Edward's Reign


September, 1553. Lady Mary Tudor, the eldest sister of King Edward, is to be married to Sir Henry Brandon, 2nd Duke of Suffolk, and she is not happy about it, for he is only eighteen, and she is thirty seven. Meanwhile, Queen Katarina has an announcement for Edward. Lady Jane Grey settles into married life, and Henry Grey, 3rd Marquess of Dorset dies sending the title of Marquess of Dorset into abeyance. While the Lady Elizabeth takes Queen Katarina's announcement well, Lady Mary does not.


Chapter III: The Pregnancy of Queen Katarina

27th September 1553: Whitehall Palace, England: Chapel of Westminster.

"Do you, Sir Henry Brandon, take this woman, Lady Mary Tudor to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you swear, on your solemn oath before all these witnesses, to love her, honour her and cherish her for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, and to forsake all other women for her for the rest of your natural lives until death does you two part?" Edmund Grindal, the vicar in charge of the ceremony, asked Henry.

"I do," Henry replied, a complete look of disgust in his eyes; he certainly had no intention of forsaking other women for a wrinkled old hag.

"And do you, Lady Mary Tudor, take this man Sir Henry Brandon, to be your lawfully wedded lord and husband? Do you swear, on your solemn oath before all these witnesses, to love him and cherish him and to honour and obey him for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, and to forsake all other men for him for the rest of your natural lives until death does you two part?" Edmund Grindal repeated the question to Mary.

"I do," Mary, like Henry, had no feelings of love for her future husband.

After exchanging rings, Edmund Grindal spoke again. "What God has joined in Holy Matrimony, let no man tear asunder. I now pronounce you man and wife. Your Grace, you may kiss the bride." Edmund Grindal made the sign of the cross over their head and Henry readied himself.

Leaning forward and lifting the veil out of Mary's face, he pressed his lips to hers. Edward, Katarina and the Lady Elizabeth, in the King's Pew, rose, clapping, along with the rest of the crowd. Then, taking Mary's hand and slipping through the crook of his arm, Henry led her down the chapel aisle and out into the Banqueting Hall at Whitehall for their wedding feast. He had done it. He had done his duty for his family, King and country, and now, he could leave the woman alone.

The celebrations, Mary noticed, went off without a hitch. She also noticed that all of the previous Catholic advisors had been replaced by Protestant advisors, or, if they had not been replaced, they had been forced to convert to Protestantism. That meant that heretics ruled the country...

God help them...

God help them, because they, the faithful Catholic people, were doomed to be ruled by heretics until the death of Edward and her ascent to the throne.


28th September 1553: Guildford, Surrey, England

Jane Grey, now Jane Dudley after her marriage two days prior, was sat in bed and looked up from her book as the door to the room opened. She and Guilford had not agreed over a situation at dinner, and now she was refusing to talk to him. "What do you want?"

Guilford closed the door behind him and looked up to his wife. He had a candle in his hand and it illuminated his blonde hair. "I want to say I'm sorry," he informed her.

"Doesn't matter," she replied, before she looked back down to the book in her hands.

He moved forward, and sat down on the side of the bed. "Yes, it does," he informed her, looking down and shaking his head. "This is not your fault."

"That's true," she replied, and a strained silence, broken only by the sound of some birds cawing outside, erupted between the couple. After a while, Jane began. "Well then, goodnight."

Guilford put the candle onto a table, near the bottom of the bed, and moved closer onto the bed, so that he was sat opposite her. "Explain it to me," he began.

"What?" she asked, looking up from the book.

"What you believe," he replied. "The schism. New learning, the nature of the sermons."

"Do you really want to know?" Jane asked.

"I really want to know," he assured her, nodding.

"Well," she began, lifting herself from the bed, and moving aside so that Guilford could sit next to her. "It's our belief that faith only saves, that, as Christ, Jesus says, his son shall come to God if they believe in him."

"Not by the Church?" Guilford asked, unknowingly saying the words that Jane was going to say next.

"Not by the Church," she repeated, before continuing to read from the book. "And, that all superstitions, ornamental relics, and icons, and images, can..." She trailed off. Guilford looked up to her. She leaned forward, and their lips met in a kiss. She moved away, and rested against the headboard again.

"Go on," Guilford began, after a brief silence.

"Go on?" she asked, confused.

"With what you were doing," he replied, smiling a little.

"With what I was saying?" she asked.

Guilford adjusted himself, so that he was face to face with her and was supporting himself with his hands. "No, just now."

"What do I do?" she asked, not knowing the answer to her situation. He placed his hand on her chin, and gently pulled her in. Their lips met, and fireworks exploded within the two youths.

Later that night, after the two had slept together, Jane rested her head on her husband's naked, muscular chest. Guilford asked: "When did you know?"

"I didn't," she replied. "It just happened."

"Did you know about it?" he asked, adjusting his head so that she could see his face.

"What?" she asked, looking up to him.

"What we've just done," he replied.

"Well," she replied, adjusting herself so that she was resting on top of him. "Only in terms of the broadest channel of principle." Both of them laughed. It was a heartfelt laugh, and not a strained laugh, like it had been at their wedding. "Unlike you."

"Well, not exactly," he replied.

"What?" she asked, looking up to him.

"You're referring to my Lady of the Night," he informed her, smiling.

"Why, yes, I was," she replied.

"Passed out," he informed her.

"Who was?" she asked, joking with him.

"I did," he replied. "Got to the bed. And then, blank. Terrible thing, terrible embarrassment."

She climbed off of him, and rolled over, placing both hands under her head. He moved with her, and, looking over her side, so that he could see her face, he put his hand onto her arm. He could see that she was crying, and, for a brief moment, his heart broke. "Why are you crying?"

"Don't you know?" she asked.

"No, of course I don't," he assured her, as he began to stroke her dark hair.

"I was the first," she informed him. He lowered his head, kissed her hair, and allowed her to cry in his arms.


29th September 1553: Whitehall Palace, England

Queen Katarina looked up as the door to her chambers burst open. Edward, puffing slightly, was stood in the doorway. With a wave of her hand she dismissed her ladies and rose.

"Katarina?" Edward asked. "What's wrong? I got your letter. You said it was urgent." He seemed slightly annoyed to see that there was no urgency.

"It is," She replied, her accent still strong. She took her husband's hand, and guided it to her stomach. Placing it onto her stomach, she smiled up to her husband. "I am with child."

Edward remained silent and she thought that she had done something wrong. Then, Edward pressed his lips to her, putting everything that he wanted to say into the kiss, instead of words. "Oh," He began, as he pulled away. "I'm so pleased. Our son is growing in your womb, Katarina."

Placing a small kiss on to Katarina's lips, he smiled. "I have to go, Katarina. I have to attend my lessons,"

She watched him go, with an anxious look on her face. Placing her hand to her flat stomach, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Edward words rang in her head for a few moments, and she sat backwards into the chair, placing a hand to her head. Our son. Our son. Our son.

She knew, just as much as her ladies, that the King was expecting a son from her. A son, not a daughter. He was, after all, his father's child, and, no matter how different he was, he had the same duty as his father had used to have. The duty to provide a son to succeed him to the Throne of England. A son to be King.


30th September 1553: Hatfield House, Hatfield, Hertfordshire, England

Elizabeth watched from the window as a large brown horse thundered towards the house. Robert Dudley sat in the saddle.

Pulling the reigns backwards, the horse neighed, and came to a stop, before trotting into the courtyard. Robert climbed off of the horse, and headed towards the house. Reaching the room of The Lady Elizabeth, he swept into a bow and kissed the offered hand.

"Your Grace," He began. "The King has sent me to inform you that his wife, Queen Katarina, is pregnant, and will have a child in May."

The Earl of Warwick had already told the news to The Lady Mary, who had gone into a fit of hysterics after she had been informed. Robert knew, however, that Elizabeth wouldn't be like that.

"It seems that there will be two children, won't there, Robin?" Elizabeth asked as Robert got to his feet. "I am pleased for my brother, The King, for this child may be the son and heir he requires." Elizabeth moved to the window, and glanced out of it. "But I also hear that your wife is pregnant, Robin."

To everyone else, it would be a normal question, but Robert could hear the steely edge to her voice and he could tell that she was happy for him, but not for Amy. He took a deep breath.

"She is, Bess," he replied. "She will have our child in March."

"Well," Elizabeth replied, her voice sharp and cold. "Congratulations, Robin. You're going to be a father." He thought it wise not to reply, as he could see Elizabeth's temper beginning to boil. Elizabeth caught herself before she exploded at Robert and asked: "How did my sister, The Lady Mary, take the new of the Queen's pregnancy?"

"Not well, I'm afraid, Your Grace," he replied. "According to two of the King's spies - in the household of the Lady Mary - she was in hysterics after my brother, John, Earl of Warwick, had left after informing her that the Queen was pregnant. If she hadn't been sitting down, they were sure that she would have fainted."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Do not worry about my sister, Robert, for she has always been under the delusion that she would succeed to the throne. She cannot stay under that delusion any longer, for the Queen's pregnancy ruins all her plans."


31st September 1553: Guildford, Surrey, England

"Your father died yesterday, Jane." Guilford informed her as he slipped his hands around her slim waist and rested his chin on the top of her head. Ready for bed, she was completely naked, as was he.

"I know," she replied. "I did not attend his funeral. In fact, the only people who did were my mother and her Master of the Horse, Adrian Stokes. None of the Grey family went to the funeral, as he was considered too ambitious. If he hadn't yesterday, most of the family thought that he would die in trying to make me Queen of England."

Guilford laughed as he released Jane and she moved to the window seat, sitting down; he watched her body – those perfect breasts and the small, pert bottom for the entirety of her journey.

Sighing, Jane rested her head against the window and looked out of it, feeling Guilford lift her to her feet and back into his arms. "I do worry about my sisters, Guilford. They're all alone with Mother. She abused all of us, but, now that father's gone, she'll blame Catherine and Mary for his death, and beat them."

"Then you must bring your sisters here, Jane," Guilford informed her. "For there is more than enough room here," he smiled and gently kissed Jane, pulling her as close to him as was physically possible. "They are my family too, Jane, and I want them safe."

Jane smiled, and then a thought struck her.

"My father's title," she began. "Who will it pass too? His brother?"

"I don't think so;" Guilford smiled, leading Jane back to the bed. "I've already written to the King to tell him that your father has died. According to my brother, Robert, it seems that the King plans to make you Marquess of Dorset."

"Can he do that?" Jane asked, sliding under the covers.

Guilford almost jumped into the bed and grinned at her. "He's the King and you were the heiress presumptive to the title. You had no brothers, did you?"

"No," she replied. "I didn't have any legitimate, or illegitimate, brothers."

"Then it seems, Jane, that you will succeed to the title. Now, let me have you. Let me make you mine again – let me take you like a lover and husband should."

"Always,"


To Be Continued

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A/N: - Time jump in the next chapter.