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Chapter 11
That was how it continued for the next few days. Blanche would either be at her lessons or spending time with George Boleyn. She only rarely visited Anne's rooms, because that was where, apart from the sickrooms themselves, the tension was most prevalent. Lady Mary and I, on the other hand, spent most of our time there, either sewing or praying for our father's recovery. We were spending time together for the first time since Anne's marriage to our father, because not long after Anne's coronation, Mary had been removed from my household and welcomed to Court as a companion to our stepmother, while Blanche and I had gone back to Hatfield.
The arrangement suited us both just fine, for we had never got on very well; even as a child, I had picked up on my mother's discomfort around Mary, the child of my father's first, invalid marriage, and had hated her for it, while Mary had resented Blanche and I our titles and the fact that we'd kept them, even after our mother's adultery had been discovered.
Now, however, struck by the same tragedy, we were forced together once more and, while we never felt secure in each other's company, at least we were able to reach an accord for the sake of the people.
An accord which meant, keep out of each other's way for the most part though we tried our best to do, when we were required to pull together, as we were every evening when Anne made her public announcements about the state of our father's health, we could do it without much trouble.
Unlike our half-brother. While Mary and I acted decorously and played the part of the shaken daughters genuinely worried for their father's health, which wasn't in any way a lie, Edward used Father's illness as an excuse to play the great man at Court. He spent his days and nights frivolously and ordered people around as though he were King already. Not for him the hours of silent devotion in the Chapel Royal; he was too busy playing at being the Great Lord of England.
I set my teeth and endured for the sake of peace and harmony, but all the time, as well as praying for my father's recovery, I was inwardly praying for something to happen which might shock him into some humility.
It did. Eventually, it did. And it all began with our father's recovery.
I was sitting with Anne and Lady Mary in Anne's rooms when Sir Francis Knollys burst through the doors, beaming delightedly.
We knew. At once, we all knew.
"His Majesty?" At once, Anne was on her feet, almost forgetting who she was.
"Is awake and asking for you, My Lady Queen." Sir Francis responded.
Anne didn't need telling twice.
"Send word to my brother and the Princess Blanche of this happy news, immediately. Be sure to inform His Grace the Duke of Richmond as well. The Princess Elizabeth, the Lady Mary and I will go to see His Majesty this instant."
"Yes, Madam." Sir Francis nodded and then stood aside with a bow to let us out as we hurried to my father.
He greeted us warmly enough, kissing Anne with something like his usual passion and allowing Mary and I to embrace him as daughters to a father, rather than treating him as Princesses and Ladies would a King, before accepting our warmest wishes for his further recovery and dismissing us so that he could be alone with his young wife.
As soon as we left, Mary went to find Archbishop Cranmer to talk about a Thanksgiving Mass for the King's recovery, while I went to find someone who would ride out with me. My father's illness had kept me confined to the palace for long enough. It was time to shake off those jesses and, just for once, on this most joyous of days, forget who I really was.
We saw practically nothing of Anne over the next few days. She was closeted with my father and his ministers, discussing a most secret matter that no one knew anything about. Rumours abounded as to what it might be, but to be honest, the truth shocked us all.
They were drawing up a new Act of Succession.
Henceforth, the Succession was to be vested in the Princesses of England and their heirs. Myself and my heirs first, then Blanche and her heirs. It was only after us that the Succession was vested in "His Grace the Lord Edward FitzTudor, Duke of Richmond and Somerset and the heirs of his body." My half-sister Mary was also named, but only after Edward.
We were also all to receive new titles in honour of the occasion. I was to become Duchess of York and Pembroke, Blanche was to become Lady of Ireland, Edward would be named Earl of Nottingham and Mary was to be Countess of Salisbury and Buckingham.
When Charles Brandon told me, I could hardly believe my ears. It was not as though I didn't believe that I had a right to become Queen, it was the fact that Father was declaring me his heiress openly. He was finally saying that he didn't think he stood a chance of fathering a legitimate son with my cousin.
In a way, I pitied Anne; it had to be a bitter pill for her to swallow, to think that she might never have a child of her own, but on the other hand, she had been present when Father had drawn up the Act – I had no doubt that the fact that Blanche and I were ahead of our half-brother Edward, rather than behind him, was at her urging and not because Father had finally seen sense. After all, right now, she probably had more influence over Father than the entirety of his Council put together.
All of these thoughts flashed through my head even as I dropped to the floor in a deep curtsy, flushed with pleasure and relief and asked Charles Brandon to inform my father of my gratitude and to assure him of my everlasting loyalty, both to him and to England.
As soon as he had told me that he would and had gone, I flew through my rooms to find my little sister.
"Blanche! Blanche! You'll never guess what's happened!"
"What? Bessie, what is it?" Blanche, who had been sketching in the window seat of her bedchamber, jumped up as I ran into her room, alerted to the fact that something very important had happened by the happiness in my voice.
"Father's drawn up a new Act of Succession and he's named us his heiresses! He's made me Duchess of York and Pembroke and you're going to be Lady of Ireland! He's finally accepted that Jane Seymour was naught but his harlot! It's official; I'm to be Queen after our father! Edward, however much he pretends to be worthy of the throne, will never be King!"
For a moment, Blanche stared at me as though I had gone mad. Then, suddenly, she swept down into a curtsy – a curtsy so low that her golden head, which was bent forward in respect, almost touched the floor. "Queen Elizabeth. Your Majesty." she murmured.
I watched my little sister pay homage to me as though in a dream before curtsying to her in return. "My Lady Blanche of Ireland."
I pulled her with me as I rose and the two of us looked at each other again, scarcely able to believe our good fortune. All of a sudden, we both burst into peals of laughter. Clutching each other, we began a sort of wild, triumphant dance around the room.
A month later, I was kneeling in front of the dais as my father invested me as Duchess of York and Pembroke.
The herald read the proclamation "It is the pleasure of our Sovereign Majesty, King Henry VIII, on this day, the First of September in the Thirty-Seventh year of his reign, to create thee, Princess Elizabeth Tudor, Duchess of York and Pembroke." and then I heard my father come down the steps towards me. Though I didn't dare look up and risk ruining the ceremony, I felt the weight of the golden ducal coronet settle on my coppery head; the warmth of the heavy robes of state envelop me as Father held out his hand and bade me rise.
"The patent of your nobility, Daughter. He handed me the precious scroll and I curtsied again, careful to keep my head perfectly erect.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." I exchanged the kiss of peace with him and then stepped, swapping a smile with my sister as she went forward to take my place and be invested as Lady of Ireland.
Afterwards, when Edward had another Earldom to his name and Mary was a Countess twice over and we had feasted in celebration, the dancing began. Within seconds, I found Edward Brandon standing before me, hand outstretched.
"William Paulet has claimed the hand of the Lady of Ireland, so I was wondering if I might have the honour of partnering Her Grace of York and Pembroke in a galliard. May I?"
"Why, certainly, My Lord Edward." I replied.
Our words were formal, but the warmth with which I took his hand was anything but. But then, this wasn't a time for formalities. That was over. My father and stepmother weren't here; they'd absented themselves in order to make my siblings and I the centre of attention, so this was a time for celebration. Celebration, joy and flirtation.
I danced off with Edward without a care in the world.