In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,148

without an upheaval. My father had always supported the Catholic Faith, the only difference being that he was Head of the Church of England. But Edward believed in the reformed religion and most of those about him did also; and they were determined to make England Protestant.

According to the converts, everything about the old religion was evil; saints were reviled; priests were mocked; and the Pope to them was the Devil incarnate.

Nor was this confined to words. Churches were violated, beautiful stained-glass windows smashed, altars desecrated, and there was public contempt for the old religious practices.

On the advice of François van der Delft, I remained in obscurity— though I did not need him to tell me to do that. Of course, there would be those who rose in anger against the new ideas; and I was next in succession; it was well known that I was an ardent Catholic. True, I had accepted my father's supremacy in the Church, but that was to save my life, and in my heart I had never agreed with it. Those who deplored the way the country was going would look to me.

It was an alarming time. It is always a dangerous situation when the king of a country is a minor, but when there is religious conflict—and one of such magnitude—the times are indeed perilous.

There was, of course, the Emperor. But for his powerful presence I should have been dispatched long ago. I was his cousin, so there was the family tie; and, more important, I was next in succession and I should be the upholder of the Catholic Faith. In England, good Catholics must be hoping that Edward would not long survive; they would certainly pray that he would never marry and have offspring, for then it would be my turn, and this period of aberration, this straying from the fold, would be over. Triumphantly, I would bring England back to that fold, which she should never have left.

So I remained away from Court, and it was conveyed to me discreetly that there would be no interference for the time being in the manner in which religious observances were carried out in my household.

So, in the seclusion of my manors, I lived quietly, seeing François van der Delft whenever possible and learning all I could about what was going on in the country.

I often thought of Katharine and wondered what she was feeling. She would have her child, and I believed that would give her great comfort. Poor, sad lady! Indeed, I might apply this to myself. Life was harsh to some of us.

I thought a great deal about Elizabeth and wondered how she liked being sent away in disgrace. She would make excuses for herself—she would be like our father in that. How deep had her feeling for Seymour been? What a situation! As a princess second in line for the throne, she was old enough to realize that her cavortings with Seymour might have had results.

Anne Stanhope, Duchess of Somerset, gave birth to a boy. I hoped Katharine would be lucky. But when had she ever been lucky? I could imagine her…brought to bed… longing for her child, and all the time nursing her resentment against her husband. I hoped Elizabeth felt some qualms of conscience. How could she have behaved so in her own stepmother's house! It was hard for me to understand… not so much that she should have a fancy for the man, but that she could so far forget her honor, her destiny. I was well aware that Elizabeth had her eyes on the crown. There was a certain sparkle which appeared in them every time it was mentioned. She was healthy; she was young; how could she have risked throwing it all away for a philanderer like Seymour? Perhaps she thought she could have both. She was greedy, my sister.

Katharine gave birth to a little girl. I wished her well. Seymour would have preferred a boy. Do not all men? But Katharine, I knew, would be content with the child, whatever its sex.

Then came the sad news. Katharine had fallen into a fever soon after the child was delivered. One of my women heard afterward from Lady Tyrwhit, who was attending her, what had happened.

“Poor soul,” Lady Tyrwhit had said. “She told me she knew she would not leave her bed. The Admiral was there. He seemed to be overcome with grief. He tried to comfort her but she turned away from him, and spoke