Only Aunt Kat could scold Elizabeth. She’d outgrown listening to her nurses, save Mistress Parry, long ago, but Aunt Kat held a special place in Elizabeth’s heart. Aunt Kat alone was allowed to speak her mind.
“The shame of it,” Aunt Kat continued. “Every lady and gentleman agog when you returned to the house.” Aunt Kat lifted her hands in the despairing way she often took with me. “Thank the Lord the queen was with you, though she ought to have known better. Why that wise lady, who held the kingdom safe through months of war by herself, would throw away her dignity on a silly romp in the garden … I ask you.”
“’Twas only a game.” Elizabeth sipped tea, her slim shoulders drooping. She’d become a guilt-stricken girl again, the young woman who’d wanted a man’s attentions faded and gone.
“You might have thought so, but there are others who do not,” Aunt Kat said. “As his majesty’s sister, you must jealously guard your reputation. His Grace the king will likely make a good marriage for you, but if your reputation is in shreds, you will have to make do with the dregs.”
A defiant gleam entered Elizabeth’s eyes. “I could not prevail against both my stepmother and my Lord Sudeley.”
“Mind that you learn to.” Aunt Kat let out a sigh, her stern expression softening. She could never remain angry at Elizabeth for long. “He is a fine-mannered gentleman, is his lordship, and used to flirtations at court. You are not used to it, but Lord Sudeley does not understand this. Most young ladies your age have been married off already and know how to comport themselves. His lordship is not used to a simple household and does not understand.”
I, my mouth full of pins and my lap piled with Parisian silver netting, did not agree. Seymour knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how far to push his wife to obtain what he wanted.
At that moment, I assumed Seymour simply longed for a dalliance with Elizabeth. I could understand why—she was a beautiful young woman, with her red hair and beguiling eyes. She’d inherited the best of her father and mother.
I’d never seen Anne Boleyn, but I’d heard gentlemen who’d known her fall into eloquence about her. Dark hair, pale face, not really much to look at, they admitted, until she turned her smile upon one. Anne’s eyes had been starred with silver lights, and she could hold a gentleman with her gaze—or so they claimed—and have him in her thrall.
She’d also had a strength of character, intelligence and wit, combined with the polished manners of the French court, where she’d been sent at an early age. That wit had been her power, but also her downfall, used by her enemies against her.
Old King Henry had been robust and handsome in his youth, I’d seen in portraits, with hair Elizabeth’s shade and a physique envied by gentlemen in England and beyond its shores. Henry had been strong, loud, restless, arbitrarily cruel or generous, devoted to his own passions, and unforgiving of those passions in others.
The king had been attractive and fiery, and Anne had been as well. Together they’d produced a daughter with grace, a sense of elegance, a calculating mind, and a presence like a whiplash.
Aunt Kat had a fond belief that she controlled this girl, and it was true that Elizabeth listened to Aunt Kat. But only to a point.
Seymour had designs upon Elizabeth, and I could see that Elizabeth was not unhappy with those designs. Elizabeth loved her stepmother, of course, but a handsome gentleman intensely interested in a young woman could cloud that young woman’s senses. Well I knew this.
I prayed that Elizabeth would not go so far as to betray Catherine. I burned inside with my secret knowledge of Seymour’s character, but I did not want to confess it in the presence of Elizabeth.
I waited until later, after Elizabeth had gone to bed, and Aunt Kat was alone in her chamber, nodding off over a book. I knelt at Aunt Kat’s feet and told her of my encounter with Seymour. I bowed my head, afraid and ashamed as only a girl of fourteen can be.
Aunt Kat closed her book with a snap. “And what were you doing traipsing about the galleries at that time of night, my girl?”
“Carrying cloth to the queen’s antechamber,” I explained. “I was anxious to begin on her gowns.”
Aunt Kat regarded me for a long moment then her usually canny eyes went deliberately blank. “You must have mistaken his intentions, Eloise.”
“No, Aunt.” I remembered the pressure of Seymour’s hand on my breast, the unclean feeling in my belly, and the startled shock that a man had dared touch me so familiarly.
“You were mistaken,” Aunt Kat repeated, stressing each word. “Lord Sudeley is a rogue, and he smiled at you. It excited you.”
I shook my head. “Disgusted me, rather.”
“Please do not say such things about your betters, Eloise. People will believe I have raised you with no manners.”
I gazed at her, my heart beating faster. “Please listen to me, Auntie.”
“No, Eloise. You were mistaken. Say nothing more of it.”
Anger wound through my fears. “I thought you would wish to keep our lady Elizabeth safe.”
“I do. I want that beyond everything.” The shrewdness returned to Aunt Kat’s tone. “There is more to this than what you understand. Say nothing, for dear Jesus’ sake, or you will bring disaster upon us all.”
“But, poor Queen Catherine,” I began.
Aunt Kat’s mouth turned down. “Eloise, to whom are you loyal?”
“To you, Aunt,” I answered, bewildered.
