“Aunt Kat!” I put as much shock into my words as I could. Aunt Kat had gone red with wine and excitement, the drink loosening her tongue a dangerous amount.
At last, Aunt Kat seemed to realize she and Master Parry were speaking far too much about things that were dangerous to discuss. Aunt Kat shot a guilty glance at Parry, who closed his mouth at the same time.
“You’ll not breathe a word of this, of course,” Aunt Kat quickly admonished Parry.
Parry adamantly shook his head. “Never, Mistress Ashley. I’d never tell a soul what we discuss about our Lady Elizabeth. I have assured you of this time and again.”
He looked quite sincere, and after a moment, Aunt Kat gave him a decided nod. The two exchanged a secret smile, lifted pewter goblets of wine from the Rhine valley, and drank to it.
I left Aunt Kat that night, torn about whether to report the conversation to Uncle John. After much inner debate, I went to bed without disturbing him, reasoning to myself that Aunt Kat’s and Master Parry’s wild speculation in the privacy of my aunt’s chamber would come to nothing.
No matter how high the two of them might believe their positions to be, they had no true power to affect Elizabeth’s choice of bridegrooms. That was up to the king’s council, Lord Protector Somerset, and Edward himself. Idle chatter about a man’s legs would not bring down King Edward’s reign.
I also had a nasty headache and did not fancy running to Uncle John to tattle on his wife. I kept my thoughts to myself and slept fitfully.
How Uncle John got wind of the conversation, I do not know—though I suspected the attentive servants. When I rose in the morning, I heard his voice booming from Aunt Kat’s chamber.
I dressed quickly and scurried through the darkened gallery to her door.
“Gossip and meddling,” Uncle John roared as I opened the door a crack and peeped inside. “Have nothing to do with the Admiral, for the love of God, Kat. Nothing good can come of it, do you understand?”
Aunt Kat had never been a meek woman, nor readily obedient to her husband. She had a good opinion of herself, a strong will, and a voice as loud as his.
“I mean only well for Elizabeth,” she shouted in return. “Only that. You, John, are the party who needs to understand my loyalty to her.”
Uncle John banged out of the room, his eyes glittering with rage. He caught sight of me as I scuttled into the shadows, pointed a savage finger at me, and motioned me to follow him.
Chapter 6
My head gave an extra-hard throb as I hurried after Uncle John, who descended the stairs and made for the wide hall on the ground floor.
“Uncle do not look at me so,” I pleaded when I caught up to him. “I cannot stop the Thames from flooding, and I cannot stop Aunt Kat when she wants to talk about something.”
Uncle John swung to face me, his cheeks flushed, though modulated his voice when he spoke to me. “I do not blame you, Eloise, but you must understand. That man is dangerous, and all his smiles and beguiles do not make him less so.”
“I know he is dangerous, Uncle. You do not need to convince me.”
Uncle John eyed me sharply. “And why are you so certain?”
I did not want to talk about the awful evening Seymour had forced his attentions upon me. I could still feel the imprint of his large hand, smell the sticky sweet scent that had clung to his clothes.
“I see through him,” I said glibly. “Not all women are fools.”
Uncle John let out an exasperated breath. “Your aunt is—at least in this instance—and I have told her so. I am bound for London today. You will report to me any meddling Kat thinks to do as soon as I return. Do you understand?”
I clutched Uncle John’s sleeve, the wool of it homey and comforting. “Why do you not stay and watch her yourself? Or take her with you?”
“I have business,” he answered in clipped tones. “And no time for a wife who embroils in dangerous gossip.”
Uncle John removed himself from my grip and strode through the hall, barking at a servant to help him prepare for his journey.
I remained forlornly at the foot of the staircase, thrust squarely into the middle of a husband-and-wife quarrel.
Aunt Kat sulked all that day, angry at Uncle John and at me, calling me no better than a jailer.
The next morning she began to repent, admitting to me, shame-faced, that perhaps she had far too much interest in affairs not her own. She blamed Master Parry for dragging the story of Seymour’s pursuit of Elizabeth out of her, though she conceded she should not have allowed him to goad her.
Several long, soggy days dragged by, while Aunt Kat became ever more unhappy and remorseful. She missed Uncle John and lamented that she’d so angered him. She wrote him a letter and waited eagerly for a reply, but had none.
