Tyrwhitt stared at her in astonishment, as though this had been the last reaction he’d expected. Had he thought to find her lofty and brittle, or perhaps sly and guilty?
He hadn’t had much contact with Elizabeth, despite his role in Catherine’s household, and probably had no idea of her true nature. Perhaps he’d expected a seductress, one who beguiled with coy smiles, like her mother purportedly had done.
Instead, he’d found a straight-backed, no-nonsense young woman, who cried when she learned that her beloved governess was in danger.
“Now then,” Tyrwhitt said, clearly uncomfortable with the tears of a fifteen-year-old girl. Nervously he laid a few sheets of paper on the table next to Elizabeth. I glimpsed a signature at the bottom of one, in Aunt Kat’s handwriting, and went cold.
“Katherine Ashley and Thomas Parry have made their first confessions,” Tyrwhitt said. “They signed their names to the statements. It would be best, Your Grace, to confess all to me straight away, and let this be done with.”
Elizabeth sniffled and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, but the hand that reached for the papers did not tremble. “May I have time to read them?”
Tyrwhitt gave her a thin smile. “Perhaps you will tell me what you know, and then we may read them together.”
Elizabeth withdrew her hand and laid it in her lap, her fingers curling into her palm. “Mistress Ashley is a good woman and would do nothing to deceive my brother the king, or His Grace of Somerset. Or myself.”
Tyrwhitt’s smile became tight as Elizabeth reminded him just who she was—sister of a king and no commoner. He cleared his throat again. “Thomas Parry hints that the Lord Admiral was familiar with you, and Mistress Ashley says nothing to deny it.”
“The Lord Admiral never offered marriage to me, if that is what you mean,” Elizabeth returned. “I never made any sort of pledge to him. I would never agree to marry without the king my brother’s consent, and I trust the Protector believes so.”
The second reminder of her position irritated Tyrwhitt. He huffed. “Do remember, Your Grace, that though your brother is ruler of this realm, you are but a subject.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth’s chilly manner returned. “Which is precisely why I know I may not choose my own husband. The council, the Lord Protector, and my brother must approve. Mistress Ashley knew that very well, and would never advise me otherwise.”
As Tyrwhitt grew even more irate, I again wondered what he’d expected. That Elizabeth would throw herself at his feet and beg for mercy? That she’d confess that she’d conspired against the king? She’d never have admitted such a thing, even if it were true.
I learned much in that room as I watched Elizabeth match wits with Tyrwhitt, a man more than twice her age. He tried to cajole, to be stern, to threaten, and to cajole again, but Elizabeth never wavered.
She repeated multiple times that she had no intention of marrying outside the wishes of the council, and declared that the romps Aunt Kat and Master Parry might have described were nothing more than childish games, which Queen Catherine herself had joined.
As Tyrwhitt lost patience, his words became cruel. “My wife was in service with your stepmother, as you know. She waited on the Queen Catherine in her last days, was in the bedchamber when she died. The queen, in her delirium, declared that her husband had betrayed her. And Master Parry says you were sent away from the queen’s household.”
Tyrwhitt snatched one of the papers from the table and read from it. “One time the Queen, suspecting the often access of the Admiral to the Lady Elizabeth’s grace, came suddenly upon them when they were all alone, he having her in his arms. Wherefore the Queen fell out, both with the Admiral and with Her Grace also.”
Elizabeth sat as though carved of marble. Any reminder of how she’d hurt Catherine distressed her, and the statement coming from the self-satisfied Tyrwhitt made it doubly upsetting.
“I admit a misunderstanding with the queen,” Elizabeth said in a brittle voice. “But it was cleared up soon after. There was ever great affection between us, as our letters to each other while I stayed at Cheshunt will show.”
Tyrwhitt scowled. “You realize that your governess and treasurer will remain in the Tower until this matter is finished? My wife will now take the place of Mistress Ashley as your governess.”
“I see no reason why she should,” Elizabeth snapped. “Mistress Ashley is innocent, and quite dear to me.”
“Mistress Ashley has revealed your secrets,” Tyrwhitt said with his complacent air. “I wonder that you’d want her near you again. She has betrayed you.”
Elizabeth’s lips tightened. “She has done no such thing.”
Tyrwhitt more or less shoved the papers at Elizabeth. “Right there, in her own words.”
Triumph flared in Elizabeth’s eyes. I realized she’d made Tyrwhitt do as she wished—to let her read the confessions before speaking further.
She skimmed through Master Parry’s statement with a frown and tossed it aside. Her expression softened, however, as she gazed upon Aunt Kat’s words.
Elizabeth read the pages in all seriousness then laid them neatly on the table. “Mistress Ashley has written here that the Lord Admiral paid me no more attention than he did my cousin Jane, and that my brother’s wishes are what we will follow in matters of marriage. She is innocent of duplicity, do you see?”
Tyrwhitt snatched up the confessions, parchment rustling like dry leaves. “Nevertheless, Lady Tyrwhitt and I will remain here,” he said sternly. “I suggest that you think everything over, Your Grace, and speak with me again on the morrow.”
Elizabeth sent him a frosty nod and a little gesture of dismissal. I suppressed my glee when Tyrwhitt bowed and departed the chamber as though he were the accused and she the interrogator.
As soon as his footsteps faded, however, Elizabeth put her hand to her forehead and moaned that her head was splitting in two.
