In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,69

It was a setback to those who had been hoping to see the end of her. Everything depended on the child. If it should be a boy she would be safe forever.

Disquieting news was brought to me of my mother. It was December and bitterly cold. I used to lie in bed wondering what it was like at Kimbolton with that icy wind blowing over the fens. I could visualize her on her knees praying. She would not stop doing that. I could picture the comfortless room, the inadequate clothing, and I would think of her as I knew she would be thinking of me.

The news was whispered to me by one of my women. “Madam…my lady… the Emperor's ambassador is going to the Queen, your mother.”

“What?” I cried. “But how? It is forbidden for her to have visitors.”

“Madam, the King is permitting it because…”

I felt sick with fear.

“Because… the Queen is very ill?”

She nodded.

A terrible despondency descended on me. This was what I had feared for so long.

I was avid for news. I asked everyone who might know something, and there were several who were eager to please me now. There was nothing to comfort me.

Christmas had come—a joyless season for me now.

My mother's health was a little improved, for she had seen Chapuys, and there was something else which had cheered her. My women told me all they knew of it.

The Emperor's ambassador went to Kimbolton on New Year's Day, and later that day there appeared at the castle gates a woman begging for shelter. She was cold and had fallen from her horse and was in dire need. Because she was clearly a lady of noble bearing, she was allowed to enter the castle.

“Who do you think she was, Madam?” asked my woman.

I shook my head.

“Lady Willoughby, the lady who came with your gracious mother from Spain. The Queen and Lady Willoughby embraced and swore that they would never be parted again. Lady Willoughby said she would die rather. That and the visit of “the ambassador cheered her mightily.”

I was greatly relieved.

She has spirit, I told myself. She will recover.

IT WAS THE 11TH of January…a date I shall never forget. Lady Shelton came to my room. She said, “I have come to tell you that your mother is dead. She died four days ago.”

Her face was a mask. She had lost a little of her truculence now but she managed to convey her dislike of me. Perhaps it was more intense for being subdued, now that her mistress Anne Boleyn was no longer sure of her position.

I was stunned. I had been expecting this for so long but now that it had come I was deeply shocked. I wanted desperately to be alone with my infinite sorrow.

“Leave me,” I said and I must have spoken imperiously for she obeyed. Dead! I should never see her again. For so long I had been parted from her but I had always hoped to. And now she was gone and there was no hope. Never again…

Oh, the cruelty of life…of people who satisfy their wanton desires by trampling on the lives of those about them.

How had she been at the end? There would be no more pain for her. I should rejoice that she was safe in Heaven and far from her miseries. I should have been with her. I thanked God that Lady Willoughby had found a way of getting to her. That would have been a great comfort to her.

My woman came in. She stood looking at me, her eyes brimming with sympathy. I shook my head at her. “I wish to be alone,” I said.

She understood and left me, and I was alone with my grief which was what I wanted.

How had it been at the end? I asked myself. I wondered if I could see Lady Willoughby, who could tell me how she died. But I should not be allowed to, of course.

I sat in my room. I could face no one. I dressed myself in black and thought of all we had been to each other. I recalled endearing incidents from my childhood—some of them when my father had been present. We had been a loving, happy family then.

I was horrified when I learned that, hearing of my mother's death, my father's first words were, “God be praised! We are now free from all fear of war.” Did he remember nothing of those happy days? Had he not one morsel of tenderness left for her?

He