In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,193

share her mother's fate?

She looked at me without reproach, almost tenderly, and I warmed toward her.

I said, “I greatly regret it was necessary to send you to the Tower.”

“Your Majesty is so just that you cannot endure injustice. I am innocent of all my enemies are contriving to prove against me. Your Majesty will know that my sisterly affection would never allow me to do aught to harm you.”

I nodded and said, “It is your future of which I am thinking.”

“Your Majesty, I should like to retire to the country. The air of Ashridge has always been beneficial to my health.”

I waved a hand impatiently and said, “I have a proposition to set before you. You are no longer a child. It is time you married.”

She turned pale and recoiled in some dismay.

“Emmanuel Philibert, Duke of Savoy and Prince of Piedmont, would be a worthy match,” I went on.

I saw her lips tighten, and a look of determination came over her face.

“I have no desire to marry, Your Majesty.”

“Nonsense. It is the destiny of every woman.”

“If that is her wish, Your Majesty. For myself … I would prefer to remain a virgin.”

“You speak of matters of which you have no knowledge.”

“I have an instinct that the state is not for me. I will not marry.”

She was looking at me steadily, and I could see the defiance in her eyes. Was it because she did not like the idea of Emmanuel Philibert, or was it marriage itself which was so repulsive to her?

I remembered the scandal about her flirtation with Seymour. I had seen her eyes sparkle with pleasure at the admiration of men. Why this sudden, almost prudish attitude? One should not force people to marry. My thoughts went to poor Jane Grey who had been starved and beaten and forced to marry Guilford Dudley. But how could I compare Elizabeth with Jane Grey?

If Elizabeth refused to marry, I could not force her. I was disappointed. It was an unsatisfactory meeting, and I dismissed her.

Why would she not marry? Because to marry Emmanuel Philibert she would have to leave the country and she did not want to do that. She wanted to be on the spot for any contingency.

But I was going to marry. I was going to enter a state of bliss, and I was sure that anyone who wanted children as much as I did must soon become a mother.

My happiness at the prospect made me lenient. Elizabeth should not be coerced, nor should she be forced; she should not return to the Tower. She was dangerous, of course, and I must take precautions. I knew what I would do. I would send for Sir Henry Bedingfield of Oxborough in Norfolk, who had been a loyal supporter of mine ever since I had been proclaimed Queen. He had been with my mother at Kimbolton during the last years of her life, and one of the first to rally to my side on the death of my brother. It is such things one remembers. When he came to me, the outcome was by no means certain, and I had been considerably heartened by the sight of him and his 140 armed men. He was severe and serious, but one of those men whom one would trust absolutely and whom a woman in my position wants to have about her. I had made him a Privy Councillor, and I knew I could safely put Elizabeth into his hands.

I explained to him that I wished my sister to be released from the Tower but that a strong guard must be kept on her, and he was the man I was going to trust with the task.

“Sir Henry,” I said, “I want you to serve not only me but the Princess Elizabeth. I fear there are some who, perhaps in their zealous care for me, might seek to do away with her. I want her to be guarded from such. It would cause me the utmost grief if aught happened to her and, although I were innocent of this, I should feel myself to be guilty.”

“Your Majesty shall have no fear,” he replied.

“I will guard the Princess with my life.”

“Thank you, Sir Henry. I put my trust in you.”

And I did.

Elizabeth complained bitterly, I know, of the stringent measures employed. She did not seem to realize that they were guarding her not only for my safety but for her own.

I was relieved when she had left for Woodstock under the guard of