Elizabeth's Women

by Tracy Borman

  Elizabeth would be at Woodstock from May 1554 until April 1555. While there, her every move was watched, and she was not allowed to correspond with anyone unless it was by the council’s sanction. This included her old governess, Kat, who was under the custody of Sir Roger Cholmley at his house in Highgate, north London. However, in April 1555, a warrant was issued to Sir Roger, ordering him to “set at libertie Katheryne Assheley who hath of long tyme remained in his custodie.”59 By June of that year, Kat was reinstated in Elizabeth’s service, much to both women’s joy and relief. The terror of Kat Astley’s second brush with the Tower, and the months of imprisonment that followed, might reasonably be expected to have encouraged her to keep a low profile from then onward. The council was well aware of the closeness of her relationship with Elizabeth, and as far as they were concerned, she was tainted by association. For as long as Elizabeth remained under suspicion, so would her governess.

  Whether or not it had been her intention, Mary’s decision to keep her half sister under close confinement protected Elizabeth from being implicated in any future plots. Perhaps conscious of this, and buoyed by the confidence she had gained from escaping condemnation for the Wyatt rebellion, Elizabeth requested permission to write to the Queen. This was granted, and although her subsequent letter does not survive, Renard saw it and immediately related its contents to his master. Apparently Elizabeth had dispensed with her former deference and had instead shown a distinct lack of respect toward her half sister, addressing her not as “Highness” or “Majesty,” but simply “You.” The Queen was furious at this slight, and wrote at once to Elizabeth’s custodian, saying: “Our pleasure is that we shall not hereafter be molested any more with her disguised and colourable letters.” Unrepentant, Elizabeth angrily retorted: “I must say for myself that it was the plain truth.”60

  The balance of power between the sisters might have undergone a subtle shift, but Elizabeth still had to be careful to maintain an unblemished reputation with regard to her loyalty to the Queen. As she and Kat tried to reestablish some semblance of normality in the household, a fresh plot against the Queen was already gathering ground.

  With the number of Protestant martyrs lost to the flames growing ever higher and anti-Spanish feelings intensifying across the country, plots against Mary were never far away. In May 1555, another one was brought to light. Henry Dudley, a distant relative of the late Duke of Northumberland, had served in France under Edward VI and boasted a number of powerful henchmen among his entourage, including John Throgmorton. Together they conspired to place Elizabeth on the throne. Their outlandish plan comprised three key elements: robbing the Exchequer, seizing the Tower, and killing the Queen. It was soon discovered, and yet again the finger of suspicion pointed at Elizabeth, who was then residing at Hatfield.

  Elizabeth immediately denied all knowledge of the ridiculous plot and wrote at once to the Queen, protesting her innocence and condemning the conspirators for not showing “the reverent fear of Romans to their Senate.” She went on to give an eloquent assurance of her loyalty, saying: “And among earthly things I chiefly wish this one: that there were as good surgeons for making anatomies of hearts that might show my thoughts to your majesty as there are expert physicians of the bodies, able to express the inward griefs of their maladies to their patient. For then I doubt not but know well that whatsoever other should suggest by malice, yet your majesty should be sure by knowledge, so that the more such misty clouds obfuscates the clear light of my truth, the more my tried thoughts should glister to the dimming of their hidden malice.” She signed the letter “Your Majesties obedient subiect and humble sistar.”61

  On this occasion, Mary was willing to believe Elizabeth’s protestations, and she sent her a ring as an assurance of her goodwill, together with a message that she knew that Elizabeth was too “wise and prudent” to do anything prejudicial against her queen. But this did not prevent Elizabeth’s name from being connected with almost every subsequent plot and conspiracy. “It unfortunately appears that never is a conspiracy discovered in which either justly or unjustly she or some of her servants are not mentioned,” reported the Venetian ambassador. He added, though, that “having no suitable cause to proceed against her she [Mary] dissembles her hatred and anger as much as she can, and endeavours when they are together in public to receive her with every sort of graciousness and honour, nor does she ever converse with her about any but agreeable subjects.”62

  But Mary’s officials were determined to find evidence of Elizabeth’s involvement, and they searched both Hatfield and her London residence, Somerset House. They found nothing to implicate her, but Kat Astley was not so fortunate. In Somerset House, a number of “seditious” books and pamphlets were discovered, together with a small cabinet containing papers, paintings, “and other defamatory libels” against Queen Mary, her husband, Philip, and the Catholic religion. These items were found among Kat Astley’s possessions, which was sufficient evidence to have the hapless governess arrested once more.

  In late May 1556, a delegation of officials arrived at Hatfield to arrest Mistress Astley and two other members of Elizabeth’s household who had been implicated by the search at Somerset House: Elizabeth’s Italian master, Battista Castiglione, and a servant, Francis Verney. This caused “great general vexation” amidst the household, and Elizabeth herself was said to be “distressed and dejected.”63 Even though Mary had assured her sister that she did not believe her to be personally implicated, Elizabeth was still terrified at the thought of what might happen to Kat.

  Her faithful servant arrived at the Tower a few days later. Familiarity did not make this imposing fortress any less fearful, and the chances of her escaping death a third time seemed unlikely. “What talk have you had with any person touching this conspiracy?” her interrogators demanded. “When, where, with whom and how often?” In vain, Mistress Astley protested that she had talked to nobody about it, and that the first she had heard of it was when Throgmorton was arrested. She insisted that she was the Queen’s loyal subject, vowing: “If I cannot be true to my queen, especially one of whose virtues I have had long experience, it were pity the earth should bear me.” She also used the opportunity to defend Elizabeth, adding: “If her I serve (whose love to her highness I have known from her youth) should prove me corrupt but in thought to her highness, I am sure she would never see me again.”64

  In the course of her spirited defense, Kat had committed an error that should have been enough to seal her fate. The fact that she admitted to knowing about the conspiracy, albeit not until after the arrest of its leaders, was sufficient evidence to convict her in those dangerous, paranoid times. Worse still, her fellow servants had also confessed that they had heard of it, but, like Mistress Astley, had not done what they should have and informed the authorities immediately. When the Venetian ambassador heard this, he reported to his master: “I am told that they have all already confessed to having known about the conspiracy; so not having revealed it, were there nothing else against them, they may probably not quit the Tower alive, this alone subjecting them to capital punishment.”65

  Once their confessions had been extracted, there followed an agonizing wait for Kat and the two other servants as to what sentence would be passed. It looked almost certain to be death. The days dragged on interminably, and still no news came. Speculation about their impending fate was rife at court. Michiel surmised that their execution was being deferred “for the purpose of adding to their numbers.” Elizabeth was frantic with worry. With her beloved Kat incarcerated in the Tower, she had nobody to turn to. Mary cheerfully told her that Mistress Astley’s arrest was an opportunity to review her entourage. She had taken a dim view of the “licentious life led, especially in matters of religion, by her household,” which she believed had left Elizabeth “clandestinely exposed to the manifest risk of infamy and ruin.” She therefore devised a plan for “remodelling her household in another form, and with a different sort of persons to those now in her service.�
�� All of Elizabeth’s closest attendants were to be replaced with “such as are entirely dependant upon her Majesty,” with the result that Elizabeth’s own “proceedings,” and those of her household, “will be most narrowly scanned.” This would insure that the Queen’s sister “keep so much the more to her duty, and together with her attendants behave the more cautiously.”66

  This was cold comfort indeed for Elizabeth. Not only had she lost her governess—perhaps forever—but she now faced the prospect of having a cast of sober matrons forced upon her. The lively conversation, music, dancing, and other diversions that she had enjoyed at Hatfield looked set to end. Sure enough, in mid-June 1556, Mary sent the first of her chosen servants to Elizabeth, the morally upright Sir Thomas Pope and “a widow gentlewoman” as governess. As the Venetian ambassador shrewdly observed: “So that at present having none but the Queen’s dependants about her person, she herself may be also said to be in ward and custody.”67

  The summer came to a close, and still there was no word of Kat. Did Mary intend to keep her holed up in the Tower forever, reluctant to order either her execution or her release? The prospect was as awful for Elizabeth as it was for Kat. But then at last, on October 19, the news that neither had dared hope for was received: Mistress Astley was to be set at liberty. Disbelief and joy at cheating death a third time must have mingled with anticipation at being reunited with Elizabeth. The latter prospect was soon shattered, for the Queen ordered that Kat be dismissed from her office as governess and, worse, “forbidden ever again to go to her ladyship.”68 This was a cruel punishment for the woman who had proved Elizabeth’s most loyal and devoted servant. It was also a crushing blow for Elizabeth herself, who was desolate at the thought of never seeing Kat again.

  In a sense, there had been little other option for Mary, apart from ridding herself of this troublesome woman for good. Moreover, she seemed genuinely concerned to protect her sister’s reputation: until she herself produced an heir, Elizabeth remained her most likely successor. Mistress Astley had already proved herself a most unfit person to take charge of a royal lady’s upbringing, and Mary could not risk another scandal. As well as the flaws in her character, the former governess was also a heretic, and the Queen would stand no chance of bringing her sister back to the Catholic fold if she was surrounded by such people. The seditious books and pamphlets that had been found among Kat’s possessions made it clear that she could not be trusted. Indeed, she had made little secret of her firmly Protestant beliefs, which, at a time when the Queen and her council were trying to eradicate this religion from England, was a reckless and foolhardy policy. It also made Kat a liability to Elizabeth, who was desperately trying to avoid implication in the many Protestant plots that were springing up against her sister. In a sense, therefore, Mary had done her a favor by dismissing Kat from her service—although Elizabeth might not have appreciated this at the time.69

  Kat Astley had undoubtedly borne the brunt of the blame for the Dudley conspiracy. By contrast, Elizabeth had benefited from her half sister’s goodwill on this occasion. Not only had Mary accepted her protestations of innocence; she also refrained from following up any further rumors of her involvement in plots and conspiracies. It is thought that this was less to do with sisterly affection than with the influence of her husband, Philip. Although Mary no doubt wished to have her half sister brought to the Tower and questioned, Philip insisted that instead she should send her a kind message “to show her that she is neither neglected nor hated, but loved and esteemed by Her Majesty.”70 Perhaps also thanks to Philip’s intervention, Mary went on to invite Elizabeth to court, although on this occasion the latter politely declined. Apparently being kept under scrutiny in the country was preferable to having to put on an act of devotion—to both her half sister and the Roman Catholic faith—at court.

  Philip might seem an unlikely ally to Elizabeth, given that Spain had traditionally viewed her as a dangerous heretic, but the Venetian ambassador affirmed that it was due to his influence with the Queen (which was considerable) that her half sister had been spared. “There is no doubt whatever but that had not her Majesty been restrained by the King, and by the fear of some insurrection she for any trifling cause would gladly have inflicted every sort of punishment on her.”71

  Philip was no doubt acting out of political, rather than personal, motives. He knew that Mary risked alienating her subjects further if Elizabeth was ill treated. Even so, the fact that he continued to defend her half sister was enough to invoke Mary’s jealousy. From the very beginning, she had been utterly besotted with her husband. Philip had only to exist for her to adore him unreservedly. Philip himself was a good deal less enamored. Upon first meeting the Queen, he remarked that she was rather older than he had been made to expect. Shortly after the wedding night, he confided to an attendant that his new wife had been lacking in sexual prowess. Mary certainly knew precious little of the ways of men and was innocent about the bawdy talk that went on at court. Her love for Philip was of a much more romantic nature.

  A month after the wedding, she wrote to Charles V, full of praise for his son. Proudly referring to Philip as “The King, my lord and husband” (overlooking the fact that he had not been crowned), she enthused: “This marriage and alliance, which renders me happier than I can say, as I daily discover in the King my husband and your son, so many virtues and perfections that I constantly pray God to grant me grace to please him and behave in all things as befits one who is so deeply embounden to him.”72 The object of her affections, meanwhile, was trying his best to act the part of a doting husband. His favorite attendant, Ruy Gómez de Silva, remarked: “The Queen is very happy with the King, and the King with her; and he strives to give her every possible proof of it in order to omit no part of his duty,” adding in another dispatch: “His Highness is so tactful and attentive to her that I am sure they will be very happy.”73 In private, Philip complained of the marital duties that he had to perform in order to satisfy this unappealing wife, but he continued to maintain the pretense. “He treats the queen very kindly and well knows how to pass over the fact that she is no good from the point of view of sensuality,” reported de Silva. “He makes her so happy that the other day when they were alone she almost talked love-talk to him, and he replied in the same vein.”74

  Philip’s efforts were due to more than just courtesy. It was vital that he made the marriage a success in order to firmly establish the Habsburg dynasty in England. In the sixteenth century, marital success was defined by the number of heirs produced. Within weeks of the wedding, it seemed that he would be rewarded for his pains, for it was announced that the Queen was with child. In November 1554, Parliament gave thanks to God for “the Quen’s grace qwyckenyng,” and the following month, Mary wrote joyfully to Charles V, assuring him: “As for that which I carry in my belly, I declare it to be alive, and with great humility thank God for His great goodness shown to me, praying Him so to guide the fruit of my womb that it may contribute to His glory and honour, and give happiness to the King, my Lord and your son.”75

  The fact that Mary felt it necessary to confirm that she was carrying a healthy child suggests that even at this early stage there had been rumors that the pregnancy was false. It was well known at court that Mary had suffered menstrual problems since puberty. The Venetian ambassador, Giovanni Michiel, observed that the Queen had a tendency “to a very deep melancholy, much greater than that to which she is constitutionally liable, from menstruous retention and suffocation of the matrix to which, for many years, she has often been subject.” She was thought to have what was known as “strangulation of the womb,” and her symptoms included periods that were not just irregular, but often entirely absent, as well as swelling in the abdominal area and frequent bouts of nausea. Her physicians regularly “bloodied” her “from the foot or elsewhere” in the mistaken belief that this would help. In fact, it weakened her still further, and Michiel noted that she was “always pale and emaciated.”76 Given her history and her age
, many doubted that her condition was real. It certainly suited the anti-Spanish party at court to believe that it was not, and they began to spread rumors that it was all a Spanish plot to pass off another infant as the Queen’s.

  Nevertheless, Mary displayed all the symptoms of early pregnancy. A Spanish envoy reported that she had been feeling nauseous and added that her doctor had “given me positive assurance” that there were other signs. Questions were evidently still being raised a few months later, but Renard affirmed: “One cannot doubt that she is with child. A certain sign of this is the state of the breasts, and that the child moves. Then there is the increase of girth, the hardening of the breasts and the fact that they distill.”77

  In Mary’s mind, there was no doubt. She was carrying the prince who would build upon all of her and Philip’s plans for Roman Catholicism, and would be a living embodiment of the Anglo-Spanish alliance—one that could never be broken. Beside herself with joy, she ordered that everything be put in place for her confinement. Sumptuous cradles and baby clothes were commissioned, and midwives and rockers were appointed. Hampton Court Palace was chosen as the place for the birth, and Mary duly made her way there in early April 1555, a little over a month before the baby was due. By now, her stomach was so swollen that it was thought the little prince might arrive any day.

  The excitement of the impending birth made Mary feel more benevolent toward her half sister. After all, when she was delivered of a male heir, Elizabeth would be rendered almost obsolete. She no longer seemed a threat to Mary, and the latter was therefore willing to be generous and invite her to attend upon her during her confinement. She had played second fiddle to her alluring, intelligent younger sister for years, and now here she was, on the brink of the ultimate triumph. Elizabeth could do nothing to hurt her now.