In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,91

to a child of eight or nine. She was exceptionally bright and very forward. Margaret said she had never seen a child so full of vitality and yet so eager to study her books. I only half believed Margaret, for I knew her darling was perfect in her eyes. But it was true that Elizabeth was a most unusual child—the sort that one might have expected the King and Anne Boleyn to produce between them. It was over a year now since the little one had lost her mother. I wondered if she still thought of her.

Margaret was anxious about the child's clothes. She could not go in patched shifts, she declared. I was no longer poor. Gifts had been showered on me since my reinstatement, and I had an income and money from both the King and Queen. So between us we were able to equip the child for Court.

Her delight was infectious. I forgot to wonder what would be the outcome of my mission. I was caught up in the excitement of taking Elizabeth to Court.

IT WAS SEPTEMBER. The birth was expected during the following month. There were no more appearances in public for Queen Jane. She was to have a month of quietness at Hampton Court. It is, I suppose, with its courtyards and towers, one of the most magnificent buildings in England. I could never be in it without thinking of Thomas Wolsey. There he must have experienced great anguish when he realized that he, who had risen so high, was soon to fall. How had he felt when he had handed this palace over to the King? My father had questioned whether it was right that a subject should live in greater splendor than his king, and Wolsey, with that immediate perception which had brought him to his elevated position, had remarked that a subject should only have it that he might present it to his king. With that remark he may have given himself a few weeks' grace, but it had lost him his palace.

And now here we were, while Jane awaited the birth of her child.

She was, as I had known she would be, enchanted by Elizabeth. Brighteyed, with reddish curls and that amazing vitality, she possessed that charisma which I had never seen in any other person except my father in his youth. She must have inherited it from him. How could any of her mother's enemies suggest for a moment that she was not his child? He was there in her gestures, in her very zest for life. I thought, if he would only allow himself to see her, he would be completely beguiled.

But he did not see her. He did receive me. He told me that he had heard from Dr. Butts that I was well and that if I would not get over-excited I would cease to be tormented by my headaches.

“You should live more peacefully,” he told me, giving me one of those suspicious looks as though to ask: What are your aspirations? What is it that over-excites you? You are only a bastard, remember.

I shall never forget Jane during those weeks before her confinement. I wondered if she had a premonition of what was to come. It was only natural that she must have been overcome with dread—not only because of the ordeal of childbirth but by what the outcome might be if she gave birth to a stillborn child or one of the despised sex. There were dismal examples of what had happened to others, and I guessed she could not dismiss them from her mind.

I can see her now, standing with me in the great banqueting hall which had only just been completed. She had gazed at the entwined initials—her own and those of the King: J and H. It was a custom of his to have his initials entwined with those of the wife who happened to please him at the moment. They were all decorated with lovers' knots and cast in stone, which was ironical because it was so much more enduring than his emotions, and so remained long after his passion had passed away.

Jane was looking pale and by no means well. I thought a little fresh air would be good for her, such as a quiet walk in the gardens or to sit awhile under one of the trees and enjoy the autumn sunshine. But it was forbidden. The King feared there might be some minor accident which would bring about