The Fallen Queen Part 5

"Beautiful and generous too!" Father sighed, and I could see that he was perilously close to swooning into the Thames. "I'm sure you sing as beautifully as a nightingale," Father said gallantly, "and I hope to hear you soon."

Then our lady-mother, who had had quite enough of this absurd spectacle, took command. "Hal, come stand over here beside me before you fall into the river! Now into the barge, Jane," she directed, pointing the way with her riding crop.

With a mutinous scowl and a marked ill-grace, Jane climbed into the barge and dropped down heavily beside Guildford and sat there with her back straight and her eyes staring forward. Even when Guildford reached out and playfully ran his fingers up and down her spine, she didn't relax or relent, only stiffened her spine even more.

As the oarsmen dipped their oars and began to row away, and we all waved and called out cheerful goodbyes, G.o.dspeeds, and good wishes, it gladdened my heart to see my stubborn sister relent and lean back against the cushions. Her hand went up to fuss with her hat. I suspected a pin was poking her and thought nothing more about it until she slowly, making a grand gesture of it, extended her arm straight out over the side of the barge and, following a lengthy pause, dropped the spray of white feathers, with the hideous dragon brooch her mother-in-law had just given her acting as an anchor, right into the dirty, reeking waters of the Thames.

"Oh, Jane!" I sighed, shaking my head as the d.u.c.h.ess of Northumberland gave an anguished cry of, "My brooch! My beautiful brooch! Look what that girl has done to my beautiful brooch!"

Then Kate, nestled up against Lord Herbert, with her head pillowed on his chest, and his arm close about her, beamed and waved at me as their barge glided past. At least one of my sisters was happy, I thought as behind me our newly extended family fell to brawling over the loss of the ugliest brooch I had ever seen. While I couldn't condone or applaud my sister's conduct, it truly was an unforgivable snub and most ungracious and ill-mannered, the brooch itself really was better off stuck in the muddy bottom of the Thames where it could offend no one's eyes except the fishes, as our lady-mother quite candidly informed the d.u.c.h.ess, who had begun to stagger and sway and clasp her head and call for her smelling salts. "I know I shall faint!" she cried several times while failing to actually do so. In the end, she had to be helped back into the house, supported between two of her sons, while her daughter ran ahead, calling for smelling salts and cold compresses, and her husband sent Robert riding fast to fetch the family physician and an apothecary.

When they had all gone back inside, and only Lady Amy and I remained, she smiled down at me and held out her hand and suggested we take a turn in the garden until all the ruffled feathers had been smoothed back down again. I nodded eagerly and gave her my hand. When my lady-mother called for me, I was sorry to leave Lady Amy behind with her husband and in-laws. After I turned back to wave at her, I saw the sadness on her face and impulsively ran back and gave her a hug as though a part of me knew that I would never see her again.

3.

I was back at Suffolk House on what was to be my last night in London, helping Hetty pack my travelling chest, preparing to return to Bradgate on the morrow and dreading the long, lonely hours that lay ahead of me without my sisters. Regretfully, I folded away the lovely new gown I had worn to the wedding with sachets of crushed lavender nestled amidst its luxuriant folds and wondered when I would get to wear it again. I was heaving a doleful sigh and trying to resign myself to my fate when a letter came from Kate, bidding me come to Baynard's Castle. I was so surprised I had to read the letter through three times to make sure wishful thinking hadn't caused me to misread the words, and even then I couldn't quite believe it and handed it to Hetty for confirmation. Kate had scarcely been gone a week, and I had thought not to receive an invitation to visit either of my sisters for months and months. But, as Kate explained, since she and Lord Herbert were still forbidden to consummate their marriage, and she found it "wearisome, vexing, and dreary" being always chaperoned "like a pair of guilty prisoners" she craved my comforting presence, as both a sister and a friend, someone she could be free and easy with. "I cannot even touch my husband's hand," she lamented, "without people eyeing me like a hawk about to swoop down and pounce on a poor little mouse. They're afraid if they leave us alone for an instant I will ravish him."

I was so excited I could barely sleep and was bouncing on my toes, impatient as could be, to set off right after breakfast the next morning. I drove my poor nurse to such distraction that I set off for Baynard's Castle wearing a pair of mismatched gloves with my bodice only haphazardly laced in back because I could not stand still and dear old Hetty's eyes were not what they used to be. "Don't be cross with me," I said to her, "my cloak will hide it. I know you're excited too, to see Henny again." For her own dear sister was Kate's nurse, now, like Jane's Mrs. Ellen, raised up to serve as lady's maid. Everyone loved Henny; she was a plump, good-natured mother hen of a woman who doted on Kate and clucked over her constantly, and she was much sweeter than my sour, always complaining Hetty, who had misery in her bones, aching back, stiff fingers, tired old eyes, and just about everywhere else. Father had offered to provide Kate with a real French lady's maid, one skilled with perfumes, paints, and fashions, and nimble fingers for the styling and curling of hair, but Kate had wept and clung to her "dear old Henny" and refused to be parted from her, and Henny had wept too and wrapped her arms like a pair of protective wings about Kate and said, "I'll not have my chick painted like a French wh.o.r.e!" Then Father had offered around his comfit box filled with pink sugared almonds and nothing more was ever said about Henny leaving or a French maid.

At Baynard's Castle, I followed a footman up the grand stone staircase and walked in on a scene of utter chaos. Like two naughty children playing at house, Kate and Lord Herbert, whom Kate had christened "Berry" because "he blushes red as one and is just as sweet," received me in the large, s.p.a.cious parlour that divided their bedchambers.

Dogs and cats, barking and meowing, hissing and growling, chased each other all around the room, clawed the furniture, or curled up in their baskets or napped or groomed themselves on the bearskin rug by the fire, and gilded cages crowded the windows in which a profusion of rainbow-plumed songbirds sang or chirped and flapped their wings against the bars, and a big blue and yellow parrot danced on his perch or hung upside down from a large ring suspended from the ceiling, while constantly demanding a cherry over and over again until I wished I had a whole basket of cherries to throw at him just to shut him up.

There were bowls of fruit, sweets, and nuts, cups and flagons of wine, and platters of meat, cheese, and cake strewn over every possible surface, even balanced precariously upon the mantelpiece, and several garments and items of jewelry, vials of scent, combs, hairbrushes, and pins, bits of sewing, and the accoutrements of needlework, and several spoons and knives, all apparently laid down in scattered distraction and then forgotten.

In the midst of it all stood Kate, in a shimmering emerald satin gown that was more appropriate for a court ball than a quiet rainy day spent at home, her coppery curls, unleashed from their pins and held but loosely back from her face by a jade b.u.t.terfly comb, cascading down her back as though she was bored with pretending to be a proper married lady and wanted to be a little girl again. She didn't see me enter nor hear the footman announce me, which was hardly surprising given the din created by her menagerie. She was preoccupied, plumping the pillows behind her husband's back as he reclined on a couch, looking pale and smiling weakly, in his quilted mulberry satin dressing gown and slippers. She perched on the edge of the couch beside him and a brown and white spaniel hopped up onto her lap as she sweetly coaxed the invalid to take a sip of milk punch. Two implacable, blank-faced servants in the Pembroke livery stood stationed at either end, eyeing the young couple vigilantly, ready to put a stop to any affectionate displays that threatened to grow too familiar, and Henny, a much more familiar and friendlier face, smiled at me from over her sewing. I was astonished to see that she was making a tiny yellow dress trimmed with sky blue silk ribbons-a baby garment! My jaw dropped, and I flashed a startled glance down at Kate's stomach as with a cry of delight she sprang up, dislodging the spaniel from her lap, and rushed to embrace me.

"Not for me, silly! How could it be when we're not allowed to ..." She giggled. "For the monkeys! Look!" She pointed across the room to where the two little creatures were rudely s.n.a.t.c.hing cakes off the table and gobbling them greedily as Berry on his couch eyed them nervously and shrank back against his pillows. "That's Rosamund." Kate pointed to the one dressed up like a little lady in a rose damask gown and hood. "And that's Percival." She indicated the other, clad in a handsome forest green velvet doublet replete with gold b.u.t.tons and fringe and a round velvet cap with a jaunty plume just like a courtier in miniature. "Aren't they adorable? My new father, the Earl of Pembroke, gave them to me. He simply adores me! As does Berry"-she ran to hug and plant a smacking kiss on her husband's cheek-"they both spoil me so. I even have an ermine coverlet for my bed! Look what they gave me this morning at breakfast!"

She thrust out her hand to display an enormous emerald in an ornate gold setting. It was so ostentatiously large it made me wonder how Kate could even lift her hand. Lord Herbert favoured me with a shy smile, wincing as Rosamund s.n.a.t.c.hed the silver-ta.s.selled nightcap from his head and Percival hopped up to "groom" his pale, lifeless hair until it stood up on end like stalks of wheat, then clambered down over Berry's body and took off his slippers and began slapping their leather soles together, gibbering with delight at the noise they made. Then the parrot flew from his perch and landed on top of Berry's head and resumed his imperiously squawked demands for a cherry.

Laughing, with puppies nipping at her trailing skirts, Kate ran to s.n.a.t.c.h up a blue gla.s.s bowl filled with cherries that was sitting alarmingly near the edge of the mantel, and began tossing them, one by one, to her parrot. "Isn't life marvellous? Truly, my dear Mary, it is delightful to be married! I never dreamed it would be this much fun!" Kate's aim went awry and one of the cherries. .h.i.t Berry's nose.

With a cry of alarm, she thrust the bowl at me, never noticing that I fumbled and almost dropped it, and ran to him and began smothering him with kisses until one of their chaperones cleared his throat loudly then, finding himself ignored, stepped forward and took Kate's arm and gently pulled her away.

"Milady mustn't be so exuberant," he said, wagging a reproving finger at her. "She must show some restraint and not be so free with her affections; there are some who might misunderstand and think her a wanton."

But Kate just laughed and threw her arms around him. "Don't scold me, Master Perkins, I can't help it; I'm just so happy! So wonderfully, gloriously, blissfully happy!" She began to spin around the room, and I marvelled that with all the clutter and the bevy of boisterous animals crowding around her that she didn't trip and fall. "I wish all the world could be as happy as me! Oh, Mary!" She suddenly grabbed my hand and began tugging me across the room. "Come, I must show you Fussy's new trick! My little boy is so clever!"

She bent and caught up the little brown and white spaniel chewing on the trailing train of her skirt and rushed over to the table by the window where a handsome gilt and ivory set of virginals sat. She set the little dog down upon the table beside the instrument and lifted a big, sprawling, fat orange cat from the chair and sat down and began to play, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys as the little dog began to yowl in time to the music. "Who's a clever boy? Isn't he wonderful? So talented, so clever!" Kate enthused, then turned smiling to me. "Now if I can only teach the others ... we'll have a whole choir! Just think, Mary, we might even be invited to court to entertain the King!"

I glanced over at Lord Herbert and saw that though this failed to fill him with delight, he nonetheless still forced himself to nod and smile out of indulgent affection for his bride.

Seeing the stunned expression frozen on my face, Henny took pity on me and offered to show me to my room, chidingly reminding Kate that I had only just arrived and as lady of the house she had neglected her first duty-to see to the comfort of her guests. But when Kate started to rise Henny stayed her with a motion of her hand. "Nay, love, Miss Mary and I are old friends. We'll manage just fine. You stay 'ere and care for your poor ailing 'usband." And, before Kate had a chance to protest, took me by the arm and hurried me toward the door just as Rosamund sat down before the virginals and, to Kate's delight, began banging out a series of loud, discordant notes upon the ivory keys that set Fussy yowling and made Kate beam like a proud mother and praise them both for being "so brilliantly clever!"

Just before I reached the door, I tripped and would have fallen had Henny not caught me. I glanced down to see what I had stumbled over. I blinked my eyes and shook my head and wondered if the din had driven away my wits. There appeared to be a large tortoise staring up at me. His sh.e.l.l, unless I was very much mistaken, was set with a fortune in precious gems.

"Aye, my lady, doubt not your eyes," Henny said as she took my hand again, explaining as we went, "'is name is Trippy. Miss Kate chose it on account of everybody always trippin' over 'im. 'Tis another gift from the Earl of Pembroke; 'e dotes on so." She shook her head and sighed, and I had the feeling that this troubled her more than she dared say, as though she feared putting it into words might somehow make it worse.

When the door closed behind us, I took the opportunity to warily ask, though I dreaded the answer and prayed it would not be the one I expected, "Is it always like this?"

"Aye, Lord save us, Miss Mary, it is, from morn till night Miss Katey-for that she still is to me and always will be-is chattering away, singing, and bouncing off the walls; I 'ave to give 'er a strong dose o' valerian, lavender, and chamomile every night just to calm 'er down enough to sleep. Last thing I do every night before I lay me 'ead down, and first thing on rising, I pray that the Good Lord will see fit to move the Duke of Northumberland to send word that they may consummate their marriage, for if mother'ood doesn't settle our Kate down, Lord only knows what will, for I certainly don't!"

"Oh dear!" I sighed. I had so wanted to come to Baynard's Castle, to be with Kate, but now that I was there, I was half wishing the invitation had come from Jane instead; though she was moody and sulky, and I would soon be pining for the sunshine of Kate's presence, it would no doubt be quieter in the country in comparison to this combination menagerie and madhouse. Kate had always been bubbly and exuberant, but under our parents' roof, where our lady-mother ruled with a riding crop she was not afraid to use on our bare b.u.t.tocks and backs if we misbehaved, there had always been an element of caution and restraint; now that had been cast off and, in the presence of two men ready and eager to spoil her and indulge her every whim, Kate had become a whirlwind of giddy wildness and nervous energy.

I heard the sound of breaking gla.s.s and winced as the dogs and birds raised their voices even louder. "Naughty Percival!" Kate cried. "Look at him, Berry! He has stolen the cherries and dropped and broken the bowl! Come here, you naughty monkey, and let me see that you have not cut yourself! Quick! Someone catch him! He's climbing the curtains! Down, Percival, down! You naughty, naughty monkey, I swear, one of these days I really will have to spank you! No, no, Rosamund, you mustn't play with the broken gla.s.s! Give that to me at once, you naughty girl! Quick! Somebody catch her!"

As the clamour behind the door grew even louder, with the parrot determined to outshout them all with his incessant demands for another cherry, I sighed and had to wonder if, when the time came for me to quit Baynard's Castle, I would leave my mind behind to join the clutter in Kate's parlour.

Over the next week, every day I bore witness to such scenes. The entire household seemed to revolve around Kate; pleasing her seemed to be the entire household's sole purpose in life. Her husband and father-in-law were like rivals to see who could spoil her most. On chilly mornings when Kate rose from her bed, her shift-clad body was instantly enveloped in a robe of purest white ermine. At every meal the table was laid with her favourite foods, and there was always a dessert as pretty as it was delicious to please her. The Earl of Pembroke was always giving her pets, songbirds in gilded cages, and new puppies and kittens, and he had given her all his late wife's jewells and was constantly buying her more. If Kate admired a sunset, the very next day a bolt of shimmering satin evoking its colour would arrive in the arms of the dressmaker, ready to fashion whatever gown, cloak, or petticoat that would please Kate best, or a jeweller would come and open a velvet box to reveal a magnificent fire opal, ready to be set in a ring, pendant, or brooch, whichever Kate fancied most. If perchance, whilst strolling in the garden, she happened to enthuse about the beauty of the flowers blooming there, a jeweller would soon come bearing some beautiful bauble that captured them in an eternal sparkling bouquet of costly and precious gems. The dressmaker came to Baynard's Castle so often she might as well have set up shop there and hung her shingle from the upstairs parlour window.

Every day brought fresh delights for Kate. Packages arrived every day for her. And, more times than I could count, I saw the Earl of Pembroke sit Kate upon his knee and hang a fortune in jewels about her throat, stroking and caressing her neck and adjusting the necklace and smoothing it down in front to ensure that it lay just right; other times I would watch him pin a brooch to her bodice, though I wished he wouldn't do that as it quite unnerved me the way his long, elegant fingers casually grazed my sister's small, pert b.r.e.a.s.t.s and seemed to linger there inordinately long. It just didn't seem right-she was his son's wife-but when I tried to timidly broach the subject with Kate she just laughed and shrugged it off. "Better that my in-laws adore than despise me, Mary. Now come," she would wheedle and cajole. "Smile and don't spoil it for me! Don't be sour and serious like Jane!" And Henny told me that the Earl of Pembroke always came into Kate's bedchamber every night, after she was already abed, to kiss her good night, standing proxy for his son as it was feared that Berry's "youth was insufficient to overpower and restrain his l.u.s.t."

Kate took great delight in flirting outrageously with both father and son. Being older now, as I look back, I can better understand that she found the effect her feminine wiles had on these men heady and empowering, exhilarating; she was revelling in these new sensations, like a monarch drunk on power, only it was her beauty that intoxicated. But back then, when I was only eight, as I watched it all unfold before my youthful eyes, I felt only confusion and a deep, persistent fear that tightened like a noose around my throat and made it hard at times for me to breathe. But still my beautiful, vivacious sister flounced provocatively from the arms of one straight into the other. She was so free with her kisses and embraces, I prayed every night that G.o.d would grant her the will and good sense to better govern and restrain herself. She loved finding excuses to lift her skirts to show off her pretty ankles and sometimes, even more boldly, her knees, and give a glimpse of the plump and rosy flesh above her garters. Whenever Henny was helping her dress, primly tugging her bodice up high to show less bosom and cover the curves of her shoulders, Kate would stubbornly push and pull it back down. More than once, when she was down on her hands and knees playing with her pups, I noticed both father and son staring raptly at her bosom. But it did no good to voice my concerns to Kate. Every time I tried to talk to her about it, she would pout and implore me not to spoil it. "I'm just having fun!" she would insist. "Where is the harm in that?"

Sometimes, in the morning when she rose, Kate would summon her "darling Berry" to sit and keep her company while she made her toilette. He had given her a beautiful Venetian gla.s.s hand mirror; the handle was shaped like a mermaid, her tail and person beautifully jewelled and enamelled, and her long golden hair, adorned with pearls and precious gems, flowed up, as though it were floating, spread out and billowing in the sea, to encircle and frame the costly gla.s.s. Kate had a shimmering seaweed green silk dressing gown, and she loved to let it slip from her shoulders as she sat at her dressing table and pool around her slender waist. There she would sit, like a mermaid sunning herself on a rock, brazenly bare breasted, leisurely brushing her hair, sighing and arching her back, and admiring her reflection in the gla.s.s while Berry gazed adoringly at her, discreetly drawing the folds of his own dressing gown tighter over his lap, as the cool morning air caused Kate's little coral pink nipples to stiffen. I noticed, to my dismay, which, by her worried face I could see Henny also shared, that when the Earl casually strolled in, Kate showed no concern and made no attempt to cover herself. The Earl of Pembroke would cross the room to stand behind her, and lay a hand on her bare shoulder as he gazed down long and admiringly, before at last bending to kiss her cheek and bid her good morning. Once he even brought a rope of pearls, a magnificent l.u.s.trous strand shimmering with hints of gold and green, and bent to drape it around her neck, saying as he did so, "Pearls for our pearl, but we must take care that this enchanting siren does not lure us to our deaths and doom." Though they seemed spoken only in playfulness then, given what came after, my memory always wants to tint them a more ominous shade. Such are the tricks of memory, which is why any writing their recollections many years later must take care.

Another time, I was there while Kate was lounging in her bath when Berry and his father came in, without knocking, each bearing a big straw basket filled with red and white rose petals-a coincidence or a subtle reminder of Kate's Tudor heritage?-which they upended over Kate's head. She sat up in the bath, bare breasted and bold, laughing, and stretched up her arms, urging them to bend down so that she might kiss them.

Though I know, even as my pen records these memories, these things sound so lewd, and my beautiful sister appears a heedless wanton, yet I cannot bear that any who read this might think of my sister in these lascivious terms. It is so hard to explain! But there was such an aura of innocence and blind trust about her as she did these things, my heart breaks all over again to recall it. Even though Kate clearly encouraged them, and most eagerly too, it is the men I blame most; in my eyes they were the despoilers of her innocence. Though she was growing into a beautiful, shapely woman, more so every day, her nakedness was like that of a baby-natural, sweet, and pure. But no matter how hard Henny and I tried, Kate simply could not understand how some might construe her behaviour, how it could tar and feather her reputation forever and make people think her something she was not, and it might even lead some men to believe they could freely dally and trifle with her and treat her body like their own toy. Each time she would stare back at us, befuddled, with a quizzical frown crinkling her brow. To Kate it was all "good fun," and she simply could not comprehend how anyone could see it any other way; if they did, they were the ones who were lewd, not her, she insisted.

I didn't know how to say it without hurting her or seeming ungrateful and unkind, but, as much as I had wanted to come there, I now wanted to leave Baynard's Castle even more. I felt always a sick and queasy dread, like one standing beside a scaffold must feel, hoping, praying for a reprieve, while waiting to watch a loved one die. I felt such a great fear for Kate it tainted everything and sucked all pleasure out of life. My appet.i.te deserted me, and many a time though I loved a certain dish and thought I wanted or even craved it, the moment it was set before me, fancy fled and queasiness took its place, and I could not bear to look at it let alone eat it. The very air seemed bad to me, and when I overheard the Earl of Pembroke telling his son that the young king was ailing, with "a cough and rheum following a mild attack of measles" and that his feet were swollen and he "ejects from his mouth matter sometimes coloured a greenish yellow or sometimes the colour of blood or even black," I didn't wonder at it. It seemed a very marvel to me that the whole of London wasn't ailing, infected with the same fear and malaise that beset me.

Another sleepless night when I desired a book from the library, I overheard the Earl entertaining a late night guest-the Duke of Northumberland. They were talking about Jane, and I heard Northumberland say: "She has imbibed the Reformed Religion with her milk and is married in England to a husband of wealth and probity, and the King holds her in the highest esteem for her learning and zealous piety. In time, she could be the thunderbolt and terror of the Papists." Even though they were praising my sister-Jane would have particularly liked that last bit-their words frightened me. They were plotting something, and I knew it, and I was so afraid they were going to do something that would hurt Jane more than a forced marriage to Guildford Dudley ever could.

Then, like the answer to my prayers, letters came flying like frantic doves from Surrey. Apparently its bucolic splendour had little effect on Jane. The newlyweds were scarcely settled in at Sheen before she fell ill. In a hasty hand, she dashed off frantic letters to "my sisters, the only ones I can trust," imagining herself being poisoned upon the orders of Northumberland. Though why her new father-in-law would want her dead I could not even imagine. Surely Guildford didn't find Jane so disagreeable that he must resort to murder in order to be rid of her? In a hysterical scrawl that sprawled across the tear-blurred pages, she told us how her skin was itching so abominably that she had to sit on her hands to keep herself from scratching it off, and even without the intervention of her nails, it was sloughing off on its own, peeling away in great flaky patches and strips that revealed a smooth, burning, tender redness beneath, and her hair was falling out, every time she ran her fingers through it, they emerged dripping with long chestnut strands, and she could keep no nourishment within her stomach, which ached inside and out, as though it contained a great, tight knot, both hot and tender, and whenever she tried to eat, one or the other end would soon disgorge it, leaving her even more sick and weak and sore. She said she spent hours, agonizing hours, squatting over a chamber pot with a basin balanced on her lap, never knowing from which end the sickness would erupt, and her belly and bottom ached so as a result she could hardly stand it; each expulsion brought fresh torment. "I will die if I stay at Sheen!" she insisted, underlining the words with such force that the pen bit through the page.

After a fortnight at Sheen, our parents and Jane's newly acquired in-laws finally gave in to her complaining and transferred the young couple to the handsome redbrick Thames-side manor of Chelsea, where Jane had spent such happy times with the Dowager Queen Catherine Parr. There it was hoped that nestled amongst the pink roses, lavender, strawberries, and peach and cherry trees Jane would recover her health and blossom like a rose, "all velvety, pink, and sweet, the better to tempt Guildford to pluck." Northumberland hoped the young couple "might become one soon," and by that time he wanted that young lady "restored to the full bloom of health and beauty."

But all Jane did was sit on a bench in the garden or park, staring morosely at the pink orange sunsets, sighing and lamenting the loss of Catherine Parr, and, I am sure, in the most secret depths of her heart, that handsome rogue, Tom Seymour, though in all the years since whenever I had dared to remind her of that time, Jane's temper would erupt and she would stamp her foot and angrily rail that it was cruel of me to remind her of that girlish folly she had let befoul and besmirch her soul when all she wanted to do was forget her "wretched foolishness."

"Why can you not understand?" She would round on me, angry tears falling from her eyes. "It is a stain upon my soul I can never wash clean no matter how hard I try!" Then with her hands pressed to her temples as though she wished to crush her skull to kill every memory of Thomas Seymour that still lurked there, she would dramatically flee the room.

I never could understand it; we all make fools of ourselves at one time or another in our lives, and each of us harbours memories that make us cringe, humiliating instances that cause our faces to flush red with the flame of shame or embarra.s.sment, but why did my sister think it was such a crime to let a little love, however unworthy the recipient of it was, into her life? Why did my sister believe that feelings were a sign of weakness and failure? Why did she aspire to be like a pure and perfect white marble saint instead of a woman pulsing with life, love, and longings?

Even though I am her sister, I cannot say for certain, only that I sometimes think that Jane was afraid to be real and imperfect, and this inspired her futile and impossible quest for perfection; she spent her whole short life chasing a dragon she could never conquer and slay.

4.

My mind was already pondering how I might best persuade our lady-mother to let me go and stay with Jane, to help nurse her back to health, when Kate bounded into my bedchamber one morning and shook me from my sleep as she shouted for Hetty to hurry and pack a trunk for me.

"Wake up, Mary!" she urged, shaking me insistently. "We're going to see Jane!"

Before I was even fully roused, she was skipping off, calling back over her shoulder that we would breakfast on strawberries and cream in the barge on our way to Chelsea.

I was still yawning and rubbing my eyes when Kate skipped ahead of me and, lifting her skirts high, exposing her limbs to the oarsmen's admiring eyes, entered the barge with a graceful, flying leap and plopped down against the velvet cushions. As the oarsmen began to row, I sat there still half asleep, trying to make sense of Kate's chattering and avoid choking on the cream-dipped strawberry she shoved suddenly into my mouth.

"I just love to breakfast on strawberries and cream!" Kate prattled as she nibbled daintily upon a cream-slathered berry. "Isn't this fun? We're going to the country, or as close as we can get to it without actually leaving London. We shall act as Cupid's sweet amba.s.sadors and see what we can do to get Jane out of her sickbed and into her marriage bed. I don't have an arrow, but I am not without arms!" she said coyly, dipping her fingers down into her bodice and drawing out a small, ruby red gla.s.s vial, shaped rather like a heart, that she wore suspended from a black braided silk cord about her neck. "Courtesy of Madame Astarte!" she said cryptically.

"Whatever is that?" I asked. "And who on earth is Madame Astarte?"

But Kate would only giggle, shake her head, and say mysteriously, "All in good time, my dear Mary, all in good time. And see, I've something more!" She reached into her bodice again and drew out a letter and a folded square of age-yellowed paper. "The Duke of Northumberland has given me leave to be the bearer of good tidings-as soon as she is recovered, Jane and Guildford can become husband and wife in deed as well as in name! To celebrate"-she brandished the other paper-"I've a recipe for a special wine made from gillyflowers-Guildford's favourite!" More than that, no matter how much I pressed her, she would not say.

The barge had scarcely docked before Kate had leapt out and was running toward the house. I followed her as best I could, clumsily tottering on my short, stubby, slightly bowed legs, proudly shrugging off Hetty's helping hands and her offer to carry me. I had not grown an inch in three years, not since I was five, and had learned to accept-What good would it do to shake my fist up at G.o.d and rage against it?-that it was my lot to spend my life trapped in a child-sized body with a back and limbs that always ached like a bad toothache. From the grinding pain in my lower back and hips, I already knew this brief exertion would require the application of hot stones wrapped in flannel when I went to bed that night. I would never have the strong, shapely, and slender limbs that carried my sisters gracefully through life, beautiful, slim white legs, as pretty as porcelain, not thick stumps like mine, and marred by ugly, ropey, pain-pulsing, and bulging veins. I would grow old, as would my sisters and all that lives; I would wrinkle and wither and grey frost would douse the dark fire of my hair, but as I aged I would also go back in time and return to a toddler's clumsiness, and a day would eventually come when I would need a cane, or even a crutch or a pair of them, or if I had the means to afford it and spare myself this indignity, a pair of handsome footmen to carry me about in a gilt and damask chair.

I was standing on the threshold, blinking my eyes to accustom them to the cool dimness inside Chelsea, when I heard Jane's voice. "Kate? Is that you, Kate?" she called as she appeared upon the landing, staggering weakly and flailing blindly for the banister to support her.

What a sight she was! Even in her loose white nightgown I could tell she had lost flesh. Livid, puffy pink patches and flecks of flaky white skin marred her face and hands, even the bare toes peeping out from beneath her gown, and, I suspected, all the parts I could not see were similarly afflicted. We bolted up the stairs to meet her, and I saw that her nails were gnawed ragged and raw and the fuzzy braid that snaked crookedly over her shoulder when she bent to embrace me was not as thick as it had once been, and I could see pearly patches of scalp shining through in places.

"Oh, Jane!" I sobbed and hugged her tight.

But I could not give in to despair. Kate was already taking command. "Don't worry, Jane, we're here now, and we'll soon have you well. Mrs. Ellen!" she barked like a general at the black-clad figure hovering at the top of the stairs like a shadowy phantom. Kate was a married woman now, not a little girl to be cowed by years and authority, and she issued orders now as fearlessly as a queen, confident that she would be obeyed without question. "Bring me an ap.r.o.n, and one for Mary as well, and prepare a hot bath for your lady. And I want the water steaming! Henny, have my trunks brought up at once!" she ordered her own maid. "Come, Jane, come, Mary, we've much to do." And, taking each of us by the hand, she marched us upstairs as if she, and not Jane, were the lady of the manor.

Though she squirmed and squealed in our arms like a slippery wet piglet and cried for cold water, insisting that we were scalding her, Kate and I knelt beside the tub with ap.r.o.ns tied over our dresses and determinedly scrubbed every part of Jane's body with a pumice stone until all the old, dead skin had been sloughed off. Then we pulled her from the tub and ma.s.saged her all over with olive oil, even her scalp-Kate said it might help and keep more of her hair from falling out-until, at last, Jane stood before us all rosy and pink as a newborn, her tender new skin still smarting from our ministrations.

But Kate was not done yet. She bade Jane kneel with her head over the tub and rinsed the olive oil from her hair, then sat her on a stool and, after whisking the tears of regret from her eyes, took up the shears and with a sure and steady hand quickly cut Jane's hair just below her shoulders. "I've left it long enough to pin up," she said softly, gently running her fingers through the wet waves, "so when you appear in public with your hair pinned up under your hood with a veil in back, like a proper married lady, no one will ever know. And you'll see, it will soon grow back and be more beautiful than ever."

Jane nodded gloomily and murmured something about all being vanity and her head feeling "pleasingly light" as she reached for her shift, but Kate s.n.a.t.c.hed it away. "No, let your skin breathe," she insisted, and, taking Jane by the hand, led her to the bed, which had been newly made, upon Kate's orders, with the silk sheets she had brought with us, and the old canopy and curtains had also been taken down and replaced with new cream and gold damask ones. Then, settling our ailing sister back against the pillows, she dosed her with the peppermint syrup she had brought to soothe Jane's stomach and instructed Mrs. Ellen to take all Jane's clothes away-"and I do mean all, Mrs. Ellen, not even a shift or even a stray stocking is to remain"-and have them laundered and thoroughly rinsed so that nothing remained that might irritate Jane's sensitive skin. She then proceeded to give instructions about Jane's diet, insisting that Jane was to have nothing but a weak chicken broth for a week, though as the week progressed, if Jane was better, she might increase its strength, and after another week she could add small portions of milk and bread before progressing to a little roast chicken, "unsalted and without seasoning," she said as firmly as though she were a graduate of the Royal College of Physicians. And she was to drink fennel tea every day and have a bit of crystallized ginger to suck on after meals and whenever her stomach felt likely to rebel.

While Jane recuperated, Guildford spent his mornings reclining, indolent as an emperor on a gold and silver brocade couch, resplendent in his favourite gold brocade dressing gown, tossing grapes to his yellow-crested white parrot, and his afternoons frolicking in the meadow, raising his voice to the glory of G.o.d and to serenade the sheep-he liked to pretend he was on the stage and they were his captive audience-and having daily lessons with Maestro Cocozza. Meanwhile, Kate-a much calmer, less frenzied, and more focused Kate without her husband and father-in-law around to flirt with and her menagerie to pull her attention in a dozen different directions-decided that we should busy ourselves with "Cupid's work" now that Jane was on the mend.

"We must do what all the scoldings, threats, commands, and beatings cannot and bring these two together, Mary! We must show our sister that it is possible to make the best of an arranged marriage and mayhap even find love and pa.s.sion within it."

"How do you propose that we do that?" I asked. Jane's coldness and contempt, the rude and scathing remarks she repeatedly doled out, had hurt Guildford one too many times, and he now kept a wary distance from her. Whenever they were together I could tell he was most uneasy in her presence, and there was a nervous stiffness, a guardedness, about him, as he weighed and pondered his every word before speaking then glanced warily at her, as though steeling himself for the biting remark that would inevitably follow. For the life of me, I didn't know how we could ever make these two fall in love.

"To the stillroom, Mary!" Kate cried and, like a soldier charging into battle, she raced ahead, arm raised as though brandishing a sword, flourishing the paper covered with the faded, spidery handwriting of the mother-in-law she had never known detailing how to make gillyflower wine.

Unbeknownst to me, before we left Baynard's Castle, Kate had ordered the necessary ingredients and they were there in the stillroom waiting for us. While Kate stood before the long table, reading the recipe aloud to me, I poured, scooped, measured, mixed, and boiled as Kate dictated until the mixture of water, sugar, honey, yeast, syrup of betony, cloves, and gillyflowers-Kate had chosen yellow ones because they were Guildford's favourite-had cooled and was ready to be casked and left in the dark to ferment for a month.

When it was ready, we sampled our concoction, growing giggly and giddy as Kate confided her plan to me. We would, she said, set it in motion the next morning, after Guildford departed to sing in the meadow.

Curled up on the window seat, lost in the pages of her Greek Testament, Jane suddenly found herself being deprived of her book and divested of her clothes even as we dragged her down the corridor to Kate's room, leaving her dull brown gown lying on the floor like a mud puddle. I gaily flung her plain brown hood as far as I could before I slammed the door behind us.

We stripped our sister bare and plunged her into a tub of hot, rose-scented water and scrubbed her pink. Then, over her protests, after we had dried her, we tugged a loose, flowing gown of cream-coloured lace and fine, pleated, unbleached linen over her head, ignoring her cries that without undergarments underneath it was most indecent.

"I won't wear this! I simply won't!" she wept and raged. "It is indecent, I tell you, indecent, no G.o.dly Christian woman would ever ..."

But Kate only smiled and sang over her protests as she adjusted the silken ribbons and falls of lace on the bodice and sleeves, and I raised my voice to join hers as I circled Jane, carefully smoothing the long, trailing skirt, making sure the lace and pleats lay just right.

"You're so beautiful, Jane," I breathed. "This gown makes you look so womanly and soft, like a G.o.ddess of femininity."

When Jane broke free of us and ran for the door, I raced ahead of her, turned the key in the lock, and shoved it under the door to where Henny, our coconspirator, waited outside. I smiled sweetly at Jane's defeated face and took her hand and led her back to Kate, who sang of love and lads and la.s.ses wooing and stealing kisses in pretty gardens as she combed her fingers through the wet, red brown waves of Jane's hair.

Jane broke away again, and while she pounded on the door, demanding to be let out, wincing and hopping around on one foot, cradling her toes, after she lost her temper and kicked it, Kate and I sat by the sunlit window while we waited for her hair to dry and busied ourselves with weaving daisy chains to adorn her neck, wrists, and waist, and an elaborate floral crown of scarlet poppies and golden wheat, with two grandiose upper tiers of pinks, marigolds, daisies, b.u.t.tercups, bluebells, lavender, rosemary, dandelions, corn c.o.c.kles, daffodils, peonies, periwinkles, forget-me-nots, pink sweet peas, lily of the valley, Canterbury bells, meadowsweet, yellow b.u.t.tons of tansy, the feathery spikes of bright pinkish purple loosestrife, the blushing and freckled pink and white bugle blossoms of foxglove-"Like Jane will be when Guildford sees her thus!" Kate teased-the perky, purple pink pompoms of chives, and heart's ease pansies, the bold and vibrant popinjays of Mother Nature's bouquet.

"Now for Guildford!" Kate cried, proudly holding up the ornate wreath of golden wheat and yellow gillyflowers, scarlet poppies, snowdrops, sunny yellow St. John's wort, foamy white meadowsweet, marigolds, forget-me-nots, and heart's ease pansies her nimble fingers had just fashioned for our gilt-haired brother-in-law. "As every queen must have a king, and every king must have a crown!" How this game and these words would haunt us in later years! But we were young and innocent then of Northumberland's and our parents' schemes.

"Let me out, Henny, I order you!" Jane screamed, forgetting herself and kicking the door again.

"You heard what Lady Jane said, Henny!" Kate called in the prearranged signal. "You'd best let her out before she breaks the door or her toes!"

"Very well, Miss Jane," Henny said, and soon we heard the key turning in the lock.

As soon as the door swung open, Jane rushed out, right into the trap of Henny's and Hetty's open arms.

"Let go of me! Let me go!" she howled, thrashing, twisting, and squirming as Hetty's arms closed like a vise beneath her bosom and Henny caught her around the ankles and lifted her feet off the floor.

"To the meadow!" Kate trilled, carefully holding the beautiful floral crowns out before her as she skipped ahead of us and led the way downstairs, and I brought up the rear with the daisy chains draped over my outstretched arms.

As soon as we stepped outside, the musicians Kate had hired struck up a lively tune and began prancing alongside us, to escort the Lady Jane to where her bridegroom awaited her in the meadow. We had invited the servants to join our little party, and they had already carried out the casks of our gillyflower wine, and even as we approached, the girls from the kitchen were busily laying out a trestle table laden with a rich bounty of golden cakes, strawberries and cream, and meat and cheese pasties.

Every day it was Guildford's custom to go out into the meadow to dance and sing, letting his high notes soar free as birds as the sheep fled baaing before him. Most people shuddered and cringed when they heard him, but not Kate. Always kindhearted, she would shrug and say that the Bible did say, "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejoice, and sing praise." Guildford's efforts certainly seemed joyful and were undeniably loud. Nor could I bear to mock him, for in my heart I understood all too well his impossible, impractical dream; Guildford longed to be a great singer, just as I longed to be a woman normally and beautifully formed just like my sisters.

When Guildford heard our little party approaching, he paused midsong and stood there staring at us, a very pretty picture of golden-haired puzzlement.

"Don't let her go, not yet!" Kate cautioned Henny and Hetty as they set Jane on her feet. Instantly, they tightened their grip on her as the servants milled curiously around, watching us and whispering, wondering what was going on.

"Let go of me! Let go!" Jane squirmed and twisted in the vise of their strong arms. "You've dressed me like a dancing girl, a lewd, indecent dancing girl, at a pagan baccha.n.a.l, and I shall not be part of it, I tell you, I won't, I won't, I won't! I am a good Protestant maid! I am impervious to this lewdness. It shall not infect or touch me. The Lord shall protect me!"

"Calm down, Jane," Kate said as she carefully laid the floral crowns on the ground far enough away that Jane and her captors would not trample them. "You're carrying on as though this were a witches' sabbat, and we meant to roast babies on spits over a fire and make you sign your name in the Devil's black book. Look around you, feel the sunshine, smell the flowers, listen to the music, and see all the smiling faces that wish you well. All the evil and indecency you're imagining is all in your mind, not ours. There are no pagans, Papists, or witches hiding in the trees waiting to swoop down on you and force you into sin. Can't you see that G.o.d is in his heaven and smiling down on us on this beautiful day?" Kate paused to give Jane's cheek a pat as she walked past, nimbly evading a kick from our outraged sister, then seized my hand and rushed me over to the trestle table. "Quickly, Mary, before Jane breaks free!" She s.n.a.t.c.hed up a cup and thrust it into my hand and then, with her back turned to Jane, stealthily withdrew the red gla.s.s vial from her bodice and spilled half its contents into the cup, then bade me take it carefully to the cask and fill it. "And please, Mary, do not spill even one precious drop!"

I did as she asked, then watched as Kate approached Jane and, with the strong-armed a.s.sistance of Henny and Hetty, forced her to drink and drain it to the dregs.

"Only a little longer, love, before it begins to work its magic," she said, stroking Jane's hair and kissing her cheek before she scooped up the crown she had made for Guildford and ran back to prepare a similar cup, with the last of the mysterious potion, then ran giggling across the meadow to where Guildford stood gaping quizzically at us.

"I am Love's humble handmaiden come to crown Your Majesty and present you with this loving cup from your queen, your loving bride," she announced playfully as she set the crown on his head, then offered him the cup, though to my eyes, Jane seemed none too loving as she snarled and twisted suddenly and kicked Hetty's shins quite viciously, causing my poor old nurse to cry out in pain.

Guildford's skeptically arched eyebrow conveyed that our thoughts were travelling along the same path, but he nonetheless graciously accepted, calling out, "Thank you, my queen!" as he raised the cup in a toast to her then downed its contents. "Very sweet," he p.r.o.nounced as he pa.s.sed the empty cup back to Kate.

"We used six pounds of sugar and almost as much honey," Kate proudly volunteered, and Guildford smiled and said indeed he did not doubt it.

Smiling, Kate skipped back to Jane, and together we decked her with daisy chains. It was easier now that she was standing still. Her eyes seemed larger and curiously vacant though she was staring straight at Guildford and a strange pink flush was slowly stealing over her, and I noted as I arranged a daisy chain around her neck that her bosom had begun to heave. When I glanced up and asked if she were all right, there was a strange, crooked little smile tugging at her lips, as though one side wanted to smile and the other was undecided whether to give in or continue to frown.