The Last Howard Girl (Tudor Chronicles Book 3)

by Lesley Jepson

  On a wet grey February morning, when it seemed the sun didn’t feel the need to rise, Robert strode into the council meeting to find Elizabeth, in all her finery, pacing up and down and biting her lip. Robert glanced at the parchment in front of Ralph, noting it was only dated, and he walked up to Elizabeth and caught her hand, stilling her gently.

  ‘What has happened, Bess?’

  ‘She has killed him, Robbie. Our cousin,’ Robert felt a faint prickle across his scalp, and turned his head to see Cecil and Walsingham nodding sagely in agreement. Elizabeth continued, ‘is dead, in an explosion it seems. A most convenient explosion.’

  Robert shook his head in bewilderment and brought Elizabeth back to sit at the head of the council table. He put a small cup of wine in front of her and sat at her side.

  ‘Henry Darnley has died in an explosion?’ He couldn’t imagine why the pretty, brainless Darnley would be near explosives. ‘How has he managed that?’

  Walsingham smiled his reptilian smile, ‘We cannot ascertain, my Lord Robert, why explosives were involved. But indeed, he was caught up in an explosion that happened in the next room where he was playing cards with his, er, erm, his friends.’

  Robert’s eyebrow rose sardonically at Walsingham’s obvious distaste at discussing Darnley’s liaisons, and he asked, ‘So he was blown up? Destroyed?’

  ‘Seemingly not, my Lord,’ continued Walsingham silkily, ‘indeed, his body, according to our spies at Kirk o’ Field, was remarkably untouched. Just a line across his throat, caused by the explosives no doubt, marred his otherwise pristine appearance. His friends, however, were not so fortunate.’

  Robert blinked at Walsingham, and looked at Elizabeth incredulously, shaking his head in bewilderment. ‘He was throttled then? And they hoped the explosion would cover the crime but Darnley’s body wasn’t destroyed with the others? Is that what we are being led to understand?’

  ‘Indeed, my Lord,’ nodded Cecil, and Elizabeth again began to worry her lower lip. Robert pressed her wine cup into her hand to distract her and she sipped a little gratefully.

  ‘What are we to do, Robbie?’ Elizabeth’s dark eyes, wide with worry turned to him.

  ‘I doubt there is anything we can do, Bess. We would struggle to prove who did the actual deed. The other witnesses seem to have been disposed of, and to prove it was a plot instigated by the Scottish Queen, well, that would be impossible. She is in her own country, governed by her own laws and even if we were to send someone to investigate, I doubt anything would be found. Imagine if the situation was reversed, and they sent someone to investigate you?’

  He picked up her hand and kissed the back tenderly, ignoring the council watching his every move, ‘Walsingham here would have them assassinated at Carlisle. We would never countenance the Scots asking questions about our Queen, so why should we expect them to allow us to question theirs?’

  ‘But Henry Darnley was our cousin, Robbie. He had royal blood. We cannot allow his death to be ignored, and whether she actually plotted or not, she must have known. How could she not have known?’

  Cecil cleared his throat, ‘I think we must bide our time, Majesty. If my Lord Walsingham’s spies can ascertain who actually did the deed, we may have a chance for …. I hesitate to say retribution …. justice. We may get a chance for justice. It obviously would not be the Queen herself that tightened the garrotte, so we must wait to see if any information arises as to the actual culprit. Perhaps then, an investigation would reveal witnesses to the deed, or the instigator of the same.’

  Robert again brought Elizabeth’s knuckles to his lips, and blew gently over them to calm her before kissing her hand again. He saw Elizabeth’s eyelids flutter closed briefly at his gesture, and then he pressed her fingers firmly.

  ‘It is as my Lord Cecil says, Bess. We must await further information before we act.’

  Elizabeth smiled at him and then surveyed the council, all with their faces turned to her. She nodded briefly, ‘As Lord Cecil says, my Lords. We will wait.’

  ***

  News was slow to trickle over the Scottish border, and life at the English court continued uninterrupted, other than by the cold wet February weather.

  Robert moved as much of the boys’ training as he could into the cloisters, to protect them from the worst of the wet weather, but the horses still needed exercise outdoors. He would often come back his apartment, cold and wet from taking the horses out for a gallop to find Lettice waiting for him, snuggled in his bed and then shrieking with merriment as he pressed his cold damp skin against hers.

  Henry Darnley was laid to rest in Scotland, and after his mother had travelled up to see her son’s grave, she retired from court as the rumour and innuendo about her son’s death grew.

  The soldier who had found the corpses of Darnley and his servant was charged with their murder, quickly found guilty and even more swiftly executed. Cecil was sent a map of the scene of the explosion by one of Walsingham’s spies, showing that Darnley had obviously fled the explosion, rather than being flung by it. Rumours abounded about the involvement of the Scots Queen and her supposed lover, the Earl of Bothwell.

  ***

  Cat rattled the key in the lock of Elizabeth’s chamber, then entered bidding a cheerful good morning. Elizabeth didn’t reply and Cat hurried worriedly to her bedside.

  ‘Princess, are you unwell?’ Cat pressed the back of her hand to Elizabeth’s forehead but felt no fever. She looked in the Queen’s face and saw lines of sorrow and tracks of tears that showed Elizabeth hadn’t slept.

  ‘Oh, Cat,’ Elizabeth dragged a shuddering breath and pushed herself up the bed, ‘come and sit with me a moment.’

  Cat hitched her voluminous skirt to the side so she could sit on the bed, and she gathered Elizabeth into her arms in sympathy.

  ‘Tell me, my lovely, what has you so upset this morning.’

  Elizabeth began to weep again, and it was some moments before she was sufficiently calm to speak. Cat held her closely and passed her a kerchief that she might wipe the tears away. After a few more gasping sobs, Elizabeth spoke.

  ‘I have been thinking about how my relationship with Robbie must look to the outside world, Cat.’

  ‘Princess? Why has that started to worry you, after all this time?’

  ‘Because of all the scurrilous innuendo coming down from Scotland, Cat. I would not have the world say such things of me.’

  ‘What are they saying, my lovely. Of the Scots Queen?’

  ‘That she has conspired with her lover to murder her husband. That her child was fathered by another of her lovers, a servant. That she has been the lover of the Earl of Bothwell for years and will make him King.’ Elizabeth looked at Cat with tragic eyes. ‘Similar things to those they say about me and Robbie, Cat.’ Tears began to escape her eyes again and she hid her head in Cat’s shoulder.

  ‘Hush, Princess. Don’t upset yourself so.’ Cat tried to comfort the Queen as best she could.

  ‘That Scottish papist,’ spat Elizabeth furiously, ‘has tarnished the title of Queen, and has cast a dishonourable shadow over my own behaviour. I can imagine the courts of Europe looking at England and saying that I am no better than my cousin in Scotland, Cat. I keep my lover,’ she looked at Cat and her eyes filled with tears again as she swallowed hard, ‘I keep Robbie at my side, day and night. I refuse to marry,’ Elizabeth took another deep shuddering breath, ‘and produce an heir for my country, and they say I do it for my own pleasure.’ Cat patted her shoulder and remained silent as Elizabeth cleared the tears from her throat.

  ‘They call Mary a whore, Cat, but by God they won’t say the same of me!’

  ‘Princess, they could not possibly say that of you. Even if
they have the temerity to presume that you and Lord Robert are lovers, your behaviour has never been less than seemly. He is a constant in your life; you don’t indulge in dangerous flirtations with other male members of your court, much less servants, my lovely. You conduct yourself as a Queen.’ Elizabeth was silent for a while as she wiped her eyes and pondered Cat’s words, then she took a deep breath and met Cat’s eyes.

  ‘I am going to have to move Robbie to another apartment, Cat. I can see now how adjoining apartments taint my credibility as Queen and how her behaviour could ruin me. I will not see the English throne debased and threatened by the behaviour of that Scots wench.’

  ‘She is as she has been raised, Princess. The Scots Queen was brought up in a light-minded French court with low morals, and was married to the French Dauphin. Her upbringing was suited to the future Queen of France, but once she was widowed and cast off back to Scotland, she had no idea how to behave. She married another pretty face and then couldn’t find a way out of the prison she had created for herself. We should feel sorry for her, my lovely.’

  ‘Sorry for her, Cat? Sorry for her, when she has almost ruined me? Made me put a barrier between me and the man I still love? Will always love.’ Elizabeth’s tears came again, and Cat rocked her until she recovered.

  ‘I am Queen, Cat, before I am a woman, I am Queen. I shall order my life in the future always with that in the forefront of my mind,’ Elizabeth sat up away from Cat’s embrace and took a huge sniff, ‘and I shall just have to try and explain that to Robbie.’

  Chapter 48

  obert gestured towards the table which was set with slices of beef, warm rolls, cheese and sugared fruit.

  ‘A private supper is a rare treat these days, Bess,’

  Elizabeth smiled and took the goblet of wine he passed to her, burying her nose inside and taking a long swallow.

  ‘I want a quiet moment to speak with you, Robbie. This way, we won’t be interrupted.’

  Robert smiled quizzically and raised his eyebrow. ‘And what do you need to say to me without interruption, my love?’ He took the cup from her and placed it on the side table, then put his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly to him, bending his long frame over her and kissing her forehead gently as he breathed her in.

  ‘Mmm, the smell of roses and the feel of no corset,’ he whispered as his mouth ghosted down her jaw and he kissed her neck before finding her lips and tasting the remnants of salve on them. Elizabeth kissed him back briefly and then put the flat of her hands against his doublet and pushed gently, smiling as she did so.

  ‘Later, Robbie. After we have eaten.’ Elizabeth moved to the table and put a slice of beef and a roll of bread on a trencher and passed it to him. He again looked at her curiously.

  ‘So, Bess. What are we to speak about?’ Robert dropped into the chair by the fire and looked across at Elizabeth, curling herself into the chair opposite and tucking her feet up under her gown. He observed that she was nibbling her lower lip and he sighed inwardly. Something of import was worrying her and she needed to tell him about it in private.

  The possibility that she had discovered his involvement with Lettice passed quickly through his mind, but he discounted it; she would have faced him with cold, implacable fury if that had been the case. He waited while she thought how to approach the subject, and carefully ate his beef and bread.

  ‘I have started making preparations for the May festivities, Bess,’ he said to fill the lengthening silence, ‘and I think some of the troops that returned from Ireland will make this year’s tourney quite exciting. Tommy and Hal Knollys will be there, so I imagine Lady Cat will be excited to see three of her boys taking part this year.’ Elizabeth nodded and smiled at him, absently crumbling her bread on her plate. He selected a sugared plum and bit into it, watching her carefully and waiting for her words.

  ‘I need to discuss our situation with you, Robbie.’ The words came out as a rush, and he saw Elizabeth had trouble meeting his eyes.

  ‘Indeed? And what is our situation, Bess?’ He raised his brows and put his plate to the side.

  ‘I think we need to show …. circumspection, Robbie. Because of Scotland.’

  ‘What in God’s name has Scotland got to do with us, Bess?’ He tried to keep the impatient note from his voice, ‘Don’t we discuss Scotland enough in Council? Endlessly listening to Cecil and Walsingham pontificate about the Scots Queen. I fail to see why we should show ….. what word did you use? Circumspection? Because of Scotland?’ He shook his head in bewilderment. Elizabeth dragged in a huge breath and looked him in the eyes.

  ‘I think you should move to a different set of rooms, Robbie. Ones that don’t connect to mine.’ Again the words flooded out in a rush, and as he looked at her in surprise she seemed to shrink smaller in the chair.

  ‘I see.’

  Elizabeth gazed across the space that divided them, lip caught in her teeth and eyes glistening with tears. ‘Robbie, I couldn’t bear to know that you are only a locked door away from me, and not be able to share my bed with you.’ Tears spilled unheeded over her cheeks and Robert went to her and dropped to his knees beside her chair.

  ‘You no longer want me, Bess?’ He took her hand and twined his fingers with hers as he thumbed her tears with his other hand. She gave him a bleak smile.

  ‘I want no other, Robbie. But the wanton actions of the Scots Queen has shown me how our, how MY conduct might be seen by outsiders. I want to show the world that I am the Queen, the Lioness of England, and I am above such behaviour as hers.’ She grasped his hand and brought it to her chest, kissing the back firmly, ‘I still want you to be the companion of my days, Robbie.’

  ‘But the nights we spend alone, is that it?’ Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed rather than meet his and see the hurt she had caused. He caught her other hand and brought it to his mouth, breathing gently over her knuckles before he touched it with his lips.

  ‘Am I allowed one night more as a farewell, my Bess? A final goodbye?’ His voice was a whisper and she opened her eyes to him.

  ‘Oh Robbie, I do hope it won’t be a final goodbye, my love. We just have to be more aware, that is all. I am still yours. I shall always be yours,’ her voice broke with tears and he leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

  ‘The last night we are locked in here then, my love. Let us make it a night to remember.’ He stood and brought Elizabeth to her feet, sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her through to her bedchamber.

  In his heart, he knew she was allowing him a last night with her before they parted as lovers. He didn’t know whether or not it was for good, and he felt his world shift again.

  ***

  At dawn the following morning Robert strode into his own apartment and looked round, hands at his waist and Thomas, as ever, at his shoulder.

  ‘It would seem we are moving, Thomas.’ Robert paced forward and with his outstretched arm swept the contents of the table into the fireplace. Thomas blinked in surprise.

  ‘My Lord?’

  ‘I will no longer occupy the consort’s apartments, Thomas,’ he gazed round the room, appraising what he would wish to take with him and what he wanted to leave behind.

  ‘If I am required, I will be summoned, Thomas,’ Robert’s voice took on a bitter note, ‘like a tavern harlot.’ He swallowed the wine he had swiftly poured and hurled his cup at the wall.

  ‘Come, Thomas. I need to see the rooms recently vacated by Lady Margaret Douglas. We shall see if they are suitable to accommodate the sovereign’s whore.’ Robert snorted a laugh. ‘And then we shall need to organise the squires and pages and servants, Thomas, to relocate me before the end of the day. I shall not sneak away silently, like a thief in the night. By God, I won’t.’
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  Robert stalked out of his antechamber by the door to the gallery and strode through the corridor. There were few people about, as it was early in the morning. Turning the corner onto the next gallery, he stood before the imposing door to the vacant apartments and thrust it open. The accommodation was sumptuous, as befitted a princess of the realm, albeit a minor one.

  The presence chamber was well appointed with thick hangings at the windows and over the doors. The view was across beautiful parklands down to the lake, and the window seats were deep and well upholstered. Leading from the presence chamber was an antechamber filled with bookshelves, a writing desk and comfortable wing-backed chairs round a huge fireplace. A dressing room was accessed through a door in the corner, cunningly concealed in the panelling and with a connecting door into the huge bedroom. Hidden behind two hangings in the bedroom were the door to the external corridor and another to a small maid’s chamber, itself connected to the dressing room. Robert huffed a laugh.

  ‘Your own bedroom at last, Thomas. With a door, and a proper bed, no less. No more pallets on the floor, eh?’

  ‘My Lord.’ Thomas gazed into the room and nodded briefly, then began to inspect the locks and bolts on the external doors of the apartments while Robert examined the cupboards and armoire in the bedroom.

  ‘I shall have another bolt put on that door, my Lord,’ Thomas nodded to the door in the bedroom, ‘and another fitted onto the gallery door. The latches on the internal doors will suffice, but we need something stronger there.’ Robert shrugged.

  ‘As you say, Thomas. Go and ask some of the lads to help you move my things. Bring only my personal items, Thomas. Clothes, weapons, books,’ he looked at Thomas evenly, ‘pack the contents of my bureau yourself, Thomas. My private papers.’ Thomas nodded his head sharply. ‘I need none of the furniture, Thomas. It is well appointed here. Just my own linens, I think, for the bed,’ he looked at the enormous bed and laughed again, ‘assuming they will fit, that is.’ He looked directly at Thomas again.