T hat summer, the swaggering, larger-than-life figure of the Admiral moved into the household at Chelsea and set himself to charm the inhabitants. 'His service was ever joyful,' recorded one man who served him at this time. He treated both his equals and social inferiors with calculated affability, and under his influence Queen Katherine's rather staid household grew lively and more relaxed. Each day was a new round of pleasure, and if Katherine was perturbed by her husband remembering urgent matters of business just as she was expecting him to accompany her to the reformed services in the family chapel, she did not complain.
The Lady Elizabeth, now approaching the impressionable age of fourteen, was especially vulnerable to the charm and handsome presence of her new stepfather, who was now her nominal guardian. At Chelsea, or the Queen's country house at Hanworth, or the Admiral's London home, Seymour Place, she became increasingly - and dangerously - aware of him as a man to whom she was, perhaps fearfully, attracted. Nor was he ignorant of her interest, for she was too young and inexperienced to conceal it from him. Katherine Parr might think her still a child, but Seymour was all too conscious that she was budding into womanhood and developing a talent for flirtation such as had made her mother notorious. For him, it was a piquant situation, made all the more alluring by the fact that Elizabeth was second-in-line to the throne. While, on the face of it, the Queen's household was an oasis of calm and happiness in a troubled world, it was in fact shortly to witness a drama that would end in tragedy for each of its chief inhabitants.
Unaware of her sister's peril, the Lady Mary was at this time touring her properties in East Anglia and appointing the chief officers of her household. Robert Rochester, a middle-aged man who had looked after her accounts for some years and hailed from Essex, was made Controller, while other local gentlemen, Henry Jerningham, Sir Francis Englefield and Edward Waldegrave, were also given positions of responsibility: Englefield was probably Chamberlain and Waldegrave Steward. Among the thirty-two male servants listed as being in Mary's household, only Richard Wilbraham and Randall Dodd had a record of long service. There were four chaplains, and a bevy of ladies-in-waiting, including Susan Clarencieux, Eleanor Kempe, Frideswide Strelley and perhaps at this time Jane Dormer, who, unlike the others, was very young and had not served Mary since the 15305. Altogether the household numbered in excess of a hundred persons.
In East Anglia, Mary was warmly received wherever she went, giving the lie to van der Delft's claim that June that she was 'less and less regarded' and had been incarcerated in a house in 'the north'. However, in expressing his disapproval of the religious changes that were then taking place in England, he declared he was confident that Mary would remain firm in the ancient faith in which she had been raised; he had heard that she was hearing as many as four masses a day. In July, the ambassador finally managed to obtain an audience with Mary, who explained that she had been living in some seclusion because she was in mourning for her father. She had not dined in public since his death, she said, but graciously invited van der Delft to share her table. 'She seemed to have entire confidence in me,' he wrote. He was scandalised to learn that the Council had not seen fit to disclose to her details of the dowry allocated her by Henry VIII, and expressed his opinion that her income was insufficient for a princess of her standing. During the conversation Mary asked him what he thought about Queen Katherine's remarriage. He told her he quite approved of it, and divulged how rumour had had it that Seymour had first meant to marry Mary herself.
Mary laughed. 'I have never spoken to him in my life,' she said, 'and have only seen him once.'
During the next two years she would in fact be the subject of several marriage negotiations, but Charles V was probably correct in his opinion that the Council would not allow Mary to marry a foreign prince until King Edward was of an age to marry and father children, in case her husband led a rebellion on behalf of the Catholic heiress.
At Chelsea, John Ashley, husband of Kat, had noticed that, whenever the Admiral's name was mentioned, the Lady Elizabeth's ears pricked up, that when he was praised in conversation, she showed inordinate pleasure, and that she blushed when she spoke his name. The signs were ominous, and he said as much to his wife.
'Take heed,' he warned, 'for I fear that the Lady Elizabeth do bear some affection to my Lord Admiral.' But Mrs Ashley had a soft spot for Seymour and would hear no ill spoken of him. In fact Kat had encouraged her charge's infatuation by telling her it had been she whom he had wished to marry before all others. In vain did John Ashley point out the potential dangers in the situation; if there were any impropriety between Elizabeth and the Admiral both would be guilty of high treason, for which the penalty for Elizabeth would be death by decapitation or burning. Kat Ashley, however, naively believed the girl's interest in Seymour to be entirely innocent; she herself had fallen victim to his charisma, and could see no wrong in it. Had she been less irresponsible, she might have averted one of the most distressing episodes of Elizabeth's life.
We know about the events that followed from the signed depositions of Mrs Ashley, Thomas Parry, the princess's cofferer, and Elizabeth herself, given under cross examination early in 1549, and preserved in the State Papers of the period.
According to these statements, the Admiral had keys made for himself for all the rooms in Chelsea Old Palace, including one for Elizabeth's bedchamber, which was above Katherine Parr's. Then, although he had only been married for a few weeks,
He would come many mornings into the Lady Elizabeth's chamber before she was ready, and sometimes before she did rise; and if she were up he would bid her good morrow and ask how she did, and strike her upon the back or on the buttocks familiarly, and so go forth to his lodgings; and sometimes go through to the maidens and play with them, and so forth. And if [Elizabeth] were in her bed he would put open the curtains and bid her good morrow, and make as though he would come at her, and she would go further into the bed so that he could not come at her.
This might have been - and indeed was - looked upon by Katherine Parr and Mrs Ashley as innocent fun, yet its effect on a young and infatuated girl was devastating. Seymour's arrival in Elizabeth's bedchamber, and his over-familiarity with her person, could not but have awakened her adolescent sexuality and aroused feelings she was powerless to control. In fact, it seemed as if he was deliberately doing his best to excite her. On the face of it the proprieties were being observed because Mrs Ashley was always present when these romps took place, but she seems not to have noticed that Elizabeth's response to her stepfather's teasing was not that of a child.
The Admiral then began to send Elizabeth and Kat suggestive notes, asking if Kat's 'great buttocks' had grown 'any less or not'. When the household moved to Seymour Place, he took to coming up 'every morning in his nightgown, barelegged in his slippers'. Elizabeth, becoming increasingly self-conscious, had in consequence made it her habit to get up early so that he found her dressed and 'at her book'; all he could do was look in at the gallery door and bid her good morrow as usual. Even Mrs Ashley could not ignore his behaviour, and told him furiously that it was an unseemly sight to come visiting a maiden's chamber so improperly dressed. Seymour was annoyed with her, 'but he left it' and did not present himself again in his nightgown.
Back at Chelsea he was up to his old antics. When Elizabeth heard him unlocking her door, she would jump out of bed and summon her maids-of-honour, who would hide with her behind the bed curtain; but Seymour waited until they came out. One morning he tried to kiss Elizabeth as she lay in bed. Again, Kat remonstrated, and 'bade him go away for shame', for already there was gossip. 'These things are complained of, and my lady is evil spoken of
'By God's precious soul,' he retorted hotly, 'I mean no evil, and I will not leave it! The Lady Elizabeth is like a daughter to me. I will tell my Lord Protector how I am slandered, and I will not leave offl'
Since 'she could not make him leave it', Mrs Ashley went to the Queen and voiced her concern about the Admiral's behaviour and the gossip and rumours that were spreading through the household. But Katherine Parr 'made a small matter of it', promising only to accompany her husband to Elizabeth's room in the mornings. She even joined in two of his frolics whilst staying at Hanworth, when both she and Seymour 'tickled my Lady Elizabeth in her bed'. And whilst in the gardens at Hanworth, the Queen was present when he romped with her stepdaughter and even held the girl when he cut her black gown into 'a hundred pieces' with a pair of scissors. 'When I came up,' recounted an outraged Mrs Ashley, Elizabeth 'assured me she could not strive withal' because of being pinioned by her stepmother. On this occasion, the governess felt, matters had gone too far, but the Queen did not seem to share in her disapproval.
Throughout these heady months, Elizabeth had continued to study under William Grindal, making brilliant progress. Roger Ascham was still taking a proprietorial interest in her education, hoping to secure an appointment as tutor to 'that noble imp'; in his letters to Mrs Ashley he was fulsome in his praises of her and her charge, and of Grindal, not knowing 'whether to admire more the wit of her who learnt, or the diligence of him who taught'. He sent Elizabeth a book in Italian, arranged for her pens to be mended, and constantly sent commendations to 'all the company of godly gentlewomen' at Chelsea.
One of those godly gentlewomen was Lady Jane Grey, Elizabeth's cousin. Born in October 1537, she was the eldest of the three daughters born to Henry Grey, Marquess of Dorset, and Frances Brandon, Henry VIII 's niece, the daughter of his sister Mary Tudor by her second husband, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. Tiny in stature, with fair, freckled skin and sandy hair, Jane possessed a formidable intellect. She was almost the same age as King Edward, and since her infancy her ambitious parents had nursed dreams that she might one day be his wife and hence queen of England. They had structured her education accordingly, so as to make her a fit mate for a king, and appointed her first tutor, a young Cambridge scholar called John Aylmer, her father's chaplain, when she was only four. Aylmer began her education by carrying her around in his arms and teaching her good diction. The little girl was not used to such kindness, for throughout her short life her parents regarded her as a pawn to be moved at will, and ill-treated her in body and spirit.
Dorset was by nature self-indulgent and lazy, and thought of little but hunting. At the time of his marriage in 1533 he had been 'young, lusty and poor' with little or no experience of politics, and he owed his rise to prominence to his wife's royal connections and her aggressive ambition. He was impulsive, pleasure loving and 'a great dicer and swearer' who tended to dither when it came to making decisions, leaving them ultimately to his wife. Van der Delft thought him 'a senseless creature', who loved intrigue for its own sake but had little talent for it. Nor did he manage the family finances efficiently, and was frequently teetering on the verge of bankruptcy. Yet he could be generous when it suited him and affable to all except his hapless daughter Jane. Although he shared her love of learning, he regarded her as a poor substitute for the son who had died young before her birth.
Frances Brandon, on the other hand, was forceful, determined to have her own way, and greedy for power and riches. She ruled her husband and daughters tyrannically and, in the case of the latter, often cruelly, and was utterly insensitive to the feelings of others. Physically, she bore a marked resemblance to Henry VIII, and in later life she grew corpulent as he did. Yet she always enjoyed a robust constitution and was never happier than when she was on horseback, enjoying the outdoor sports that she shared with her husband. Although she was clever and well-educated, one friend, Sir Richard Moryson, spoke for many when he said, 'It is a great pity that so goodly a wit waiteth upon so fro ward a will.'
The Dorsets owned a London residence, Dorset House at Westminster, but their chief seat was the palatial, red brick Bradgate Manor in Leicestershire, where Jane had been born. Bradgate had been in the hands of the Grey family since the fifteenth century, but the house, which is now a ruin, had been built by Dorset's father and boasted turrets and a gatehouse, and was set in a deer park.
Lady Jane Grey had two sisters: Katherine, born in 1540, who appears to have been the beauty of the family, and Mary, born in 1545, who was a hunchbacked dwarf. To their credit, her parents did not hide her away but arranged for her to benefit from the same education as her sister Katherine, who was also being tutored by John Aylmer. Neither Katherine nor Mary showed the same intellectual ability as Jane. Katherine was a delicate little thing with red-gold hair, beautiful eyes and a straight nose, who spent most of her time in the country, devoting herself to her studies and girlish pleasures. She was placid and shy, and loved nothing better than to play with her pet birds, dogs and monkeys. At the same time she was imbibing the principles of the Protestant faith, to which she would remain devoted all her life.
When Jane Grey was six, another tutor, Dr Harding, was engaged to teach her French, Greek, Spanish and Italian. A visiting master taught her handwriting, and another dancing and deportment. She loved music, but her parents strictly limited the amount of time she was allowed to spend practising on her lute, harp and cithern.
The daily routine followed by Jane and her sisters was demanding. Up at six, they were served bread, meat and ale for breakfast before they visited their parents and asked for their daily blessing; one suspects this must have been something of an ordeal, for the Dorsets were not above administering beatings or delivering crushing criticisms for the slightest failing. In the morning, the girls were taught Latin and Greek, Jane receiving extra tuition in Hebrew. After they had dined they learned modern languages and music, or read the Bible and the classics. When supper was over they were expected to practise their dancing or needlework before going to bed at nine. This regime left them little time to themselves and Jane found it particularly irksome to be taken along on hunting or hawking expeditions with her parents; her obvious distaste for the sports they loved made them even more irritable with her, as did her frequent bouts of nervous exhaustion.
As a consequence of their ambitions for her, the Dorsets insisted that Jane be treated as a princess of the blood, and dressed her in rich silks, damasks and velvets, although her mother constantly expressed the opinion that her daughter was unlikely to go far on looks alone. Jane, whose growing love for the reformed faith portended an adult fanaticism, hated this ostentation, preferring the sober black and white that she fancied became a Protestant maiden.
Two people brought some comfort to the troubled girl in her early years. One was her nurse, Mrs Ellen, and the other was John Aylmer. Aylmer was a vital, humorous little man, full of enthusiasm for the subjects he taught, and possessed of a great love for England. It was he who coined the phrase 'God is an Englishman'. He loved his precocious charge and the pains he took over her education bore fruit in its spectacular results, for it soon became apparent that, in intellect, Jane excelled even the Lady Elizabeth and the King. Yet Aylmer regarded his greatest achievement as being the instilling of strong Protestant beliefs and principles in his pupil.
Jane's life changed dramatically when, at the age of nine, she was sent to live with Katherine Parr to learn manners and social graces whilst continuing her education. The Dorsets felt that the Queen Dowager might be persuaded to use what influence she had to further their ambitions for their daughter, although in fact Katherine Parr had no say in political affairs and rarely saw the King. What she did do was welcome Jane warmly into her household and give her the motherly affection of which she was starved. At Chelsea, Jane was praised for her prowess and 'towardness', and soon the Queen's ladies were openly predicting that she would one day be queen, and told her so. This alone ensured that she was treated with deference and respect.
Soon after he moved in with the Queen, the Admiral saw in Lady Jane a means of furthering his own ambitions. Jane was fourth in line of succession, and in his opinion she would make an ideal mate for the King in every respect: they would be well-matched in birth, age and intellect. It did not matter that the Protector was planning to marry Edward to a Spanish princess, and Lady Jane to his own son, Lord Hertford, for the Admiral took a perverse pleasure in thwarting his brother's plans, relying on his influence with King Edward to bring about the desired end to his ambitions. Edward could not but favour the uncle who had arranged such a suitable marriage for him, and Seymour would have the satisfaction of seeing Somerset discountenanced.
Jane, Seymour knew, was 'most dear to the King, both in regard of religion and of her knowledge'. However, on the rare occasions when they met, court etiquette was so rigid as to prevent any familiarity or expression of feelings, and both were reserved children anyway. Jane would curtsey three times when she came before Edward and kneel while they conversed. They might play cards after he had graciously permitted her to sit on a cushion or low stool, and when she finally retired from his presence she would kiss his hand and walk backwards out of the room. They were never alone, as her two ladies-in-waiting attended her throughout the interview. Yet Bishop John Bale, the chronicler, who was close to Edward VI, was convinced that it was Jane whom the King wanted to marry.
What the Admiral and Bale did not know, however, was that Edward, as he confided to his journal, was determined to fulfil his father's wishes and marry Mary, Queen of Scots; if that were not possible, he hoped to make a marriage alliance with a European power that would secure for him 'a well-stuffed and jewelled bride' .Jane, who could bring him neither wealth nor political advantage, did not come into his schemes.
In blissful ignorance of this, Seymour sent John Harington, one of his gentlemen, to set Dorset's mind at rest with 'fair promises' that Jane 'shall be placed in marriage much to your comfort', according to the official account in the State Papers. Asked who the bridegroom would be, Harington replied, 'I doubt not but you shall see him marry her to the King. And fear you not, he will bring it to pass.'
Dorset agreed to let Jane remain at Chelsea for the time being, but when several weeks had passed without him receiving any further message from the Admiral, he went to Chelsea himself and spoke with him in the garden. Seymour explained that, if Dorset wanted to see Jane married to the King, he must appoint the Admiral her guardian. After some discussion, Dorset agreed to sell Jane's wardship and marriage for the sum of £2000, whereupon Seymour paid him ^500 on account. But although he later expressed to Harington his opinion that King Edward, when he came of age, would want to marry Jane, he was in no position to take any steps to further negotiations for such an alliance -Somerset would have vetoed such a scheme with alacrity. Yet Dorset seemed content to wait, and Jane therefore remained in the Queen's household.
Using Fowler as a go-between, the Admiral suggested to King Edward that he console himself for the loss of the little Scottish Queen by considering marriage with Lady Jane, but Edward showed he was not interested. Moreover, his tutor, John Cheke, had become suspicious of Seymour's ambitions, having discovered that the King had far more money in his possession than he was supposed to have. Edward confessed to him that the Admiral had sent it, and also told him about the proposed marriage. Cheke was alarmed, and went straight to Somerset. The Protector, angry at his brother's meddling, summoned him to court and berated him soundly for his presumption. Then he calmed down and did his best to effect a reconciliation. Peace was restored, at least on the surface, but the Admiral's resentment and jealousy still simmered.
By the autumn of 1547, the government's programme of religious reform was advancing steadily. English was to be used instead of Latin in church services, the veneration of images and relics was to cease, restrictions on preaching and private reading of the Scriptures were to be eased, chantries were to be abolished and sold, and schools endowed with the proceeds - some King Edward VI grammar schools still exist today. A number of Henry VIII's treason statutes, heresy laws and his Act of the Six Articles were all abolished, heralding a period of greater religious tolerance. Most clergy accepted the changes without protest; a few Catholic bishops, such as Stephen Gardiner of Winchester and Edmund Bonner of London, publicly deplored the changes, but few supported them.
Not so the Lady Mary. When she heard that the sacrament of the mass was no longer celebrated in Somerset's household, she felt compelled to write to the Protector in protest. Her father, she pointed out, had left the realm 'in godly order and quietness', but the present government seemed to be doing its best to promote heresy and disorder by introducing new-fangled methods of worship. She was concerned that the King, who was still only a child and incapable of making mature judgements in religious matters, would be led astray.
Somerset replied courteously, expressing astonishment at her concerns and asserting that most subjects approved of the King's 'godly proceedings', pointing out that it was people like herself who were causing disruption. He did not wish to persecute her, and he would leave her alone to practise her religion in peace, but she must not challenge her brother's authority nor his lawful decrees. Edward was committed, he said, to doing away with 'popish doctrine'. Mary realised she was being offered an ultimatum, and forbore to argue further for the time being.
By November, the Admiral's jealousy of his brother had become obsessive. Having suborned the King by giving him money, he was urging Edward to sign a document to be laid before the newly-convened Parliament, in which he asked that the offices of Protector and Governor of the King's Person be divided between both uncles.
Edward was reluctant to sign it, and asked Cheke for advice. Cheke warned him against becoming involved in the Admiral's schemes, which could only compromise him, and consequently Edward refused to sign. Seymour, full of grievances, threatened to 'make this the blackest Parliament that ever was in England'. His friends tried to calm him down, but he cried that he could better live without the Protector than the Protector without him.
'If any one goes about to speak evil of the Queen,' he roared, 'I will take my fist to his ears, from the highest to the lowest.' He was then seen skulking in St James's Palace, where the King was in residence, and was heard to declare that he wished he had Edward at home with him in his house. He then went further, averring that it would not be difficult to steal the boy away from under the Protector's nose.
The Admiral's flirtation with the Lady Elizabeth was still going on, but the atmosphere in his household, now based at Hanworth, was becoming strained because Katherine Parr was growing suspicious. Evidently she had voiced her fears to her husband, who had immediately, it seems, made up some wild tale about Elizabeth having an affair with another man. The Queen went straight to Mrs Ashley and told her that 'my Lord Admiral looked in at the gallery window and saw my Lady Elizabeth cast her arms about a man's neck'. The governess questioned her charge carefully as to what had happened, but Elizabeth 'denied it weeping, and bade ask all her women'. Ashley was satisfied that the girl was innocent and that the Admiral's tale could not have been true, 'for there came no man [to the household] but Grindal, the Lady Elizabeth's schoolmaster'. Grindal was the last man to have attempted such familiarity; he died of plague in January 1548, which places this incident in the latter part of 1547. It was Mrs Ashley's belief that it was the Queen who had invented the story, so as to make the governess 'take more heed and be in watch betwixt [Elizabeth] and my Lord Admiral', though this seems uncharacteristic of Katherine Parr. Fortunately, Elizabeth was invited to Hampton Court for Christmas, which afforded her some respite from a situation which was becoming increasingly fraught. Yet there was to be no intimacy with her brother, for the formality surrounding his every move was more daunting than ever. An Italian visitor to England, Petruccio Ubaldini, could not believe what he was seeing and condemned it as excessive. Elizabeth might 'neither sit under a canopy nor on a chair, but must sit on a mere bench which is provided with a cushion, and so far distant from the head of the table and the King that the canopy does not overhang her. The ceremonies observed before sitting down at table are truly laughable. I have seen, for example, the Princess [sic] Elizabeth drop on one knee five times before her brother, before she took her place.' Mary was also a guest at court, but remained in the background, although relations between her and the King were as friendly as ever. Elizabeth returned home in January to find that Grindal had died. It was soon known that she was now without a tutor, and Roger Ascham prepared to seize his chance. On 12 February 1548 he wrote to John Cheke:
The Lady Elizabeth is thinking of having me in the place of Grindal. I was with the most illustrious lady during these last days. She signified to me her pleasure and I did not try to make any bargain for my own advantage, but at once declared that I was ready to obey her orders.
The Queen and the Admiral, however, who were then in London, had chosen one Master Goldsmith to replace Grindal. Ascham, hiding his disappointment, told Elizabeth she must submit to her guardians' judgement, but Elizabeth had no intention of doing so. She herself travelled to London and persuaded her stepmother to change her mind. Ascham's appointment was confirmed and he obtained leave from the University of Cambridge to join the Queen's household.
Ascham hailed from Yorkshire. Still in his thirties, he was a brilliant teacher, and already enjoyed an international reputation as a scholar. He had travelled throughout western Europe and regularly corresponded with foreign intellectuals. In 1545, he had published Toxophilus, a popular treatise on archery, a sport of which he was extremely fond. He was also a master of calligraphy who did much to promote the use of Italic handwriting; Elizabeth's beautiful hand owed much to his influence. Ascham was also acclaimed as 'one of the politest Latin writers of that generation', Cicero being his favourite author. His chief vice was gambling; he usually lost.
In his book The Schoolmaster Ascham set forth his progressive ideas on education. He deplored the current practice of beating, by which 'children are driven to hate learning before they know what learning means'. Although, by today's standards, he set a vast amount of work, he believed, as he told Mrs Ashley, that 'if you pour much drink into a goblet, the most part will dash out and run over'. In Ascham's view, it was the carrot, and not the stick, that worked.
His curriculum centred upon the classics and the Scriptures. The study of classics relied upon a fine knowledge of Latin and Greek, in which Elizabeth was already becoming proficient; Ascham now introduced his technique of double-translation, by which his pupil translated texts from Cicero or Demosthenes into English and then back into either Latin or Greek. 'She readeth more Greek every day than some prebendaries of this Church do [in] a whole week,' commented her tutor with pride. Every morning, they read together the works of the ancient Greeks, such as the tragedies of Sophocles or the orations of Isocrates. Each day began with a reading from the Greek Testament. These works, thought Ascham, would allow Elizabeth to develop 'purity of style, and her mind derive instruction that would be of value to her to meet every contingency of life'.
The afternoons were given over to the study of Latin, which was based on the works of Cicero or Livy, or to the study of theology. For this, Ascham set the works of St Cyprian, or the German reformer Philip Melanchthon, which he considered best suited, 'after the Holy Scriptures, to teach [Elizabeth] the foundations of religion, together with elegant language and sound doctrine'.
But there was more to Ascham than this, for he inspired in his charge a life-long love of riding and hunting, pastimes they frequently enjoyed after lessons were over. 'Neither did she neglect music,' which Ascham also loved; she practised regularly on lute and virginals, and also learned to dance 'in the Italian manner'.
Under Ascham's guidance, Elizabeth made outstanding progress. Of all the learned young ladies he knew, she was, he wrote, 'the brightest star'. In his correspondence with European scholars, he would constantly refer to her accomplishments with justifiable pride. He had never, he wrote, seen a quicker apprehension or a more retentive memory. 'I teach her tongues to speak,' he told John Aylmer 'and her modest and maidenly looks teach me works to do. For I think she is the best disposed to any in all Europe.' He was entranced by her gracious manners and the simplicity of her clothes, a style expected of devout Protestant females. 'She greatly prefers a simple elegance to show and splendour, despising the outward adorning of plaiting the hair and wearing of gold.'
The result of all this tuition was a young woman with a great capacity for hard work who could converse knowledgeably on any intellectual subject, and whose love of learning was such that she kept up the habit of daily study throughout her long life, spending three hours a day reading history, which was her favourite subject. Moreover, her classical education and skill in linguistics was the best possible preparation for a Renaissance ruler.
The presence of Roger Ascham in her household could not, however, prevent Thomas Seymour from overshadowing Elizabeth's life. Early in 1548, she told her cofferer, Thomas Parry, 'that she feared the Admiral loved her but too well, and that the Queen was jealous of them both'. All the same, she was overwhelmed by her own feelings and desires.
Katherine Parr was indeed growing suspicious. In the early spring of 1548 she found herself, at the age of thirty-six, pregnant with her first child, and very sick as a result. No longer did she wish to join in her husband's early morning romps with Elizabeth; the imminence of motherhood had brought out the responsible side in her, and she was inclined to view the Admiral's pranks as tedious and even threatening.
Matters very soon came to a head as, according to Mrs Ashley, the Queen, 'suspecting the often access of the Admiral to my Lady Elizabeth's Grace', and finding one day that both had disappeared, went looking for them. To her horror, she 'came suddenly upon them, where they were all alone, he having her in his arms. Wherefore the Queen fell out, both with the Admiral and with Her Grace also.'
Shocked, Katherine Parr summoned Mrs Ashley 'and told her her fancy in that matter', showing, understandably, 'much displeasure' and some alarm, because Elizabeth was second in line to the throne and a minor under her protection. If the Queen made a public show of her anger, there would be a scandal which would probably ruin them all. For the present, therefore, she concentrated on venting her wrath upon the unfortunate governess. Elizabeth had behaved disgracefully, showing marked ingratitude for her stepmother's kindness; Ashley had failed in her duty towards Elizabeth and the Queen; and the Admiral's conduct was vile and inexcusable, for while Elizabeth was an innocent girl of fourteen, he was an experienced man of the world.
After this painful interview, feeling sick and exhausted, Queen Katherine decided that Elizabeth must be removed from this dangerous situation, right out of the Admiral's orbit. She therefore wrote to Sir Anthony and Lady Denny, asking them if the girl might come to stay with them at their house at Cheshunt in Hertfordshire. Joan Denny was Kat Ashley's sister, so it was an ideal arrangement. We do not know if the Queen told the Dennys the real reason for the visit, or if she made her pregnancy the excuse for it. They were only too happy to oblige, and when she received word of this the Queen sent for Elizabeth and told her that she was to leave her household. There was no argument or open breach. Katherine told her stepdaughter that a princess in her position had been foolish to court such a scandal and that she must be sent away for her own protection. Elizabeth, having been shocked into an awareness of how badly she had behaved, was now terrified of the consequences, and begged the Queen to let her know if there was any gossip about her. Katherine Parr did not think there would be because the matter had been handled so discreetly, but assured Elizabeth she would inform her if she heard anything detrimental.
Elizabeth left Chelsea with her household on the day after Whit Sunday. She was quiet and withdrawn, yet parted on good terms with her stepmother and the Admiral, who was sufficiently chastened to humour his wife, especially in view of the hoped-for male heir she was carrying. No one, except John and Kat Ashley, and perhaps the Dennys, knew the reason behind Elizabeth's departure, and it seemed that the danger of a scandal had been averted.
Sir Anthony Denny and his wife received Elizabeth warmly. Cheshunt was a large, moated house built around a courtyard and boasting a forty-foot-long great hall with an impressive timbered roof. Here, Elizabeth settled down to her studies with Roger Ascham, calmer now, although her conscience still troubled her about her behaviour towards Katherine Parr. She now realised that, in sending her away, Katherine had been acting for the best.
Elizabeth remained on good terms with the Queen and the Admiral throughout that spring and summer, and corresponded with them regularly. Two of her letters to Katherine Parr survive. In June, fearful that the Queen thought ill of her, she wrote,
Although I could not be plentiful in giving thanks for the manifold kindness received at Your Highness's hand at my departure, yet I am something to be borne withal, for truly I was replete with sorrow to depart from Your Highness, especially leaving you undoubtful of health. And albeit I answered little, I weighed it more deeper when you said you would warn me of all evilnesses that you should hear of me; for if Your Grace had not a good opinion of me, you would not have offered friendship to me that way, that all men judge the contrary. But what more may I say, than thank God for providing such friends for me, desiring God to enrich me with their long life, and me in grace no less thankful to receive it than I now am glad in writing to show it; and although I have plenty of matter [i.e. news], here I will stay, for I know you are not quiet to read.
From Cheston [sic], this present Saturday.
Your Highness's humble daughter, Elizabeth.
On Wednesday, 13 June, the Queen and the Admiral moved to Sudeley Castle in Gloucestershire, recently presented to them by the King. They planned to stay there until the birth of the Queen's child, which was expected in late August. Both were still in touch by letter with Elizabeth. She had asked that the Admiral perform some small unspecified service for her, but he had been unable to oblige and had written to apologise. She replied,
My Lord, you needed not to send an excuse to me. For I could not mistrust the not-fulfilling of your promise to proceed for want of good will, but only opportunity serveth not. Wherefore I shall desire you to think that a greater matter than this could not make me impute any unkindness in you, for I am a friend not won with trifles, nor lost with the like.
It seems that Elizabeth had come to terms with what had happened and was contriving to behave as normally as possible, whatever she felt underneath. She was genuinely concerned to learn from the Admiral that Katherine Parr had been ill as a result of her pregnancy, yet overjoyed to hear that the Queen was now better and missing her company, and on 31 July, she wrote again to her stepmother.
Although Your Highness's letters be most joyful to me in absence, yet considering what pain it is to you to write, Your Grace being so great with child and so sickly, your commendations were enough in my lord's letter. I much rejoice at your health, with the well-liking of the country, with my humble thanks that Your Grace wished me with you till I were weary of that country. Your Highness were like to be cumbered, if I should not depart till I were weary of being with you; although it were the worst soil in the world, your presence would make it pleasant.
Having heard how active the Queen's unborn baby was, Elizabeth hoped that the Admiral,
shall be diligent to give me knowledge from time to time how his busy child doth. If I were at his birth, no doubt I would see him beaten for the trouble he has put you to.
Master Denny and my lady, with humble thanks, prayeth most entirely for Your Grace, praying the Almighty God to send you a most lucky deliverance.
Written with very little leisure, this last day of July.
Your humble daughter, Elizabeth.
Lady Jane Grey had gone to Sudeley with the Queen. The Dorsets had threatened to remove her from the Admiral's guardianship because there was still no sign of an approaching royal marriage for her, but Seymour had sweetened them with 'earnest persuasion' and a large, interest-free loan to free them from yet another financial crisis.
That summer, Elizabeth suffered what was possibly a nervous reaction to the traumatic events of the spring. Until now, she had enjoyed robust health, apart from infant teething problems, yet the onset of puberty and adolescence, coupled with the emotional disturbance of an illicit affair, seem to have triggered a series of chronic illnesses that were to overshadow her teens. Her symptoms usually included migraines, pain behind the eyes, irregular or absent periods, anxiety states and panic attacks. By the time she was twenty, her menstrual problems were notorious, and a matter of concern to foreign ambassadors come to negotiate for her hand in marriage to their masters.
Elizabeth was ill throughout the summer of 1548 and again in the autumn. In July, Ascham had planned to visit his friends in Cambridge, but Elizabeth refused to let him go, saying she needed the comfort of his presence. 'She never lets me go anywhere,' he grumbled to his colleagues at the university. She had made such progress in her studies that he had hoped to return to Cambridge for good in September, but this would only be possible 'if I can get my lady's permission, which I can hardly hope, for she favours me wonderfully'. He was right: Elizabeth insisted he stay on as her tutor and friend, for she depended upon him utterly.
The sources are silent as to the nature of Elizabeth's illness that summer. It has been suggested by several people, in her own time and now, that it was the result of a miscarriage. She was 'first sick about midsummer', about a month after arriving at Cheshunt. It is therefore possible that she could have conceived a child by the Admiral in the spring. The very lack of information about her symptoms and condition could be the result of a cover-up exercise on the part of those attending her, who would very naturally be anxious to avoid a scandal. Yet it must be stressed that there is no other evidence of a miscarriage and that the theory rests on supposition alone. The illness lasted until late autumn, and Mrs Ashley later stated that throughout its duration Elizabeth had not gone more than a mile from the house.
Whilst she lay secluded at Cheshunt, the Reformation was proceeding with vigour. Latin had been banned from the Chapel Royal services and those at St Paul's; the government had ordered the removal of the images of saints from churches, and forbidden the carrying of candles
during services, the bearing of palms, and creeping to the Cross on one's knees on Good Friday. Gardiner, having publicly preached against these changes, was now in the Tower.
At Sudeley, on 30 August, Katherine Parr gave birth to a daughter, to the disappointment of her husband and secret glee of the Somersets. The infant was called Mary. At first, the Queen seemed to make a good recovery after a difficult labour, but after a day or so she developed puerperal fever and subsided into delirium, accusing her husband of delivering 'many shrewd taunts' to her. On 5 September she died.
Clad in deepest black and purple mourning, ten-year-old Lady Jane Grey acted as chief mourner at the ceremonial funeral in the castle chapel. Etiquette prevented the bereaved husband from attending. The Admiral appears to have genuinely mourned the woman he had so wronged, and himself confessed in a letter to Dorset that he was 'so amazed' (confused) that he had no regard to himself or his actions. He did, however, send a messenger to Cheshunt to break the sad news to Elizabeth. The man first sought out Mrs Ashley and told her that his master 'is a heavy man for the Queen'. Ashley, however, realising the significance of the Admiral becoming a free man, was already beginning to scheme. She had, after all, always had a soft spot for him, and genuinely felt that he was the ideal match for Elizabeth. Elizabeth, she fondly supposed, would feel the same way.
Elizabeth was 'sick in her bed', yet - according to the State Papers -the governess, making little of the tragic death of Queen Katherine, whom her charge had loved, announced, 'Your old husband, that was appointed unto you after the death of the King, is free again. You may have him if you will.'
Elizabeth was silent, but she flushed. At length she spoke.
'No,' she said.
'Yes,' said Ashley excitedly. 'Yes, you will not deny it, if my Lord Protector and the Council were pleased therewith.' But Elizabeth refused to show any enthusiasm for the idea. Ashley tried another tack, thinking that, if the Admiral were prompted to show his interest, Elizabeth's reaction might be very different. She told the girl that her stepfather was 'the heaviest man in the world', and that it would be a kindness to write him a letter of condolence. Elizabeth, however, refused to believe that the Queen's demise could occasion him so much grief, and said she 'would not do it, for he needed it not'. Nor did she wish him to think she was chasing him.
The Admiral was in fact more preoccupied with what was going to happen to Lady Jane Grey. With the Queen dead, she could not remain in his household without a chaperon, and her parents had summoned her home to Dorset House. Jane, wrote her father, was too young to rule herself without a guide, and for want of a bridle might take too much head and be forgetful of the manners and good behaviour taught her by the Queen. Her parents wanted her returned to her mother's care, to be 'framed and ruled towards virtue', humility, sobriety and obedience. Jane must have shuddered at what that meant.
This was not the real reason why Dorset wanted her back. Now that his royal wife was dead, Seymour appeared to have lost what little influence he had, and it was quite obvious that his plan to marry Jane to the King was unrealistic. Dorset knew his daughter's worth, and was confident he could do better for her elsewhere, perhaps by marrying her to Lord Hertford, Somerset's heir.
But the Admiral was loath to let her go. Because of Jane, he had retained his wife's maids-of-honour, and invited his mother, old Lady Seymour, to come and take charge of the household at Sudeley. Jane, he promised, would be 'as dear unto her as though she were her own daughter'. Once he had freed the King from the clutches of Somerset -he did not specify how this would be achieved - he had no doubt but that His Majesty 'shall marry none other than Jane'. And he gave Dorset another instalment of £500 against the £2000 required for Jane's wardship. According to Dorset, the Admiral was 'so earnestly in hand with me and my wife that in the end, because he would have no nay, we were contented she should again return to his house'. By the end of October 1548, Jane, who had briefly and reluctantly gone home, was back in the Admiral's household, then at Hanworth. On her arrival, Seymour confided to his gentleman, Harington, who had been her escort, that she 'should not be married until such time as she should be able to bear a child, and her husband to get one'. He was playing for time, meaning to retain custody of this important little personage to enhance his own status and prosperity, whilst he plotted for more than just a royal marriage.
One day the Admiral spoke of Jane to Thomas Parry.
'There hath been a tale of late. They say now I shall marry [her]. I tell you this but merrily! Merrily!' he emphasised. He had his eyes on a bigger fish.
By the autumn of 1548, Seymour's lust for power was becoming all too evident. Freed from Katherine Parr's restraining influence, he began to scheme in earnest to overthrow his brother, voicing loud criticisms of Somerset's government to anyone who would listen, and secretly canvassing support for his cause. The Protector heard of the Admiral's complaints and did his best to effect a reconciliation between them, but without success. Seymour was bent on Somerset's destruction, and was far more interested in satisfying his ambitions than in preserving family ties. Nothing less than the protectorship would please him.
He set about building an affinity of supporters. Dorset was asked what friends he could rely upon to support the Admiral's planned coup; Seymour advised him to suborn the freemen among his tenants with 'a flagon or two of wine or a pasty of venison, and use familiarity with them, for so shall you cause them to love you and be assured to have them at your commandment'. He offered similar suggestions to his brother-in-law, William Parr, Marquess of Northampton, and to Henry Manners, Earl of Rutland, telling the latter, 'I wish to see the King have the honour and rule of his own doings.' Rutland was dubious, and of the opinion that the Queen's death had diminished the Admiral's status, but the latter rounded upon him furiously. The Council, he roared, 'never feared me as much as they do now'. Rutland, and the rest, remained unconvinced.
Abusing his powers as Lord High Admiral, Seymour travelled to the western ports to ensure that the fleet would be loyal to him in the event of a coup. He then tried to persuade or bribe his neighbours in the West Country to support him. Back in London, he drew up 'a chart of England' and produced it at every opportunity, bragging about the strength of his tenantry and 'how far his lands and dominions did stretch, and what shires and places were for him'. He was anything but discreet about his intentions.
Naturally, his thoughts turned to remarriage. When power was his, he could take his pick of the available royal ladies. Briefly, he considered the Lady Mary, but quickly rejected the idea, probably on grounds of religion. Lady Jane Grey was too young at present. That left the Lady Elizabeth. Already there was gossip about them, not because anyone had found out what had happened at Chelsea and other places, but because some people preferred to believe that the Admiral had retained the services of his wife's maids because he meant to marry Elizabeth very soon. After all, she was the most eligible of the princesses, and of the right religion.
In October, Elizabeth moved from Cheshunt to Hatfield. The Admiral sent his kinsman, John Seymour, to escort her, but could not resist asking him to pass on a message to her, commending John to her and enquiring 'whether her great buttocks were grown any less or no'. History does not record Elizabeth's answer.
When the princess arrived at Hatfield, she found that her household had heard the rumours linking her name to Seymour's and was a-buzz with gossip. Worst of all was Mrs Ashley, who had set herself up to champion the Admiral's cause and did not pause to think of the possible consequences. She could not resist extolling his charms and brilliant prospects to Elizabeth, and insisted it would not be long before he came to pay his addresses to her. Henry VIII, she declared, had wanted the match, and the Admiral had been good enough for Katherine Parr. Why should Elizabeth quibble at marrying him? It would be a good match for her. Now that the Queen was dead, she lacked a powerful protector. Seymour would fill that role perfectly.
To begin with, Elizabeth 'would ever say nay, by her troth' to Ashley's propaganda. But there was no one else in her household to whom she could turn for guidance and advice, and gradually she began to succumb to her governess's persuasions. Seeing her about to capitulate, Ashley told Elizabeth that the Admiral loved her 'but too well. For he is the noblest unmarried man in this land.'
Elizabeth considered. 'Though he himself would peradventure have me,' she said, 'yet I think the Council will not consent to it.' They had, after all, refused permission once before, after her father's death, and would probably do so again. Ashley had to agree, but offered the bright if impractical suggestion that Elizabeth wait until the King came of age and was able to give permission for the marriage himself. But that would not be for at least six years, and the Admiral was unlikely to wait so long for her.
Despite the obvious difficulties, Ashley had succeeded in awakening Elizabeth's interest in the idea of marriage with Seymour. Whenever his name was mentioned, she would blush and show 'a glad countenance', and before long she could not resist talking about him to whoever would listen. Yet her fear of being at the centre of a scandal persisted, and when she was away from home she took care not to display her feelings or give herself away by any other means. At home, encouraged by the vicarious romantic fantasies of Mrs Ashley, she could indulge herself. Once, playing a game called 'Drawing Hands', she 'chose my lord [Seymour] and chased him away'. Ashley teased her 'that she would not refuse him if the Lord Protector and the Council did bid her'. Her answer, 'Yes, by my troth,' proves that she was thinking seriously of marriage.
John Ashley had seen evidence of her feelings and was furious with his wife for encouraging her. Seymour had not proposed, nor even made any move in Elizabeth's direction as yet, and even if he did the Council would be bound to forbid the match. John Ashley spoke sternly to Kat, bidding her on several occasions 'to take heed, for he did fear that my Lady Elizabeth did bear some affection to my Lord Admiral. She seemed to be well-pleased therewith,' but John was sure that Seymour's plans 'would come to naught' and forbade his wife 'to meddle in anything touching him'. But it was too late. The damage had been done.
By late autumn, the Council had heard the rumours linking the Admiral's name to Elizabeth. The Protector, however, dismissed them as mere gossip, being preoccupied with other matters. On 24 November, Parliament met to approve yet more religious reforms. The clergy, hitherto bound by a vow of celibacy, were to be allowed to marry, and a new Book of Common Prayer, written by Archbishop Cranmer, was to be placed in all churches.
The Admiral attended the Parliament, riding in procession with the Lord Privy Seal, Lord Russell, behind Somerset to the state opening. Russell had heard the gossip about Elizabeth and took a dimmer view of it than Somerset.
'My Lord Admiral,' he opened, 'there are certain rumours bruited of you which I am very sorry to hear.' Without beating about the bush, he warned Seymour that if he 'made means' to marry either of the King's sisters, he would 'undo yourself and all those that shall come of you'.
Seymour, astonished, denied 'that there was any such thing attempted on his part, and that he never thought to make any enterprise therein'. But Russell's censure rankled, and when he saw him again a few days later, Seymour was less conciliatory.
'Father Russell,' he said, 'you are very suspicious of me. It is convenient for princesses to marry, and better it were that they are married within the realm than in any foreign place. And why might not I, or another made by the King their father, marry one of them?'
'Any Englishman,' replied Russell, 'who attempts to marry them will procure unto himself the occasion of his utter undoing.' Seymour, 'being of so near alliance to the King's Majesty', would face the death penalty. The King, like all the Tudors, had a suspicious mind, 'and, as often as he shall see you, to think that you wish for his death', would turn upon him with a vengeance. And how, he demanded to know, would the Admiral maintain his estate on a marriage portion of ,£10,000, even if permission for the marriage were permitted.
'They must have £3000 a year as well,' retorted Seymour.
'By God, but they may not!' exclaimed Russell.
'By God,' swore the Admiral, becoming heated, 'none of you all dare say nay to it!'
'By God!' rejoined Russell. 'For my part. I will say nay to it, for it is clean against the King's will.'
The warning could not have been clearer, but the Admiral never would brook any opposition. Rashly, he wrote to Elizabeth, hinting at his intentions. With commendable sense, she declined to reply.
Parliament, meanwhile, continued with its business. In December, Archbishop Cranmer and his bishops publicly announced their rejection of the doctrine of transubstantiation, and a new Bill of Uniformity banning the Catholic mass was drawn up and submitted to the assembly. The Council expressed concern over the Catholic ceremonial and display that attended the celebration of mass in the Lady Mary's household. Mary had just taken up residence at Newhall after visiting Norfolk. 'I understand,' wrote van der Delft's secretary, Jean Dubois, 'that she was much welcomed in the North [sic], and wherever she had power she caused the mass to be celebrated and the services of the Church performed in the ancient manner.' Clearly, this could not be tolerated by the Council, which in December sent a delegation to wait upon her and request her to exercise discretion in the practice of her faith. Somerset feared her influence and popularity, but dared not censure her too openly for fear of offending her powerful cousin, the Emperor Charles V.
Mary refused to agree to the Council's request, but her position was precarious, and in January Charles V, having learned of the Bill of Uniformity, instructed van der Delft to warn the Council that he would not tolerate any pressure being put upon Mary to conform to it. Mary was safe for the moment.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, was treading a precarious path. Two weeks before Christmas she was planning to visit her brother in London and stay at Durham House on the Strand, a property left her by her father. However, it transpired that the Protector had forgotten this and was now using the building as a mint. Rather rashly, she sent Thomas Parry to Seymour Place in London, to ask the Admiral if he knew of any house that she could use during her visit.
Parry was a busybody, fawning and often hot-tempered, and puffed up with his own importance. The Welshman was bowled over by the genial welcome extended to him by the Admiral, not realising that Seymour was already scheming to use him as a go-between and wished to ingratiate himself with him. Expansively, the Admiral declared that Seymour Place and all its 'household stuff would be at Elizabeth's disposal whenever she needed it, which impressed Parry. Seymour then said that he would very much like to see Elizabeth again. Perhaps, when she next moved to Ashridge, he could visit her, since it was on the way to his country estates. He also suggested that, when she arrived in London, Elizabeth ask for the Duchess of Somerset's help in finding a new town house.
Having convinced Parry that he had Elizabeth's best interests at heart, the Admiral began to question the cofferer closely about her financial affairs. How many servants did she keep? What houses and lands had been assigned to her? Had her title to them been confirmed by King Edward? To this last, Parry replied that Letters Patent had not yet been issued, at which the Admiral suggested that Elizabeth ask the Duchess to help her exchange her lands for better ones, preferably 'westward or in Wales', near to his own estates. He himself, he said, would put in a good word on her behalf. He had, after all, much to gain, for the uniting of his properties with hers in the west would have resulted in a formidable concentration of landed power.
How much did she spend on household expenses, he wanted to know. When told, he made several suggestions as to how she could economise, telling Parry 'what was spent in his own house'. Parry was so flattered at being taken into the Admiral's confidence that he did not pause to think before divulging so much information; it was obviously a preliminary to a proposal of marriage, and he was only too happy to assist.
When, on 11 December, Parry returned to Hatfield, and told Elizabeth of Seymour's 'gentle offer' of a town house, she took it 'very gladly, and accepted it very joyfully and thankfully', but she was not so pleased when her cofferer urged her to consider marrying Seymour, if the Council gave permission.
'When that shall come to pass,' she said, 'I will do as God shall put into my mind.' She wanted to know why Parry had made such a suggestion: 'Who bade him say so?' He answered that no one had; he had just gained the impression that 'my lord was given that way rather than otherwise'.
Elizabeth was further angered when Parry repeated Seymour's suggestion that she exchange her lands for others that lay near his. What did the Admiral mean by such a suggestion? Parry said he did not know, 'unless he go about to have you also'. Nor would she consent to be a suitor to the Protector's wife for favours, and ordered Parry to inform the Admiral that she would have nothing to do with that insufferable woman.
Sensibly, Elizabeth ordered Parry to acquaint Mrs Ashley with what had transpired in London, 'for I will know nothing but she shall know of it. I cannot be quiet until ye have told her of it'. That way, she could not be accused of secretly conspiring with the Admiral through Parry. If she were to marry the Admiral, it could only come about with the consent of the Council; she would not defy them. Nor would she consent to allow the Admiral to interfere in her financial affairs. She intended instead to follow the astute advice of Mr William Cecil, a young, Protestant, Cambridge-educated lawyer and member of Parliament, who had just been made secretary to the Protector. Elizabeth had been in touch with him since August, and respected his intelligence and political acumen. It was the beginning of an historical partnership that would last for half a century.
Shortly after Parry's return, Mrs Ashley also went to London, where she heard gossip that alarmed her. Some related to the Admiral's political activities, some to his interest in the Lady Elizabeth. Mrs Cheke and Lady Tyrwhit, a relative of Katherine Parr, told the governess that it was still supposed that he had retained the Queen's maids for Elizabeth's benefit, and many were saying openly that he would soon be paying court to her.
Then the Protector's wife summoned Kat to court and berated her soundly for becoming over-friendly with the Admiral. She found great faults with Mrs Ashley because she had heard that, some time before, whilst they were still in the Queen's household, the governess had allowed Elizabeth to accompany Seymour on an evening trip down the Thames by barge without a chaperon.
'You are not worthy to have the governance of a king's daughter,' she shrilled. 'Another shall have your place.'
Much chastened, and not knowing if the Duchess would carry out her threat to replace her, Ashley hurried home to Hatfield. What she had heard and experienced in London had finally convinced her that now was not the time to urge a marriage between the Admiral and her charge. She told Elizabeth that such a thing might not be possible 'till the King's Majesty came to his own rule', for it appeared that neither 'my Lord Protector's Grace nor the Council would suffer a subject to have her'. It would be better therefore if she did not set her mind on this marriage, 'seeing the unlikelihood of it'; instead, she should 'hold herself at the appointment of my lords of the Council'. But Elizabeth had already decided upon this course; one scare had been enough for her, and she was well aware of what was at stake. But would Mrs Ashley follow her own advice?