Daughter of Time

February 1547

Greenwich Palace

"I shall be sorry to leave here," Katherine sighs with a touch of wistfulness as we walk through the Queens' frost-dusted, privy gardens at Greenwich. After three days of confinement, as protocol dictates following the death of a sovereign, the Queen and I have ventured outside the stuffy confines of the palace for the first time since my father died, to take the air within the private gardens. "His Majesty always enjoyed his time at Greenwich and it is easy to see why had such affection for it."

'Happy memories of a bygone time," I suggest, desperately hoping that my father's happy memories of Greenwich included the day of my birth, which took place in within the walls of this very palace.

"A life well lived indeed," Katherine agrees, though her voice is tinged with an unmistakable tone of sadness. "But we must look to our own lives now my dear Mary. Have you given any thought to what your future will be?"

"I shall return to Hunsdon madam since there is no longer a place at court for me.  Lord Hertford has assured me that the King bequeathed Hunsdon to me in his will. Perhaps Elizabeth will agree to come with me."

The Queen's face suddenly betrays surprise and pain. "You will not leave so soon will you? I had hoped that you would come to live in my household at Chelsea, the Lady Elizabeth too. I would not have you think that His Majesty's passing has dissolved our relationship."

"I would be happy to do so madam, in truth I do not relish the idea of returning to Hertfordshire alone at such a time."

"There will always be a home at Chelsea for you both." Her Grace says generously. "I will live as a private citizen once again since His Majesty did not name me to the regency council."

The pain at this snub is evident in her eyes that my father did not deem Katherine worthy enough to name her as regent during Edwards's minority. Particularly given the exemplary way she managed the kingdom whilst my father was in France. Indeed none of the sixteen men appointed to Edwards council has been named as regent, not even Lord Hertford. The power of authority has been handed down jointly to his councillors to govern on Edwards' behalf until he shall come of age.

"I did not seek this life you know". Her Grace suddenly reveals, as if speaking to herself, as we turn about the gardens. "Had His Majesty overlooked me when we first met and married another, it would have grieved me very little. But now, four years on, I find I am so grievously saddened by my loss. The King was always a most gentle, and kind Lord to me, and a most generous husband."

I say nothing but look at this tearful woman, my reluctant Queen and stepmother. I remember that day by the river at Whitehall when she confided to me that my father had proposed to her and her unease over such a calling. She has never said so, but I have long been convinced, ever since Lady Hertford first mentioned it, that her reluctance to marry His Majesty was because of her attachment to the late Queen Janes brother, Thomas Seymour. That she loved him I do not doubt.

"I received a very kind letter from Edward this morning," I say hoping to lighten the Queen's spirits. "He promised to remain my dearest brother, overflowing with all kindness. He says we ought not to mourn our fathers' death since it is His will, who works all things for good."

"He is a dear boy." Katherine smiles. "He wrote to me also saying that it consoles him that His Majesty is now in heaven and has gone out of this miserable world and into everlasting blessedness."

Chelsea has proved to be a most tranquil setting for us three together. Katherine is as kind and diligent in her role as stepmother to Elizabeth and myself now, as she was during the life of the King. It could be easy to pretend that she is our natural mother, Elizabeth and I, natural sisters, living together after the death of our husband and father.

In truth, I think I shall be sorry when the time comes to leave here, but I know that I shall soon have to depart. My father's will has bequeathed me numerous properties, which will require my attention. Hunsdon has been bequeathed to me, just as I was assured, as has Beaulieu and Kenninghall, the grand house of the Duke of Norfolk, who was arrested and attainted on charges of treason just weeks before my father died. In keeping with the King's laws, any property acquired by an act of attainder, becomes the King's property, enabling him to legitimately bequeath it to heirs of his choosing, even though the Duke has not been executed. My father passed away before the death warrant could be signed, and my brothers' advisors do not wish to inaugurate Edward's reign with bloodshed, so it seems the Duke may escape the axe.

In all, I have been left well provided for, and my considerable estate has me now placed as the third richest person in England. I have a council, stewards, estate managers, and money collectors for rents. For the first time in my life, I shall be able to manage my own estates and manage them my way.

Yet our private life lived at Chelsea has not deafened us to what has happened at court in the weeks since my father's death. Even before his earthly remains were laid to rest, there have been whispers of bribery and corruption running rampant through the Regency Council.

The king's younger uncle Thomas Seymour, seemingly affronted to not being named amongst the regency councillors demanded the governorship of His Majesty in a council session, which caused an uproar. He has been placated with a place on the Privy Council and made Lord High Admiral as part of Edward's coronation honours, but his reputation is inexorably tarnished. He is not the only man to be honoured with a title. Copious knighthood and Earldoms have been distributed to Edward's new councillors.

Lord Hertford, now the Duke of Somerset, has been named Lord Protector and is, from what I can ascertain from Anne's letters, quietly amassing total control over the whole of Regency Council, utterly contrary to my father's wishes.

Elizabeth and I are forbidden from attending Edwards's coronation. Though to hear the report of the service being conducted according to Lutheran ways, and Edward likened to the Biblical Josiah by the heretic Cranmer, I am relieved to have been spared such a travesty.

I fear that by inaugurating his reign so, Edward's councillors may try to use his youth and experience to advance their heretic faith.

In spite of the March sunshine, the air outside is still discernibly chilly. Yet I long for the feel of fresh air on my face, and the comfort that a good stroll always brings. I fasten my black furred cape around me and stroll down to the riverbank, where to my surprise, I find a barge mooring up, bearing the Seymour family badge and coat of arms.

A man in vibrant blue satin waves to me as he disembarks from the barge. As he walks towards me, he comes into better focus, I recognise him as Sir Thomas Seymour. "Good day, Lady Mary. How enchanting you look." He smiles broadly at me, bowing low.

I know his flattering words to be false. I am dressed solely in my purple and black mourning clothes and cape. Black may be a formal colour, but it is certainly not flattering. it is sombre, dull. Moreover, I dislike his comments that my mourning garments, worn in reverence of the memory of my father, should be viewed as anything other than what they are - a demonstration of grief and sadness.

I greet him with forced politeness. "Good day, my Lord. What brings you to Chelsea?"

"I have just returned to England from overseas and wished to pay my respects to your good stepmother. I was told by my brother, that Her Majesty had taken up residence here, and so here I am."

This man is too forward. His words are that of a courtier, flattering and extravagant, but I do not like them. Though it would be ungracious to be rude, more so to the king's own uncle. "Her Grace is inside Sir." I point him in the direction of the house "If you will excuse me".

"Of course". He bows low as I pass. "I hope we shall see each other again soon." He calls after me.