CHAPTER XIV

The Crown Resigned

Lady Caroline and Sir William Wood were much concerned when, on my return to them, I related the misadventure which had befallen me, and blamed themselves for being so much occupied with others that they had not heard my cries for succour. However, they were glad that Sir Hubert Blair effected my rescue, and were very kind to me and sympathizing, making me walk and drive between them all the remainder of the time until we were safely back in the Tower.

A great commotion was going on there, armed men and servants hurrying about, and lords and ladies making hasty preparations for departure.

'What is it? What has happened?' cried Sir William, but for some time no one could or would answer him.

A little later we learned the truth. The Lord Treasurer had left the Tower, contrary to the positive order of the Duke of Northumberland who, before departing, had strictly impressed upon the Duke of Suffolk the necessity of keeping the whole Council within its walls, and it was an open secret that this step was the beginning of the end of what some one irreverently termed 'the miserable farce of Queen Jane's reign.'

It seemed to me that every one except the queen knew this, and she, misled by the representations of her father, who was himself duped by the Council, was wholly ignorant that the downfall which she had at the first apprehended was really beginning to take place.

I found her in tears, it is true, when I went to her bedroom where she was lying ill, but that was, as I speedily discovered, because her mother-in-law had been upbraiding her severely and telling her that Lord Guildford justly refused to come near after her conduct towards him.

'And Margery, Margery, put your dear little head quite near to me, I want to whisper something,' said the young queen pitifully. 'Nearer still, Margery,' she went on, 'for the very walls have ears.' And when my ear was close to her sweet lips, she said low into it, 'I am so ill, I have such indescribable sensations, like none that I have ever had in illness before. Do you think it is possible that they are poisoning me?'

I told her No. I scouted the idea as unworthy of her noble mind. I vehemently declared that she was giving way to imagination. I besought her not to be so childish. I implored her to think of Plato's lofty reasonings. I entreated that she would stay her mind on God's promises to His dear children. I began to quote whole passages of the Bible--the words flew from my lips as fast as I could think them, whilst my dear lady listened spell-bound, and then, suddenly I spoilt it all by bursting out into passionate tears and sobs, in the midst of which I cried, 'They will kill you! They will kill you! They have made you their puppet for a day and set you upon a throne and crowned you, and then--being unable to keep you there, and maddened by failure--they _will kill you_!' And with that I wept uncontrollably, shaking the great bed on which my dear lady was lying with the sobs that rent and tossed my whole frame.

'My poor child! My dear little Margery!' It was Queen Jane who was comforting me now and holding me in her arms whilst she tried to wipe away my tears. 'How you love me! I believe your love is the sweetest, next to my husband's, and the most disinterested that has ever been given me. Darling one, it was a shame to bring you away from your happy home in the country to share my troubled life! But you are wise, you have spoken of the Bible promises, we will stay our hearts on them, and in prayer we will implore for grace that we may be sustained with heavenly consolation and enabled to do our duty whatever happens.'

In reading the Bible and in prayer, therefore, we sought to find true help and consolation in our time of trouble, but were not left long in peace to perform such exercises, there were so many about us, maids of honour, the Duchess of Suffolk and the Duchess of Northumberland, besides the queen's younger sister, the Lady Herbert, and her young sister-in-law, Lady Hastings, to the former of whom she was tenderly attached.

I cannot describe--for it would make too dismal reading--the way in which Queen Jane's relations and her husband's relations harassed her continually--Lord Guildford Dudley, perhaps, by his absence and treatment of her, the most of all, as he was the best beloved. For it is ever those whom we love most who have it in their power to inflict upon us the bitterest pain. By our love we give them a key admitting them into the holiest, warmest recesses of our hearts, and when they prove unkind they are able to inflict there the most exquisite suffering.

On the Wednesday of that fatal week the Council, following the example of the Lord Treasurer, left the Tower for Baynard's Castle, and upon arriving there they unanimously declared that Princess Mary should be queen, sending for the Lord Mayor and aldermen of the city and emphatically declaring to them that Mary should be queen. The announcement was received with pleasure, and the gentlemen rode to St. Paul's Cross, where the Garter king-at-arms proclaimed Mary Queen of England, France and Ireland.

No dismal silence greeted this proclamation, but cries of triumph and delight, and the day was ended with bonfires, illuminations and loud rejoicings.

Immediately after proclaiming the new queen the Council sent word to the Duke of Suffolk to surrender the Tower, but he did not wait for these instructions, the shouts and acclamations of the people in the streets reached the Tower before their messengers arrived, and the duke went immediately to his daughter's room and imparted the news to her as gently as he could, adding that she must lay aside the state and dignity of a queen and must become again a private person.

'This is better for me to bear,' she answered, 'than my former advancement to royalty. Out of obedience to you and my mother I have grievously sinned and hurt my own inclinations. Now I willingly relinquish the crown, and trust that by so doing immediately and willingly the offence that has been committed may be a little lessened.'

Thus contentedly and even gladly did my dear lady give up the brief sovereignty which had been to her in every way a most distressing period.

'We will go home, Margery,' she said to me, when her maids of honour and the other Court ladies had hurried off to see to the packing of their finery and the safe escort of their persons out of the Tower. 'We will go home to Sion House, where God grant we may once more rest in body and mind, enjoying our books and studying from the fair field of nature, as shown in the lovely gardens, the wide park, and last, but not least, the glorious river.'

'Yes, yes; let us return to Sion House,' I cried eagerly. 'We were happy there.'

'Yes; we were indeed. And my dear lord is there.' A sweet smile lighted up her face. 'Me-thinks,' she added tenderly, 'he will forgive me everything when he sees me once more a private person and no queen.' And she began to sing a tender little love song, still with that charming smile upon her face.

She was so beautiful and so good, my love went out to her then in the hour of her outward humiliation and inward peace, more than it had ever done before, and I threw myself on the floor at her feet and, clasping my hands upon her knees, said--

'Madam, we are all kings and priests to God, and yours is the best royalty of all, for you rule your own spirit with wisdom and grace. Oh, if you only knew how I admire and love you!'

'Dear!' she laid her hand caressingly upon my head, 'Plato says that greater is the one who admires than the one who is admired. You must therefore be greater than I. So get up at once--at once, Margery,' she repeated, 'And let us pack up our things, for we are going home.'

Yes, we were going to her home, and were about to leave the grandeur and the gloom of those royal apartments in the palace of the great Tower with far more gladness than we had felt on entering them.

Lady Jane's friends and partisans mourned that she was a fallen queen, but we, she and I, knew that, far from falling, she had risen in all that went to make her life more truly happy, beneficent and noble.