In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,119

found the whole matter rather distasteful, particularly when I discovered that French spies had been questioning my bedchamber women. It was well known that throughout my life I had had bouts of severe illness, and these spies asked delicate and embarrassing questions. They wanted to assure themselves that I was capable of bearing children. They would be considering the many miscarriages my mother had had; my father's children— apart from Elizabeth—were not strong. The Duke of Richmond had died young; Edward was fragile, and I was plagued with illness from time to time. Did that mean that I might not be capable of bearing children?

How serious the negotiations were, I am not sure. The political situation on the Continent was never stable for long; friends became enemies overnight, and that had its effect on proposed marriages. It might have been that it was never intended that there should be a marriage.

The fact that there was a great deal of squabbling over the dowry suggested to me—now experienced in these matters after so many proposals which had come to nothing—that the proposed marriage was a gesture to give the Emperor some apprehension, as the last thing he would want would be an alliance between France and England. My father offered a dowry of 200,000 crowns and François demanded 250,000. Charles of Orleans was only a second son, it was pointed out; I do not know what the response was, but it might have been that the doubts of my legitimacy were referred to.

As the haggling went on, I guessed nothing would come of it, but I was in a state of uncertainty. I had so wanted to marry happily and most of all to have children. I thought this must be the greatest joy on Earth. How wonderful to have a child who would be to me as I had been to my mother! The longing for such a life was with me always

I think it was due to this uncertainty—another proposed marriage which was to end in nothing—that made me ill. There were some doctors who thought my illnesses were due not so much to an affliction of the body as one of the mind. Not that I was in any way unbalanced; but I was often melancholy; and I had suffered so much in my youth, living as I had on the edge of death, that it had affected my health. I was different from my sister Elizabeth. She, too, was in a precarious position, but she seemed to thrive on it. But she was not in such danger as I was, for throughout the country I was seen as the figurehead for those people who wished to deny the King's supremacy in the Church and to lead them back to Rome.

I was very ill this time. Every time I lifted my head from the pillow, I suffered such dizziness that I could not leave my bed. My head ached and I was seized with trembling fits.

I believe those about me thought I would die.

My father visited me. He was most concerned.

“You must get well,” he said. “You shall come to Court. You shall take the place beside me which the Queen would have. You shall be my right hand.”

I smiled wanly. I was too tired and listless to care whether he favored me or not.

He sent Dr. Butts to attend to me—a sign of his favor; Dr. Butts was the only one who seemed to understand my illness and with his care I began to recover.

Susan told me that he thought that if I were happily married and had children I should cease to be tormented by these bouts of illness.

“The Lady Mary has nothing wrong with her body,” he told her. “If she could live in peace and ease…live naturally…I would be ready to wager that she would gradually cast off these periodic bouts of illness.”

He appeared to know how to treat me, and the very presence of Dr. Butts in the household had an effect on me.

My health was improving.

The King came to see me and said I must come to Court as soon as possible, where I could be sure of a welcome.

I always seemed to recover quickly after my illnesses, and I took a week or so to get completely well—taking walks, playing the virginals, chatting with my ladies and laughing at Jane the Fool.

Then I was ready to return to Court.

My father had been right when he said I should be welcomed. As