Edward laughed aloud, as he rarely did.
“Will Your Grace tell this dread secret?”
Edward’s hand which had only just lost the pudginess of babyhood, grasped the beautiful brown locks of Sir Thomas.
“Put me down, Uncle Thomas. Put me down, I say. I will pull your hair if you do not.”
“I tremble. I am in fear. So Your Grace refuses to tell me his secret?”
“There is no secret.”
Sir Thomas lowered the Prince and gave him two hearty kisses; and Edward put his arms about his uncle’s neck. Oh why, thought Edward, are not all men like my Uncle Thomas?
Sir Thomas set him on the floor and went to Lady Jane Grey.
“And you, my lady, will you tell me the secret?”
“There is no secret, Sir Thomas.”
“I would force it from you,” he cried, “were you not so beautiful that I could not bear to hurt you.”
He let his fingers caress the soft golden curls of the beautiful child, contemplatively, sadly; for she was small and so young and it would be long before she was a woman.
“I must prise the secret from one of you, that is certain…and since it cannot be from you, my Prince, or you, my Lady Jane, it must be from the Lady Elizabeth.”
She was waiting for him, seeming cool yet inviting, her light lashes lowered over her eyes which might have betrayed too much. He noted the softness of her delicate skin, the provocative powdering of freckles.
She lacked the beauty of Jane, but, by God, thought Sir Thomas, she is the one for me.
He laid his hands on her shoulders.
Haughtily she glanced first at one hand then at the other. “You will take your hands from me, sir.” She was very proud, very much the daughter of the King.
He took her chin in his hand and jerked her face up to his. Now he could see her eyes; he could see the curve of her lips which betrayed her excitement, her pleasure in this badinage, which he knew and she knew was not the play between a grown person and a child, but an encounter between a man and a woman.
Nine years old, he reflected. Is it possible?
His hand touched her throat. She was as yet too inexperienced to hide her feelings. She was delighted to have his attention. She had known that his tricks with Edward and Jane had been the preliminaries that should lead to this encounter between them.
He brought his face close to hers. “Will the Lady Elizabeth tell me the secret?”
“How would that be possible, sir, when there is no secret?”
“Are you sure that you hide nothing from me?”
“If I wished to hide matters from you, Sir Thomas, I should do so.”
How exciting she was! A nine-year-old girl, a Princess as ambitious as himself. Was her glance telling him now: “Who are you to dare look at me in that way? Do you forget I am the King’s daughter?” And his eyes answered: “I do not forget. It but adds to your charm. And I beg of you, do not forget that the King calls you his bastard daughter, and that I am the uncle of the King-to-be. Anne Boleyn’s daughter and Jane Seymour’s brother—what a delightful partnership! How the ghosts of Anne and Jane must be laughing—if ghosts can laugh!”
“What shall I do?” he asked. “Prize the secret from you?”
“Do not disturb yourself,” she answered. “I think that to which you refer is no secret. My father is to marry again, we have heard. Is that the matter which you call a secret?”
Did she know of his ambitions? He could swear that she mocked him when she continued: “It is on my Lady Latimer that the King’s choice has fallen.”
He dropped his hands then; he could not meet her eye. She must have heard rumors regarding himself and Lady Latimer. The saucy young coquette was reproaching him with that, as though he were indeed her lover.
“We are all well pleased,” said Edward. “For we know her and like her well.”
“She is a good lady,” said Sir Thomas; and he felt depressed suddenly, but only momentarily; he had complete faith in his destiny. But he had been so fond of Kate. He had
“Will Your Grace tell this dread secret?”
Edward’s hand which had only just lost the pudginess of babyhood, grasped the beautiful brown locks of Sir Thomas.
“Put me down, Uncle Thomas. Put me down, I say. I will pull your hair if you do not.”
“I tremble. I am in fear. So Your Grace refuses to tell me his secret?”
“There is no secret.”
Sir Thomas lowered the Prince and gave him two hearty kisses; and Edward put his arms about his uncle’s neck. Oh why, thought Edward, are not all men like my Uncle Thomas?
Sir Thomas set him on the floor and went to Lady Jane Grey.
“And you, my lady, will you tell me the secret?”
“There is no secret, Sir Thomas.”
“I would force it from you,” he cried, “were you not so beautiful that I could not bear to hurt you.”
He let his fingers caress the soft golden curls of the beautiful child, contemplatively, sadly; for she was small and so young and it would be long before she was a woman.
“I must prise the secret from one of you, that is certain…and since it cannot be from you, my Prince, or you, my Lady Jane, it must be from the Lady Elizabeth.”
She was waiting for him, seeming cool yet inviting, her light lashes lowered over her eyes which might have betrayed too much. He noted the softness of her delicate skin, the provocative powdering of freckles.
She lacked the beauty of Jane, but, by God, thought Sir Thomas, she is the one for me.
He laid his hands on her shoulders.
Haughtily she glanced first at one hand then at the other. “You will take your hands from me, sir.” She was very proud, very much the daughter of the King.
He took her chin in his hand and jerked her face up to his. Now he could see her eyes; he could see the curve of her lips which betrayed her excitement, her pleasure in this badinage, which he knew and she knew was not the play between a grown person and a child, but an encounter between a man and a woman.
Nine years old, he reflected. Is it possible?
His hand touched her throat. She was as yet too inexperienced to hide her feelings. She was delighted to have his attention. She had known that his tricks with Edward and Jane had been the preliminaries that should lead to this encounter between them.
He brought his face close to hers. “Will the Lady Elizabeth tell me the secret?”
“How would that be possible, sir, when there is no secret?”
“Are you sure that you hide nothing from me?”
“If I wished to hide matters from you, Sir Thomas, I should do so.”
How exciting she was! A nine-year-old girl, a Princess as ambitious as himself. Was her glance telling him now: “Who are you to dare look at me in that way? Do you forget I am the King’s daughter?” And his eyes answered: “I do not forget. It but adds to your charm. And I beg of you, do not forget that the King calls you his bastard daughter, and that I am the uncle of the King-to-be. Anne Boleyn’s daughter and Jane Seymour’s brother—what a delightful partnership! How the ghosts of Anne and Jane must be laughing—if ghosts can laugh!”
“What shall I do?” he asked. “Prize the secret from you?”
“Do not disturb yourself,” she answered. “I think that to which you refer is no secret. My father is to marry again, we have heard. Is that the matter which you call a secret?”
Did she know of his ambitions? He could swear that she mocked him when she continued: “It is on my Lady Latimer that the King’s choice has fallen.”
He dropped his hands then; he could not meet her eye. She must have heard rumors regarding himself and Lady Latimer. The saucy young coquette was reproaching him with that, as though he were indeed her lover.
“We are all well pleased,” said Edward. “For we know her and like her well.”
“She is a good lady,” said Sir Thomas; and he felt depressed suddenly, but only momentarily; he had complete faith in his destiny. But he had been so fond of Kate. He had
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