I wipe my eyes and sit up in my bed. I have to do something at once: the pain is like a vise gripping my belly; something must be happening. Although Aunt Bess was clear that she would do nothing for me, she has given me an idea—I should get away from court and give birth to this child in secret, perhaps leave him with a kindly family and return to court. When Ned comes home, if he ever comes home, and if he still loves me, if all this has been a terrible mistake, then we can ask for permission to marry, announce that we are husband and wife, and produce the baby, the new heir to the throne.

Robert Dudley at least would be glad of that. It would give Elizabeth a male heir that she can nominate for the throne; it would leave her free to marry him. William Cecil would be happy to have a Protestant heir in the cradle. But I have to find somewhere to go into confinement where my secret will be safe.

I long to go to my old home of Bradgate, but everyone knows me there, and the news would get back to court as fast as a spy could ride. I wish I could go to Hanworth and be at Ned’s home; but his mother would not support our marriage when we asked her, I doubt she would welcome me on my own, and Janey would not be there, where she promised to be. I dare not go uninvited and I dare not tell Ned’s mother why I need a home. I cannot tell my uncle, I cannot bring myself to tell him the truth, and I will not bring my disgrace to his new front door. I need someone who has vast lands, and many houses, who can give me a hideaway until my baby comes. Someone who can pay for a wet nurse, and bribe people to keep my secret. Someone who has the courage to hide me from the queen, someone who would take the risk of her displeasure to give her a Protestant heir.