The Tudor Triangle

Chapter 24: Wedded Bliss?

11th of April, 1553

Somerset Place, the Strand, London

Robert looks like a child who has just stolen hot jam tarts, and he cannot contain his glee.  In fact, he has not tired of delighting in our sumptuous residence. We are now keepers of Somerset Place. It is the most splendid house in London and many churches have been demolished so it could rise. He runs his fingers along the cloth of gold embroidery, no fine detail is lost on him.  Are all these riches too much? I now can have all the dresses I desire, but I have lost the thrill of getting something new.

I speak out loud my troubled thoughts. "I feel...uneasy."  

We both sit at the window seat looking down at London. The Strand is teeming with life. There is every comfort one can imagine in Somerset, as Edward Seymour ensured it was a place fitting for the Kings favourite. Although he is not the Kings favourite anymore, he is three feet underground with London soil plumped on top of him. This is the source of my disquiet.

Robert turns to me."Why?" 

"Well, we have this house because...he is dead." Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, is dead. Executed on Tower Hill just like his errant brother. The kings uncles extinguished, joining Edward's mother Jane in Gods care. Only a few years past the Seymours were joined to the Dudleys in matrimony, now a funeral divides them.

"Somerset is dead because he tried to betray my father and the country. If it wasn't for my father improving trade then England would be in dire trouble." Robert flicks some dust off his doublet. I watch his hands sudden movements.

"I know but is it wrong to have so much happiness out of so much misery? When I think of poor Lady Somerset and --"

"Do not think of them." He is being rather loud and he slams his hand on the window seat, making me jump.

He then touches my shoulder gently, his tone lowers. "My father offered him peace, a way to work together. It is only through his own folly that he rests where he does.  Do not worry yourself, Amy, with such morbid thoughts. Let us just enjoy our good fortune. Here we are, barely twenty; my father is the chief minister of the land and our future is secure. We are in a place befitting the son of the Earl of Warwick. All in the land will know how high the Dudleys have risen."

"This house...It is so vast."

"Yes, it is quite magnificent. Seymour had a fine eye, I have to say."

"But at Stanfield, I felt like I knew every stone. Here I feel it will take a lifetime to know one wing of it."

He chuckles. "But you can't expect the son of John Dudley, to live in a place like Stanfield. It is so...small."

I stiffen and I feel a chill. "But Robert, I want a place we can call our own. A place I can settle." 

"There's time for that.  Don't worry my dear wife, I shall find you your perfect residence. You and I will grow old and grey in it. But for now, let us enjoy our good fortune."

He takes my hand and I smile, but I cannot escape the pervading uneasy feeling.  I do not voice my concerns to Robert, I wish him to see a happy wife when he comes home to me from court. But, if Somerset can fall so easy, what is to stop John Dudley from falling too? Even if he is now elevated to Earl of Warwick. The Tudor court is teeming with the changing tides of fortunes; one wave laps in and wealth arrives. A wave sweeps out and all is lost. The cemetery is filled with those that fell. Skeletons crumble underground of those that gambled foolishly for the highest prizes. Bones slowly collapse of the men who naively relied on keeping the favour of the King.