Free Lady in Waiting: A Novel by Susan Meissner Page B

He married someone else the summer I turned thirteen. There had been no one since then who made my heart flutter. I did not wish to marry anyone who did not.
    “Will your parents choose for you?” she asked.
    I stumbled over my response. “I … Of course any young man who wishes to marry me will have to ask my father for permission.” This was not the same, and we both knew it.
    But she simply nodded. Her eyes communicated a glimmer of envy, and it occurred to me there was a reason behind her asking.
    “If I could choose for myself, do you know who I would pick?” Her cheeks grew crimson, and she smiled as she looked away from me.
    My own cheeks warmed a bit as I considered the awkwardness of our conversation. “I am sure I do not, my lady.”
    She peeked up at me and laughed lightly. “Guess.”
    I fumbled for an answer. “Someone at court?”
    Her grin widened, and I saw such hope and expectation there.
    “Edward Seymour,” she whispered. “The Lord Protector’s son. The one who sent the letter.”
    For a moment, neither one of us spoke. I could see she felt a kinship for me for other reasons besides my holding her the day before while she cried and the closeness in our age. I had seen Edward Seymour’s letter. I hadn’t read it, but I had seen it. I had seen the flowing script, the shape of his letters, the flourish of his pen as he wrote her a note of condolence.
    The restlessness I had witnessed the night previous wasn’t because she feared the note’s contents but because the young man whose attention made her blush had sent her a note, and she had been denied the pleasure of reading it. And reading it again. And again.
    “I did not think he even remembered me,” she said softly. “I’ve only met him once. But I remember him. I remember how he made me feel. You probably think I am too young to know that feeling.”
    I shook my head. “No, my lady. I don’t think that.”
    “Did you see him when he was at Bradgate?”
    “Aye, my lady.”
    “What do you think of him, Lucy?” Her voice was hopeful.
    “He … he seems a kind soul. He was polite to your parents and kind to your sisters. He has a winsome smile.”
    She grinned and her eyes spoke elation, and then, just as quickly, sheturned apprehensive. “You mustn’t speak of this to the admiral, Lucy. It would vex him if he knew I had affection for his brother’s son. He and his brother, the Protector, they do not … they …” But she could say no more, for the door opened behind us, and Mrs. Ellen swept into the room.
    “There you are!” Mrs. Ellen said cheerfully as she made her way to us.
    And as she did, Jane and I returned to our normal places—she, the second cousin to the King of England, and I, the humble daughter of a gentleman tailor.

Ten
     

     
    T he Lord Admiral returned to Sudeley not long after Queen Katherine was laid to rest. He did not announce where he had been while away, but there were whispers among the house staff that he had spent time with Princess Elizabeth, and such whispers were always followed by tittering and smirking. He promptly pronounced to the household the evening of his return that we would be relocating to Hanworth. The reason was not given, but Mrs. Ellen told me the admiral was intent on convincing Jane’s parents to allow her to remain his ward and that his prospects to secure a marriage between my lady and His Majesty were still favorable. Hanworth was easier to reach by carriage. It would be that much easier to fetch Jane back from Bradgate.
    Jane was melancholy as we prepared to leave and spoke little as I worked to gather her gowns, hoods, and capes. Later, when I asked Mrs. Ellen if my lady was ill, she said, “Lady Jane was happy here at Sudeley. ’Tis difficult to leave, even with the Queen in her grave. And the babe will not be joining us.”
    This surprised me. “Why not?”
    She shrugged. “The admiral has no need of the child.”
    “Need?”
    Mrs. Ellen tipped her head and