ensure the shoes were on properly. He grinned almost shyly at her when he noticed her watching.

  “Force of habit,” he said. “The blacksmith had them on badly before.”

  “I’m glad to see you take so much care of my safety and those of my family.”

  Once she was in the saddle, she rode away without looking back.

  The court had moved around a lot during her absence. The plague was spreading throughout the town and everyone was trying to find some safe refuge.

  Finally, her husband returned home. Frances welcomed him back with a feast of stewed lamb and pottage followed by other rich dishes.

  “Queen Catherine has her talons in the King,” he said as he stretched before climbing into bed after her.

  “How so?”

  “He does her every bidding. She is often by his side, tending to him during one of his episodes.”

  “I do not envy her that.” Frances thought of her uncle’s wounds and many ailments. “Besides, this is the way he always is at the beginning. And it is better for us that he listens to her and not to some other advisor. You should be happy she is for the reform, is she not?”

  “I am. I am,” he repeated.

  Frances knew immediately he was lying. “He is so fickle there is no point trying to earn his ear now.”

  He kissed her forehead. “I know.”

  She did not let him see her roll her eyes. She knew him well enough by now that he imagined if he had his chance then he would be able to become the King’s advisor as Cromwell and Wolsey had done before him. But he was not an astute politician or lawyer. He had dreams of grandeur, but he could not see them through himself. Besides, the risk was too great.

  It was better to bide their time and wait for the perfect opportunity.

  “Jane is an angel. You must be so proud,” Queen Catherine congratulated her.

  “I am,” she responded, though there was no heart behind it. “I often find myself worrying that she is much too serious for a girl.”

  “Nonsense, you must foster this devotion to study and God in her. There are worse things for a girl to be.”

  “That is true.” She thought of that flirt Katherine Howard with disgust.

  “Are you sure you shall return to Bradgate after the holidays?”

  “Yes, I enjoy overseeing my lands and the country air agrees with me.” In truth, she did not mind avoiding court while Katherine Willoughby was still residing there.

  “Very well.” Queen Catherine seemed to know what she was thinking.

  After mass, she met with her father in his rooms. His tall frame seemed to be hunched over, and he was looking more and more like a sickly old man than the strong soldier he had been in her youth.

  “Father.” She curtseyed to him.

  “It has felt like a long time since I have spoken to you,” he said idly.

  “How are you?” she asked, seeking to avoid bringing up any unsavory topics.

  “I am well. Sometimes I am sick with ague, but the doctors provide me with their potions and I am better for a time.”

  “You should be resting.”

  Her father laughed. “I am not an old man yet. There is still so much to do.”

  “I am sorry, I did not mean to insult you.” She shifted from one foot to another. “I want what’s best for you.”

  “You are a sweet girl to worry for your father so, but it also shows me how far I have fallen that my daughter dotes on me.” He sighed heavily.

  “As you know, the King is intent on war with France again. I shall go to command his armies. Before we leave I shall write my will…”

  “Father!”

  “…but I wish for things between us to be settled. I know there have been difficulties since your beloved mother passed away,” he continued ignoring her protests.

  Under her father’s gaze, Frances felt like a girl again, freshly married and hurt by his choice to remarry.

  “I cannot command your obedience any more, but I would hope that you could bring yourself to forgive me.”

  She was silent for a long moment. Of course, there was no way she could deny his request. He put her in an impossible position. The more she looked at him, the more pity she felt for him. He too had lost his wife. He had lived a long and hard life despite the favor of the King.

  “Of course, I forgive you father,” she said with as much sincerity as she could muster.

  “You must understand I acted for the benefit of this family,” he went on. “I loved your mother very much and I think of her often.”

  Frances wasn’t sure if this was the sweet-talking courtier speaking to her or her father speaking from his heart. There was no way for her to tell and she felt a twinge of distrust.

  Seeing she was tongue-tied her father smiled. “I am very happy to see you so well settled. Your mother would be proud.”

  She nearly flinched at his heavy hand placed on her shoulder. He must know her very little if he thought she was happily settled. And she thought with a wry smile, he knew little of her relationship with her mother. She would not have been proud. She had never been proud of her.

  Her life had been nothing but constant strife and filled with unhappiness. Just recently, she suffered the death of two children and the supplanting of her husband’s affections.

  But her father saw her smile and misunderstood. “I hope we shall have more time to spend together. That husband of yours does well for himself in Parliament.”

  “Thank you, I do as well. I hope you shall rally your strength.”

  She escaped his rooms as quickly as she could.

  Chapter Six

  1544-1546

  Frances stood on the dockside watching the ships departing. Beside her, the ladies of the court were cheering, ahead of her was the Queen. Just as Catherine Parr was standing erect and magisterial so was Frances.

  For many, the thought of war brought images of glory and fortune, but Frances was not a fool to think that the people closest to her were invincible. All it would take would be a stray arrow or misfired canon shot and her husband would perish. She also knew that diseases common on the battlefield could just as easily end his life.

  Looking at the Queen Regent, she was sure Catherine felt the same. King Henry had been unwell, the doctors had advised that he did not lead the army himself. Now it seemed like he was setting out to prove something.

  Her father, too, was on board, serving as a commander in the English army. These men should be at home being cared for in their old age, but, instead, they were risking their lives and those of many others to prove to the world they were still strong. They dreamed of reliving their glory days and marching into Paris, but Frances was not so naïve.

  She had begged Henry to stay behind with her. The Queen would need advisors at her side to help her with the rule of the Kingdom, but he would not hear of it. So she would have to rely on the power of prayer that he would return home to her safe and sound.

  The Queen returned to London, and Frances accompanied her in her train.

  She was surprised by the change she found in her friend who was once so hesitant on the throne. The love lavished on her by the King and her own tenacity now shined forth. Gone was the meek Queen. In her place was the woman who was writing admonishing letters to the Universities.

  Frances had to struggle to keep from laughing as Catherine seemed unable to hold in her passion.

  “You cannot lecture p
reachers.”

  “How can I remain silent when they are so obviously wrong?” Catherine all but raged.

  “There is nothing wrong with a little discourse.” Lady Anne Herbert took her side.

  Seeing herself outnumbered Frances shrugged.

  “It just seems dangerous to stray into areas out of our understanding.”

  “Do you really believe that women cannot study and understand the word of God as well as men?” Catherine looked horrified.

  Frances knew that this was indeed what she had been taught, but she thought of her little Jane at home with her nose in her books and shook her head.

  “No, but I do think they do not like us debating and arguing with them.” She smiled to lighten the mood. “But I shall leave you to your writing. I was told I have a horse to see in the stables.”

  “There’s more to life than riding,” Catherine called after her as she left.

  “Hardly, your grace,” Frances said with a curtsey.

  Within a few days Frances was pining for home, but she felt as though she couldn’t leave just yet.

  It was at court that she could hear the news of the English army firsthand. She didn’t want to wait for it to trickle down to her or to wait for Henry’s unreliable letters.

  “I shall send for Elizabeth to join us. I don’t believe she is thriving at Ashridge. She is of a nervous disposition and I know being housed in that dissolved religious college must be uncomfortable,” Catherine mused, as if she was trying to debate with herself.

  Frances couldn’t help but agree, there would be nothing comfortable in those cold stone halls. Definitely nothing for a young girl to amuse herself.

  “You shall do as you wish,” she remarked.

  “I don’t believe the King would object.” Catherine made an off-hand remark. “I wish she was allowed to spend more time at court.”

  “You are regent. You can gather whatever lords and ladies you want around yourself,” Frances encouraged her. She did not comment that the King did not like seeing his daughter for she reminded him of her mother. She did not need to remind Catherine of the many wives that came before her.