Her Highness, the Traitor - By Susan Higginbotham Page 0,118

for now, your daughter must remain where she is. We promised you her life, and we intend to keep that promise, though there are several on the council who would have her dead.”

I shuddered.

“So be content with that for now,” Mary advised. “We called you here to let you see your daughter’s letter, and we also called you here for another reason. The Duke of Suffolk is being very difficult on the matter of religion. You must know we wish to put the state of religion back to where it was at the time of our father, King Henry, and to repeal the statutes that were enacted under our misguided young brother. Your husband is opposing these measures, and quite vocally. If you have any influence over him, we wish you would use it, for he is irritating us. He should remember that he has a daughter in the Tower.”

“I will try, Your Majesty.” I hesitated. “Your Majesty, may I ask what is to become of the lord Guildford and his brothers?”

“The Duchess of Northumberland has been wearing poor Susan Clarencius to rags, asking her to intervene with us on their behalf,” said Mary. “She is a devoted mother, and we must sympathize with her, but we are not ready to decide these matters. She must be patient.” Mary smiled. “As you must be yourself.”

***

That afternoon at our house at Sheen, I caught my husband when he returned from Parliament. “Harry, I have spoken with the queen today. She is still disposed toward clemency for Jane, but she must remain in the Tower for now.”

“What, does the queen think our Jane is going to don armor and challenge her? Jane of Arc?”

“She is mainly concerned about Jane’s views on religion, and your own, as well, Harry. She says you are speaking against her in Parliament.”

Harry shrugged. “Someone has to.”

“Why does it have to be you? Harry, you could have died on the scaffold with Northumberland! Can’t you give way on this? She wishes only to turn back religion to the way it was in King Henry’s time, and she herself proclaimed that she would not compel her subjects to follow her religion.”

“For now. Do you think that’s going to continue indefinitely? This Parliament will only be the nose under the camel’s tent, I’ll wager, if she’s encouraged in her changes. And she’s already complaining that the lady Elizabeth does not have the proper motive for attending Mass. The poor lady can’t win. If she doesn’t go to the Mass, Queen Mary squawks at her, and if she does go, she gets squawked at for not being sincere in her devotion. No, my dear, I’m afraid that if we do nothing, it’s only a matter of time before the queen brings England back under Papal control.”

“But you are angering her, Harry. She told me so. You are putting our daughter at risk.”

“Our Jane wouldn’t want me to keep silent. You might say I’m doing this for her.”

I shook my head. “That may be so, but her approval shouldn’t force you into imprudence.”

“The truth is, my dear, you have no strong feelings about these things, and you can’t understand those of us who do.”

“Perhaps I can’t. But I can understand that you are alienating the queen at a time when we should be treading carefully.”

Harry snorted. “Treading carefully? If the queen goes through with the marriage to Philip of Spain, as it is rumored that she will, it will be she who has to tread carefully. Mark my words, the English people won’t stand for it.”

39

Jane Dudley

November 1553

It is shameful to admit, but my sons’ imprisonment was probably the only thing that saved me from following John to the grave. Working to free them gave me a purpose to get out of bed in the morning. Without that cause to occupy me, I might well have just lay there each morning, listening to John’s clock tick beside me and dreaming of an impossible revenge against those who had made him their scapegoat. I might—there were days I contemplated it—have even died at my own hand. Only the knowledge that this would make my poor daughters the children of a traitor and of a suicide stopped me, I think.

As it was, my thoughts were loathsome, especially toward the one male Dudley who was not locked up or dead: Jerome. On the surface, I was as kind to Jerome as ever—mending his shirts, making certain he was taken for the rides he loved, letting