18

Elizabeth

“My Lady, you must come at once!” Kat’s frantic cries from the foot of the stairs brought me at a run. There was a messenger from the Lord Protector saying that Edward was mortally ill, dying, and I must come at once if I wished to see him before he departed this life.

I ordered my horse saddled—my trunks could follow later by cart—and threw on my riding clothes. But then, inexplicably, just as my booted foot crossed the threshold to step out into the courtyard where my horse and the small retinue that would accompany me awaited, I felt as if a hand had reached out and forcefully yanked me back, adamantly shouting the word “No!” right into my ear.

So strong was the feeling, I could not ignore it. I had always had an instinct for self-preservation and I knew that my very life might hang upon heeding that warning voice regardless of whether it came from my conscience or some other source.

I gave a little cry and began to sway. I dropped my riding crop, and raised a hand to my brow as I staggered and slumped in the doorway before I let myself fall in a swoon cushioned by my skirts. My servants, led by a hysterically shrieking Kat, fidgeting and anxious to undo my stays so I could breathe unimpeded, rushed to bear me up, back upstairs, to my bed, and summon a physician.

From my bed, where I complained loudly of pains in my head and stomach to such an extent I easily persuaded my physician to send word to London that I was too unwell to travel, I heard the news that my cousin, Lady Jane Grey, had been married to Northumberland’s youngest son, Guildford, that petulant, gilt-haired pretty boy who was his mother’s preening pet peacock.

My poor little cousin had tried to resist the match, but had been beaten into submission by her parents, and forced to eschew her plain garb for a splendid wedding gown of gold and silver trimmed with pearls, diamonds, and gold lace, and walk sore-backed and stiff-legged to the altar where a vain golden bridegroom more in love with himself than he would ever be with her or anyone else awaited her. Curiously, neither Mary nor I had been invited to the wedding.

That was enough to tell me that these were the ingredients of a new stew Northumberland was brewing. Better to stay here, safe in my bed, I reasoned, and contemplate the position of the pieces on the chessboard of the nation before I made my move.