The Queen's Favourite

by Laura Dowers

  The Queen’s Favourite

  By

  Laura Dowers

  First Kindle Edition: November 2013

  Copyright 2013 by Laura Dowers

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

  For my beloved mother, Irene, who started it all.

  And for my Dad, Alan, who keeps it all going.

  Part One

  The Dutiful Son

  1

  Greenwich Palace, London, February 1542

  Robert Dudley was bored. Bored with the lesson, bored with Master Cheke droning on about Seneca, Suetonius and other long dead Romans. Bored with sitting still for hour upon hour.

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. If only the rest of his classmates felt the same, perhaps there could be a mutiny. He knew he would be able to count on his brothers, Ambrose, Henry and Guildford. Ambrose sat beside him, his chin cradled in one hand while the other idly swept away wood shavings from where he had scratched his name into his desk with his penknife. Robert could hear Henry and Guildford playing cards beneath their desk behind him. But he knew the others wouldn’t dare. Not Prince Edward nor Jane Grey sitting, all attention, at the front of the class. Not Jane’s sisters, neither; the tall and pretty Catherine, nor the freak of the family, the hunch-backed dwarf Mary, at the back where no one paid her any mind.

  But maybe Elizabeth would be with him? She was sitting in front of Robert, head bent, scribbling furiously. She too was paying little heed to Master Cheke, not because of boredom, but because she had learnt this lesson months before in private study and had now moved on to the Ancient Greeks.

  ‘Master Robert!’

  Robert jerked his attention back to his tutor. ‘Yes, Master Cheke?’ he said, his lips broadening into a grin.

  Charming though his smile was, it had little effect upon the old scholar. Cheke sighed as he leant on a pile of books. ‘Master Robert, I realise that study of the Classics holds little interest for such an energetic boy as yourself, but your parents have arranged for you to be educated with the children of His Majesty the king, and you would do well to follow their example and attend to your books, instead of gazing around the room like a moonstruck calf. Do you comprehend me, sir?’

  Robert bent his head in answer and dipped the tip of his quill into the inkpot, grinning as he heard Elizabeth snigger. Master Cheke, satisfied that Robert was behaving, turned his back and began to search through another pile of books heaped on a chest by the wall. Robert stole a look out of the window and saw that it had finally stopped raining. He leant forward and hissed at Elizabeth. When she turned her frowning face to him, he jerked his head towards the door. Her frown deepened disapprovingly and she shook her head. He glared at her, his black eyes insisting fiercely. She poked her tongue out at him and turned away. Robert eased his backside from the stool and groped around the desk. Ambrose opened bleary eyes to see what his brother was up to and watched in amusement as Robert grabbed Elizabeth’s wrist, plucked the quill from between her fingers and tugged her from her stool. She grimaced, but allowed herself to be led from the schoolroom. Ambrose’s gaze wandered to Master Cheke, who was wholly unaware that his star pupil and the mischief-maker had absconded. He closed his eyes, wondering how long it would take the tutor to realise.

  ‘I wanted to work,’ Elizabeth protested feebly as Robert pulled her along the corridors of the palace.

  ‘It was boring.’

  ‘Let go of me,’ she said, shaking her wrist free. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To the stables, of course.’ Now that Elizabeth wasn’t holding him up, he broke into a run. Elizabeth followed, hitching her skirts up to her bony knees.

  ‘Wait for me,’ she demanded as they dodged between servants, but his legs were longer and he reached the stable yard before her.

  Curving his body around the door, Robert breathed in the aroma of straw and animal, too long absent from his nostrils. He moved along the stalls, murmuring greetings to the horses as they pressed their noses into his outstretched palm.

  Horseshoes, hanging from nails on the back of the door, clattered, signalling Elizabeth’s arrival. ‘I told you to wait.’

  He smiled, not looking up. ‘They’ve missed me.’

  ‘Stupid animals.’ Elizabeth snatched an apple from a bulging sack leaning against the wall. She rubbed it against her bodice before snapping off a bite.

  ‘You’d miss me if you didn’t see me for a week.’

  ‘Would not.’

  ‘Would.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t,’ she insisted, stomping past him and flinging herself on a bale of hay. He took the apple from her hand as she passed and held it to the mouth of Phoebe, his favourite horse, who began to munch contentedly.

  ‘You’re in a foul mood today,’ he said. ‘If you keep your face as sour as that, the wind will change and you’ll stay that way.’

  ‘Pig. Speak so to me again and...’

  ‘You’ll what?’

  ‘I’ll...I’ll...’

  ‘What will you do? Banish me to the Tower, cut off my -.’ He suddenly realised what he was saying and spun round to face her.

  Elizabeth’s eyes had grown wide at his words and her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Cut off your head,’ she finished, her voice breaking.

  He hurried to her side and put his arm around her shoulder.

  ‘Katherine,’ she whispered in explanation.

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an ass.’

  They both knew about Katherine Howard, the pretty girl who had caught the lustful eye of the king and married him, letting him believe that he was the first to enjoy her young body. To deceive a king, one who was vain and suspicious, was dangerous, but her charms were plentiful and she hoped that a lack of virginity in a bride could perhaps have been forgiven, that is if she ever dared to tell the king the truth. But she had grown complacent, so secure in the king’s love for her that she began to take one of his gentlemen to her bed. She was young, after all, and wanted to hold a man’s body that was slim and smooth, unlike the bloated mass of her husband. She and her lover had been discovered, and the king found he was not in a forgiving mood. Katherine’s lover had already died for his crime. Katherine, it was said, practised for her own execution on a block delivered to her Tower prison.

  ‘Why is my father doing this?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘You don’t know?’ Robert was surprised.

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I heard some of my women talking, but they stopped when they saw me. How has Katherine offended my father, Robin?’

  ‘I can’t say, Bess. My father said I wasn’t to mention it.’

  ‘Oh, Rob, if you know, tell me please.’

  ‘All right, but you didn’t hear it from me. She deceived the king with another man. She bedded Thomas Culpeper.’

  ‘What does bedded mean?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you don’t know?’ he laughed. ‘And you’re supposed to be the clever one.’

  ‘Don’t laugh at me.’ Her pale cheeks had flushed red.

  ‘But if you don’t know,’ he said airily, ‘I suppose I could tell you.’

  ‘Tell me,’ she insisted, her tears drying.

  So he told her what it meant, and laughed even harder when she clamped her hands over her ears and told him to shut up, to stop lying, that it wasn’t true, her parents had never done such a disgusting thing.

  ‘It is true.’

  ‘I’m never going to do that.’

  ‘You’ll have to when you marry.’

  ‘I’m not going to marry.’

  ‘Of course you will.’

  ‘Will not.’


  ‘Will.’

  ‘Will not.’

  ‘There you are!’

  They jumped at the shrill voice. Elizabeth’s governess, Katherine Ashley, stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, glowering at them.

  ‘Kat,’ Elizabeth said, ‘how long have you been there?’

  ‘Is it for you to question me, my lady?’ Katherine retorted, holding up her skirts and stepping into the stable. ‘My word, I could hear the two of you clear across the yard. Squabbling like brats from the docksides. Why aren’t you in the schoolroom? I should have known he would have something to do with it. Do that again, my lad,’ Katherine shook a finger at Robert as he rolled his eyes, ‘and I’ll have you up before your father before you can shake a stick.’

  ‘He wouldn’t care,’ Robert muttered, kicking at the ground.

  ‘What did he say?’ Katherine demanded.

  ‘Nothing, Kat,’ Elizabeth said quickly. ‘Come, let us go.’ She jumped down from the hay bale and moving swiftly, slid her hand into Katherine’s. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she promised Robert, pushing Katherine through the door.

  ‘Fooling in the stable with a courtier’s son,’ he heard Katherine say as her charge led her away. ‘Whatever would people say?’

  His lips curled at her words. Young as he was, the Dudley family pride was strong in him. How dare she scorn him for being the son of a mere courtier? After all, what was her precious Elizabeth but a bastard daughter of the king? He at least was born on the right side of the blanket. And he wouldn’t be just a courtier’s son forever. No, his father would see to that. His father would become great, and Robert great with him. Let Mistress Ashley look down her nose at him then.

  He opened a stall door and lifted a saddle from its post. Phoebe whinnied and stamped, like him, impatient to be outside.

  ‘There now, my lovely,’ he said, kissing her neck and holding his cheek against the warm flesh. ‘You know I can do it, don’t you?’

  2

  Ely Place, London, May 1545

  The greyhound nudged its slim, silky body around Robert’s legs. There wasn’t much room on the window seat, so the dog used a long, trim thigh to rest its chin upon and thumped its tail in pleasure whenever fingers tickled behind its ears.

  Robert was reading, the book tilted towards the window to make use of the setting sun. Its orange light bled through the window, picking up on strands of dark brown hair amongst the black and giving a golden glow to his tawny skin. His interest in the book was desultory and his gaze wandered towards the window, flickering over the hedges and flowers of the gardens, and down to the river. The river was crammed with vessels; large boats carrying cargo, wherries ferrying their passengers, but it was a barge painted in blue and yellow, the family colours, that his eyes picked out and which he craned his neck to see.

  Robert watched as the barge banged against the river steps and a figure climbed over the gunwale before it was even secured. He recognised the hurrying shape of his father and wondered what had brought him back from the Court in such haste. Looking back to the boat, he saw a woman, who could only be his mother, taking the hand of the oarsman as he helped her on shore.

  The dog lifted its head, ears pricked as the hall door banged. He thrust his wet nose against Robert’s hand as his father called for him. ‘Be still, Rollo,’ came the command as Robert closed his book and waited.

  The door opened and his father strode into the room. ‘I’ve been calling you!’

  Robert assumed his most innocent face and shrugged. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

  ‘Didn’t want to hear more like,’ John growled, flinging himself into a chair. ‘Have you been idling in here all day?’

  ‘No, Father, not all day.’

  ‘You’re in one of your facetious moods, I see.’

  Robert smiled, looking up at the sound of swishing skirts dragging rushes across the floor.

  ‘Thank you for waiting, John,’ Jane muttered as she entered, lifting a fat, white cat from a chair and sitting down. The cat immediately jumped onto her lap and submitted to her vigorous caresses.

  John waved his arm at Robert. ‘I wanted to find him.’

  ‘I could have told you where he would be,’ Jane said. ‘Laying about with the dog.’

  ‘Then it’s about time he stopped laying around, don’t you think, Jane?’ He gave his wife a meaningful glance.

  ‘Tell him,’ Jane agreed.

  John looked at his son. He had been at home so little of late that it was quite a surprise to find how different Robert looked. In a few months, the chubbiness of extreme youth had fallen away. He had grown taller by several inches and his face bore the promise of handsomeness. ‘Well, Rob, your mother and I have secured a position for you to serve the prince in his household at Hunsdon. I hope you are pleased.’

  ‘Rob?’ Jane asked, holding out her hand.

  ‘You’re sending me away?’ Robert said, a tremble in his voice.

  ‘My darling, you knew you would have to leave sometime. After all, both Jack and Ambrose have been gone for some time now.’

  ‘I know, Mother. I just thought maybe you would keep me with you.’

  John let out a snort of exasperation. ‘Do you have any idea how long we’ve been trying to arrange this appointment for you, Rob? And it’s not something we have to consult you on. You will do as other children do and do as you are told.’

  ‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t,’ Robert retorted indignantly, swinging his legs to the floor and standing up. ‘What am I to do at Hunsdon?’

  ‘Do? Do?’ John cried. ‘You’ll do your duty.’

  ‘Don’t shout at him, John.’ Jane waved Robert over, pushing the cat to the floor. Grabbing hold of his hand, she pulled him close. He fell to his knees and laid his head in her lap.

  ‘Don’t you dare cosset the boy,’ John said.

  ‘And don’t you dare tell me how to treat my son.’

  ‘Our son, Jane, our son. And I don’t care how much he protests, he is going to Hunsdon.’

  ‘Of course he will go,’ Jane said, watching her husband as he crossed the room and took Robert’s seat in the window. The dog jumped down and padded over to Robert. ‘Once he realises how important it is to you.’

  Robert lifted his head. ‘Why is it so important?’

  ‘The king is not well, Rob,’ John said. ‘So unwell, in fact, I cannot see him living much longer. Now, that is not common knowledge, and I don’t want you repeating it to anyone. But the prince will be the next king, and the closer you are to him now, the closer I hope you will be in the near future.’

  ‘When he is king?’

  ‘Yes, when he is king. You can see what that will mean for our family?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Good. So, we’ll have no more tears.’

  ‘I haven’t cried,’ Robert insisted, getting to his feet.

  ‘No,’ Jane said proudly, ‘he hasn’t.’

  ‘All right, all right,’ John held up his hands. ‘Now, I want you to be on your way as soon as you can manage. A day or two, no more. And I expect you to make yourself useful to the prince. I hope he will come to think of you as a friend.’

  ‘In fact, Rob,’ his mother said gravely as John left the room, ‘your father insists on it.’

  Hunsdon Palace, Hertfordshire

  ‘I’ve had enough for today,’ Prince Edward declared. ‘Barnaby, what say you to some target practice?’

  Barnaby Fitzpatrick gave the tutor, William Buckley, a sympathetic half-smile and shrugged. ‘If you please, Edward.’

  ‘You don’t mind, do you, Buckley?’ Edward asked, already getting to his feet.

  Buckley sighed, threw his quill into the inkstand and propped his legs up on the desk. ‘It doesn’t seem to matter whether I do or not, does it? Lesson over.’

  The other boys in the schoolroom – Thomas Cobden, Henry Sidney and Christopher Kempe – chorused a hurrah and closed their own books with alacrity.

  ‘Now, Buckley,
don’t sulk,’ Edward chided.

  ‘I’m not sulking, Your Grace,’ Buckley said. ‘Merely wondering how I am to explain your lack of education to your father’s secretary when he demands a report.’

  ‘That’s easy. You can say I am progressing well and exceed all your expectations.’

  The boys laughed and Buckley joined in, shaking his head. ‘Go, you young ruffians, be gone.’

  The sound of horses drew Thomas to the window. ‘Hallo,’ he said, ‘is this the new boy?’

  Edward joined him and pressed his nose to the glass. ‘Yes, that’s him. Rob Dudley. He used to study with me and my sister years ago. He and Elizabeth were always running off together. Our tutor, Master Cheke would get quite annoyed.’

  ‘I can sympathise,’ Buckley muttered wryly.

  ‘Are we going out to shoot or not?’ Henry Sidney demanded impatiently, holding the door open.

  ‘We’re going out to shoot,’ Edward declared, leading the way out of the room. ‘Come on.’

  The boys waved to Buckley and ran along the corridor and down the stairs, emerging in a huddle in the courtyard where Robert stood, wondering what he was supposed to do. He stood taller than the prince and stared down at him for a moment, before he remembered his manners and sank to his knee.

  ‘Your Grace.’

  ‘Robert Dudley,’ Edward said, ‘and I thought I had seen the back of you years ago.’

  ‘I hope my presence will not be a burden to you, Your Grace.’

  ‘Oh, let’s have none of that,’ Barnaby said, taking hold of Robert beneath his armpit and dragging him to his feet. He ignored the frown that appeared on the young prince’s face, who appreciated the deference that his royalty provoked. ‘Edward has enough of people bowing and scraping to him. We can excuse ourselves all that, can’t we, Edward?’

  Not wishing to seem a prig, Edward nodded. ‘We’re going to the butts, Robert.’

  Robert wasn’t sure if he was being invited to accompany them, but was saved from making a fool of himself by Henry Sidney, who seeing his uncertainty, stepped forward and held out his hand.