A letter written by Northumberland explained the marital arrangements concluded that spring. Having first related that ‘my Lord of Suffolk and I are thoroughly concluded upon a marriage between two of our children’, he had revealed that ‘the Earl of Pembroke’s son shall marry another of my said Lord’s daughters’.1 The son in question was Henry Herbert, the fifteen-year-old heir of the Earl of Pembroke by his deceased wife Anne Parr, sister of Jane’s beloved Queen Katherine and the Marquess of Northampton.2 Henry Herbert was to marry Jane’s twelve-year-old sister Katherine, a match that had probably been arranged at the same time as Jane and Guildford’s.3 Of a similar age to Katherine, Henry Herbert was a dashing youngster who had academic interests on a par to Jane and had even been taught by her Italian tutor, Michelangelo Florio.4 Moreover, it appears that he and his young bride quickly developed a fondness for one another, which was hardly surprising given that Katherine was believed to have been the beauty of her family. Meanwhile, eight-year-old Mary was to be betrothed to a distant relative, Arthur Grey, Lord Grey de Wilton.5 At a stroke, the marital prospects of all three of the Grey sisters appeared to have been settled. The final marriage to be performed on ‘the same day’ was that of Henry Hastings, the heir of the Earl of Huntingdon, who ‘shall marry another daughter of mine’: Katherine Dudley, the Duke’s youngest daughter.6
Plans for Jane’s wedding gathered pace, for it had been agreed that there was no time to be lost. There would be no long betrothal for Jane. Her marriage was to be celebrated at Whitsuntide, and the date had already been chosen: 25 May.
Preparations for the wedding had begun immediately after the negotiations had been concluded, and every detail had been given the greatest attention. Of great importance was the attire of the bridal party, which was to be of the utmost splendour. The King, who had given his blessing to Jane’s marriage, had ordered his Master of the Wardrobe, who was incidentally Northumberland’s brother, Sir Andrew Dudley, to supply all of the clothes for the wedding party, and sent a warrant to that effect.7 Detailing all of the materials that were to be gifted, it provided for the sumptuous outfits to be worn not only by Jane and Guildford, but also by those with whom they were to share their wedding day.8 In addition, Duchess Frances was provided with a ‘loose gown of black velvet embroidered’, and ‘a Clock set in gold and crystal garnished with six rock rubies and two table rubies [a gemstone cut so that the top appears flat, like a table]’.9 The Duchess of Northumberland was given some fine clothes and jewels.10 Gorgeous clothes were even provided for the Marchioness of Northampton, the probable instigator of the match.
The majority of the warrant, however, was dedicated to ‘our well beloved cousin the Lady Jane’, and ‘the Lord Guildford Dudley’.11 The level of splendour and opulence in Edward’s generous gifts was truly magnificent, and included a variety of the finest fabrics in a blend of rich colours. Among the materials were elegant ‘black silver cloth of tissue raised with roses and branches of gold’, ‘cloth of gold tissued with white silver’, ‘purple and white cloth of tissue raised with roses’, and ‘crimson cloth of gold branched with velvet’.12 Purple was a colour worn only by royalty, while only those of the rank of duke or marquess were permitted to wear cloth of gold. The message was clear: this was a royal wedding, and one of the utmost significance. In addition to the gorgeous clothes, it was observed that ‘The King has sent presents of rich ornaments and jewels to the bride.’13 There was a magnificent billement (decorative border often used to decorate a French hood) containing ‘thirteen table diamonds set in gold enamelled black’, a carcanet (a chain or collar of jewels) of seventeen ‘great pearls’ and seventeen ‘pieces of goldsmith’s work enamelled black with one flower of gold enamelled white and black with a fair triangle diamond and one emerald’, as well as a girdle fashioned with gold.14 The gifts Jane received from her cousin left nobody in any doubt of her regal status.
Not only were the wedding clothes impressive, but Northumberland was also determined to ensure that the celebrations were equally remarkable. The Imperial ambassador had heard that ‘they are making preparations for games and jousts’, and that ‘there will be very good Company’; every effort was being made to ensure that the triple wedding was as magnificent as possible.15
AS THE MORNING of 25 May dawned, it was a fine day: perfect for a wedding. But Jane did not have the joyous feeling of butterflies experienced by many prospective brides on their wedding day. Instead, her heart was full of dread that could not be disguised by the fine clothes she wore. Her beautiful wedding gown of royal purple with gold and silver brocade, embroidered with costly diamonds and pearls, was a far cry from the sober black and white that she usually wore.16 Her long hair was loose as a symbol of her virginity, and she was adorned with the brilliant jewels that the King had given her. This was Jane’s opportunity: her chance to shine. On that day all eyes were on her, but while some of the guests were looking at her exquisite gown and her shimmering jewels, others were looking at the girl who they were planning to make their queen.
The setting for Jane’s wedding was the impressive Durham Place. The house had a history of royal connections, and had recently been acquired by Northumberland from Jane’s cousin the Lady Elizabeth, much to her chagrin.17 Situated on the Strand with sprawling gardens that stretched right down to the River Thames, it was a splendid house, and the ideal choice for a wedding.
As the array of important guests gathered in the chapel within the house ready to witness the three weddings, one guest was conspicuous by his absence. The King’s health had ensured that there was no question of him attending, much to the disappointment of Jane’s family. Moreover, many of the guests were those with whom Jane was only vaguely familiar – members of the King’s Privy Council, and foreign ambassadors. This highlighted the fact that Jane’s wedding was not for her at all, as it is unlikely that, unless she had wed the King, most of these men would have been in attendance. Though it was extravagant, majestic even, it was all for show. It was a wedding made of necessity, and with the anticipation of events that were to follow.
As Jane and the two Katherines entered the chapel with its large and elaborate windows filled with stained glass, they knew what was expected of them. It was Jane who stood out as she walked towards her groom at the altar, the purple on her gown serving to highlight her royal status. At the altar, before their families and a host of diplomatic spectators, Jane and Guildford exchanged their vows. It seems probable that Jane would have uttered something similar to the vows exchanged by her great-uncle Henry VIII and his wives, in which case she would have promised to take Guildford ‘to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part, and thereto I plight thee my troth’. Perhaps she also promised to be ‘bonny and buxom in bed and board’.18 There was no love in the vows uttered, only formality. Thus, with the exchange of just a few simple words and a ring symbolic of their union, Guildford and Jane became man and wife. On Jane’s side at least, there was no notion of love, though she had promised to love and obey her new husband; only duty, and an acknowledgement that their futures now lay intertwined.
Following the ceremony, the guests proceeded to the Great Hall where the celebratory banquet ensued. The Great Hall was ‘stately and high, supported with lofty marble pillars. It standeth upon the Thames very pleasantly’, and provided the perfect setting.19 As early as 12 May, preparations for the entertainment had been noted, and Northumberland had written to Sir Thomas Cawarden, the Master of the Revels, whose responsibility it was to organize such merriments, to order amusements especially for the occasion.20 Some of these were to be staged in the extensive grounds of Durham Place, which contained a blend of fine fruit trees, fishponds and views overlooking the Thames. He had requested
[a] couple of fair masques one of men and another of women it will be anytime the better to make merry the whole company. And for that I think so many of the nobles as be here
abouts will be as is and also the most part of the ambassadors I would be very glad to have the thing rich and it which hath been seldom used wherein as you shall do me great pleasure to give order with your officers and servants for the performances and accomplishments.21
The guests and the wedding party enjoyed a lavish array of dishes arranged across a number of courses, and drank the constant flow of wine heartily. It could almost have been a happy occasion. It certainly earned the desired admiration of contemporaries, for Robert Wingfield related that ‘a most magnificent marriage was celebrated in the great palace of the bishop of Durham by the Thames; the French ambassador was present, and most of the English nobility dignified the ceremony with their attendance’.22 Jane, it was observed, led to her table ‘the French and Venetian Ambassadors’ who were seated between two ladies.23 Furthermore, several members of the Council were ‘on their knees with due ceremony toward the ambassadors as would have befitted the King in a solemn procession’.24 This was done with a clear purpose, for the Councillors, knowing what was afoot, and that Northumberland intended to open the way ‘for Jane and Guildford to usurp the crown’, were attempting to smooth things over and gain goodwill for their venture from abroad.25
The brilliance of the feast, however, was soon spoilt. For though great efforts had been made to prepare it, one of the cooks accidentally ‘plucked one leaf for another’ while preparing a hot salad dish.26 The result was that ‘My Lord Guildford Dudley’ and ‘other lords and ladies, recently fell very ill’.27 Indeed, so serious was the food poisoning that nearly a month later on 12 June they ‘are still suffering from the results’.28 Though it was observed that ‘The weddings were celebrated with great magnificence and feasting at the Duke of Northumberland’s house in town’, and ‘with such splendour the like of which I had never seen in this kingdom’, it was hardly the ending that had been anticipated as the jovial atmosphere of the diners descended into a delirium of sickness.29
For Jane, Guildford’s temporary illness may have come as a relief, although it had already been agreed that her marriage would not be consummated immediately. According to the Imperial ambassador, the reason for this was ‘because of their tender age’.30 However, given that both Jane and Guildford were over the age of consent (the church stated that the age of consent was twelve for girls, and fourteen for boys), it seems more likely that there was another reason for the delay. This appears to be supported by the fact that Jane’s sister Katherine was immediately sent to live with her husband and his family at the Earl of Pembroke’s London home, Baynard’s Castle. That her parents allowed Katherine to live with her husband implies that they expected the marriage to be consummated, despite Katherine being four years younger than her sister Jane.31 Perhaps in Jane’s case it was simply Guildford’s inability due to his unfortunate sickness, but it is more likely that it was a calculated decision, maybe to prevent the marriage from being binding before the events of the immediate future became clearer. After all, King Edward had not yet named Jane as his heir, and should she become pregnant promptly after her wedding then it could scupper all of Northumberland’s plans if he failed to do so.32
Once the revelries of the day had come to an end, Jane was able to bid farewell to her new husband; indeed, in the immediate aftermath it would appear that little had changed. Unusually, she had been allowed to return home with her parents to the Charterhouse, and to her studies. For the moment, Durham Place was not to be called home, and neither did she have to reside with Guildford; the nightmare of her wedding could almost be forgotten. But not for long. Jane’s marriage to Guildford was ‘fast bound ... according to the customs of the country’, and there was no going back.33
It is difficult to ascertain whether Guildford shared Jane’s sentiments of relief, for certainly as his wedding day drew to a close he was probably in no fit state to feel anything beyond the discomfort in his gut. Some of his later behaviour towards his new wife would show him to be discourteous, pompous even, but this was almost certainly born out of immaturity. Initially, there was no time for the newlyweds to bond as they resumed their separate lives; but already they were both part of a far bigger game, for on every side ‘plans and preparations are being made to strengthen and consolidate the position’.34 Moreover, their separation was of brief duration: within a short space of time Jane was back at Durham Place – perhaps around the time that King Edward made his final alterations to his Devise – where she was forced to confront the reality of married life. Her marriage was consummated, and she now had no choice but to live alongside Guildford.
Aside from the unfortunate food poisoning incident, Jane’s wedding had run as any bride would wish in all but one respect: she was not in love, and her marriage had been made of necessity. Little did she know that there was worse to come, for as an anonymous contemporary observed, ‘men of intellect’ within the kingdom ‘judged this wedding to be the first act of a tragedy’.35
MEANWHILE, BACK AT Greenwich Palace, on 5 May the Imperial ambassador reported that new physicians had been appointed to care for the rapidly declining King. However, they had been ordered not to disclose any information to anyone about the nature or severity of the King’s illness on pain of death. This was taken so seriously that the physicians had been made to swear an oath to that effect in front of several members of the Council, including Northumberland, the Duke of Suffolk, and William Parr, Marquess of Northampton, all of whom were conspiring together in order to determine their next move.
The following week, the King’s physicians made a further diagnosis of a ‘suppurating tumour’ on the lung, though in fact Edward may have been suffering from tuberculosis or a pulmonary infection.36 The ambassadors’ reports for this period give a clear description of Edward’s symptoms that reveal the gruesome extent of his suffering. The Imperial ambassador had been informed that ‘he is beginning to break out in ulcers; he is vexed by a harsh, continuous cough, his body is dry and burning, his belly is swollen, he has a slow fever upon him that never leaves him’.37 To make matters worse, rumours of the King’s death were beginning to circulate, and three of his subjects who had spread whispers to that effect were punished by having ‘their ears torn off’ as a grisly warning to others.38 To counteract this, ‘A rumour was spread recently that the King was on the way to recovery and his illness was decreasing, to appease the people who were disturbed’, but nobody was fooled.39 He was growing weaker by the day, and if Northumberland’s plan was to be successful, it was crucial that he begin to further it as quickly as possible.
The task of persuading Edward to name Jane as his successor, thus disinheriting both of his half-sisters, turned out to be remarkably easy for Northumberland. As Mary was a Catholic, the King could see the problems of allowing her to succeed, and was eager that she should not be given the opportunity to reverse all of the work he had done in the cause of religious reform. The Imperial ambassador was already aware that something was afoot, reporting that ‘The Duke’s and his party’s designs to deprive the Lady Mary of the succession to the crown are only too plain. They are evidently resolved to resort to arms against her, with the excuse of religion, among others.’40
But that still left Elizabeth, and Edward was initially reluctant to exclude her. Though the restoration of both Mary and Elizabeth to their place in the line of succession had never been formally legitimized, the two sisters were extremely popular with the English people, a point that Edward completely overlooked. Once it became clear that Edward could not exclude one without also excluding the other, his thoughts turned to Jane’s mother, Frances, whom he now considered as his successor. Yet Frances had been overlooked in Henry VIII’s will, and she did not feature in Northumberland’s plan. Even so, she still had a strong claim, and, prompted by Northumberland, Frances arrived at Greenwich Palace, and there renounced her right in the presence of the dying King. But why did she not press her own claim? It has been suggested that she avoided pursuing her right in an attempt to secure her own safety should
the events of Northumberland’s plan not work in Jane’s favour. This is certainly possible, and Frances may have believed that should Mary succeed then she would be more likely to forgive her if she was not a central conspirator. If this was the case then, given Frances’s relationship with Mary and Jane’s youth, she probably realized that she would be in a stronger position to defend her daughter. After all, Frances was aware that her familial proximity to Mary stood her in good stead, and knew her well enough to understand the best way to appeal to her. But equally, any ambitions Frances may have harboured about becoming queen could have already been quashed when her uncle excluded her from the line of succession in 1546, and since that time it seems likely that all of her ambitions had been for her daughters. Northumberland realized that Frances would not be as easy as Jane to control – he had probably made it very clear that he would not support her if she chose to press her own claim, and she would be unlikely to receive support from any other quarter. This appears to be corroborated when, several months later, on 24 July the Imperial ambassadors reported to the Emperor:
Thomas Grey, brother of the Duke of Suffolk, said it seemed strange to him that the Lady Jane, and not her mother, had been chosen, and that the Duke of Northumberland thus showed that the object of his ambition was to place the crown on the head of his son, husband to the Lady Jane.41
Any consideration of Frances succeeding the King was now removed, and at the beginning of June, under his own auspices but with Northumberland’s connivance, in his own hand Edward painfully drew up ‘My Devise for the Succession’, an extraordinary will in which he undertook to change the succession as laid out in the terms of Henry VIII’s will. It is still debated when the Devise was first drafted, but religion was undoubtedly Edward’s decisive factor in creating it.42 The document ruled both the Ladies Mary and Elizabeth out of the succession on account that they had both previously been declared bastards, and in the case of ‘lack of issue of my body’, ruled that the crown ought to be inherited by his cousins of the house of Suffolk. In line with his father, Edward believed that a male heir was preferable, and at thirty-five ‘our entirely beloved cousin the Lady Frances, now wife to our loving cousin and faithful counsellor Henry, Duke of Suffolk’ was still young enough to have sons.43 This was clearly Edward’s first thought, for initially he willed that his successor should be ‘the Lady Frances’s heirs male’.44 Should Frances fail to produce a son, then Edward decreed that the throne would go to ‘the Lady Jane’s heirs male’, followed by any sons that Jane’s younger sisters, Katherine and Mary, might have.45
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