Daughter of Time

October 1536

Westminster

With my return to favour, questions begin to be asked about what my future will be. In any other circumstances, I would be looking for a husband, if not already married. Nothing can now come of my betrothal to the King of France's son, Prince Henry, now the Dauphin of France, to whom I was promised at the start of my misfortunes. He has been married for the last three years to a Florentine heiress.

Queen Jane broaches the subject of marriage with me when I am summoned to court at the end of October following an outbreak of rebellion in the North, protesting at the desecration of the religious houses.

"Would it please you to be married, Lady Mary?" She asks as we walk arm in arm through the gardens at Westminster.

"If it is the kings wish, Your Grace," I reply delicately, hiding my blushing face. I would never dream of being so forward in telling the Queen it is my dearest wish my father might unite me in marriage with a noble prince. I long for a husband and children of my own. To share my life with someone. Yet I fear that my fathers' refusal to acknowledge me as his trueborn daughter will prevent a honorable match from being made.

By her smile, the Queen understands me perfectly. "I will speak to His Majesty on the matter."

"Your Grace, there is another matter I would speak of to you. I have heard of the uprising in the North, protesting at the dissolution of the religious houses and fear the king will respond with severe justice."

"I fear the same," The Queen confides, leaning in close to me once more. "Especially so since it is evident the pilgrims bear a great grudge against Lord Cromwell. They have demanded his removal from the council. Along with the chancellor and the attorney-general."

It is surprising to hear the Queen refer to the northerners as pilgrims as opposed to rebels. Unlike the other members of my fathers' court who have nothing but bad words for them.
I know little of the Chancellor Sir Thomas Audley. But I would certainly not object to seeing the back of the solicitor general Sir Richard Rich. After all, he was one of the men who railed at me at Hatfield and did nothing to defend me when the Duke of Norfolk threatened me with violence. Moreover, I have learnt from Chapys that it was he who inventoried my mothers' possessions after she died and he who manipulated the law into allowing the king to keep her goods that were bequeathed to me. He is also, so Chapys tells me, one of the chief architects of the dissolution of the religious houses. Having acquired and destroyed the real estate and holdings of the Priory of St Bartholomew-the-Great and encouraging the king to sell of religious houses for profit.

"Do you think the king will agree to their demands?" I ask quietly, looking about so that I might not be overheard. Even with the Queen, I fear spies in the much changed worldq.

"I do not know," The Queen replies lowering her eyes to the ground. "His Majesty is offended by the interference of the pilgrims in his government. It is not only the removal of his councillors they have demanded. But also that the king recognise you as trueborn and to declare you a Princess again.

"Me?" I cry out in horror. I had not thought to be implicated in this. At once I have visions of being accused of treason and being incarcerated in the Tower. It makes me sick to my stomach. "I have not been a party to any rebellion."

"Hush now," the Queen says soothingly." His Majesty knows you have taken no part in this. His purpose in calling you here was as much for your protection as anything else, lest some troublemakers try to implicate you."

"Truly Your Grace? The king thinks no ill of me?"

"None at all, my dearest Lady Mary." She assures me.