To Crown A Rose

by Anne R Bailey

  Elizabeth was definitely pleased to be summoned to court. She received many gifts from her doting stepmother. Frances wondered if Catherine wasn’t doting on her too much. But no one could accuse Catherine of being a bleeding heart. She was ruthless when she wanted to be.

  Frances saw this firsthand when the Earl of Shrewsbury asked for an audience with her.

  “I have proof that the Earl of Cumberland was hunting illegally on my lands, your grace. I have written to him but he refuses to stop and says I am mistaken. Twice my steward has caught him.”

  Queen Catherine, sitting on her throne under the cloth of estate, tutted under her breath.

  “There can be no petty squabbles amongst ourselves while we are at war.”

  “Of course not. I wished to draw this to your attention so that you may speak to him if you are able to.” The Earl was apologetic. “It is not right that while the King is away all law is ignored.”

  “No, it is not right. I shall write to the Earl of Cumberland myself.” Her sharp tone indicated that she would show him no patience. “I promise you that he shall compensate you for your loss.”

  “Thank you, milady.” He bowed deeply to her, then, without turning his back on her, walked out of the presence chamber.

  “That was very well put,” Katherine Willoughby spoke. “How can the nobles be squabbling at a time like this?”

  Frances saw her wring a kerchief in her hands. She had looked jumpy and hard pressed ever since her husband had left for France. Frances felt a twinge of pity for her. She knew how it was to worry over a husband gone off to war. Even more so that she knew how her father’s health was failing faster than ever.

  She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts from her mind. There was no point worrying over nothing.

  The guns of London Tower sounded to announce the King’s triumphant victory and return. The English army had not marched on Paris but rather laid siege to Boulogne. The city finally surrendered.

  There was much celebrating in the streets at the news.

  Frances’s own father was presented the keys to the city by the mayor. Her husband had been there as well, a proud captain. He had returned to her, though the English army was still in France. She was surprised to find he wasn’t playing the part of the triumphant soldier upon his return. He did not wish to discuss it with her at all.

  “It was not all games and chivalry, you know,” he snapped when she had pressed him harder.

  “I never said…”

  He looked at her apologetically, and pulled her into his arms squeezing her tightly.

  “I apologize. I should not trouble my wife with such matters. But the campaign was hard and hard won. It is hardly worth it if we cannot press forward and capture more lands,” he whispered into her hair. “But I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “Alright,” she agreed.

  The court celebrated the victory for days, though, and it was hard to escape talks of battles. Those who had not gone to France were eager to go themselves, while those who had been there were tight-lipped.

  It soon trickled down that the English army had suffered great losses for their victory. Her father was still stationed there, but they were running out of supplies and the men were threatening to desert from lack of pay or hunger.

  When news that the English army had retreated back to Calais there was hell to pay. The King was furious.

  Scared of the King’s reaction, Frances ran to the Queen’s rooms. If anyone might temper his reaction, it was Catherine.

  “My father would never betray the King,” Frances said quickly to Catherine, who was listening intently. “The King must understand that my father had no choice but to act as he did.”

  Catherine took her hands in hers. “Don’t fret, I shall speak to him. I am sure his councilors will help him see reason.”

  Frances couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down her back.

  “They may turn against him too. They are angry about the cost of the war and ready to blame someone. They scent blood in the water.”

  “The Duchess of Suffolk also spoke to me.”

  Frances could see Catherine was trying hard to reassure her, but the fear building in her chest would not subside.

  “You have no reason to fear for your father. The King shall be reassured and will rally. He heard rumors that your father was unwell and was very concerned.”

  Frances bit her lip.

  “Why don’t you speak to Katherine Willoughby? The two of you may comfort each other.”

  Frances pulled away. “I cannot. But thank you for your help and kind words.”

  She left the Queen’s rooms to go find Henry. He would understand.

  She was wearing black again, walking through the halls of Norwich Place with a heavy heart. She had rarely visited her father’s London residence and now this might be the last time she did so.

  Her father had died quietly in the night. A messenger had appeared at her door first thing in the morning. She was sure only the King heard the news before her.

  She entered his bedroom to find him washed and dressed in his robes of estate. Against his pillows, he looked almost as though he was sleeping peacefully. It was Katherine, covered by a black veil and visibly sobbing by his bedside, that spoiled the illusion.

  Finally, being here made her hesitate. Being faced with death once again, she couldn’t help but tremble. There was new life growing in her womb, and she wondered if it would be tainted by being so close to death. A hand crept over the small bulge in fear.

  “Frances, he is gone,” Katherine said between sobs.

  “May he find peace in Heaven.” She took a seat opposite of Katherine, avoiding looking at the pallid face of her father and, instead, focused on the ermine fur trimming the edge of his robe. “Queen Catherine sent me a message that the King is quite devastated. He will come pay his respects as well, before they take his body away.”

  “How can you be so cold?”

  Frances was taken aback by the accusation. “I-I lost my father today. It is hard for me to accept.”

  Katherine was back to sobbing. “I’m sorry. I know. I am only thinking of myself.”

  Frances wished to leave, but seeing the honest grief displayed by Katherine made her stay. She hadn’t thought that Katherine would be broken up about Charles’s death. She thought of her young sons and knew that their wardship would pass to the crown. Katherine might be separated from her sons.

  Her heart was struck by sudden pity for her friend. Katherine must have thought the worst was over when she had seen him return from war and survive the King’s displeasure. But he had worked himself to the bone for the King’s service, and it had worn away his remaining health. At least he left behind two male heirs to continue the family name.

  Frances thought of the child in her belly and said a prayer that this too was a son. She would name him Charles for her father.

  “He wishes to be buried quietly at Tattershall,” Katherine said in-between another bout of crying.

  Frances was unsure of what to say and merely nodded. The King would not hear of such a simple funeral for his greatest friend. He paid to have his funeral at St. George’s chapel.

  Even in death her father was obedient to the King.

  There was a change in the air. With the new year, the King’s mood seemed to shift. He was regressing back to his conservative views. This was evident by his favoring Gardiner and his cronies.

  Frances returned from hawking, handing her falcon back to Adrian Stokes.

  “See that she is well fed,” Frances said, petting the bird’s cream colored chest. She had been one of her first gifts from Henry, and she had grown into an excellent hunter. Despite her age, she was flying well and Frances wouldn’t be parted from her just yet.

  She returned to the Queen’s rooms to find a lively discussion happening on the meaning of scripture. The Queen had become quite the scholar and even published anonymously Psalms and Prayers in English with the support of Cr
anmer. It was an open secret that she was continuing such work.

  It was unheard of, but, at the time, the King was encouraging. Now Frances worried what he might think of this.

  Katherine Willoughby, the widow of her father, had returned to court. It seemed her tears had dried up, and she was happy to take center stage. The King seemed to pay special attention to her ever since her return. He gave her little gifts and invited her to play cards with him.

  Frances was suspicious of this and wondered if Queen Catherine could see the signs.

  The Spanish ambassador found his way to her at dinner. He liked to pay attention to her ever since the King had signed his will and declared the act of succession.

  “My lady, I wonder if you have heard the troubling news?”

  Frances was too much of a courtier to gape at him like a puppy desperate for a treat.

  “Nothing to trouble me,” she said.

  “Ah, perhaps not but you may not have heard the King is interested in taking another wife.”

  Frances did not even blink, though her heart was beating faster in her chest. “Who might that be?”

  “The dowager Duchess of Suffolk seems to be the candidate.”

  “It’s all rumor, of course. The King loves the Queen and showers her with affection and trust.”

  “As you say.” He tilted his head in agreement.

  She spent some more time talking to him, though she wished to run to Queen’s rooms to warn her. At the same time, anger flared in her gut at the thought of Katherine having such shameful ambitions.

  Frances could not support such a thing. It was disgusting.

  It was Katherine who she descended upon first, finding her walking down the halls alone.

  “I thought you loved my father, but I see you would disrespect him by chasing after a married man. I thought Queen Catherine was your friend. Then again, you hardly care about your ‘friends’ at all, do you?” she spat as venomously as she could.

  Katherine looked taken aback, but she too narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “You are chasing after a second husband and will push the Queen aside to get what you want. You’ve always been such a flirt, proud of your looks.”

  “You are projecting your own insecurities on me.” She tilted her head almost as though she was sorry for her.

  Frances couldn’t bear it.

  “You will leave court!”

  “You cannot command me. You have no idea what I struggle with. The King could take away his favor any moment. I am living on an edge, one misstep and I might lose everything, my sons, my lands. Everything.”

  The two of them squared off at each other, neither backing down.

  “You seem awfully content pawing at an older married man. Don’t think that the whole court doesn’t know what a shameless whore you have been.”

  “I need not stay to hear this. I am sorry I was not born into the position you have been. I shall pray you never have to fight for your supper and worry that everything you hold can be taken away on someone’s whim.”

  Frances watched, stunned, as Katherine strode away. The swishing of her gown the only sound in the corridor. She wished she hadn’t let her anger get the better of her. She had no proof that Katherine was seeking to seduce her uncle, the King.

  Still she did not stop in her quest to warn the Queen. Rumors always had some grain of truth in them. If the Queen had displeased the King in some way, then she needed to be warned.

  “Katherine is innocent,” the Queen protested. “Or at the very least she does not do what hundreds of other girls do. But I am married to the King, and he can have no complaints or grounds against me. I have served him well.”

  Frances shook her head. “It’s not her you should be worried about but your husband. It doesn’t matter how perfect you have been, he will find a reason to put you aside. The truth doesn’t matter. Gardiner is his lapdog again and you know how conservative he is. He sees you as an obstacle. You read forbidden books, and you study…”

  “There is nothing wrong with study,” Catherine threw back at her. “The King himself has encouraged it.”

  “The King can change his mind.” Frances wondered why she bothered. As her frustration grew, she found herself longing for some wine.

  “I’ll speak to my sister to see what more she can find out. I find this all so laughable. We haven’t been married long and we are still happy.”

  Frances did not point out that many of his wives did not last long, but she did her duty by her.

  That night she told Henry she was returning to Bradgate.

  “I shall send you home with a doctor to see Mary,” he said.

  It put her on edge. Her last pregnancy had resulted in another daughter and not the son they had wished for. More than that, she suspected her daughter was a dwarf. She was incredibly small for her age, though her husband was adamant that nothing was wrong. She had suggested they send Mary away to be raised elsewhere, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  They had a row for the first time in months over the subject.

  “I will send Jane to you then. It would be good for her to visit court.”

  “Very well.”

  One her way to her favorite house, she stopped by to see Mary at Hunsdon. As if sensing her father’s growing dislike of the Queen, she too had retreated away from court for a respite.

  They walked together arm in arm through the gardens, enjoying the fresh air.

  “The Queen is very good to me. She sends me clothes and presents and always gives me a place at court,” Mary said, but Frances could hear the ‘but’ left unsaid and looked at her pressing her for more information.

  “I worry she has been led astray into heresy,” Mary admitted.

  Frances nodded. She didn’t say anything on the matter. Mary would call her husband a heretic too. She remained resolute to follow the King’s wishes and worship as her husband did.

  “I shall pray no harm comes to her,” Mary continued. “She is a good woman.”

  “And friend,” Frances added.

  Frances was overseeing the construction of a new bear pit when she spotted a retinue of horses riding up to the house. She left the workers and went towards the courtyard to see who it was. She was surprised to find Jane riding pillion behind her husband’s secretary. An armed guard accompanying them along with Jane’s nurse.

  “What is it? What happened?” She had received no news of her arrival, and she could sense the tension in the courtyard.

  “The Earl commanded me to ride to Bradgate with the young lady.” The man doffed his cap to her.

  Another helped Jane down from the saddle, and Frances rounded on her.

  “Did your father say anything?”

  Jane handed her a letter but whispered. “The Queen’s ladies were taken in for questioning.”

  Frances did a double take. So the rumors were true.

  “Everyone was leaving court if they could,” Jane said, her eyes now teary.

  “And the Duchess of Suffolk?”

  “She left too.”

  Frances found herself breathing a sigh of relief that she wasn’t at court lording over everyone. But this did not mean much. The King always sent his favorites away while he was “divorcing” his unwanted wives.

  In her solar, she dismissed her ladies and read Henry’s letter in private.

  It turned out Gardiner had emerged publicly as an enemy of the Queen. He had arrested and tortured Anne Askew, though she had confessed to nothing. But he was not after low-born heretics. He wished to take down the Queen.

  She sat down at her desk and penned a careful letter, knowing that it might be opened and searched by Gardiner’s men. She urged her husband to come home. He was known too widely to be a supporter of the reformed faith. With Gardiner hunting down reformers, he might be next.

  She thought of the wily Catherine Parr and knew in her heart that she would find a way to survive.

  Chapter Seven


  1547-1551

  The bells were peeling backwards. Frances was in a rush to get back to London where her husband was waiting for her. She did not worry about gowns, knowing that she could draw mourning clothes from the royal wardrobe but worried about the roads in February.

  By the time she got to London, it was nearly time for her uncle to be entombed. Henry helped her down from her horse, dressed in black and wearing a sour expression.

  “What is it, husband?” she asked kissing him on the mouth.

  “Gardiner is saying the mass even though the King died holding Cranmer’s hand.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “He wants a mass said for his soul in the old papist way.”

  “He was always fickle.” Frances shrugged. “And the council? Prin—King Edward is still so young? Has the King’s will been read?”

  Her husband turned a scornful look to her as though she was as naïve as their daughters.

  “Yes, for they kept the King’s death secret for days while they consolidated power. I wasn’t invited to this inner circle. Edward Seymour has been named Lord Protector. In effect, he shall rule for his nephew. They say they shall make him a Duke.”

  Frances nearly growled. “He doesn’t deserve such an honor. You should be made a Duke.”

  Her husband looked almost defeated. “I shall focus on my studies. They shall come to see they need me. I don’t need to go begging Seymour for favor.”

  “No, of course not. You shouldn’t debase yourself like that.”

  The funeral procession left Westminster and hundreds of mourners followed the King’s coffin and effigy. The larger than life monarch was laid to rest in as grand a manner as he had been in life. They stopped at Syon House for the night — showing once again the power of the Lord Protector.

  The next day, Frances was with the Queen in the Queen’s closet where they watched Henry being interned with Jane Seymour. For years he had still favored her above all other wives, and Frances knew firsthand how it grated on Catherine to have a dead woman take precedence over her.