is here. Everywhere there are people working on the fields, hurrying to get in the harvest before the weather changes. Overhead wild geese and ducks are, like us, flying to their winter homes. It’s a pleasant landscape.
By evening we’re in London in the house that the Sidneys own. Mary and Henry are not at home but the servants are expecting us and welcome us inside - they regard our manner of dress with curiosity! After our progress through the countryside London seems dirty and the smell is overpowering but the Sidney’s house, like all large houses, is a haven away from the bustle of the city. We have to get used to the routine of life in the city again.
At the beginning of October Mary and Henry return to their London home. Lady Dudley, the tainted former Duchess of Northumberland, is with them and we are shocked by her appearance. Her face is lined and grey and her posture stooped and dispirited; she now looks like a very old lady. Amy and I greet her with a deep curtsey.
“So you are to visit Robert,” says Lady Dudley to Amy, “Anne, Elizabeth and Margaret have already visited their husbands.”
Amy looks down at the ground at this obvious reprimand and says nothing. Lady Dudley’s making sure that Amy knows she’s neglecting her wifely duties.
“That’s hardly fair, mother,” says M ary. “For one thing Amy doesn’t have her own private fortune as does Elizabeth Tailboys, Ambrose’s wife, and her kin do not own a large enough house in the city. She’s been forced to depend upon the charity of friends in Hertfordshire. Had she returned to her mother’s house she would have been even further away. She’s done as much as she could under the circumstances.”
“And I ask ed her to wait until I returned from Penshurst so that I could escort her to the Tower,” says Henry.
Amy gives them both a grateful look and Lady Dudley gives a faint half smile, or was it a sneer! Amy is not her favourite daughter-in-law due to her lack of fortune and r elatively lowly birth and she’d not been too pleased with Robert for making such a poor match. Inwardly I sigh; will the Dudleys ever cease to be ambitious? Even now with all the family either convicted of treason or awaiting trial, she cannot forget her towering ambition.
Before any more cutting remarks can be made the servants arrive to announce supper. Later we play cards by candlelight; the nights are drawing in now, reminding us that it will soon be cold enough to light a fire. Back in Amy’s bed chamber she complains about her mother-in-law.
“ She’s always disliked me because Robert married me for love and not for fortune. And another thing, Elizabeth Lady Tailboys, Ambrose’s wife, has a lot of property of her own in Lincolnshire and Yorkshire and Henry’s wife, Margaret, is a rich heiress too. Even Anne, John’s wife, is a Seymour and has wealthy kin to help her.”
“Well try not to feel too angry, Amy,” I say, “And remember that they’ve all suffered misfortune too. Ambrose has Elizabeth now but he lost his first wife due to the sweating sickness little more than a year ago and his baby daughter too. Henry’s wife, Margaret Audley, will lose her huge fortune to the crown when Henry’s attainted and poor Anne Seymour, John’s wife, saw her father, Somerset, executed on trumped up charges due, in part, to her father-in-law, Northumberland! How must that have made her feel about the man she married?”
Amy nods. It’s a sobering thought that John Dudley, the eldest son, had seen his own father send hi s wife’s father to his death over a year ago. Northumberland had confessed from the scaffold to his part in the conviction of an innocent man, something he bitterly regretted in the face of death.
“And think of poor Guildford. At eighteen he’s
By evening we’re in London in the house that the Sidneys own. Mary and Henry are not at home but the servants are expecting us and welcome us inside - they regard our manner of dress with curiosity! After our progress through the countryside London seems dirty and the smell is overpowering but the Sidney’s house, like all large houses, is a haven away from the bustle of the city. We have to get used to the routine of life in the city again.
At the beginning of October Mary and Henry return to their London home. Lady Dudley, the tainted former Duchess of Northumberland, is with them and we are shocked by her appearance. Her face is lined and grey and her posture stooped and dispirited; she now looks like a very old lady. Amy and I greet her with a deep curtsey.
“So you are to visit Robert,” says Lady Dudley to Amy, “Anne, Elizabeth and Margaret have already visited their husbands.”
Amy looks down at the ground at this obvious reprimand and says nothing. Lady Dudley’s making sure that Amy knows she’s neglecting her wifely duties.
“That’s hardly fair, mother,” says M ary. “For one thing Amy doesn’t have her own private fortune as does Elizabeth Tailboys, Ambrose’s wife, and her kin do not own a large enough house in the city. She’s been forced to depend upon the charity of friends in Hertfordshire. Had she returned to her mother’s house she would have been even further away. She’s done as much as she could under the circumstances.”
“And I ask ed her to wait until I returned from Penshurst so that I could escort her to the Tower,” says Henry.
Amy gives them both a grateful look and Lady Dudley gives a faint half smile, or was it a sneer! Amy is not her favourite daughter-in-law due to her lack of fortune and r elatively lowly birth and she’d not been too pleased with Robert for making such a poor match. Inwardly I sigh; will the Dudleys ever cease to be ambitious? Even now with all the family either convicted of treason or awaiting trial, she cannot forget her towering ambition.
Before any more cutting remarks can be made the servants arrive to announce supper. Later we play cards by candlelight; the nights are drawing in now, reminding us that it will soon be cold enough to light a fire. Back in Amy’s bed chamber she complains about her mother-in-law.
“ She’s always disliked me because Robert married me for love and not for fortune. And another thing, Elizabeth Lady Tailboys, Ambrose’s wife, has a lot of property of her own in Lincolnshire and Yorkshire and Henry’s wife, Margaret, is a rich heiress too. Even Anne, John’s wife, is a Seymour and has wealthy kin to help her.”
“Well try not to feel too angry, Amy,” I say, “And remember that they’ve all suffered misfortune too. Ambrose has Elizabeth now but he lost his first wife due to the sweating sickness little more than a year ago and his baby daughter too. Henry’s wife, Margaret Audley, will lose her huge fortune to the crown when Henry’s attainted and poor Anne Seymour, John’s wife, saw her father, Somerset, executed on trumped up charges due, in part, to her father-in-law, Northumberland! How must that have made her feel about the man she married?”
Amy nods. It’s a sobering thought that John Dudley, the eldest son, had seen his own father send hi s wife’s father to his death over a year ago. Northumberland had confessed from the scaffold to his part in the conviction of an innocent man, something he bitterly regretted in the face of death.
“And think of poor Guildford. At eighteen he’s
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