Three Maids for a Crown: A Novel of the Grey Sisters (19 page)

Father had said we could not be sure of peace until Mary lay dead on Tower Green.

I did not want to imagine my cousin facing such a grisly fate, and yet did I have any choice but to condemn her to the ax?

I touched my neck, remembering the ruby necklace she had fastened around my throat one Christmastide much to my dismay. As a Protestant maid, I had no use for such gaudy trinkets.

Had the gift of bloodred stones been harbingers of the conflict we would wage among us? For now that she had raised her standard and openly challenged my claim to the crown, how could either of us lay down our sword? My victory or hers would determine which of the warring faiths we loved would survive upon English soil.

Chapter Eleven

K
AT
T
OWER OF
L
ONDON

enry. I needed to find Henry. That was all I could think of as everything I had learned in Jane’s chamber churned inside me: Cousin Mary starting a war, the Duke of Northumberland poisoning kings, and the Earl of Pembroke scheming to keep Henry and me stranded in this excruciating limbo between chastity and becoming true man and wife.

Of all that upset me, the last disturbed me most. Jane had always worked herself into tempests, searching for hidden motives, infecting everyone around her with doubts. Her determination to see the worst in every situation often made me want to pull her hair as I had when we were children, running in the parklands at Bradgate.

Yet she had been right to suspect some plot was afoot at our weddings. Was it possible she was right about my father-in-law’s motives as well?

No, the earl had shown me nothing but honor and affection. Perhaps he had sought my marriage to Henry in hopes that Jane would be queen, but he loved me for myself now. I was certain that was so. Once Henry confirmed that Jane was crying doom over nothing, I would tell my sister just how foolish she had been.

You will not
, a voice whispered in my head.
Now Jane is queen, you will never be able to scold her for her dreary outlook again
.

That thought plagued me as I suffered through the endless ceremony of putting the queen to bed. Even after Jane’s other ladies and I finally bowed our way out of the room, I could not hasten to the men’s quarters in search of my husband. My little sister clung to me like a cocklebur. “Go find Hettie, and take that doll out from under your kirtle. It looks ridiculous!” I told Mary in an effort to shake her off.

“I do not want Hettie.” Mary’s eyes reminded me of a bird trapped behind a pane of glass, trying to batter its way outside. My own doubts beat against my ribs all the harder.

“Can you not leave me alone?” Even that did not detach Mary from my side.
Why must she always force me to be harsh with her?
I thought with a pang. Yet nothing gentler would dislodge her. “I have a husband to tend to and important things to talk to him about. A child like you could never understand.” She stood there, clutching the lump where her doll was hidden as I hastened away. But at least she did not follow me.

Hoping to find Henry, I waded through pools of torchlight, wound through the shadowy corridors to where Guilford’s men were lodged. My prayers were answered when I saw Henry within a knot of young men talking war, eager as Father’s pack of hunting dogs just before his master of the hounds loosed them from their leads.

Northumberland’s older sons were among the most vehement, gesturing as their servants bustled about fetching swords and armor. A little ways apart from them, Lord Huntingdon’s son stood with his arms folded across his chest, his expression surly. Henry appeared grim as well, almost embarrassed when I hastened up to him.

“Heigh ho, Henry Herbert!” the youngest of the Dudley brothers called. “Fortunate for you that your wife has arrived. You might as well go off with the women and leave the fighting to us men! You have nothing better to do.”

Henry’s face darkened as I tried to catch hold of his hand. He pulled away. I had never seen such an expression on his face—as if I had humiliated him on purpose. Hurt spilled through me.

“I do whatever the queen commands,” Henry told his critic. “I do not have to like it.”

“It is obvious your bride is as unhappy as you are.” Dudley bowed to me, swirling his sable-edged cape over one shoulder. “You had best tend to her at once. It would be tragedy indeed for a nose as pretty as Lady Katherine’s to grow red from weeping.”

Henry looked at me, and I knew he was aware he had hurt my feelings. Storm clouds in his eyes receded. He gestured toward a chamber where we could speak in private.

The moment we were alone, he turned all contrition. “I did not mean to snap at you. Those Dudleys have been tilting at me with such insults ever since we heard what mischief your cousin Mary was about. Northumberland’s whelps grow bolder every day until even I—son of their great ally—would give much to cut that arrogance out from under them.”

“It is no wonder so many people dislike them. Now the enemies the Dudleys have made will be riding to join Lady Mary.” The tears that had been threatening since my tangle with Jane threatened to burst free. Henry must have seen my lips trembling, for he gathered me close.

“Do not fret,” he murmured into my hair. “It is bad news, your cousin making trouble in the North. But Father said we must not worry. We have crushed Catholic upstarts before.”

“Will you have to fight?”

“I will not ride out with the others to hunt down the rebels, if that is what you are asking. That is the reason the Dudley upstart was tormenting me. Father is to remain here to help guard the Tower, and I will stay with him, though I cannot guess why he is not to fight alongside Northumberland. Father has fought in many battles—”

“I do not care about battles, Henry!” I cried. His eyes widened in astonishment.

“I learned something today that I do not understand. Something that has nothing to do with Cousin Mary or rebels or Jane being queen. It vexes me terribly.”

“What has so distressed you, love?”

“Do you remember how often your father has told us he is sorry to keep us from joining as man and wife?”

“I believe he regrets the delay nearly as much as we do, but we are all bound by Northumberland’s will. Perhaps now your sister is on the throne, the duke will see fit to give his blessing to finishing the business begun at our weddings.”

“Jane told me that Northumberland ordered her marriage to Guilford consummated weeks ago, when she was at Syon House.”

Henry was as surprised as I was. “I would say your sister and her husband were fortunate, then, save the fact that they dislike each other so. It seems unfair that they should be released from constraints on the marital bed while we are not. If we were given such a chance at loving each other, we would not waste it.” His gaze dipped to where the tops of my breasts swelled above the gold-lace edging on my bodice.

“Jane believes Northumberland intended we consummate our marriage as well.”

“If that were true, we would still be abed.” Henry’s features were so clear of doubt, I almost let the matter go. But something inside me would not allow it.

“Jane says the duke needs his alliance with your father to be unbreakable, now she is on the throne. She says the only one who could benefit from delaying our union is your father.”

“She has been living around the Dudleys, my love, and a more scheming family never lived. It is only natural she would suspect others of the same ravening ambition. Perhaps in the beginning our union was for political advantage, but since then all has changed. My father adores you nearly as much as I do, and nothing could dislodge his affection.”

I felt as if a stone had rolled off my chest. Jane would have cautioned me that to feel relief over something as trivial as a family misunderstanding was foolhardy when the country was on the brink of civil war. I did not care about that nearly as much as I did about the possibility that someone I loved might have been plotting against me.

I vowed to stitch my father-in-law a pair of velvet slippers to make up for the fact that I had doubted him. I would ask Maud what Pembroke’s favorite color was.

“Katherine,” Henry said, “you must be wary of gossip now we are at court. People will be stirring up trouble, vying for your favor while attempting to undercut anyone they see as a rival. You cannot always trust people’s motives. Not even your sister’s.”

I had been upset with Jane myself, but for some reason Henry’s words sparked me to come to her defense. “Jane imagines trouble everywhere, but she would not stir discord between us on purpose.”

“She accused my father of scheming against us when I am sure he would not,” Henry said hotly. “I know there are tales of his ruthlessness, but when it comes to his own family, he would do no harm. I would wager my life on it.” Did Henry’s gaze shift away from mine for just a moment? I must have imagined it.

Muted laughter penetrated the door from the crowd beyond. Henry seemed almost relieved at the sound. “Peace, wife.” His voice softened. “If your sister is innocent as you claim, and my father is without blame, this discord must be the Dudleys’ doing. God knows Guilford was jealous of the affection we share. If he hoped to divide the house of Pembroke, it almost worked.”

“I do not trust any of the Dudleys.” Cousin Edward’s pinched features rose in my memory. Had the pallor that people had whispered about been caused by Northumberland’s doses of arsenic just as my sister Mary claimed? “You should hear the awful things I heard,” I confided.

“Lies like the one about my father?”

“Not all lies.”

“Then tell me, my love: what is this horrible thing you believe? Let me ease your fears and relieve whatever burdens you bear.”

I wavered between spilling out Mary’s tale and keeping the secret. The poisoning of a king was so dangerous that instinct stopped me. “I cannot tell even you. What matters is this: if Northumberland allowed Jane and Guilford to consummate their marriage, and if your father is eager for us to become husband and wife, there is no reason to deny what we both want.” Passion flared in Henry’s eyes.

“Father has not given us his leave.”

“Perhaps in the flurry over going to war against Mary, your father forgot to give us the news we could bed together. Or maybe Northumberland meant to send a messenger, but in the confusion he forgot.”

Henry’s gaze turned cold. “The duke has never forgotten anything of importance save perhaps the dangers of hell. In spite of that, I wish I could get Father to let me ride out with Northumberland’s army on the morrow. There is so much I could learn from the duke about soldiering. But Father will not hear of it.”

Why would he not stop talking of stupid things when we had something more important to settle between us? “Henry, do you love me?”

“You know that I do,” he said, impatience edging his voice.

“Then let us seize this chance to bed together. No one even has to know. Later, when all this madness has calmed and they remember to give us their blessing, we can pretend it is our first time. Even if they discovered we made love, no one could truly blame us.” I kissed a bare place on his throat. I felt his pulse race beneath my lips.

But instead of melting into my embrace, Henry grew stiff and cold. “I will not shame my father. Not even for you. He has the right to expect his son and daughter-in-law to obey him. Even if that daughter-in-law is of royal blood.”

My cheeks fired hot, but I would not be deterred. My fingers trembled as they sought his cheek, his hair, his mouth. “Henry, I cannot bear to be kept apart from you. What if something happens and we never are able to be together in that way? You are my husband. I only want to be your wife.” My voice cracked, and Henry turned tender. But not so tender as to break through his resolve.

“Hush, sweeting. You are imagining disaster where there is none. Before you know it, you will be wearied of my lovemaking as all the other husbands say their wives are. You will be making excuses to avoid my caresses.”

“Never!”

“Wait and see. When we are grizzle-haired and looking out across a table filled with our grandchildren, I will remind you of this day, and you will laugh at these fears of yours.”

Something akin to alarm fluttered in my breast. Where it came from I could not guess. “Promise, Henry? Promise me.”

“Did I not promise before God and all the peers in England to be your husband? Nothing but death will sever those vows.”

How could I not believe him? Henry crushed me against him, and I could feel his love for me. How fortunate I was, I was Henry Herbert’s wife. Daughter-in-law of the powerful Earl of Pembroke. A cherished member of my new family.

I remembered the worry that had turned Jane even sadder than I had seen her before. Times were perilous, as Jane said. But no matter what happened with the insufferable Dudleys or Cousin Mary’s inconvenient rebellion, Henry and his family loved me. That was the thing that mattered most.

I wrapped myself in that certainty as if it were the warmest cloak in London.