Her Highness, the Traitor - By Susan Higginbotham Page 0,85

Herbert would bring me one.”

“That one creature of yours is odious enough already,” Jane said. “The last thing we need is another.”

“But you won’t be living here. Neither will I. So it wouldn’t matter.” Kate smiled at Guildford. “He tore the pages of one of Jane’s books once,” she explained. “Jane has never forgiven him for that. Does your family have a monkey?”

“No. But Mother has a parrot. Father brought it home a couple of years ago. He’s very talkative. He will perch on Mother’s wrist, and Father’s, too. He’s not so cooperative with the rest of us.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I would love a parrot.” Kate widened her blue eyes at Guildford, who blushed.

I decided intervention was needed again before Kate captured the heart of her sister’s betrothed—not that Jane seemed at all bothered by the possibility. “My younger daughter and I shall leave you for now, Lord Guildford,” I said, rising and indicating that Kate should do the same. “You and Jane will have much to talk about, and no doubt will like to do it in private.”

Guildford’s and Jane’s faces indicated the very opposite, but neither put up an objection as I hastened out the door.

To my surprise, though, Jane seemed in reasonably good spirits after Guildford had left on his barge to Sion, one of the Duke of Somerset’s houses that Northumberland had recently acquired. “I think we have reached an accommodation,” she announced.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I am to be allowed free time to study each afternoon. Provided I have completed my household duties,” Jane added, anticipating my objection. “I shall not be expected to accompany him on the hunt, or to spend an inordinate amount of time with his friends.”

“Have you appointed a particular night for sleeping with him?”

“No. Should I?”

“Goodness, no! Marriage is a sacrament, Jane, not a series of bargains. Didn’t you read that in that book you translated for your father?”

“Yes. But the author of that book was not married to Guildford Dudley.”

27

Jane Dudley

May 1553 to June 1553

I will admit—the admitting of it can harm no one now—that I did not like my daughter-in-law. It is wrong to say that, I know, for the change in my situation has not kept me from hearing news altogether, and I have heard she is spoken of in hushed, reverent tones as far away as Zurich, by men generations her senior. But I cannot help it. I found her to be self-absorbed and chilly and prideful, and yet I would have overlooked all of these things if she had shown the slightest bit of kindness to my poor Guildford. But she did not. Instead, she looked down her pert little nose at Guildford from the very day she met him. Even at the very end, she—but I grow bitter, and I promised my dear John, on the dreadful day when I took his hand for the very last time, that I would not be so.

And besides, I digress.

Guildford and Jane, Katheryn and Lord Hastings, and Kate Grey and Lord Herbert were married May 25, with almost everyone of consequence in England present, save the lady Mary, who declined the invitation, and the king, who was too ill to come. Lord Herbert himself had been ill, but he seemed happy in the company of his new bride, who fussed over his comfort and health in a touchingly matronly manner, as if they had been married for years instead of minutes. My Katheryn, who by agreement was to continue living with John and me for another year or so before going to join her husband’s very large family, watched the masques that followed the wedding in a state of marital bliss, leaning on her husband’s shoulder and finally dozing off. The French ambassador pronounced the wine good; the Italian ambassador, the music excellent. Only Guildford and Jane appeared unhappy.

But perhaps I was wrong about that, for the lady Frances’s pretty face did not look entirely happy either, although the duchess made small talk as determinedly as I did during the feasting and entertainments that followed the ceremony. “This must be difficult for you,” I ventured toward the end of the evening. “Having not one but two daughters marrying and leaving your home.”

“Yes. It will be strange not to have my girls at home.” Frances hesitated, then faced me straight on. “The lord Guildford. Will he be…kind tonight?”

I refrained from pointing out my true opinion, which was that the lady Jane would probably be telling Guildford what to do. Perhaps