A crown in darkness : a novel about Lady Jane Grey

by Mullally, Margaret, 1954-

  Katherine and Mary cringed miserably, sickened at the thought of the inevitable quarrel which would follow.

  'How dare you speak like that to your father!' Lady Suffolk raged. 'If we say you shall marry him, you shall.' She wrung her hands in despair. Katherine and Mary were so easy to dominate, but Lady Suffolk's victories over Jane were hard-won. She tried another approach. 'Be reasonable, sweetheart. Don't you realize what an honour this is? Northumberland is the highest power in the land. If we link our fortunes with his, there's no telling what glory may come our way.'

  'If glory must be achieved by my marrying Guildford Dudley, you had best resign yourself to a life without it,' Jane said contemptuously.

  A stinging blow on the side of her face made her gasp and for a moment she was blinded with pain.

  'I will be obeyed,' roared the Duke.

  'It isn't fair of you to force me.' Jane burst into tears. 'It isn't fair.' How many times in her fifteen years had she cried out in defiance against the unfairness of life? It seemed to avail her nothing.

  She saw that her plight was a desperate one. She detested Guildford, as she detested all noisy, conceited extroverts who were not like her. Surely even her parents would not be so cruel as to force her into this marriage that was so distasteful to her.

  Lady Suffolk found a malicious pleasure in having proud, wilful Jane at her mercy after all these turbulent years. She laughed at her misery. 'You once told me that you were totally indifferent to my fate since you had no affection for me,' she reminded her grimly. 'I swore to God that you'd live to regret those words deeply.'

  'I still have no affection for you,' said Jane with pitiful dignity. 'And if I marry Northumberland's calf, it seems that I am doomed to spend my life among people for whom I have no affection.'

  Somehow she stumbled upstairs to her bedroom, ignoring her sister Katherine's overtures of sympathy. Of what use was sympathy now? Marriage! The very word sounded nasty in her mouth. Marriage with someone she loathed. It was not for her.

  She lay down on her bed and did not get up for several days. She wept for long spells and when she was not weeping, she lay staring moodily at the ceiling. Mistress Ellen, very worried, tried to coax her to eat, but the very thought of food was repugnant to Jane. She felt that it would choke her. Eventually she would cry herself into an exhausted sleep, from which she would wake with a severe headache.

  At the end of the fourth day Mistress Ellen came to her with a mug of steaming broth. 'Drink this, my love,' she coaxed. 'It will make you feel so much better.'

  Jane raised a swollen, tear-blotched face. She gazed almost enviously at Mistress Ellen, who was so kind and plump and placid. 'I look almost inhuman, don't I?' she said.

  'A little, but you'll be all right when you stop feeling sorry for yourself,' her nurse replied, with a feeble attempt at tartness.

  Jane drank the beverage gratefully. She shook her head very carefully, for the movement hurt her. 'I don't think I can ever be the same again, after this.' Tears began to trickle down her face again, and without any warning, she broke into a wild sobbing, her slight body shaking from so much emotion.

  'There, child, you'll make yourself ill if you keep on so.' Mistress Ellen put her arms around Jane and held her close to her. 'Poor little thing,' she thought. 'If ever a child needed a mother it's this one, but what does that hard-hearted monster care?' Her kind soul nearly exploded with the righteous wrath she felt towards Lady Suffolk.

  'I want Master Aylmer,' Jane sobbed. 'Why hasn't he come to see me?'

  Mistress Ellen was uneasily evasive and even in her tortured frame of mind, Jane sensed it.

  'You had better ask your father,' Mistress Ellen said.

  'Yes, I will. Now. At once.' Jane ineffectually tried to stem the tears.

  She hoped she wouldn't meet Aylmer now, for she looked far from seductive in her crumpled gown. Her hair had not been combed for days and it fell in a rough, tangled mess about her tear-stained face. Her eyes were puffy and red-circled. But that could be dealt with. She allowed Mistress Ellen to wash her face and to comb her hair. She slipped into a demure grey gown and then made her way to her parents' apartments, aware of the compassionate looks that the servants gave her as they passed her on the stairs.

  'So they know,' Jane thought, 'I dare say everyone knows.'

  By a stroke of luck. Lady Suffolk was out on a social call. And the Duke sat alone in the parlour, frowning over his Household Accounts. He glanced up in exasperation as Jane quietly entered the room.

  'Well, what is it? These accounts are in one hell of a mess. Look at this — twelve yards of blue satin at eight and six a yard. Do you know anything about that?'

  Jane shook her head. She stared dully at his handsome head. He was a hard man, she knew very well, but he had loved her when she was a baby. Perhaps there was a faint glimmer of his old affection still in his heart. She would have to be humble, but it might be worthwhile.

  'Sir, I beg you to have pity on me.' Her voice trembled slightly, so she strove to steady it. It was not a good idea to show fear to a bully. 'I will marry any other man you choose for me, but I cannot consent to marry my Lord Guildford. Please, Father, if you have any compassion, spare me.'

  'Good God, child! I'm sending you to your wedding, not to the execution block,' Suffolk shouted. 'The King commands you to marry Lord Guildford Dudley and so do I. Now let that be an end to this nonsense.'

  'I would rather go to the block,' declared Jane passionately. 'I would choose to die rather than marry a silly, vain boy I despise.'

  'Then you're a fool, despite your learning. Guildford is the son of the most powerful man in England, and therefore not to be sneezed at. Now, enough of this stubbornness. Get out of my sight before I thrash you.'

  'Not until I know where Master Aylmer is.'

  'I have sent him away from here,' Suffolk said with a smirk, 'since I resent the influence he exercised over you. He has turned you into an intolerable little mule.'

  'How dare you blame him?' Some of her old spirit was returning to Jane. 'And how dare you rob me of the only friend I have that I can trust?'

  'You become insolent,' growled the Duke, his face reddening dangerously.

  'God's death, you are the most self-complacent fool on earth and you don't know how everyone at Court despises you,' Jane screamed, paying no heed to her father's warning.

  Some mad impulse was driving her to hurt and anger and insult him, as he had insulted her. 'You don't know how I despise you, and I despise my fat savage mother equally. I hate your smug superiority and I hate your cruel usage of me. I hate them so that whenever I am near you, I think myself in Hell. And I won't marry Northumberland's cub,' she concluded, panting.

  Suffolk's florid face was contorted with rage. He lunged towards her, brutal, sinister, and she backed away, gasping with fear. He gripped her narrow shoulder, with hard, bruising fingers and struck her across the mouth.

  For her clever articulation, her wilfulness and insolence, she had been beaten often, but never with such hatred and violence. Blood gushed from her mouth. Dizzily, she tried to grasp a wooden table leg as she stumbled. Then a shroud of cold, swirling blackness enfolded her as she lost consciousness.

  Although Jane recovered from that barbaric beating, she was never again the stubborn, spirited creature she had once been. At the time of the beating, she was already weak from lack of food, overwrought nerves and depression and, her troubles crowned by such violent treatment, she fell very ill.

  Being young and physically sound, she revived but during those long, agonizing weeks of heartbreak and despair, of wavering between consciousness and unconsciousness, something had died within her. When the physician permitted her to leave her bed, she crept about the house, pale and listless, silent-footed as a ghost.

  Suffolk was haunted by the vacant look in those grey eyes, but nonetheless plans for the Dudley marriage went ahead. As soon as Jane was strong enough, she submitted daily to the onerous ordeal of being
fitted for her trousseau.

  'See, sweetheart, how rich this brocade is,' cried Lady Suffolk, trying to awaken some interest in the bored bride-to-be. Jane expressed no interest in the colourful lengths of silk and velvet strewn about the floor, though once they would have delighted her natural feminine hunger for such finery. But now she cared for nothing. She was impatient at being made to stand still for so long, and the infernal giggling of the little team of French seamstresses irritated her.

  'You'll wear the jewels that belonged to my mother,' Lady Suffolk informed her. 'See, she wore these great sapphire rings when she was Queen of France. And these diamonds belonged to your great-grandmother, Elizabeth of York. Your wedding dress will naturally be white satin.'

  'Naturally,' agreed Jane ironically. 'Though I must confess I have so little interest in my wedding that it would make no difference to me if I arrived there naked.'

  A marriage between Lady Katherine Grey and nineteen-year-old Lord Herbert, Pembroke's heir, had also been arranged, so that there was to be a joint wedding. The Lady Mary, only eight years old, was too young to marry but not, as Lady Suffolk firmly pointed out to everyone, too young to be betrothed. Hence, Lord Arthur Grey of Wilton, a favourite kinsman, was selected for her.

  Katherine was thrilled by the idea of marriage. True, her thoughts never travelled far beyond the pomp and ceremony of the celebrations, but her youthful eagerness was touching. 'How beautiful she will look,' Jane thought wistfully, watching her sister's gaiety. 'I wish to God I had her sweet, affectionate nature.'

  But she knew she could never consciously alter her character and perhaps in her heart she did not really want to. She wondered about her family as she rode her chestnut mare over the fresh greenland of Leicestershire. Her parents, a pair of conscienceless, ruthless schemers, ought to do well in their hustle for power, if only they didn't use her to further their aims. There was Katherine who, at the tender age of thirteen, was already acknowledged as one of the loveliest girls in England. Then Mary, lonely and insecure, with neither beauty nor talent, but only her noble breeding to help her along. And herself, a scholar whose skills were equalled only by the young King and perhaps his half-sister, Elizabeth. She was one of the most intelligent young people in the land and a very promising future lay ahead of her.

  'Life will improve,' she swore, spurring her mount onward. 'A mere husband can't ruin my chances. I shall always love John Aylmer and perhaps later, when I'm feeling more like myself, I can be divorced from that odious Guildford and then I'll marry John, and bear his children. When Father and Mother die, I ought to have Bradgate since I'm the eldest and then ...' And then ...

  Her eyes were bright as she contemplated an ecstatic future with John Aylmer. She pictured their sons and daughters running through the cool, walled orchards at twilight, making wishes by the well, reading Plato and Cicero in the old schoolroom; happier than any other children living, because their parents were John Aylmer and Lady Jane Grey.

  Chapter 11

  It was one of those crisp, clear-cut mornings in spring and Jane had ventured into the garden to gather flowers to decorate the tables for, as her father reminded them almost daily, one could never be sure when the Dudleys would take it into their damned heads to call unexpectedly and it was wise to be prepared for a visit.

  'We can't have them thinking that your daughter isn't good enough to marry into their upstart family,' Jane had added pertly. As usual, she was menacingly told to guard her tongue. It could be stimulating, this habit of answering back, Jane pondered as she plucked prize blooms from the low branches. Her tongue seemed to be her solitary weapon against a hostile world, and she frequently thanked God that it was such a sharp one.

  When her basket was virtually full, she decided to walk back to the house but, as she turned to go, she caught sight of a stranger striding purposefully towards her. The hot blood whirled to her face, for she realized almost at once that the tall, strong-looking youth was none other than Lord Guildford Dudley.

  The morning sunlight sparkled on his blond hair, which was a few shades lighter than her own, and which curled gracefully on his neck. It seemed as though the jewels that studded his blue and gold slashed doublet sprang into brilliant flames as the sun caught them.

  How she hated him! He was the cause of her unhappiness, the reason why she must surrender her freedom, and yet she could not help but admire the light, insolent grace of his carriage. His blue eyes began to gleam as he came striding towards her through a gap in the hedge. It was evident that he admired her vastly.

  'I was so eager to see you, madam, that I came without delay,' he explained, his gaze travelling over her. 'One is always mildly curious about one's prospective husband or wife, don't you agree?'

  'I wasn't,' Jane thought, and smiled mischievously as she played with the idea of telling him so. He was quick to observe the smile and, charmed, construed it as an invitation.

  'Unfortunately, nothing but time will hasten our wedding night and time is a wicked old bastard that loves to taunt and tease. I hope, however, that you will not keep me waiting, sweetheart.'

  'You are presumptuous,' Jane retorted coldly. Panic overwhelmed her. He was much stronger than she was and if she tried to sweep past him with icy dignity, he might decide to be masterful and imprison her in his arms. Yet there was something exciting about a battle of wits with somebody like him. Her tired spirit rose to the challenge of his teasing eyes, as he moved stealthily towards her. Jane, wary as a young animal, moved back abruptly. He mustn't touch her, not while she was so hopelessly committed to Aylmer. She would have to discover his weaknesses and play on them.

  'Jane, why do you taunt me?' Guildford asked, laying his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to meet his burning gaze. Such behaviour was abhorrent to Jane and it increased her animosity towards him.

  'I've no wish to taunt anyone.' she told him. 'I simply don't want to marry you.'

  'Perhaps you fear the marital relationship.'

  'That's pure masculine spite,' Jane flung back, choking with rage. 'Because I dislike the idea of marriage with you doesn't necessarily mean that I would not want it with another.' 'There,' she thought, satisfied, watching for the effect of her words. 'That will hurt him.'

  But though his hands fell to his sides, Guildford's face was inscrutable. 'I see,' he said quietly. 'I see.'

  Spoiled, handsome, arrogant, he had never yet been rejected by a member of the female sex and here was this frail, fifteen-year-old girl virtually telling him that she found him unattractive.

  'I suppose,' he went on, his voice contemptuous, 'you have pretty visions of yourself as Queen. Well, I hate to spoil your sweet illusions, but had Edward wanted to marry you, he would have done so long ago, when Sir Thomas Seymour was alive to charm him with those thunderous oaths.'

  'I don't want to marry the King,' Jane said quickly.

  'No?' He was mocking her now, with that nasty, knowing little smile. 'I thought you wanted someone whom you could bully yet, at the same time, who could give you power. His Majesty is the best example I can think of. But then I dare say a weakling King would be unworthy of your bold spirit and the Tudors are a barren house. King Hal tried to prove otherwise six times but the only results were two useless girls, a sickly boy and a cynical festival of headless women and trampled pride.'

  'I think this treasonable conversation is in the worst possible taste,' Jane reproved him as she turned away.

  'Then I will try to win your favour by tactfully changing the subject. Tell me why you don't want to marry me.'

  She did not answer him; her thoughts had flown on soaring, glad wings to Aylmer, whose mature dignity and kindness were such a marked contrast to the rawness of this youth. Aylmer was the reason why she never wanted to marry. She wanted to be protected. She wanted to be loved, as she was sure Aylmer loved her. Her face had become radiant, though she did not know it. Warm colour painted her cheeks, her lips were soft and slightly parted. He stared into the fathomless depths o
f her wide grey eyes. He had never seen her like this. Her elusive beauty fascinated him and, he knew that, above all else, he wanted to marry her.

  He pulled her into his arms and said roughly, 'Lady Jane Grey, you must be mad.'

  What she feared was going to happen and she would be powerless to stop him. Panting, Jane cried, 'If I give myself to you now, you'll think I give myself freely, and to any man who asks.'

  'What talk is this?' Guildford struggled to hold her. 'We are to be married, aren't we?'

  'Yes, I know, but I do not want my husband to doubt my virtue.' Jane bowed her head, a little ashamed that she was tricking him but seeing no other solution. She was playing the same game that Anne Boleyn and other clever women had played before her, but with a different purpose in mind. 'I remember you once said that you wanted to marry a virgin.'

  Guildford's arms slackened. He was smiling, accepting defeat without malice. Suddenly, to her utter amazement, he threw back his head and roared with laughter. 'By God, Jane, you clever little minx, to catch me in the trap that I set.'

  Jane smiled, relieved to see that his humour was revived. She wasn't sure that she liked to be called a minx, and she heartily wished he wouldn't yelp like that; but still, she had been clever enough to elude him so far and, swiftly taking advantage of the situation, she stepped lightly away from him, saying that she must walk back to the house. Puzzled but highly amused, Guildford followed her.

  The wedding dresses lay shimmering on the bed, enhanced by the late afternoon sunlight that slanted in through the open casement, and on to the counterpane of rich crimson damask where they rested. It had seemed to everyone that they would never be finished in time but finally Mistress Ellen was shepherding the giggling seamstresses out of the room for the last time and a tiring woman was scooping up the gay trimmings from the floor.