Chapter 3

A day later, as my governess, Kat, and old nursemaid, Lady Blanche Parry, were dressing me, Lady Blanche said "Oh Princess, I forgot to mention; your father plans to pay you a visit this morning."

I froze as Kat pulled my heavy amber velvet gown over my head. "What? I thought he wouldn't see me until I'd promised to beg his pardon for angering him."

"Apparently not. I overheard him talking about it when I passed his rooms this morning."

"Ah. Very well. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say. Thank you, Lady Blanche." I thanked my maid calmly, but at her words, my mind – my swift Howard and Tudor mind – had begun to whirl. Forewarned was forearmed indeed, especially when it came to my father. I knew him well; I had been his best girl Bessie and his heiress for the first eleven years of my life, after all. If I could appeal to his sentimental side and persuade him that I still loved him, despite what I had said the day before, then maybe, just maybe, if I was careful, I could cajole him into punishing Edward, his golden boy, for what he had said to me.

I breakfasted quickly and began to study my lessons with Kat. I had finished my Latin, my Greek and my French and was about to start upon my Italian and Hebrew with Signor Battista when we heard the cries to "Make way for His Majesty the King's Grace! Make way!" resounding a couple of passages away.

Instantly I pushed aside my books and dismissed my maids and Signor Battista with a smile and a wave of my hand. Blanche, who had been studying her French verbs across the room from me, glanced up puzzled, but, wanting to get her out of the room – she would be too young to understand what I was doing and ruin it, most likely, I whispered "Would you go and visit Ellie and Jessica for me this morning? I can't be seen to do it if Father's here. Now, please?"

I knew Blanche wanted to ask why, so I fixed her with my most steely look. One glance at my white determined face told her that I would not answer, so she merely came over to me, hissed "All right, but you've got to think of something to tell Father." into my ear, flashed a quick look at her governess, Lady Bryan, and vanished through the door into our half-sisters adjoining but far less opulent rooms, the elderly woman two or three paces behind her.

I seated myself by the window and pretended to be gazing out of it vacantly. Mere seconds after I had arranged my skirts around me to make it seem like I had been sitting there for a long time, the door opened, my herald announced "His Majesty the King" and my father stamped in. Thanking my lucky stars that I was a talented actress, I called up false tears so that my sapphire blue eyes were swimming with them and rose to curtsy to him.

"Good morning, my Lord Father."

"Elizabeth. Daughter." He greeted me coolly, not even bidding me rise from my curtsy before he continued "Has your favourite maid left your household?"

"She has." I tried to make my voice tremble as though I was close to tears.

"Do you miss her?" Father's voice was sharp. Time for me to play the abject daughter begging for forgiveness.

"No, my Lord. I know I deserved to lose her. By God, I'd rather -" here I fell to my knees before him and allowed a tear or two to escape my eyes and trickle down my cheeks delicately – "I'd rather lose every servant I've ever had than lose Your Majesty's love."

"Is that so, daughter?" Father looked down at me hard before seating himself in the best armchair by the fire. Remaining on my knees, I nodded.

"It is, Your Majesty. You're the greatest King England has ever had; the greatest father any girl could ever have. I am heartbroken to have displeased you."

"You called me a tyrant. You accused me of not being a great King."

"I knew not what I said, my lord. I beg your pardon a thousand times over."

"If you are so sorry now, why would you say what you said before in the first place?"

"I spoke without thinking, my Lord. You see, when people slander my mother, though in my heart I know she deserves it, for she was an adulteress and a traitor to you and to England, I do not think of her like that. I only remember the mother I adored, the gentle sweet mother that I used to have, the mother who would have died rather than even contemplate betraying you. You were the centre of her world, Sire. You were her guiding star and now you are mine." I let my shoulders shake as though I was about to start crying in earnest. Father lifted a hand and beckoned me closer.

"Come here. Let me look at you."

Rising from my knees, I went to him, keeping my eyes lowered. Father reached out and grabbed my chin, jerking my head up, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"You have your mother's eyes, daughter." he snapped. "She used to look at me like that."

"I cannot help my eyes, my Lord, but I can help my nature. I swear to you upon the Holy Bible that I would rather die than betray you."

"Truly?"

"Truly. I deplore my mother's actions and I would never ever repeat them. I am Your Majesty's humble and obedient daughter – I am a Tudor long before I am a Howard and because of it, because I am Your Majesty's daughter, my loyalty lies with you, with my father. I would do anything for you – even lay down my life for you if you asked it of me."

"Then, Bessie, if that is true -"

"It is! My lord." I added belatedly.

"Then we are friends again." Father smiled kindly at me as I stood before him. "Will you play your lute for me?"

I curtsied swiftly. "As you command, Your Majesty."

"Oh, Father, Bessie. Father to you, my sweet Bessie."

Turning to fetch my lute, I hid a smile. If he was calling me Bessie and telling me to call him Father, then we had indeed made peace.

Still, it was probably best to flatter him so I ran my fingers over the strings of my lute to tune it before beginning to play one of his compositions.

I leaned my head against his legs as I sat in front of him and so that was how Blanche found us when she came back into the room.

Pausing on the threshold, she raised her sweet voice; a voice sweeter than mine, if I was honest; and, catching my eye, began to sing.

"Green groweth the holly,
So doth the ivy.
Though winter blasts blow never so high,

Green groweth the holly.

As the holly groweth green
And never changeth hue,
So I am, ever hath been,

Unto my lady true."

"Blanche, my dear daughter! Where have you been?" Father called across to my younger sister jovially. My heart started thudding and I had to force myself to keep playing and not to snap my gaze across to her. Maybe I shouldn't have sent her to visit Ellie and Jessica in my place after all. She was only nine. If she couldn't hide where she'd been from Father, then he'd get angry all over again and all my hard work to soften him towards me would be ruined.

I underestimated Blanche, however. She didn't even hesitate as she dropped to the floor in a graceful curtsy and then rose, coming across towards us. "At the altar in the other room, Papa. I mean, Your Majesty."

"Papa. Call me Papa, my darling." Our father beckoned Blanche even closer as she began to seat herself beside me and lifted her on to his lap. Smiling, especially when Blanche began to run her hands through my hair, plaiting it as she had seen my ladies do countless times, I continued to play my lute, delighting in the soft notes and basking in my father's love. Volatile as he was, it was always best for Blanche and I to enjoy his love and favour whilst he deigned to lavish it upon us rather than upon his bastard.

Though I was itching to tell Father of Edward's misconduct during his earlier visit, I knew that to do so would be to risk shattering the fragile peace that was newly blossoming between us, so I bit my tongue and would have held my peace, had Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, my father's oldest and dearest friend and father to my sweetheart Edward Brandon, not come into the room and bowed to us, before bending low to murmur into my father's ear.

"Your Majesty, it has come to my attention that Lord Edward -"

Father tipped Blanche off his lap and gestured to us to leave him in peace for a moment. My heart leapt – if Charles Brandon was telling him what I thought he was telling him, about my argument with Edward, then I would have a chance to get my story in first, and spin things to my advantage.

Blanche looked up at me, stung. Of course, she was too young to understand what was going through my mind, only that Father had tipped her off his lap without so much as a word of warning, so I didn't tell her, only led her over to the other side of the room and sat down with her on my lap, soothing her by telling her her favourite tale, that of St George and the Princess that he rescued from the dragon.

I was barely halfway through, however, when Father said "Elizabeth. Come here, my girl."

I rose to my feet and went over to him, sweeping a deep curtsy to him and then dipping a slight one to the Duke of Suffolk.

"My Lord Father. Your Grace."

"Is it true that Edward shouted at you and Blanche, accused you both of wanting to be Queen, even though you are the daughters of an adulteress and a traitor?"

My heart leapt, but I knew that if I was too eager to tell him, Father would still take Edward's side. I allowed my face to flush but turned my gaze aside, looking down at the floor. "I could not say, my Lord. It is beneath a Princess to tell tales to get others into trouble. We in the royal family must be gracious at all times, even with members of our own family."

"Bessie. I will not be angry with you. I swear it. I only want to know. Tell me."

"I am sorry, my Lord, but I cannot say." I repeated, acting more and more uncomfortable. Father whirled round on my governess. "Then you, Mistress Ashley. You tell me. What happened?"

"I was not within earshot for the whole conversation, Sire, but from what I could tell, Their Highnesses received the Duke of Richmond with grace and extended him every courtesy, but he still lost his temper with them. It was out of the blue, I swear it. No one was expecting it."

"I see. Go on. What did he say to them?"

"He said you would make him King after you, Papa, but that cannot be, can it? After all, is he not equal in rank to the Lady Mary, our half-sister? She cannot expect to be Queen. Can she?" Blanche suddenly came over to us, and I would have turned to hush her, but I caught sight of her eyes out of the corner of my own. They were as wide as saucers, and as blue as sapphires. She was playing the innocent; bless her – playing the innocent to discomfort Father. I kept my mouth shut and let her continue. Father went red in the face and then blustered quickly "Of course she cannot expect to be Queen and nor can Edward expect to be King. You and Elizabeth are my beloved Princesses, Blanche, and Elizabeth will be Queen of England after me. She is the one true heiress to the throne; both by law and by the will of the people, after all."

Blanche curtsied gravely. "I see. Thank you for explaining, Papa. I hoped that would be the case, but when Edward started to shout at us that we harboured ambitions to be Queen…I no longer knew where I stood."

"After all, I do not wish to be Queen of England after your death, Sire." I cut in swiftly before Blanche could get herself into trouble, sending a fierce glare in my younger sister's direction to remind her to call him by his title in front of the Duke of Suffolk.

"You do not?" Father looked nonplussed.

"No, Sire. Of course not. If, by God's Grace, you were to remarry to a foreign Princess or an English lady of noble birth, noble enough to be your Queen, and sire a healthy son, then I would willingly step back from my place as your heiress. God knows I pray to the Lord to send you a strong Prince of Wales every single day, and so does Blanche."

"I do, Sire." Blanche agreed.

"Hmm…" Father seemed to be musing over something as he looked at us both standing before him, heads held high as befitted Howard Princesses of England. Suddenly he snapped "Have your maids fetch your diadems. Quickly!"

Puzzled, I signed to Lady Susanna and Lady Margaret Bryan to do as he said. Lady Susanna set my golden coronet set with rubies on my head and Lady Bryan placed a silver one set with aquamarines on my sister's head, before the pair of them spread our curly hair out over our shoulders and stepped back with a simultaneous curtsy. Blanche and I thanked them both with swift grateful smiles and then looked to our father, who held out his arm to me.

"Come with me. We are going to pay your half-brother a visit."

Blanche peeped up at me and I flashed her a sly smile behind our father's back, before laying a gentle hand on his arm and stepping up to his side. The Duke of Suffolk hastily offered Blanche his arm and the pair of them fell into step behind as we left the apartments.

The guards outside my half-brother's rooms bowed to us as they flung the doors wide and the four of us swept in without a backward glance.

Edward was having his lessons with his companions when we entered, all of whom got up instantly and sank to one knee before my father, chorusing "Good Morrow, Your Majesty." Edward rapidly followed suit, but, whereas his companions then turned to my sister and I and wished us both a good morning, calling us "Your Highnesses", Edward merely straightened up and stiffly inclined his head to us, even though I stood by my father's side. I bit back the retort that automatically sprang to my lips, knowing my father would soon be angry enough for both of us.

Sure enough, Father glowered at Edward and snarled "Is that how the Duke of Richmond should greet England's Princesses? Bow to them, lad. Now!"

Edward looked startled. "But, Sire –"

"Now!"

I could hardly restrain a triumphant smile as Edward glanced at me, shock clearly written all over his face, before sulkily sinking into a shallow bow. "Princess Elizabeth. Blanche."

"Not good enough. You look as sulky as a baited bear!" Father suddenly roared, startling even me. "You'll do it again and you'll do it with a smile on your face! Now!"

Stunned, Edward straightened as taut as whiplash to stare at Father, but one look at Father's face, stormy and savage with rage, told him that he was seriously expected to do as he was told. At last, he sank to one knee and kissed my hand. "My Lady Princess." Then he did the same to my little sister, who was a year his junior. "Princess Blanche."

I deliberately glanced at my sister and kept Edward in his bow a moment longer than was strictly necessary before carelessly allowing him to rise with a flick of my hand. "You may rise, Your Grace."

Edward thankfully did as he was told before glancing at my father, expecting approval. To my delighted relief however, Father merely snapped "Better. I'm glad you haven't forgotten all your manners."

"What do you mean, Father? Your Majesty?" Edward hastily amended, but it was too late. Father's temper had been fully unleashed. "I mean the way you shouted at the Princesses! The way you constantly and wilfully forget to treat them with the honour that their rank demands! Have you forgotten, boy, that as Princesses of the House of Tudor, they still rank above you, the Seymour Duke of Richmond?"

"But, Father, Elizabeth called my mother a harlot. A whore, not fit to be in the traitoress Queen's household. She called me a bastard." Edward pleaded, desperate to make my father listen to him, but not realising that Father was so angry that he would not listen to anything anyone said.

"Well, what if she did? Your mother was a whore. You are a bastard. I recognised you as my own and raised you as befits a King's son because I loved you and because I believed you were mine, but now I begin to wonder! Any son of mine would have died rather than shout at England's acknowledged Princesses! You will apologise to Elizabeth and Blanche here and now for slandering their mother and for presuming to rank yourself above them, and then you will pack your bags and leave for Wolfhall immediately. If you cannot behave as befits a King's natural son - as befits the Duke of Richmond – you will have to live the life of a baseborn Seymour brat until you can!"

Edward stood silently for a moment, but when Father growled "Do it. On bended knee, boy. Or do I have to strike you myself?" he glanced at me and muttered "I apologise."

"On bended knee, boy!" Father roared. Blanche came up to slide her hand into mine, startled by Father's outburst as Edward abased himself before us. I longed to be able to comfort her, for tears were swimming in her sapphire eyes, but I too was shaken. I hadn't expected Father to insinuate that Edward might not even be his son and banish him from Court. That was going a bit too far. After all, he'd only locked me in my apartments. However, I had to act the regal Princess, and so, when Edward whispered "I humbly beg Your Highnesses' pardon. I did not mean to say what I did and I swear I meant no offence." I merely answered frostily. "You are forgiven this time, Your Grace. Take care that it does not happen again."

"Do you see, lad? That is how a King's child should act. With grace and decorum at all times. Thank your sisters for their clemency."

"Thank you, My Lady Princess, for your clemency. Thank you, Princess Blanche." Edward muttered sourly and I inclined my head briefly in acknowledgment before Father said "Now, since you cannot be expected to behave around them, perhaps one of your companions will see the Princesses back to their rooms?"

"I will, Your Majesty. It would be an honour." Edward Brandon stepped forward and bowed deeply from the waist before extending his arms to us, I on his right and Blanche on his left. "Shall we, Your Highnesses?"

I nodded, Blanche and I swept down into low curtsies to our father as he left my half-brother's apartments through the other door, and then we too were gone, striding out of the room without a backward glance.

Blanche chattered incessantly as Edward escorted us back to our rooms. She liked Edward because he was nice to her and treated her like a Princess no matter what - though she had no idea of how I felt towards him, of course –she was a sweet enough little sister, but I couldn't risk her telling someone else and then Father getting to hear of my flirtation – for a Princess to dally, however innocently, with a boy beneath her station, particularly one of marriageable age, was strictly forbidden. It wasn't as though Edward was even the heir to his father's dukedom – that was Henry Brandon, the Duke's first son and my first cousin through his mother the late Princess Mary Tudor, Dowager Queen of France and Duchess of Suffolk. Henry was two years older than Edward and I, having been born in the midst of the sweating sickness epidemic of 1528.

There was no way Father would approve of Edward's courtship of me, but I couldn't help it. I knew it was wrong but I couldn't help it. Edward was sweet and handsome, and one of the few friends I had, since I, unlike my half-brother the Duke of Richmond, had no companions to share my games and lessons.

All of this went through my mind as I walked back to the apartments that I shared with Blanche silently, half-listening to my sister's idle chatter to the boy I loved, but too shaken by what had just happened to be able to join in.

Blanche, caught up in the tales she was telling Edward, didn't notice my unusual silence, but he did. As we approached our suite of rooms, he gently disengaged Blanche from his arm, and bowed to her, kissing her hand, before he bent down and whispered to her "Why don't you go on ahead, Princess? I'd quite like the honour of a private word with your sister."

Blanche looked as though she was about to protest and, had it been anyone else suggesting it, she might well have done, but because Edward was such a good friend to both of us, she just nodded and thanked him in her high clear voice before walking forward towards the doors and disappearing through them.

Edward waited until the doors had closed behind her before pulling me aside to the other side of the passageway.

"What's wrong, Elizabeth? You've just managed to get your father to scold Edward. To take your side over his. Edward, his golden boy. I thought you'd be absolutely thrilled and yet you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Edward, I -" my voice shook and I realised I was trembling. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself before pressing on in a whisper. "I never thought my father would get so angry – that he'd actually banish him from Court. I practically said my mother's adultery was his fault and yet I was only confined to my apartments. If Father can get so angry with Edward, his precious son, then I tremble to think what he's capable of doing to the rest of us. His anger will know no bounds. Please, promise me that you'll watch your step around him."

Edward glanced at my white face and then pulled me briefly into his arms, glancing around to check that no one was watching. He pressed his lips briefly to my clammy forehead and murmured "I promise." into my ear before releasing me and kissing my hand formally. I stepped away from him, dipped a slight curtsy, just to honour him, though as a Princess, I didn't actually have to do so, and then, with a last fleeting look of longing over one shoulder, followed my sister into our apartments.