The Boleyn Reckoning: A Novel (The Boleyn Trilogy)

by Laura Andersen

  A discreet knock sounded on Elizabeth’s interior door and she opened her eyes. “Yes?” she asked the lady who appeared.

  With a curtsey, the lady said, “Lord Exeter, Your Highness.”

  Elizabeth made a rapid decision. “Walsingham, speak to Dominic for me. Use my chamber here. Tell him what Robert said and make plans. Knowing Dominic, he will insist on going to Kenilworth himself to retrieve that chest. Let him.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” Walsingham rose as she did. “We can easily go elsewhere, no need for you to leave.”

  “I have someone else I would like to consult,” she said tersely. She left Walsingham and nodded to Dominic as they passed in the doorway. For once she was grateful for his reticence as he let her pass without question.

  Elizabeth made her way to a plainer section of the palace, with tiny chambers opening off whitewashed corridors for lesser guests of the court. The chamber she wanted had its door closed and, unusually for her, she knocked and waited.

  The door was opened by Dr. John Dee. When he saw her, the scholar showed a glimmer of surprise, then bowed in welcome. “Your Highness.” His eyes, deep-set beneath inquisitive brows, always seemed to Elizabeth to see far more than the physical world.

  “May I come in, Dr. Dee?” she asked, with the lightest touch of royal privilege.

  “Forgive me, of course you may.”

  The guest chamber was just large enough for a small pallet bed, a chest at its foot, and a narrow table being used as a desk. The single window showed glimpses of swift-moving clouds and hints of sun. The changeable spring of England, Elizabeth thought. An appropriate mirror to the court’s current conditions.

  Dr. Dee offered Elizabeth the sole chair; he remained standing. “What may I do for you?”

  “You can tell me your impression of the current tenor of the English government.”

  “Is that all?” he asked drily.

  “And then I may have an assignment for you.” Though, strictly speaking, Dee did not work for Elizabeth. Strictly speaking, he did not work for anyone just at the moment; he had been in the service of the Duke of Northumberland, but had chosen to warn William of the duke’s perfidy in confining Elizabeth to Dudley Castle. Since then Dee had remained at court in a semiofficial state.

  Rather like Walsingham, Dee took his time answering her. Elizabeth was patient, knowing that when he did speak, it would be worth listening to. A rare trait at court. “The current tenor is unsettled,” he finally offered.

  “Is that all?”

  “Do you really need me to confirm your own impressions?”

  Elizabeth sighed. “I was rather hoping you would tell me I am wrong.”

  “You are not. The king’s illness has unsettled everyone, not least yourself. What is it you fear, Your Highness?”

  “My brother is not recovering himself as I had hoped. He is at once both too sensitive and not sensitive enough. William has always been extremely good at judging his moments, at knowing when to act and when to pause. Now he appears deaf even to his own conscience, while being quick to take offense at any criticism of his conduct. He is practically begging the French to land and march across England. What will we do if they send an invasion fleet to the south and send troops across the Scots border at the same time? England is not prepared to fight on two fronts at once.”

  “Have you told the king so?”

  She threw up her hands in frustration. “He doesn’t need to be told it! He knows it for himself. He simply doesn’t care.”

  “And that is your true concern.”

  What was it about John Dee that made her feel as though he anticipated and understood every one of her half-formed fears? Elizabeth sighed again. “For all my father’s stubborn insistence on his own way where his personal life was concerned, he at least managed to preserve England’s security. But Will … he seems prepared to burn it all himself as long as he can have his Minuette.”

  “The lady is your friend, I believe. Does it divide your heart to wish her unhappiness?”

  “The more time that passes, the more I believe that her happiness is not at stake. Unlike me, Minuette’s abiding concern is to please others. She will do what William wishes and not count her own happiness. But she is wise enough to know she is not the right choice for England’s queen.”

  John Dee tapped his fingers along his leg and Elizabeth had a flash of the same déjà vu she’d experienced with him before—that this was neither the first nor the last time she would consult him on matters of some delicacy. Though only a few years older than she, Dee had an ageless quality to his wisdom that Elizabeth respected. At last he asked, “Might I inquire as to the nature of the assignment you spoke of?”

  “I wondered if you would care to travel the Continent for a time, finding books to add to my personal library. A man of your talents will know the sort of volumes I’m looking for—humanist, rare, thoughtful. You have contacts in Europe and I thought you might enjoy the opportunity to renew acquaintances.”

  He regarded her shrewdly. “And perhaps you would be interested in what those acquaintances have to say about conditions in Europe and the political pressures facing England abroad?”

  “Very interested.”

  “Is this your idea, or Walsingham’s?” John Dee had known Walsingham longer than Elizabeth had—his was one of the recommendations that had sent the intelligencer to her during her visit to France the year before.

  She stood, velvet skirts rustling into place. “Walsingham and I so often see eye to eye. Will you do it?”

  John Dee bowed. “It will be an honour, Your Highness.”

  Ten days after Easter the court moved east to Greenwich and Minuette received a petitioner who she was actually happy to see. Jonathan Percy was a musician and poet who had once courted her—he had gone so far as to propose—and Minuette retained her fondness for the soft-spoken young man. In spite of the fact that his twin sister, Eleanor Percy, had borne William a daughter two years ago and hated Minuette with a ferocity that had landed her in the Tower.

  “Jonathan,” Minuette said with real pleasure as he kissed her hand in greeting. They were in her privy chamber, small but lovely with its blue and gold décor. Minuette had memories of Anne Boleyn in that chamber, the queen a perfect match for her surroundings. Every now and then she wondered what Anne would make of Minuette’s hold on her royal son.

  “Mistress Wyatt,” Jonathan said in his beautiful musician’s voice. “Thank you for being willing to see me.”

  “I am always willing to see my friends,” she said warmly. “Would you care for any refreshment?”

  “No, thank you. I wondered if … that is, there are two matters I wished to raise with you. If it is convenient.”

  Minuette signaled to Carrie to leave them. When they were alone, seated at right angles to one another, she said to Jonathan, “What may I do for you?”

  His brief smile was a reminder of simpler times. “I suppose everyone wants something from you these days. As to the first matter, I simply wished to inform you that I am going to be married next month.”

  “I’m so glad! Who is the young woman—do I know her?”

  “I doubt it. Her family is from York, Honoria Radclyffe is her name. We will be married at York Minster and the king has agreed to my transfer to the Archbishop of York’s service. We prefer to make our home away from court.”

  “I envy you.” She meant it as a wistful wish for a life that was rapidly being shut to her, and only wondered if he took it as personal regret when he eyed her closely. Before he might say something awkward, Minuette asked brightly, “And the second matter?”

  “Ah,” said Jonathan, looking once more the uncomfortable boy she remembered. “That, I’m afraid, is a request. I wondered if … Honoria and I had hoped …” He stuttered to a halt, colour rising in his cheeks.

  “Jonathan, you need not be afraid of me. I am not yet grown so grand that I cannot be asked a simple favour.”

  “It is simple, bu
t that doesn’t make it easy. Honoria and I would like to be named guardians to my niece, Anne Howard. Eleanor’s daughter.”

  Minuette blinked twice. “Go on.”

  “Since my sister’s arrest, Anne has been passed around various members of the Howard family with little consideration for her welfare, only the convenience of others. The king—” Here he faltered once more.

  “The king has formally recognized his daughter, yes,” Minuette said for him. “And yet, you are correct, he has not provided her with a household of her own or guardians besides her mother.”

  “Honoria and I would like to give her a stable home, away from politics. You know me well enough to honestly assure the king that we do not seek this position in order to profit from it. It is the child herself we care for.”

  His straightforward goodness made Minuette ashamed of herself. I should have married him when I had the chance, she thought blackly, knowing even as the thought formed that it would not have served either of them well.

  “I do know,” she assured Jonathan. “I will speak to the king. He thinks highly of you. I expect he will gladly grant your request.”

  His favour asked, Jonathan did not linger. He rose and bowed to her, but when he straightened he added, “It is good of you to do me this kindness. If ever I might be of service, you have only to ask. I would requite the ill my sister has wished you.”

  “You owe me nothing,” Minuette assured him. “And I quite understand that, in Eleanor’s eyes, it is I who have done her ill.”

  “And are you happy?”

  How could such a simple question set all her defenses ringing? “Why do you ask?” she parried.

  “Because all that time ago, at Hampton Court, when I asked you—” He stopped himself, and his eyes were far too perceptive. Minuette would have looked away if she had not thought it would make her look guilty of something.

  Jonathan finished his thought. “When you declined to marry me then, I believed it was for the sake of another man. A man not the king.”

  With a bright, brittle smile, Minuette kissed Jonathan on the cheek. “Go to York and marry your Honoria. And may you both be happy for many years to come.”

  Within the week, Minuette had spoken to William and secured his agreement to give Anne Howard into her uncle Jonathan’s wardship. She thought herself done with Percys then, trying to keep Jonathan’s honest appraisal of the past from troubling her waking hours, when a far more troublesome Percy reappeared.

  Eleanor wrote to Minuette from the Tower, requesting an interview “with the king’s best beloved future queen.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT WAS NEARLY the end of April before Dominic was able to make the trip to Kenilworth and retrieve Robert Dudley’s chest. He had insisted on making the trip personally, not trusting anyone else. He’d had to tell William most of the truth to get the king’s leave, but he and Elizabeth had not yet told the king that it was Rochford against whom Robert was laying his claims. Dominic didn’t know how William would respond to his uncle’s … what to call it? Treason? Treachery? Lies? At the least, Rochford had ruthlessly manipulated events, including blackening his own sister’s reputation, in order to eliminate those he saw as rivals. William would not take kindly to being left in the dark. If there was manipulation to be done in England, it was the king’s prerogative to have his hand on all the strings.

  Dominic made the trip north as quickly as possible with only his man-at-arms, Harrington, as companion. They had worked together since 1553 and Dominic trusted him absolutely. Five inches taller than Dominic and built like an ox, Harrington was one of only three people who knew of Dominic and Minuette’s secret marriage: the other two were Carrie, Minuette’s maid, and the Catholic priest who had married them. Dominic suspected Harrington’s affection for Carrie ran deep, but it was difficult to decipher emotions from such a silent man. Compared to his man-at-arms, even Dominic counted as talkative.

  Having been forced into accepting the post as Warden of the Cinque Ports, Dominic would spend much of the spring and summer in the southeast and along the coasts ensuring the defenses were prepared for a possible French fleet invasion. For that reason he didn’t remain at Kenilworth above an hour. At least, that was the excuse he gave Amy Dudley, Robert’s wife, when she clearly expected him to stay the night.

  “But you have come so far!” she protested, widening her eyes in appeal. Amy was pretty in a general sort of way, with blonde hair and fair skin, but it was the prettiness of youth, and already Dominic could see how discontent had marred her appearance. Not that he blamed her for being discontented—she was a woman deeply in love with a husband who seemed to forget her inconvenient existence for months at a time. “And I have been so out of the way here,” she continued to plead, “with little news from Robert’s family.”

  What news did she want? Dominic wondered. Details of her father-in-law’s trial and execution? The precarious fate of her remaining brothers-in-law? The likelihood of her husband ever coming home?

  For pity’s sake, Dominic told her, “I have been to see your husband several times. He is being treated well and is in good health. If my errand is successful, I expect he will be released from the Tower before autumn comes. Surely you would wish me speed on such an errand.”

  She studied the sturdy oak chest Dominic and Harrington had removed from her bedchamber, three feet wide and two feet deep, bound with iron bands and a forbidding lock. Dominic could read the emotions chasing across Amy’s face: hope, loneliness, the bitterness of loving a man who had eyes for every woman but her.

  At last she shrugged and with feigned indifference said, “I wish you well on your journey, Lord Exeter. Tell Robert I look to hear from him as soon as he is allowed to write.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Dominic promised. For the life of him, he could not decide if Amy wanted Robert freed or not. At least while her husband was in the Tower she could be reasonably certain he wasn’t visiting other women’s beds.

  Minuette approached the Tower of London with wary curiosity. She had been unsure of how to go about seeing Eleanor without William’s knowledge or permission. (Dominic’s knowledge didn’t come into it, since he had gone north to fetch Robert Dudley’s evidence.) In the end she’d done what she had usually done in the past: gone to Elizabeth for advice.

  Though her friend raised both eyebrows when Minuette said she needed aid to see Eleanor Percy, she had not tried very hard to dissuade her. “You might wish to go armed,” Elizabeth cautioned wryly. “Barring that, I suppose I can spare Walsingham for a few hours. He’ll get you in and out and ensure no blood is shed on either side.”

  Walsingham did indeed get Minuette in with a minimum of fuss. From the attentiveness of the Lieutenant of the Tower, it appeared her position as William’s intended bride had spread beyond court. Minuette let herself play the part of a haughty noblewoman doing her duty to a woman much less fortunate as she followed the lieutenant to the second floor of the circular tower in which Eleanor Percy was confined.

  Every time Minuette shared space with Eleanor, she was forcibly reminded of the sheer physical presence of the woman. Not overly tall or classically beautiful, Eleanor Percy inhabited her body as if it were a weapon. Just now her weapon was sheathed, dressed in black and white that Minuette would have considered an attempt at demureness if it weren’t such a dramatic backdrop to her blonde hair and ivory complexion. The gown showed less of Eleanor’s cleavage than usual, but she still curved in all the right places. Even fully clothed she gave the impression of barely checked passion.

  “Mistress Wyatt.” Eleanor’s curtsey was like a slap, the dislike plain to be seen. But there was something besides dislike in her attitude today, and it confirmed Minuette’s suspicions that Eleanor wanted something from her. Her heart beat faster and she knew she was about to embark on something very dangerous indeed. Making an alliance with Eleanor was like trusting a dragon not to eat a kitten.

  “You may wait outside, Walsingham.” She spo
ke with all the casual authority she could summon. “I believe Mistress Percy and I have private matters to discuss.”

  Eleanor’s eyes flicked over her. “Do we indeed? This should be … intriguing.”

  Clearly reluctant, but with no orders from Elizabeth to do otherwise, Walsingham stepped outside the door, where no doubt he would wait patiently and try to overhear. When they were alone, Eleanor swept an exaggerated gesture of welcome that took in the curved walls of her prison. They were whitewashed, at least, but the floor was bare wood and there was only a bed, a chest, and a table and chairs in the space. “Won’t you make yourself comfortable, Mistress Wyatt? Though I hear you are quite extravagantly provided for at court these days.”

  Her tone conjured up the very image of Minuette’s current chambers: from the tapestries of Artemis and Apollo to the deep-dyed blue hangings of her bed. Eleanor had once known that chamber—and that bed—well. Minuette repressed a shiver (“someone walking on your grave” Carrie would have said) at how small a distance it was from palace suites to Tower cells.

  “I’m quite comfortable standing,” she answered firmly. “And I don’t believe I shall be touching anything you offer me.”

  If Eleanor had a good quality, it was her directness. She shrugged and said, “The monkshood? You are right to be wary, as I believe I warned you the very day you were struck down. If only you had listened to me.”

  “If only you had not tried to poison me.” Minuette was finding it far too satisfying to speak openly. She must remember to guard her tongue lest she tell Eleanor more than she wanted her to know.

  “Are you so certain it was me?”

  “Not working alone, but then you did warn me about powerful men as well. I thought you’d meant Northumberland, but now …” Minuette eyed her thoughtfully. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want what I always want—the ear of the king. It seems you are the only certain means of ensuring William’s attention these days. He listened to you in the matter of our daughter’s guardianship. I won’t thank you for that, because you would not believe me, but I am forced to admit that you are useful.”