of a husband. No! Queen—true Queen of England for the rest of her life!
The chances of success were good. Edward was sickly and it was hardly likely that he would produce an heir. Mary was thirty-one— old to marry and have children; and Mary’s health was not of the best. Elizabeth was but thirteen years old. Oh yes, the chances of Elizabeth’s becoming Queen of England were good indeed.
And if she married? What then?
The Council, she knew, would never approve of her marriage with Thomas. The King could be persuaded. She laughed to think of the little boy’s being persuaded by herself and Thomas. That would be an easy task.
But she immediately called to mind those grim men, the real rulers. Thomas’s brother would never agree. And Gardiner, Wriothesley, Cranmer? No! They would refuse consent. And then? Doubtless she and Thomas would find themselves in the Tower if they disobeyed, and all knew what could happen to prisoners in that doom-filled place.
There was so much to think of, so much to consider.
Her governess, Kat Ashley, came into the room and, finding her charge brooding in the window seat, asked if aught ailed her.
“Nothing ails me,” said Elizabeth.
“Your Grace looks to have a fever. Your cheeks look hot and your eyes are so bright. I am not sure that you should not retire to your bed.”
“Pray do not bother me, Kat. I am well enough.”
“Your Grace is bothered concerning the letter you have received?”
“And how did you know there was a letter?”
“In my love for Your Grace I keep my eyes open and my ears alert. Tell me, darling, it is from the Admiral, is it not?”
Elizabeth looked at the woman and burst into sudden laughter. There were moments when she was very like her mother, thought Kat Ashley.
“And what if it should be?” asked Elizabeth.
“He’s a darling man, Sir Thomas, and I could love him myself, but he has no right to send you a letter.”
“Lord Sudley now, if you please. You know that the first thing my brother did was to raise his dear uncle. Not Sir Thomas Seymour merely, but my Lord Sudley. My brother, like you, my saucy Kat, loves the darling man dearly!”
“Well, all the Council have been raised, have they not? There is Lord Hertford become the Duke of Somerset, and Sir Thomas Wriothesley, my lord Southampton.”
“Yes, but Master Wriothesley is deprived of his Seal, while my brother gives love to Thomas Seymour as well as land and title.”
“And does the King’s sister love the man as much as her brother does?”
Kat Ashley was a born gossip, a lover of tittle-tattle; she was vitally interested in the affairs of those about her and inquisitive in the extreme, though goodhearted; she was always eager for exciting events about which to marvel or commiserate, and if they did not happen quickly enough she was ready to apply a little gentle prodding. But the welfare of her little Princess meant more to her than anything on Earth. Elizabeth knew this; and because one of the great desires of her life was to receive the loving admiration of those about her, she was always as affectionate and considerate as she could be to Kat Ashley.
“How could she?” answered Elizabeth. “Would it be wise to love such a man and yet be unable to enter into a marriage with him?”
“It would not!” cried Kat. “If you as much as gave him a hint that you were eager for him—why then, there would be no holding him back.”
They laughed together.
“The Council would never agree to such a marriage, would they, Kat?” said Elizabeth wistfully.
“Nay.”
“They have their eyes on me now, Kat. I must walk warily. Do you not think so?”
“With the utmost wariness, my darling lady.”
“Kat Ashley, do you think I shall ever be Queen?”
Kat was solemn for a moment; she laid her hands on the girl’s shoulders and studied the pale face, the eyes which could at some times be earnest and at others frivolous, the mouth that provoked and promised, yet denied.
“Oh, my dearest mistress, my dearest mistress, I beg of you take care.”
“It is you who should take care, Kat. You gossip whenever you have a chance. You must restrain yourself now. My poor brother… my poor sister! Kat, just think of them. They seem so sick at times, and then… then there will be just myself.”
Kat sank to her knees and took the hand of her charge. She kissed it, and lifting her eyes to Elizabeth’s face