Northumberland swerved his gaze to Jane’s father. “Suffolk,” he growled.
Suffolk lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “If she will not, then she will not. We will make Guildford a duke in his own right.”
“Duke of Clarence,” Jane said quietly. “A lofty title.”
My estimation of Jane rose. Clearly, she had thought long about this, as though she’d known it would be no use to fight her parents. Therefore, she would impose her conditions. I suspected she’d exerted the same stubbornness to keep herself out of Guildford’s bed for as long as possible.
Paulet viewed the scene with a canny eye. I wondered if he’d brought in the crown to provoke Jane’s declaration, and to make certain Northumberland knew where things stood.
Paulet’s face held no expression, but this gentleman, having survived the long reign of Henry and the short one of Edward, was a wise old bird. I had no way of knowing whether he supported Northumberland’s scheme, but I had the feeling he’d be among those standing at the end of the day.
Northumberland surrendered, though he stormed from the room in fury. The Duchess of Suffolk vented her feelings on Jane, while her husband stood by in resignation. Paulet returned the crown to the casket and glided, unnoticed, from the room.
Jane would be queen, but Guildford Dudley would never be called king.
The next afternoon, Northumberland made another announcement, this one more somber. Mary had staked out a territory in East Anglia and had declared herself Queen of England. She had plenty of men at arms who’d sworn loyalty to her, and she was raising an army.
Jane paced and wrung her hands, eyes wide like a frightened child’s.
The Duchess of Suffolk swept an icy glare over her husband. “You did not secure Mary?”
I sat once more in my nook, forgotten in the dark, cutting the velvets meant for Jane. Robert Dudley lounged by the fireplace, one booted foot propped behind him on the grate. His friend Colby stood in the shadows near him.
“My men tried,” Suffolk answered his wife wearily. “She eluded us.”
“You let her,” the duchess boomed. “Go and retrieve her. You have London, you have an army, and your daughter is the queen, not Mary.”
Northumberland looked upon the duchess as though she were a roach he barely kept himself from stepping on.
“Lady Mary is a cunning woman, who uses the most of the devil’s wits,” Northumberland told her, tight-lipped. “An army shall be dispatched, and a ship is standing by to take her. ’Twill be over by the week’s end.”
“And what of the Lady Elizabeth?” the Duchess of Suffolk demanded.
My heart hammered, but I continued carefully snipping, keeping my focus on my scissors.
“My reports tell me that the Lady Elizabeth is very ill and cannot travel,” Northumberland said. “That is no matter. She can be held at Hatfield as well as anywhere, and moved when she is better. The Tower is reinforced. It was meant to be a stronghold, and a stronghold it will be. Suffolk will lead the army against Mary and bring her to heel.”
At this, Jane shrieked. “No, Father. Do not leave me!”
Northumberland’s face clouded. Perhaps Jane had the correct blood to be queen, but she did not have a queen’s mind.
Were it Elizabeth they’d elevated to the throne, she’d face down Northumberland and the Duchess of Suffolk, her eyes glittering as she decided who had the best chance to capture Mary. Her own feelings in the matter would be held in rigid control. She’d not beg any man or woman to stay with her, nor would tears wet her face. Elizabeth might rage, but only against fools.
Jane’s mother scowled at her. “Your father will not be long. He’ll command the army and bring Mary to London in a trice. You will be so busy preparing for your coronation that you will scarce know he has gone.”
But Jane was as stubborn in her own way as any of them in this room, as she’d shown yesterday. Like many gentle souls, she could dig her heels in so hard that a regiment could not move her.
“You cannot leave me, Father,” she proclaimed. “No one will listen to me if you go. They listen to you. You must stay.”
Suffolk’s hard face softened as he went to Jane and took her hands. Jane sank to her knees, gazing up at him piteously, while her mother rolled her eyes in disgust.
“Please, Father,” Jane whispered.
At the fireplace, Colby murmured something to Robert, and then the pair of them turned their gazes to me. I met their stares briefly before bowing again over my work. Colby’s eyes, I’d noted, burned with a strange light.
Meanwhile, Jane was busily getting her way.
“I will stay,” Suffolk conceded. “Never you worry.” He held Jane, letting her weep against him, while her mother and Northumberland regarded them with annoyance.
