by Tracy Borman
De Quadra had been instrumental in the rather madcap plot earlier that year whereby Katherine would be “enticed away” to Spain on a ship that would lie in wait on the Thames, and would marry Philip II’s degenerate son, Don Carlos. It is not clear whether Katherine herself knew of the plot, although the closeness of her relationship with Philip’s ambassador suggests that she probably did. Even though it was all rather far-fetched, when the plot was discovered, it caused widespread fear “that if the Queen were to die your Majesty [Philip II] would get the kingdom into your family by means of Lady Catherine.”11
The scheme had been prompted by an event involving another of Elizabeth’s rivals. Shortly before she had ascended the throne, her cousin Mary Stuart had married François, Dauphin of France and son of King Henry II, in a splendid ceremony at Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris. Although Mary was only fifteen years old, she had been betrothed to François for ten years, during which time she had lived at the French court. As well as having every expectation of becoming queen of France, Mary was already queen of Scotland. Upon hearing of her birth in December 1542, her father, James V of Scotland, famously lamented that his Stuart dynasty had “come with a lass [and] it will pass with a lass.” He had died shortly afterward, leaving his kingdom to his only surviving child.12
The French were delighted with the young Queen of Scots when she arrived in 1548. From a very young age, her beauty was universally praised, along with her charm and grace. In 1553 the Cardinal of Lorraine wrote to tell Mary of Guise of her ten-year-old daughter’s progress: “She has grown so much, and grows daily in height, goodness, beauty and virtue, that she has become the most perfect and accomplished person in all honest and virtuous things that it is possible to imagine … I can assure you that the King is so delighted with her that he passes much time talking with her, and for an hour together she amuses him with wise and witty conversation, as if she was a woman of twenty-five.”13 This was not mere flattery: Mary was an attractive girl—like her mother, unusually tall, with deep auburn hair that set off her pale skin to dramatic effect. She was also accomplished in the courtly arts of music, singing, dancing, embroidery, and riding. These she greatly preferred to the more academic elements of her education. She was certainly no intellectual like Elizabeth and was taught only the rudiments of languages. She could speak English but not write it, and her letters were almost always in French.
Like Elizabeth, Mary spent most of her childhood without her mother. Mary of Guise had stayed behind as regent of Scotland and was able to visit her daughter only once, in 1550. But this is where the parallel in their upbringing ends, for while Elizabeth learned the hard way—neglected by her father, declared a bastard, and often in danger of her life—Mary was the pampered princess, surrounded by flatterers and attendants who met her every need and taught her to accept queenship as a matter of right. In stark contrast to Elizabeth’s childhood, although Mary’s gave her short-term happiness and security, it did little to equip her for the monumental task that lay ahead.
The fact that Mary had been a queen almost from birth and had not—yet—had to fight for that exalted position made her rather arrogant. That she was likely to one day add France to her crowns gave her an even greater sense of invincibility. Moreover, she had long been taught to believe in her right to the English throne. She was the granddaughter of Margaret Tudor, and even though Henry VIII had excluded his elder sister’s descendants from the succession, Mary, like her aunt Margaret Douglas, paid little heed to this. It was this fact, more than any other, that would set her on a collision course with Elizabeth.
In November 1558, Mary and her new husband received the news that Elizabeth was now queen of England. Viewed by many at the French court—not to mention in her own kingdom—as an illegitimate heretic, Elizabeth was also denounced as a wanton whore, tainted by her mother’s adulterous liaisons and her own scandalous relationship with Thomas Seymour. Mary, on the other hand, had a flawless reputation as a newly married queen, and a Catholic one at that.
Encouraged by those hostile to Elizabeth, Mary wasted no time in asserting her claim to the English throne. The very day after Elizabeth’s accession, she and her new husband began to style themselves king and queen of England and included the English royal arms in Mary’s shield. The French king, Henry II, supported their claims, declaring that Elizabeth was an illegitimate usurper. At the wedding of his daughter Princess Claude early the following year, he ordered Mary’s servants to wear the arms of England on their livery, quartered with her own.
This first act of open aggression on Mary’s part dealt her relationship with Elizabeth a fatal blow. Insecure as she was about the validity of her own claim, the English queen needed little provocation where rival claimants to her throne were concerned. But Mary had provided her with enough ammunition for a lifetime’s enmity. As Elizabeth’s seventeenth-century biographer put it: “Hereupon Queene Elizabeth bare … secret grudge against her, which the subtill malice of men on both sides cherished, growing betwixt them, emulation, and new occasions daily arising, in such sort, that it could not be extinguished but by death.”14
The threat posed by Mary increased still further in July 1559 when Henry II died unexpectedly and Mary became queen of France. Even though her Guise uncles assumed the power of regency, Mary’s status and power had never been greater. She was now queen of two countries, and sandwiched between them was England. In the long power struggle that would ensue between the two women, Mary definitely had the upper hand.
Mary’s aggressive stance prompted Elizabeth to change tack toward the Grey sisters. She promoted both women to posts in the bedchamber and went out of her way to show favor toward Katherine. “The Queen calls Lady Catherine her daughter, although the feeling between them can hardly be that of mother and child, but the Queen has thought best to put her in her chamber and makes much of her in order to keep her quiet. She even talks about formally adopting her.”15
Such an obviously false display of affection did little to heal the rift between Elizabeth and her cousin. She had clearly appointed Katherine to her bedchamber for no other reason than to keep a closer eye on her. One of Cecil’s agents reported that the Grey sisters were “straytely” looked to and their movements carefully watched by the Queen and her officials.16 Nevertheless, rumors and plots continued to surround Katherine, giving her an ever more inflated sense of her own importance. By November 1559, the Spanish had hatched a plan to marry her to Archduke Charles, one of Elizabeth’s own suitors. “The Archduke might be summoned to marry Lady Catherine to whom the kingdom falls if this woman dies,” de Quadra told Philip.17
Meanwhile, Elizabeth and her ministers were spending long hours debating the vexed question of how to deal with the challenge posed by Mary Stuart. On the surface, they made friendly overtures, Elizabeth offering to send a portrait of herself to Mary, together with an assurance of her great affection toward her. The new queen of France responded in like manner, declaring that she would be delighted to receive the portrait and assuring her cousin that “her affection is fully reciprocated.”18
But all the while, Elizabeth and her council were planning an altogether more aggressive solution to the threat posed by Mary. In early 1560 they sent troops to Scotland to support a Protestant anti-French uprising there. This decisive action led to the conclusion of the Treaty of Edinburgh in July, whereby the French forces agreed to evacuate Scotland and leave it to the government of a largely Protestant noble coalition. It also confirmed Elizabeth’s sovereignty of England and stipulated that Mary would no longer lay claim to that kingdom. This news came hot on the heels of that received by Mary in late June, informing her of the death of her mother. Although she had seen precious little of her since moving to France, Mary was grief stricken and wept uncontrollably for several days. Worse was to come, for in December that year, her young husband, François, also died. At a stroke, her political position had been all but destroyed. She now had no direct link to the French dynasty, and even her
authority in Scotland was under serious threat as a result of Elizabeth’s wily tactics there.
If the English queen enjoyed a little respite from the threat posed by Mary Stuart, trouble was already brewing with her other main rival. Although Lady Katherine Grey had shown herself willing to consider Philip II’s candidates for her hand in marriage, she was already deeply committed to Edward Seymour. Their courtship soon came to the notice of William Cecil, who was rumored to favor the match because of its political implications. With the likelihood of Elizabeth marrying his archenemy, Robert Dudley, which he was sure would be her downfall, it was said that Cecil viewed Katherine Grey and Edward Seymour as alternative candidates for the throne. After all, both had royal blood: Katherine was the great-niece of Henry VIII and Edward was the nephew of the late queen Jane Seymour, mother of Edward VI. Their combined claim to the English crown was therefore formidable. As well as his political motives, Cecil also had personal ties with the Grey family, and in correspondence they always called him “cousin.”19
Katherine’s ever-ambitious mother, Frances, also approved of her daughter’s courtship, no doubt grasping its political significance. When Katherine confided her feelings to her in the spring of 1559, Frances immediately offered to intercede with the Queen and Privy Council on her behalf. Aware that her own health was fading, she wrote to the Queen assuring her that the marriage “was th’onlie thinge that shee desired before her death, and shold be an occasion to her to die the more quietlie.” However, in the first of what would be a series of misfortunes to befall Katherine and Seymour, Frances died before she had the chance to finish the letter.20
Although Edward had promised Katherine’s stepfather, Adrian Stokes, that he would “meddle no further in the matter,” he maintained the courtship, and “the love did continue, or rather increase,” at least on Katherine’s part. Aided by Edward’s sister, Jane, they enjoyed a series of clandestine meetings. Jane would often accompany Katherine to the earl’s lodgings on Cannon Row in the city of London, and when he visited court, she arranged for the couple to be alone together in the private “closet” that she had within the maidens’ chamber.
It was largely thanks to Jane that the couple made the foolhardy decision to marry in secret. In the summer of 1560, when she and Katherine were in attendance upon Elizabeth at Hampton Court, she persuaded her friend that if Edward proposed, then she should accept. She subsequently arranged for them to meet when the court returned to Westminster. Seymour told Katherine that “he had borne her good Will of longe tyme and that becawse she sholde not thincke that he intended to mocke her he was content if shee wold to marrie her.” Katherine replied “that shee liked both him and his offer,” and agreed to be his wife. There was no formal betrothal, apart from “kissing and embracing and joining their hands together,” but Katherine was apparently content that Seymour was in earnest.21
If Seymour had any regrets, his sister insured that he could not renege on his promise. She hatched a plan for the couple to wed in secret on the very next occasion that the Queen left court. Because Elizabeth’s ladies would usually be expected to accompany her on any such visit, Katherine and Jane had to think of an excuse to absent themselves. Accordingly, when in November 1560 Elizabeth announced her intention to go to Greenwich,22 Katherine begged to be excused on account of a toothache.23 The Queen readily agreed that both girls could stay at court, no doubt relieved at the prospect of being without her cousin’s irksome company on this occasion.
Barely an hour after her departure, Katherine and Jane stole out of the maidens’ chamber, scurried through the palace orchard, and descended the steps to the river. The tide was low enough for them to make the short walk to Seymour’s house along the sands that bordered the Thames. Upon arrival at Cannon Row, Jane hastily led Katherine into her brother’s house. Seymour was in his chamber, apparently unaware that they would be coming, because none of them had known exactly when the Queen would go to Greenwich. Being somewhat taken aback at their arriving “suddenlye upon him,” he recovered himself enough to entertain Katherine while his sister went to find a priest. Their later testimonies suggest that Jane had literally dragged the first priest she saw off the street and either bribed or otherwise persuaded him to perform the ceremony.
Their vows were duly exchanged, and Seymour gave Katherine a ring made from four or five interlinking circles, inscribed with words of everlasting love.24 After the speedy wedding had been concluded, Jane, apparently anxious to insure that at least some of the traditional formalities were observed, offered the couple “Comfects and other Banquetting meates and beare and Wyne.” But Seymour and Katherine were far more interested in consummating their union, so, “perceiving them ready for bed,” she discreetly withdrew. The contemporary accounts of the wedding describe what happened next in salacious detail. The newlyweds hastily “unarrayed themselves” and “went into naked bedd in the said Chamber where they weare so married.” Sharing Seymour’s urgent desire to consummate the marriage, Katherine neglected to take off the “coverchief” that she wore on her head. Once in bed, they enjoyed “Companie and Carnall Copulation … divers tymes,” and “laie sometimes on th’oneside of the Bedd and sometymes on th’other.” Eventually sated, they dressed and rejoined Jane, who had been waiting patiently downstairs. The tide having risen, the two women had to make their way back to court by boat, and Seymour waved them off at the water’s edge, giving his new wife a kiss before she embarked.
Over the next few weeks, thanks again to Jane’s intervention, the couple enjoyed regular meetings in secret. Still in that first insatiable rush of early marriage, they took extraordinary risks to satisfy their sexual desires. Seymour later admitted that he “laie with the saied Lady Catherine divers tymes in the Queene’s howses both at Westminster and at Greenwich in the Chamber of the saied Lady Catherine.” They snatched these hasty couplings during the day, when most of the other ladies of the Queen’s privy chamber were about their business.
No matter how discreet the couple were, it was almost impossible to keep a secret for long in the crowded world of the Elizabethan court, where ambitious men and women were forever on the lookout for news or scandal that would bring down their adversaries. Moreover, Katherine had her own attendants, and they certainly knew of her clandestine meetings with Seymour because they admitted him to her chamber and then discreetly “went alwayes out when he came in.”25 Before long, rumors of their courtship had begun to circulate.
When Cecil heard of it, he warned Seymour that there was talk of “good Will” between him and Katherine Grey, but the earl denied it.26 Cecil also went to see Katherine. Along with the latter’s companions in the privy chamber, Lady Fiennes de Clinton and the Marquess of Northampton, he “did seriouslie advertize her to beware the Companie and familiaritie with the saied Earle.”27 Katherine dismissed their concerns, denying that there was any “intimacy” between them. According to one contemporary source, she subsequently received a more unusual warning. It was said that Blanche Parry, who was friends with the Queen’s astrologer John Dee, was fond of telling her fellow ladies’ fortunes. When she read Lady Katherine’s palm, she drew back in horror and exclaimed: “The lines say, madam, that if you ever marry without the Queen’s consent in writing, you and your husband will be undone, and your fate worse than that of my Lady Jane [Grey].”28 If this story is true, then Blanche had shown an extraordinary gift for fortune-telling. But it is perhaps more likely that her friend Cecil had told her of the courtship and asked her to warn Katherine, given that she had paid little heed to his own counsel.
Of course, it was far too late to warn the couple. Not only were they married, but Katherine was already with child. Whether Seymour realized this or whether the novelty of his marriage had already started to wear off is not certain, but within a few weeks of the wedding, he began to talk about going overseas. According to his own account, he asked his new wife several times if she was pregnant, assuring her that if she was, he would stay with her. She appar
ently told him that she was not certain, but that he should go ahead with the voyage anyway.
Taking Katherine at her word, around March 1561, Seymour set sail for France, ostensibly “for the sight of other countries and commonwealths whereby he desires to come to knowledge of things meet for his estate,” but more likely to escape the storm that was gathering at court.29 While he later attested that he wrote to Katherine at least twice during his absence, she complained that she never heard from him. Worse still, she learned that he had “sent divers other tokens to divers Ladies and Gentlewomen of the Court” during this time. Tormented by jealousy and terrified by the now certain knowledge that she was with child, Katherine wrote an urgent letter to her husband. She told him that she was pregnant and “therefore prayed him to retorne and declare how the matter stoode betweene them.” But having some distance from the situation had finally given Seymour a sense of just how foolhardy a course they had followed in marrying without the Queen’s consent, and aghast at hearing of this latest development, he resolved to stay in France until the whole affair had blown over. It was a naïve strategy.
Abandoned by her husband and terrified at the prospect of discovery, Katherine received another blow on March 20 when her only confidante, Jane Seymour, died. She had always been of a weak constitution, but given that she was just nineteen or twenty years old, her death came as a shock, especially to the Queen, with whom she had been “in grett faver,” despite her flightiness. She had also been popular with the other ladies of the privy chamber, all of whom grieved her loss sorely. Elizabeth ordered a lavish funeral at Westminster Abbey, which was attended by two hundred mourners, including the ladies of her household and some of the highest officials at court, all of whom dressed in black.30