“Queen Jane!” Suffolk bellowed, his face already red with whatever wine he’d drunk in celebration.
He pulled his daughter forward and thrust her under the canopy, forcing her to turn and face the room.
The crowd took up the cheer, the Dudleys in enthusiasm, the men of the council less so. Paulet and Cecil stood in silence, unsmiling.
Jane, the new and regal queen, gazed upon the faces of her subjects and dropped to the floor in a dead faint.
Chapter 11
I was at last able to sleep, because with everyone hovering around the wretched Jane, I could slip away and find a bed. I crept into one that a maid had just abandoned to serve the invading Northumberlands, the straw mattress warm from her round body. I slept hard for a short time then awoke, restless and worried.
What young Tom—whom Aunt Kat had released when Northumberland’s men arrived at Hatfield—had reported to us was true. The darling Dudleys had somehow persuaded the council to let them steal the throne from under Mary’s nose.
I did not doubt that though the crown would be on Jane’s head, it was Northumberland and the Duchess of Suffolk who’d truly have the power. They would rule England, and Jane would let them.
Guildford Dudley might try to put his hand in. Jane’s father, Suffolk, obviously thought he’d have much say himself. Northumberland would be the true monarch, though, with Jane’s mother to make Jane’s decisions for her.
I studied the ceiling above my borrowed bed, watching a spider crawl across a crack that must seem a chasm to it. So must the abrupt accession to the crown seem to Jane, with her parents standing behind her to push her into it.
I knew Jane would never have chosen this for herself. She loved reading and scholarly pursuits, not the trappings of power. Her tutors had praised Elizabeth’s quickness but loved Jane for her devotion to her studies.
What would Princess Mary do? And where was she? Someone surely had given her the news by now. Strong-willed Mary would never simply bow her head and step aside. She’d even now be planning a way to keep her crown.
Mary had made her resentment clear when her father had stripped her of her titles during her girlhood, and she’d make it clear now. With her fixed stare and deep convictions, Mary would never allow an upstart like Northumberland and a mouse like Jane keep her from her rightful place.
I threw back the thin covers and climbed from the bed. I had to shout into the hall for a maid to come and help me dress, then I followed her down to the kitchen and demanded breakfast.
The cooks wanted nothing to do with me. I told them I’d come at Lady Jane’s special request and advised them not to anger the new queen on her first day. The kitchen staff threw me evil looks but also handed me a good helping of stew.
After I filled my stomach, I returned to the chamber where I’d worked in the night before and found it empty. The beautiful fabrics had spilled from the bench the duchess had knocked over, and my needle box lay in a jumble where it had fallen.
I quietly tidied my things and brushed dust from the cloths, folding them neatly. I resumed working on the patterns, my head bent, so that if anyone peeked in, it would appear as though I’d remained virtuously at my post all morning.
The first person to find me was Sweet Robin himself, dressed in finery fit for a queen’s brother-in-law.
“Is it Eloise Rousell?” Robert asked as he peered into the cool shadows. “But it is. Dear Mistress Rousell. Dear, dear, Mistress Rousell.”
“Leave off your dears, my lord,” I said, raising my head. “Or have they made you a duke as well, and I must call you Your Grace?”
Robert sent me his quick smile, his pleasant face lightening. “Always impertinent, is our little Eloise.”
We were near the same age, so he had no business calling me little. “You have not answered my question, my lord.”
“My father and brother have all the duking,” Robert said jovially. “I am simple Robert still. Tell me why you are here.”
“My lady Jane asked me to help her with her wardrobe.” I explained this calmly, but my heartbeat sped.
Robert was no fool, and he knew Elizabeth well. He’d reason she’d not lend her favorite servants willingly, which either meant I’d abandoned Elizabeth, or she’d sent me here for her own purpose.
I did not know where Robert’s loyalties lay—with his father and the Suffolks? Or with Elizabeth, for whom he felt friendship and more?
Robert could easily tell his father that Elizabeth had sent me to spy on them. He could also use me for his own purposes, perhaps to feed me information for Elizabeth, true or false.
I saw in his eyes, which danced with possibilities, that he hadn’t yet decided what to do with me.
Our conversation might have turned in a hazardous direction if we’d not been interrupted. I recognized the man who entered as Robert’s friend, with whom I’d danced at Robert and Amy’s wedding—James Colby.
Colby had fiery red hair and a look of the Welsh about him, though I’d heard he was English, from Shropshire. He was tall and rawboned, his face not particularly handsome, though it was strong, and he possessed eyes of keen blue.
