The enclosure runs as follows:—
“The Confesyon of francys Goodwell before me.
“The L. Wyllyam Howard the xxth of August.
“She being examyned of me wher she was all that day that my wyfe wayted on the Quenys Matie at the maryage of Mayster Knollys she sayeth she was in my chamber at the Court with her felowes tyll the evenyng after supper wher was also another gentyll woman callyd mystres Hewdney, who my wyfe dyd newly put out of her sarvyce, and they beyng mynded to walke owt my Lady Mary sent for Ffrancys to wayte on her to her chamber and she accordyng to her commandement dyd so, and when she came thyther my Lady Mary entered in to the Chamber and franncys with her and she sayeth as sone as she was within the doure stood still and there she saw the Sergeant Porter whom she sayeth she knew not with iij other in blacke clokys and ther talkyd together and (a) lyttyll whyll and then my Lady Mary came out agayne bot for any maryage that was mayd ther to her knowledge she denythe it to the dethe but what they sayd she knowythe not nor she knowythe not any of them that was ther with hym (more than thys I can not by any meanys gete of her).
“After the wrytyng of this muche she sayd further to me that they dyd together as she cowled [could] perseve open a boke bot she hard [heard] not the wordys for they spake softly.
“W. Howard.”[131]
On September 1, the Lady Mary was removed to her place of exile, Mr. William Hawtrey’s mansion, “The Chequers,” even then a very old house, in a beautiful situation among the Chiltern Hills. She was accompanied by the aforesaid Mr. William Hawtrey, his serving-man, and one of her own maids, the procession being closed by some pack-horses. Magnificent as was Mr. Hawtrey’s garden at “The Chequers,” and beautiful the surrounding country, it does not seem to have in the least impressed Lady Mary Grey, whose only thought was to regain her freedom. She wrote to Cecil towards the end of the year 1565, in the following rather pathetic terms: “I did trust to have wholly obtained Her Majesty’s favour before this time, the which having once obtained I trust never to lose again. But now I perceive that I am so unhappe a creature, as I must yet be without that great and long-desired jewel till it please God to put into Her Majesty’s harte to forgive and pardon me my great and heinous crime.” It seems that Mr. Hawtrey cheerfully joined in the chorus of appeals, for he was considerably bored by his aggrieved and unwilling guest, and earnestly wished to be rid of her. Lady Mary was persuaded that she might appease the queen’s wrath, if she could but have an interview with her, and when Elizabeth was paying a visit to Lord Windsor at Bradenham, not far distant from the little captive’s abode, she again wrote to Cecil, begging that she, “The Queen’s prisoner and most poore wretche, might have access to Her Majesty’s Grace, for the purpose of pleading for herself in person.” Elizabeth, to use an everyday expression, was not going to be bothered with her, whilst Cecil was more interested in her sister Lady Katherine than in “the most poore wretche,” who was therefore refused her much desired boon.
The Lady Mary Grey remained at her retreat in the Chilterns more than a year. At last, however, Mr. Hawtrey, to his great relief, received orders to bring his prisoner up to London. It had been at first intended to consign her to the tender mercies of the Duchess of Somerset, but that lady dying before the negotiations were completed, Mary was handed over to her step-grandmother, Katherine, dowager Duchess of Suffolk. This inhospitable relation was anything but pleased when, one summer’s evening in 1567, Mr. Hawtrey, the Lady Mary, and her servants, knocked unexpectedly at the doors of her house in the Minories. The duchess, it may be added, had no right whatever to this mansion, which had been carved out of the stately convent of the Holy Trinity, which was granted by Edward VI to the Duke of Suffolk, whose legitimate successor, failing Lady Katherine Grey, was the unfortunate young lady now conducted to its door as to a sort of prison.
The duchess received her unwelcome guest with “dure countenance,” but attributed her annoyance to the score of her unpreparedness, for a few days later she wrote to Cecil asking him, “Where is the Lady Mary’s stuff? For that, indeed, I have nothing wherewith to furnish or dress up her chamber, as the Minories is totally unfurnished. I do not usually reside there. My dwelling is in Leicestershire; and when I am in town I myself borrow stuff of the Lady Eleanore.” If she had to receive Lady Mary, she protested, she would be “forced to borrow furniture from her neighbours of the Tower.” Probably Cecil communicated the duchess’s grievance to Mr. Hawtrey, for by way of answer to her letter, he sent all the Lady Mary’s goods in his possession to the Minories, at the same time pointing out that they had not hitherto been used; he seems, at least, to have provided his charge with a comfortable lodging during her stay at “The Chequers.” No sooner was the parcel of “stuff” opened, than the sarcastic dowager duchess wrote a letter to “Mr. Sekrettory” Cecil, describing the contents in a manner which reflects less credit on her heart than on her powers of derision. “She hath nothing,” she says, “but an old livery feather bed, all to [too] torn and full of patches, without either bolster or counterpaine, but two old pillows, one longer than the other, an old quilt of silk, so tattered as the cotton of it comes out, such a piteous little canopy of red sarcenet as is scant good enough to cover some secret stool.[132] Then there are two little pieces of old hangings, both of them not seven yards broad.” This letter was written at Greenwich Palace,[133] whither the Lady Mary had been removed by her step-grandmother very shortly after her arrival in London, perhaps the very same day; and the real object of this exposure of the Lady Mary’s poverty was to induce Cecil to persuade the queen to assign the duchess some of the furniture in the Tower store-houses; for she concludes by asking that Mary may be allowed to have some “silver pots to fetch her drink in, and two little cups for her to drink out of, one for her beer, the other for her wine. A silver basin and ewer were, I fear, too much to ask.” The dowager duchess promises to return all borrowed articles in as good condition as she received them. She says the Lady Mary is “very glad to be with her”(!); although “all she hath eaten now these two days is not so much as a chicken’s leg.” Very likely, the duchess’s sarcasms and her own grievances were making the poor little lady absolutely ill. However, these first difficulties having been surmounted, she lived on fairly happily with her kinswoman at the Minories and elsewhere, until June 1569. During this period she became godmother to a little girl, Jane Merrick, who eventually inherited some of her property. She also struck up a great friendship with Lady Mary Bertie or Bartie, wife of Mr. Peregrine Bertie, Duchess Katherine’s son, and heir to the barony of Willoughby d’Eresby: Lady Mary Bertie was of the family of De Vere, a daughter of the Earl of Oxford. In the beginning of the year 1568, Lady Mary Grey’s position was complicated by the death of her sister Lady Katherine, which exposed her to the danger of being chosen the figure-head of any party that professed belief in the legitimacy of Henry VIII’s will and Edward VI’s “Devise for the Succession.” There is reason to believe that Mary, warned by her sister’s fate, had made up her mind formally to renounce her right to the Throne, lest unscrupulous persons might force her, as they had forced her sister Jane, into this false position. Elizabeth, however, harried by her continual fear of an usurper or even of a successor, gave orders, in June 1569, that Mary Grey should be removed to the care of Sir Thomas Gresham, whose magnificent mansion occupied the space between Bishopsgate Street and Winchester Street, and was surrounded by the pleasant gardens of Crosby Hall and Winchester House. The Greshams used Osterley House, towards Hounslow, now the seat of the Earl of Jersey, as a country retreat; and also lived for a time at Mayfield in Sussex.
