Innocent Traitor by Alison Weir Page B

lying here worrying about that treaty, and hoping that it might even now be possible to make a queen of our daughter.”
    “Leave it till the morning,” he mumbles.
    “No. Henry, you must listen. If the Prince marries the Queen of Scots, what will become of our Jane? Whom shall she marry? There will be no match as great as this.”
    Henry rolls over to face me and draws me into his arms. It is comforting to rest my cheek against his hairy chest.
    “Stop fretting, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “All shall be well, I’m sure of it. You’ll see.”
    His calm complacency irritates me, and I sit up, the better to make my point.
    “Henry, we have got to do everything in our power to frustrate the Scottish alliance. Now, will you listen to me?”
    He sighs and stretches back on the pillow.
    “All right, Frances. I’m listening.”
    “You, my lord, must remain at court. You must be a dissident voice amongst those of whom the King takes counsel. You must do your best to convince my royal uncle that the Scots are a perfidious lot who have no intention of marrying their queen to his son and giving up their sovereign independence, and that the path to the altar will almost certainly be paved with blood. Of course, His Majesty might not pay any heed, but it is worth a try. Anything is worth a try.”
    “I doubt the King will listen to me. And I was planning to go up to Bradgate for the hunting season. These things have a habit of sorting themselves out.”
    “You would do better to stay here and help matters along,” I tell him firmly. “Rushing off hunting indeed, when so much is at stake. There are times when I just don’t understand you. I can’t influence the King’s council—I’m a woman. But you can. And I, for my part, will give some thought to Jane’s education. She is intelligent and able enough to benefit from an academic regime like that enjoyed by the Lady Elizabeth. And since the King has had his daughters well tutored, he would surely appreciate a similarly erudite bride for his son. I shall convey Jane to London and bring her to His Majesty’s notice. We must give her every advantage.”
    “That might not be to her advantage if this Scottish match falls through,” Henry observes. “Most men don’t want a clever wife.”
    “Nonsense! And the match we plan is not going to fall through,” I snap. “It’s your duty to make sure of that. I’ll do my part. Since you’re so concerned about Jane appearing too clever, I shall continue to instill in her the feminine virtues of modesty and obedience. Any streak of willfulness—and I know that it is there—will be beaten out of her. I shall make her, above all things, biddable and conformable to the will of her future husband. Then she will be fitted not only for the great destiny that will surely be hers, but also for any other that God wills for her, if you fail in your duty.”
    “By God, Frances, you expect too much,” Henry growls.
    “I’m doing this for all of us. Don’t tell me you do not look for the greatness this marriage will confer. You want to see our daughter a queen as much as I do. I’m relying on you, Henry. God helps those who help themselves, and with His grace, we shall bring this off, I promise you.”
    Lady Jane Grey

    WESTMINSTER, AUGUST 1543
    My parents have sent for us, and the rest of the household, to come to London to lodge at Dorset House, our town mansion by Westminster. The house, which is built around a courtyard, is at least a hundred years old, but my lord and lady have refurbished it at great cost. Now the rooms are cozy with linenfold paneling, rich hangings, and polished oak furniture, and our family coat of arms is set in glass in the windows. There are gardens round about the house, but they are small compared to those at Bradgate, which is surrounded by beautiful broad sweeps of parkland and rugged cliffs.
    Mrs. Ellen doesn’t like it here very much.
    “The air is not as healthy for you children as it is in