Her Highness, the Traitor

38

Frances Grey

October 1553





On October 1, 1553, the crown King Edward and the Duke of Northumberland had wanted to go on my own daughter’s head was put on that of Queen Mary. With Jane in the Tower, Harry and I took no part in the coronation; doing so would have been too awkward for words. Yet a couple of weeks later, Harry was allowed to take his seat in Parliament—albeit belatedly—and I was summoned to Mary’s presence.

My cousin smiled at me and quickly ordered me to rise. “Your daughter has written us a letter,” she said, handing it to me.

I read the long letter slowly, tracing the perfectly formed letters with a finger and imagining the voice of the daughter I had not seen since July.

Although my fault be such that, but for the goodness and clemency of the queen, I can have no hope of finding pardon, nor in craving forgiveness, having given ear to those who at that time appeared, not only to myself, but also to a great part of this realm, to be wise, and now have manifested themselves the contrary…Although my fault may be great, and I confess it to be so, nevertheless I am charged and esteemed guilty more than I have deserved. For whereas I might take upon me that of which I was not worthy, yet no one can ever say either that I sought it as my own, or that I was pleased with it or ever accepted it…

As I had urged her to do when we had parted, Jane had offered a full explanation of the events that had put her on the throne, without once speaking disrespectfully of the queen’s religion. I sighed with relief as I read on, then winced when I reached these words, written perhaps at my own advice:

I know for certain that, twice during this time, poison was given to me, first in the house of the Duchess of Northumberland, and afterwards here in the Tower, as I have the best and most certain testimony, besides that since that time all my hair has fallen off.

I at last handed the letter back to Queen Mary. “I hope, Your Majesty, that this letter shows you that my daughter was innocent of any ambition to wear the crown.”

“It shows us that the plan was concocted by others, which we already knew. That your daughter was entirely unhappy about being queen is something of which we are not completely convinced.” Mary folded the letter. “And those who have seen her at the Tower report that she has an abundant head of hair.”

I blushed. “My daughter has been known to exaggerate on occasion, but I do believe, Your Majesty, she genuinely believed that malicious forces were working against her. She was greatly agitated and unsure of what was going to happen next. I myself believed in the possibility of poison at the time, as I told Your Majesty at Beaulieu.”

“And there is nothing about you or your husband in this letter! To believe your daughter, neither your husband nor you played any role in this business. Why, you yourself have admitted the contrary.” Mary stopped me before I could speak. “It is of no matter. We merely say these things to inform you that although we are inclined to mercy, given your daughter’s youth and relative blamelessness, we are not a fool.”

I hung my head. “Your Majesty, might you be willing to set my daughter free, or at least allow her to come to live with us under our supervision? I promise Your Majesty she will be a loyal subject to you if given a chance.”

“That we must wonder at, given her heretical views. It was the talk of the Tower, what she had to say of Northumberland’s conversion.”

I sighed. Though neither Harry nor I had been allowed to see Jane since her imprisonment, we did have friends who were in a position to let us know of her daily doings. Having been dining with her jailer, Master Partridge, and his friend Rowland Lea the week after Northumberland’s execution, Jane had heard with irritation that the Mass was again being heard in London. Then she had turned to the subject of Northumberland, whom she had called the most odious of all men, and had pronounced with relish, “As his life was wicked and full of dissimulation, so was his end thereafter.”

“Northumberland’s good end was the one redeeming aspect of his life,” Mary said firmly. “It has brought many Londoners back to the true faith. If your daughter believes his death was a wicked one, what hope is there for her? We do not like to refuse you, Frances, as you are our cousin, but 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.”