My Lady Jane

“Indeed.” Her mother’s mouth twitched into a smile. “I think you should immediately prove yourself a capable ruler.”


Capable. Right. Jane fidgeted with the corner of a woven blanket. (Another thing Edward would never do.) “There are some issues I feel should be addressed. Minor issues.” Huge issues. When Gifford had taken her face between his hands and reminded her about their conversations in the country house, he’d made her remember the people. That was the only reason she’d agreed to take the throne. The people. The poor. She would do anything to help them.

“Good.” Lady Frances offered a hand and tugged Jane from the fortress of blankets. “Then we’ll bring those items before the Privy Council and begin solidifying your reign. You know Lord Dudley desires to aid you in the same manner he aided King Edward—may he rest in peace—as well as many others in the court. Including myself. We all want to help you become the queen you were meant to be.”

“I was never meant to be queen.”

“And yet you are.”

“Do you think I’ll make a good one?” Jane’s voice was unintentionally small. The words weren’t what she’d aimed for, either, but as soon as they were out, she was overcome with the desire for her mother’s approval and support.

Lady Frances narrowed her eyes and gazed at Jane the same way she scrutinized the servants at their housework. “If you can focus on ruling the kingdom instead of reading those silly books, you’ll be a queen always remembered.”

Apparently even Jane’s ascension to the throne wasn’t enough to make her mother proud of her. She swallowed down her disappointment. It didn’t matter, she told herself. She didn’t need her mother anymore.

She had Gifford.

Jane didn’t know if she could rule a country. She wasn’t meant for a life on the throne. She wasn’t even remotely prepared to be queen. But she did know one thing: Gifford would be there with her, he would help her, and she was going to give it her very best try.

“I want to see Edward’s body,” Jane announced later. “To say good-bye.”

She was walking through the hall with her mother, Lord Dudley trailing a few steps behind. They were on their way to the first of the day’s activities, not that anyone had bothered to tell her what it was. She supposed she’d find out soon enough, and in the meantime, the silence between the three of them was ripe for making demands.

“I want to see his body today. This morning.”

“I’m afraid that’s simply not a good idea, Your Majesty.” Dudley’s tone was gruff. “He was quite ill. It’s best to remember him as he was before.”

Jane choked back a wave of hot grief. “I want to see him. Where is he?”

“It’s simply not appropriate, Your Majesty—”

Jane clenched her jaw, then deliberately unclenched it. “I am the queen, and I demand to see my cousin’s body.”

“There’s simply too much to do today.”

If Lord Dudley said simply once more, she’d simply have his head chopped off.

No, that wasn’t true. She wouldn’t. He was Gifford’s father.

“Lord Dudley.” She addressed only him on this, since her mother had been silent on the matter so far. “As queen, it’s my duty to see to my predecessor’s funeral arrangements, and I wish to pay my respects to him first. Privately.”

He was silent as they turned into a more crowded hall. People glanced at her and whispered. A few bowed. “Very well,” Dudley said. “I will make arrangements for you to visit him. I’m afraid it won’t be today, though. There’s too much to do.”

If they waited much longer, she’d be visiting a rotting corpse. According to The Glorious and Gruesome Stages of Death: A Beginner’s Guide, bodies began deteriorating very quickly, bloating and stinking and decaying until all that was left was a horrifying echo of the people they had been before. Jane had seen her father and Katherine Parr shortly after they’d died, and that had been horrible enough.

She didn’t want to see Edward in the rotting stage. The thought made a shudder run deep through her.

“Arrange it as soon as you’re able,” she said sharply, a terrible thought springing to her mind.

Dudley didn’t want her to see her cousin’s body.

Something was wrong here, outside of the obvious wrongness of Edward being dead and Jane being queen. Something was very wrong, and she intended to find out what it was.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of first-day-as-queen moments:

Standing in front of the Privy Council as the members introduced themselves.

Sitting on the throne as some of the more prominent merchants of London came to visit her.

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