Free The Lady Elizabeth by Alison Weir Page B

Europe? But no matter. There were other princesses. Perhaps he should consider the one in Cleves—what was her name…?
    “I have never seen a child so forward,” Chapuys was saying. Henry looked across the presence chamber to where his younger daughter was gracefully pirouetting and dipping in a ronde, and realized the truth of the ambassador’s words. Elizabeth was growing up to be very pretty, and spirited as well; she was not his daughter for nothing, nor Anne’s too, he grudgingly conceded. She had her mother’s vanity and flirtatiousness, and her capacity to charm, even at this young age; and those black eyes…He could never forget those inviting black eyes, was damned never to forget them…
    Someday, he thought resolutely, he must find Elizabeth a husband. For all her bastard status, there would be suitors aplenty ready to forge an alliance with her father. Until then, she could be dangled as a carrot—a very pretty carrot, who would, he guessed, prove in due course to be quite a handful for any man.
    The matter was shelved, though, for Henry was too preoccupied with his marriage negotiations and the discovery of another nest of traitors. After the Easter celebrations were over, Elizabeth went back to Hunsdon with Mary, and there she was once more constrained by her half sister to behave decorously and attend to her devotions. She chafed at the strict regime imposed on her, for she seemed to be constantly on her knees or plying her needle. How she hated sewing! The tedium of it!
    Kat reined in her rebellious spirit, but also spoiled her, smuggling sugary comfits into the schoolroom, reading her the most fascinating stories, giggling with her at silly jests and pompous officials, yet all the while imposing her own gentle forms of discipline.
    Kat’s lessons fascinated her. Elizabeth soon discovered that she loved learning, and proved an eager pupil. Each day she would be up bright and early, racing through her prayers and her breakfast so that she could hasten to the schoolroom and learn more about the enticing wide world that was opening up before her.
    Kat taught her numbers using an abacus, and set her little problems to solve.
    “If I have five cherries and eat two, how many have I left?”
    Elizabeth counted on her fingers.
    “Three!” she said quickly.
    “Good,” smiled Kat, impressed at the child’s ability.
    Kat taught her to form letters, having her trace rows and rows of them in a copy book. Soon, Elizabeth was able to write her name, and after that it was only a matter of time before she was scribing simple sentences.
    Kat told her stories of the kings and queens who had been her forebears; she particularly loved to hear about William the Conqueror winning the Battle of Hastings, and Queen Philippa successfully pleading for the Burghers of Calais, but best of all was the tale of how Elizabeth’s grandfather, Henry the Seventh, had vanquished the wicked Richard Crookback at the Battle of Bosworth and thus become the first Tudor King. Elizabeth shuddered to hear how Richard had murdered his little nephews, the Princes in the Tower, and was of the opinion that he had met the fate he richly deserved. How she admired her victorious grandfather!
    One day, Kat unrolled a map.
    “This shows the British Isles,” she said. “This part here is England, this is Wales, and this is Ireland. Your father the King rules all three.”
    “And what is this part?” asked Elizabeth, pointing to the top of the map. She was always anticipating the next part of the lesson.
    “That is Scotland, and it is ruled by your cousin, King James the Fifth. Now, across the sea—see here, the English Channel—is France, and your father is King of France too, by right of blood.”
    “My father is a mighty prince!” enthused Elizabeth.
    The next chart Kat produced showed the heavens, with the planets revolving around the earth. There was another too, with gaily colored signs of the Zodiac.
    “See, here is yours, my Lady