There was yet another. This time Anne of Cleves was named. I could scarcely believe that. What would Anne of Cleves have to offer an ambitious man? An exqueen could not possibly compare with a woman who might have the crown.

Then came the whispers that Seymour was already married… not to any of those mentioned in the recent rumors, but to his one-time sweetheart, Katharine Parr.

I could not believe it at first. Could the Queen really have married so soon after the death of the King? It was most unseemly. But having seen the manner in which that man could attract women, I believed he might have succeeded in persuading her. After all, she had been in love with him before the King chose her—and she had certainly hoped to marry Seymour then. So I did believe there might be some truth in this rumor.

I was amazed to receive a letter from the Admiral in which he asked my opinion of the proposed marriage to the Queen, and asking me to give my sanction to it.

I was flattered to be asked, yet if the rumor were true and he was already married, why ask my sanction? I wrote back, primly I suppose, saying that I was the last one of whom he should ask such advice, as I knew nothing of these matters; but as it was scarcely six months since Katharine had become a widow, I thought it might be soon for her to be contemplating matrimony.

And as it turned out, he was at the time actually married. What a reckless man he was! That was to become more and more apparent as time passed.

It was not long before the new King's love of the Reformed Faith was apparent. Somerset and most of the councillors were of his way of thinking; and it seemed that the new religion had come to England.

Reformers from all over Europe were arriving in England. They sang the new King's praises.

When Gardiner preached at Winchester some five months after Edward's accession, it was expected that he, as a Roman Catholic, would attack the new doctrines and find himself in trouble. But Gardiner was a wise man; he skirted the difficult ground and proclaimed the King Supreme Head of the Church. I was sure this disappointed his enemies.

I lived very quietly throughout that year. Seymour's marriage to the Queen had caused a great deal of disapproval, but he shrugged that aside and Katharine was supremely happy. I was pleased for her, though I thought she had shown a lamentable lack of discretion in marrying so soon. I supposed she feared to lose him if she delayed. I wondered if she knew he had looked around for a match which might have been more advantageous to his ambitions. However, I was glad she was getting some of the happiness she deserved. I did fear though that she might be building on shifting sands with such a man.

I spent Christmas at Court. Edward was very conscious of his position. Naturally he would be. A great burden had been placed on his young shoulders. I hoped he would not be overwhelmed by all the adulation which came his way. He was beautiful, said the flatterers, witty and amiable; he was gentle and grave; he was already the father of his people, and if this was how he was at ten years old, how great and wise he would become with the passing of the years.

He was very gracious to me, telling me how tenderly he regarded me and that, although he called me sister, he thought of me as mother, so good had I been to him in his young years.

He was devoted to religion. I knew he always had been, but it was more apparent now. And, of course, that devotion was for the Reformed Church. I did not discuss religion with him because I felt it would be dangerous. Gentle as he was, he could be dogmatic, and when people felt as deeply as he did, intolerance was apt to creep in.

I was not sorry to leave Court. I was deeply aware of the new influences and felt it was no place for me. I went back to Hunsdon. I had my pleasant manors, my friends about me, my books, my music, and I was free to take long walks in the fresh air. I should be foolish to seek anything else at this stage.

It was during the next year that I heard of the scandal concerning my sister and Thomas Seymour. I must say it did not surprise me—knowing them both.

I was sorry for Katharine. It seemed she was doomed never to be happy. Her husbands had brought her little joy. Nurse to two of them, and with the third she had been subjected to great terror, and when she thought she had at last entered into a happy union, she found she had married a philanderer.

There were many who might have told her that this was what she would find in Thomas Seymour, but that the Princess Elizabeth should be the one involved with him was quite unexpected.

I knew there had always been an attraction between those two. My sister had been born with a shrewd nature or she might have accepted him in marriage. She would see, though, that that would have been the utmost folly. All the same, she had had a fancy for him.

Had Katharine not been aware of the flirtatious behavior between her husband and Elizabeth? Or had she shut her eyes to that which she did not want to see? Had she made the mistake of regarding Elizabeth as a child?

The story came out. There were always servants to tattle. What had they thought when the Admiral made a habit of teasing the girl, kissing her, even coming into her bedroom when she was in bed and tickling her? It was unseemly, even though sometimes the Queen had joined in the game.

There was a great deal of talk about that occasion when the Princess came into the garden wearing a black dress which Seymour said he did not like because not only was it unbecoming but it was too old for her. She should remember she was only fourteen…or was it fifteen? In any case he would not allow her to wear such a gown. Of course, it was all supposed to be fun—another of those games which the Admiral and the Princess so enjoyed and in which the Queen often joined. But the Admiral had taken a knife and slit up the skirt so that the Princess's petticoats were visible; the game had grown wilder until the gown was slit in many places and the Princess was there in the garden in her petticoats.

“My Lord Admiral,” she had cried, “you have ruined my dress. You must buy me another.” And he had replied, “Most willingly.”

It was clear that the Lady Elizabeth and the Admiral had greatly enjoyed the romp.

Jane Grey was with them, for on the King's death she had joined Katharine's household. Katharine was delighted to have her; she would be easier to understand than Elizabeth; she was such a docile, gentle creature, and Elizabeth was so unpredictable. I often wondered what Jane thought of all the rompings in that household.

It was certain to come to an end sooner or later.

Meanwhile Katharine was having trouble with Anne Stanhope, Somerset's wife. The trouble was over a matter of precedence. Anne, as wife of the elder brother, thought her place should be before that of her husband's younger brother's wife, for, Anne said, Katharine was no longer in the position of Queen, particularly as she had married so hastily after the King's death.

I was amazed at Anne. I had always been friendly with her and had quite liked her, for I had always found her reasonable. Katharine was not a woman to give herself airs, and I was sure she did not greatly care about a matter of precedence. But I thought it was rather sad that there should be this conflict.

Katharine became pregnant about the same time as Anne Stanhope did, and I believe Anne had grand ideas for her child. She was already scheming for her daughter Jane, whom she wanted to marry to Edward. My brother had been meant for Mary of Scotland, but after Somerset had beaten the Scots at Pinkie Cleugh, Mary had been carried off to France, which put an end to that project. No doubt they would get him married as soon as they could; but he had a little way to go yet before he could produce an heir.

The quarrel between Somerset's wife and the Dowager Queen flourished, but then the scandal concerning Elizabeth and the Admiral came to such a stage that it could not be ignored.

Katharine was now several months pregnant. They say that is a time when husbands often stray. That would not apply to Seymour. He would be ready to stray at any time. But it so happened that the Admiral was not careful enough, and one day the Queen opened the door of a room and found Elizabeth in the arms of her husband; and this was no game. It was obvious that they either were, or wanted to be, lovers.

I felt so sorry for Katharine. Elizabeth had been foolish, but she was only fifteen years old and Seymour was a rogue. Even Katharine could not deceive herself any longer. She must realize that her husband was a philanderer and Elizabeth a wanton. Here she was, for the first time in her life, about to taste the joys of motherhood for which she had longed all her life; and they had turned it sour for her.

I cannot imagine what happened during the scene which followed, but I did know that Elizabeth's sojourn under her roof was over. It would have been quite impossible for the child to stay after that. She would have to go.

She was sent away with her governess, Mrs. Katharine Ashley, to Cheston, and afterward to Hatfield and Ashridge.

There was a fearful state of unrest throughout the country. People never take religion calmly, and I suppose one could not expect them to slip from Catholic to Protestant without an upheaval. My father had always supported the Catholic Faith, the only difference being that he was Head of the Church of England. But Edward believed in the reformed religion and most of those about him did also; and they were determined to make England Protestant.

According to the converts, everything about the old religion was evil; saints were reviled; priests were mocked; and the Pope to them was the Devil incarnate.

Nor was this confined to words. Churches were violated, beautiful stained-glass windows smashed, altars desecrated, and there was public contempt for the old religious practices.

On the advice of François van der Delft, I remained in obscurity— though I did not need him to tell me to do that. Of course, there would be those who rose in anger against the new ideas; and I was next in succession; it was well known that I was an ardent Catholic. True, I had accepted my father's supremacy in the Church, but that was to save my life, and in my heart I had never agreed with it. Those who deplored the way the country was going would look to me.

It was an alarming time. It is always a dangerous situation when the king of a country is a minor, but when there is religious conflict—and one of such magnitude—the times are indeed perilous.

There was, of course, the Emperor. But for his powerful presence I should have been dispatched long ago. I was his cousin, so there was the family tie; and, more important, I was next in succession and I should be the upholder of the Catholic Faith. In England, good Catholics must be hoping that Edward would not long survive; they would certainly pray that he would never marry and have offspring, for then it would be my turn, and this period of aberration, this straying from the fold, would be over. Triumphantly, I would bring England back to that fold, which she should never have left.

So I remained away from Court, and it was conveyed to me discreetly that there would be no interference for the time being in the manner in which religious observances were carried out in my household.

So, in the seclusion of my manors, I lived quietly, seeing François van der Delft whenever possible and learning all I could about what was going on in the country.

I often thought of Katharine and wondered what she was feeling. She would have her child, and I believed that would give her great comfort. Poor, sad lady! Indeed, I might apply this to myself. Life was harsh to some of us.

I thought a great deal about Elizabeth and wondered how she liked being sent away in disgrace. She would make excuses for herself—she would be like our father in that. How deep had her feeling for Seymour been? What a situation! As a princess second in line for the throne, she was old enough to realize that her cavortings with Seymour might have had results.

Anne Stanhope, Duchess of Somerset, gave birth to a boy. I hoped Katharine would be lucky. But when had she ever been lucky? I could imagine her…brought to bed… longing for her child, and all the time nursing her resentment against her husband. I hoped Elizabeth felt some qualms of conscience. How could she have behaved so in her own stepmother's house! It was hard for me to understand… not so much that she should have a fancy for the man, but that she could so far forget her honor, her destiny. I was well aware that Elizabeth had her eyes on the crown. There was a certain sparkle which appeared in them every time it was mentioned. She was healthy; she was young; how could she have risked throwing it all away for a philanderer like Seymour? Perhaps she thought she could have both. She was greedy, my sister.