I could not remain an innocent child forever—I had to keep my wits about me in this whirlpool that ever surrounded the royal court. Theirs was a world of gentlemen who’d not hesitate to use a very young woman to achieve what they wished, no matter who they injured irreparably.
Perhaps Aunt Kat had such ambition as well, so that one day she could point to Elizabeth’s rise and proclaim, “I did that.”
A new world, and a dangerous one.
“Durham house was to have been mine,” Elizabeth snapped at Master Parry a few days later, her brows drawn into a scowl. She’d turned from the window where she’d been conversing with a few of her ladies, consciously moving so a beam from the winter sun touched her unbound hair. “I was promised it. Does His Grace the Lord Protector not remember this?”
Master Parry betrayed as much agitation about this new state of affairs as did his mistress. He twisted the gold chain that hung from his neck, his round face a bright red.
Elizabeth had just learned that Lord Protector Somerset had procured Durham Place, Elizabeth’s London residence, for his own purposes. Master Parry’s recent mission in London—the one Aunt Kat had hinted to me meant more than it appeared—had been to look into the matter.
“He claims he needs it, Your Grace,” Parry said with resentment. “He plans to set up a mint. There he squats, coining more money to spend in the name of your brother the king.”
Elizabeth’s nostrils flared, her mouth white and pinched. “He presumes.”
“He does indeed, Your Grace.” Parry bent his head, but I did not miss the satisfied glint in his eyes. “I spoke with Lord Admiral Seymour about it, and he was most sympathetic.”
“The Lord Admiral.” Elizabeth’s gaze grew fixed. She moved slightly out of the sunshine, her studied pose vanishing. “Does he apologize for his brother?”
“He does indeed. He also very kindly offered you the use of his own residence when you come to London, so that you will not be inconvenienced.”
“Very kind.” A hint of frost touched Elizabeth’s voice, but her dark eyes fixed intently on Parry. “What else did he say?”
“The Lord Admiral is quite interested in all your properties, Your Grace,” Master Parry rattled on. “He asked me whether the king’s council had yet bestowed all your father’s bequests on you. He declared it shameful when I told him they had not. He said he would be happy to offer advice on how you might make some savings, since you have not been given everything you should.”
“Did he?” The frost increased. “And what did he suggest?”
“That you look over your books yourself,” Parry said. “That … ” He lowered his voice almost to a whisper, his eyes as hard and focused as Elizabeth’s own. “That you might make savings by the two of you sharing resources. The Admiral has many houses and gentlemen at his disposal, and he could help you obtain those that are rightfully yours.”
“What did he mean by all this, think you?” The question seemed ingenuous, but Elizabeth’s tone was calculating.
Master Parry glanced behind him before he spoke. The ladies at the window were quiet, pretending to look out at the winter landscape, and I sewed busily on my stool. “That perhaps he wants you near him, as well? You know he has not broken up the household of Queen Catherine—he has her ladies and gentlemen together still.”
“To wait upon Cousin Jane,” Elizabeth said quickly. “He did it so that Jane Grey might have a household of her own.”
Because, I knew, Seymour wanted Jane to marry King Edward. I had heard Aunt Kat and Parry, and even Uncle John, discussed that fact often enough.
“Perhaps.” Parry sent her a furtive smile. “And what would you say, my lady, if Seymour offered for you? Would you have him? If the council approved, of course.”
He added the last hastily. King Edward’s council had frowned on Seymour’s original attempt to ensnare Elizabeth, and well we knew it. Marrying without their consent would not only displease Edward but might bar Elizabeth from the succession and result in her forfeiting those lands and money the council was taking its time about handing over in the first place.
I watched Elizabeth sift through these thoughts, a lady weighing the consequences of being able to love a fascinating gentleman against forfeiting all possibility of inheriting the crown.
I could have lent an argument if I’d dared, that Seymour had blatantly chased Elizabeth while he was married to Catherine. If his stalking of me in the corridor that night was any indication, he’d pursued other dalliances as well. Not a man who would consider it necessary to be true to his wife. Many gentlemen were not so nice when it came to fidelity, and quick to break their wives’ hearts.
I had no way of knowing whether Elizabeth would count this as a point against Seymour. I’d met more than one woman in love with a philanderer, who held absolute conviction that if said man were with her, he’d philander no more.
Whatever debates hummed through Elizabeth’s head, when she opened her mouth to speak, it was in the tone of a man of law who’d calculated every word.
“If what you imagine comes to pass,” she said to Parry. “Then I will do as God shall put into my mind at the time.”
A lovely answer, saying neither yay nor nay. Parry bowed his head. “Of course, Your Grace.”
After Master Parry had scuttled off to his coffers, I fitted Elizabeth into the dress I was creating. Her hands were ice cold, and she scarce seemed to notice me and my maidservant pinning the brocade to her frame—that is, until I accidentally poked her.
Elizabeth jumped and slapped my hand. “Do take care, Mistress Seamstress.”
I humbly begged her pardon, words of apology now rote upon my lips. So often did I have to say them to Elizabeth.
