Robert tried not to gape at Lettice, serenely speaking of their conversation in front of his sister and her own husband. Walter wasn’t taking the slightest notice, and was engaged in a detailed debate about horseflesh with Harry, but Robert could see that Kit was fascinated.
‘I have thought about nothing else, Countess, ever since you pointed out the advantages. I gave careful consideration to each, and I have come to the following judgement,’ Robert could see that, although Kit was listening, she was also busying herself with slicing warm bread and cheese, but Lettice was hanging on his every word, breathing shallow and eyes wistful.
‘Jasmine is mysterious and different. Well enough for occasional use, but certainly not for a permanent fixture. The rose is something one finds everywhere one looks, and sometimes it is just what one is looking for, familiar, well-known, even restful, perhaps?’ Robert passed the rose under his nose and smelled the perfume therein appreciatively.
‘But the lily?’ He brought the bloom to his lips and kissed the petals softly, gazing at Lettice as he did so.
‘Ah, the lily is pure, unsullied, almost virginal, sometimes one would think quite untouched? One would have to be very careful with a lily, with such delicacy. Dear Countess, if only we could merge a lily and a rose, it would be the perfect bloom, strong yet delicate. It would be perfection.’
‘Rob, what utter rubbish you do talk,’ said Kit, shaking her head at her brother. ‘I thought Harry could come up with some inanities, but blending flowers? Honestly! Eat your bread,’ and she thrust a warm loaf in his hand, with a slice of beef on top.
Robert looked at Lettice, and carelessly tossing aside the sprig of jasmine onto the grass, he kissed both the lily and the rose and presented them to her, with a nod and a smile, then sat up and joined the conversation about horses. Lettice looked at the two flowers in her hand and blinked, letting go the breath she had been holding.
Kit turned back from her task with the food and elbowed Lettice to get her attention. ‘Be honest, Lettice. Would you wear that colour if you had her hair? She looks like she’s going mouldy,’ and with a nod towards the direction of the disliked lady-in-waiting, both Kit and Lettice collapsed into giggles.
***
Robert opened the tower door to Elizabeth’s chamber softly and moved carefully into the room, nodding behind him at Thomas, who was bedding down outside the door for the night. Robert knew the other door to the ante-chamber would be locked, and the key safely in Cat Knollys’ pocket. He moved to the side of the bed, shed his robe and slipped naked into bed, turning on his side and propping his head on his hand. His other hand gently caressed the side of Elizabeth’s bare breast.
‘You were waiting for me, my love.’
‘Always, Robbie. And for no other.’
He moved his head forward and kissed her lips, tasting the salve which made him smile inwardly; Elizabeth must still feel guilty about paying attention to the Earl. Then he moved his lips to her jaw and below her ear, kissing and nipping gently. He continued to stroke her breast and her side, and she sighed in delight.
‘Not even your Scottish Laird? I hate that Scots bastard, by the way.’ He kissed her throat and she turned and ran her hands over his chest and ribs.
‘Really Robbie? I hadn’t noticed.’ He felt her smile under his kiss, and he trailed his mouth down her throat onto her chest and found her breast with his lips, punctuating his words with kisses.
‘I hate his face,’ kiss, ‘I hate his voice,’ another kiss, ‘I hate that he touches your hand.’ He tugged her nipple into his mouth and she sighed again.
‘He has hands like shovels, Robbie, and they’re cold and damp. It’s like having my hand held by a wet fish.’ Elizabeth began to giggle and Robert had to stop his kissing while he laughed with her.
‘And …. he …. smells, Robbie,’ she could barely speak for laughing, curling up in mirth, and Robbie laughed down at her; it was rare to see Elizabeth this amused and it lightened his heart to see it.
‘He isn’t the only one at court to smell, Bess. Some of them, you smell them before you see them.’ Robbie snorted his own amusement.
‘But Robbie,’ Elizabeth was gasping the words as she continued to laugh, ‘he smells like …… like ….. wet dog! Why does he, Robbie?’ she gasped, ‘why does he smell like that?’ Tears of mirth were escaping her eyes and she collapsed flat on the bed to catch her breath. He smiled and continued to stroke her breast and ribs, although he didn’t yet have enough breath of his own to continue his kisses.
‘It’s the damp, Bess. His servants must pack his tartan while it is damp, and the smell pervades all his clothes. Sometimes the horse-blankets smell like that. I make the squires air them properly so they don’t.’
The thought of the grand Earl of Arran smelling like a horse-blanket brought forth more gales of laughter from Elizabeth, and it took a while, and many more kisses before Robert calmed her down. But the intimacy they shared, while Elizabeth laughed, warmed his heart.
Chapter 31
mbroidering a gown for Dorothea, Lettice sat by the window in the Queen’s solar trying unsuccessfully to finish the intricate pattern. The late October light was poor, and she tilted her stitching to the light in an effort to make the most of what filtered through the thick pane of glass. She hadn’t joined the other ladies to practice their dancing, because she wanted to finish the gown as a yuletide gift for her daughter, and she needed to make another identical one for Penelope before Christmas arrived.
‘Countess!’
Lettice jumped slightly, as she had thought herself quite alone at this end of the solar and hadn’t heard Robert’s soft tread behind her. She looked up from her sewing and smiled.
‘My Lord Robert. Your footsteps are very quiet, my Lord. I did not hear you.’
‘I can move surprisingly softly, Countess, when I choose to.’ He smiled at her, and Lettice swallowed before she spoke.
‘My Lord, I would ask you something?’
‘Ask, Countess and if it is my power, it shall be yours.’ Robert folded himself onto the window seat in front of her, completely blocking whatever light she might have used for her embroidery. She placed it in her lap and reached over to the side table to pour him a cup of wine.
‘Could you think to call me something other than “Countess”, my Lord? You say it like you are tripping over me in a dark alley. As if I startle you.’
Robert looked at her over the rim of his goblet, his dark eyes smiling as he took a sip. Lettice could feel herself becoming hot under his gaze, and she tried to keep her breathing regular.
‘You do startle me, C… my Lady. I find myself being most startled by you every time I see you.’
‘Really, my Lord? I did not think myself so ….. astonishing?’
‘But my Lady, that is exactly what you are. You are truly astonishing.’
Lettice started to feel herself blushing, and she lowered her eyes under his scrutiny, calming her breathing and trying to think of something to say.
‘I think it is only you who finds me so, my Lord. To others I am … ordinary, something easily ignored.’
Robert sat forward suddenly and Lettice found herself sitting back hastily in her chair; he always seemed to startle her. Robert chuckled softly and picked up Lettice’s hand where it rested on her sewing. He kissed her knuckles gently.
‘Then they are blind, my Lady, to ignore such an absolute jewel. If you were my treasure, I assure you I wouldn’t dream of ignoring you. You deserve to be cherished.’ He kissed her fingers again and released her hand. Lettice stared at his lips, then lifted her eyes to look into his face.
‘I would love to be cherished by you, my Lord,’ she whispered, then reali
sed she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Her eyes widened as she saw his expression soften as he looked at her, then change suddenly as he sat back in the window and took a long swallow of his wine. Lettice couldn’t stop herself from admiring the column of his throat as he swallowed, then she lowered her eyes so he didn’t see, and picked up her stitching once more to occupy her hands; she couldn’t possibly stop them trembling long enough to sew.
Robert stood from the window seat, and leaned his long frame over her to replace his cup on the table at her side. As he did so, his breath ghosted over the skin at her neck as he whispered, ‘I shall call you my Lady in public then, Countess, so I don’t startle you. But in private, and in my thoughts, you will be my Lily.’ He straightened and then bowed over her hand before he went about his duties, kissing the back gently. ‘Until next time, Lady Lily.’
Lettice turned to watch him walk away towards the rest of the ladies practising their dancing, then looked back at her sewing, held in her trembling fingers. She sighed, knowing she would have to ask Meg to help her; with her hands trembling like this every time she saw Lord Robert, there would be no possibility of having two beautiful garments ready for Yule.
***
Robert walked into the council chamber, where Elizabeth was seated between Cecil and Sir Nicholas Throckmorton. Walsingham was, as always, sat slightly away from the main group, and Ralph was waiting to take notes. Robert observed that the parchment was blank as he entered the room. The meeting had not started without him this time.
‘It seems we have both escaped the altar, my Lord,’ Elizabeth looked up and smiled at him as she spoke.
‘Both, Majesty?’ He poured himself a cup of wine and then sat next to Sir Nicholas so he could keep both Cecil and Walsingham in his eye-line.
‘Yes, the Earl of Arran has returned to Scotland, to consolidate his territory, and the Queen of the Scots has married Henry Darnley.’
Robert snorted at that last comment, which pre-empted a bout of coughing which he needed to smother in his kerchief. Laughing and coughing together was not easy. Finally his mirth subsided and he could speak, although he could see by the expression in Elizabeth’s eyes that she was struggling to contain her own laughter.
‘The Henry Darnley?’ Robert choked out the words.
‘The same.’
‘But … but … Henry Darnley is a……’
‘Cousin of ours, my Lord.’ Elizabeth interrupted his sentence smoothly and raised a warning eyebrow at him. He took another sip of wine.
‘I was going to say ‘idiot’.’ Robert snorted a smile into his cup; Henry Darnley had been a close friend of his brother Guildford and the thought of that made Robert smile even more widely. He tipped his chair back onto two legs and took another swallow of his wine.
‘A meeting of minds there, then,’ said Elizabeth acerbically, smiling at Robert.
‘Indeed so, Majesty,’ a glimmer of humour from Cecil.
‘So, are we to do anything about this …. fortunate marriage, Majesty? Robert looked across at Elizabeth, knowing that she would have already decided her public reaction.
‘Well, Lord Robert, we obviously disapprove. Our cousin Darnley should have asked our permission before he married so …. hastily. We will have his mother put in the Tower. It will help concentrate his mind on our disapproval.’
Elizabeth looked across at Cecil, and Robert heard Ralph’s pen scratching on the parchment off to his left.
‘You must have her arrested, Will. But don’t put her anywhere too uncomfortable. She is a cousin of ours, and she is getting old. The rooms I had refurbished for my coronation will do nicely, I think. Not too high, and not in the prisoner’s tower.’
‘Very well, Majesty. Will it be for long?’
‘We shall see, Will. See if we get an apology from Darnley.’
‘Or a plea from Darnley’s wife to capture him and take him from her sight.’ Robert laughed into his cup. Elizabeth smiled again.
‘That other matter, Will. I think you should inform Lord Robert of that other matter we discussed.’
Robert put all four legs of his chair back on the floor and sat up, listening properly. Elizabeth hadn’t warned him of anything else regarding himself that the council were to discuss. His heart clenched in his chest; had she decided to seek another bride for him?
‘Lord Robert,’ began Will Cecil in the voice he used to address the whole court; loud, pompous and condescending. ‘Her Majesty has discussed with me the value that you bring to these council meetings, and the astute advice you give to Her Majesty at all other times.’
Robert looked across at Elizabeth, who was smiling excitedly. Not a bride then, he thought. He turned his attention back to Cecil, who was still enumerating his virtues as if he had learned them in the schoolroom and was required to recite them as a list. Robert smiled inwardly; he knew how much Cecil disliked him, and how difficult this must be for the man.
‘So, in summary, after the aforesaid attributes of your Lordship have all been taken into account, it is Her Majesty’s wish, command and pleasure, that we invest you with the Earldom of Leicestershire, with all the attendant incomes, stipends and benefices.’
‘Congratulations Robbie, Earl of Leicester.’ Elizabeth clapped her hands in pleasure, as he looked at her in amazement.
‘Your Majesty. I am lost for words. Your generosity has made me quite overcome.’ Robert was pleased with Elizabeth’s generous gift, and he took even more pleasure at the fact that he knew the rest of the council would be appalled at this investiture; Leicester was one of the highest accolades in the land, and one of the richest. He would be able to pay his creditors now, and reward those who had stood by him in his hours of need.
‘And Will, now the Earl of Arran is no longer available, make enquires in, oh, wherever.’ She waved her hand negligently. ‘Norway, Denmark Sweden; anywhere there is a Protestant Prince who might need a wife. Anyone we can string along for a while…’ Elizabeth looked across at Ralph and smiled, ‘You needn’t write that last remark down, Ralph.’
‘No, your Majesty,’ he shook his head, ‘”A Protestant Prince is being sought” is what is written down.’ Elizabeth nodded and Ralph made a small bow in his seat.
‘And now, gentlemen, the council business with me in attendance is concluded.’ Elizabeth stood, as did they all. ‘If there is anything else to discuss, feel free to stay. The newly-created Earl of Leicester is taking me riding,’ and taking hold of Robert’s arm, Elizabeth swept from the room, nodding at the bows being made by the rest of her council.
***
Robert and Elizabeth rode out to their favourite place by the lake. Robert had instructed Thomas to ride behind them as always, and had brought Tom with them. He knew they would be safe, and Thomas could spend time teaching Tom more lessons with the blade, if his and Elizabeth’s stay became protracted.
Swiftly, he dismounted and came round to Elizabeth’s side to lift her down. As always, he made sure he slid her down the length of his body so he could kiss her before he let her feet touch the ground, and as always that made her smile.
‘Thank you, Bess,’ he said softly onto her lips. ‘I understand the honour you do me, and I am grateful, truly.’
‘I know you are Robbie. And it seems little enough to reward you for all the things you do for me; all the things you are to me.’ Elizabeth kissed him briefly, and turned towards the lake, taking his arm and walking away from the horses. Robert nodded to Thomas, who dismounted his own horse and made the others safe. As they walked away Robert heard Thomas’ flat tones say to Tom, ‘Get down lad, and show me what you learned last time with the short blade.’
He brought his attention back to Elizabeth, holding his arm as sh
e picked her way across the frost-rimed grass and turning her face up to the watery winter sun.
‘What do you really intend to do about Darnley, Bess?’
She turned to him and laughed. ‘I think when the Queen of the Scots finds out what she has actually married, I won’t need to do anything about Darnley. I think her Lairds will do it for me, Robbie.’ She snorted another laugh and gripped his arm in her amusement.
‘I am amazed he has married at all Bess. He was such a …. close friend …of my brother’s. One of a group of idle pretty young men that Guildford belonged to. She must have commanded him to wed.’
‘From the report Will Cecil received from our spies up there, the minute she saw him, she was positively captivated by his beauty,’ Elizabeth smiled, ‘but she could hardly have been captivated by his brain, Robbie, could she? He has no idea beyond his next doublet matching his hose.’
‘As you said, a meeting of minds then. I have heard the Scottish Queen is vacuous and vain.’
‘She is as she was raised, Robbie. As am I. We are both products of our upbringing.’
‘But you, Bess, are a lioness. Fearless, brave, brilliant, beautiful. Everything a Queen should be.’
She stopped walking and turned, stretching up on her toes to kiss him gently.
‘Thank you for that, Robbie. Sometimes I don’t feel brave. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the things I must do, things the council tell me must be done. I know I drive Will Cecil to distraction because I change my mind so often. I am so afraid of doing the wrong thing that sometimes I do nothing.’
‘You do as your conscience tells you, Bess. You have always had integrity, as long as I have known you.’
‘But sometimes Robbie, the conscience I have as Queen is different to the one I have as Elizabeth, as a woman. I won’t be able to keep Margaret Douglas in the tower for long. The conscience Bess has won’t allow me to.’
The Last Howard Girl (Tudor Chronicles Book 3) Page 22