The Queen's Favourite

by Laura Dowers

  ‘You’ll be leaving then.’

  Robert’s eyes widened. ‘Yes, I’ll be leaving,’ he said incredulously.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Elizabeth said angrily.

  ‘Not ‘sorry’ or ‘how are you’? Just, ‘you’ll be leaving then’.’ He turned and headed for the door.

  ‘You want me to say I’m sorry?’ Elizabeth called after him. ‘Are you?’

  ‘How dare you ask me that?’ he cried, forgetting in his anger and hurt that she was the queen and he should not speak to her so. ‘She was my wife. I didn’t want her dead. And certainly not from falling down some damned stairs.’

  ‘She fell? But I thought her cancer –’

  ‘So did I,’ Robert gave a strange little laugh.

  Elizabeth fell silent, her mind busy. This news changed things. Perhaps she should have made an effort to be sympathetic, but her heart had been thumping so hard at the realisation that Robert was now free. He would want to marry her now and she would have no excuses left. But a death from a prolonged illness was one thing; Amy had died from a fall. She had heard the rumours and she knew people would be wondering. Did Robert Dudley’s poor, long-suffering wife fall, or had she been pushed?

  ‘There will have to be an inquest,’ she said.

  Robert shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘You can’t stay at Court.’

  ‘I’ll be leaving for Cumnor as soon as I am packed.’

  ‘No, I mean,’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘I mean you won’t be able to come back until the inquest is over and ...’

  ‘And what?’ he asked.

  ‘Rob, for heaven’s sake. There have been rumours about you and I circulating around this Court for a year. Rumours that Amy was being poisoned to get rid of her. And now, your wife dies, very conveniently, by falling down stairs.’

  Robert looked at her aghast. ‘You think I killed her.’

  ‘No,’ Elizabeth shook her head emphatically, ‘I don’t. But don’t you think others will if it suits them?’

  ‘It’s monstrous.’

  Elizabeth pointed to the door. ‘You should go now.’

  ‘You can’t wait for me to be gone, can you? Why? In case I contaminate you?’

  ‘I can’t risk complicity,’ she said slowly, hoping he would understand. ‘Until it’s proved that it was an accident, Rob. Until then, you must stay away from me.’

  21

  Kew, Surrey, September 1560

  Slouched in a chair by the window, his feet propped up on a stool, Robert turned the pages of a book idly. His shirt, stained with sweat, fell open to his navel and stubble showed dark upon his cheeks.

  He tossed the book aside. It was no good trying to read, his mind kept wandering. He stood and stretched, groaning as he felt bones crack in his shoulders. He pushed the window open further and leant out upon the sill, breathing in the scent of the lavender bush below. He looked towards the gateway and was surprised to see a mule and a pony trotting along the gravel path.

  He hastily tied his shirt and snatched up his doublet from the back of the chair. Thrusting his arms through the sleeves, he hurried outside, shooing away the servant who was heading for his guests.The gravel crunched beneath his feet. Masking his surprise at the identity of the rider, he took hold of the mule’s bridle.

  ‘Cecil, I wasn’t expecting you.’

  Cecil climbed down from his mount gratefully. ‘Lord Robert. I trust my coming is not an unwelcome surprise.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Robert replied with sincerity. ‘You will stay to dine with me, I hope?’

  Cecil noted the quiet desperation in his eyes and was pleased. ‘I thank you, yes. Can my page be attended to?’

  ‘Of course. Boy, go round to the stables and ask for Gregson. Cecil, please come in.’ Robert led Cecil back into the house. ‘Forgive the mess,’ he said, as he hurried to tidy up.

  ‘That is a great deal of correspondence,’ Cecil nodded at a pile of letters stacked precariously on a small table.

  ‘Yes. Letters of condolence.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

  ‘Beer.’ Cecil took a seat. ‘You must wonder why I’m here.’

  ‘You have a message from the queen?’ Robert asked hopefully, handing him a cup of beer.

  Cecil inclined his head sympathetically. ‘I’m afraid not, Lord Robert. No, I come on my own account. To see how you are.’

  Robert slumped in his chair, disappointed. ‘I am as you see me,’ he said gesturing at himself. ‘In truth, I am not surprised the queen sends no message. We parted badly.’

  Cecil had heard of their last encounter. ‘I’m sure there is no ill-feeling on the queen’s part, my lord. Indeed, she is most distressed by this situation. Is there any news from Cumnor?’

  ‘My steward Anthony Blount has spoken with all the servants in the house, including my wife’s maid, Pinto. It seems Pinto made a comment which I find disturbing, to say the least.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘That she had often heard Amy pray to God for a release from her pain.’

  Cecil nibbled his bottom lip, thinking. ‘You think then that your wife may have taken her own life?’

  ‘Not for a moment,’ Robert shook his head vehemently. ‘Amy was a good Christian, and would not throw away the life that God gave her. Besides, if you wanted to kill yourself, would you trust Death to take you by throwing yourself down a flight of stairs? No, I can’t believe it. I do think she fell.’

  ‘A tragedy, my lord.’

  ‘In more ways than one,’ Robert murmured. ‘I must thank you for coming to see me, Cecil. I had not expected such kindness, I confess.’

  Cecil was almost moved. ‘Think nothing of it, my lord. After all, we are both servants of the queen.’

  22

  Kew, Surrey, October 1560

  Mary Sidney exchanged a glance with her husband. He nodded his head in encouragement and they both looked back at Robert.

  ‘How are you really, Rob?’ Mary asked.

  Robert, who had been pushing his food around his plate, looked up at her with tired eyes. ‘Fine,’ he said simply.

  ‘You don’t look fine,’ she said. ‘You look tired. And worried.’

  Robert shrugged. ‘Of course I look worried. The entire world thinks I’m a murderer.’

  ‘Oh, please don’t say that.’

  Robert looked at her and laughed. ‘Even Elizabeth has her doubts.’

  ‘I’m sure she doesn’t,’ Mary said, stabbing another piece of meat with her knife.

  ‘She sent me away, didn’t she?’

  ‘She explained why.’

  ‘Oh yes, Elizabeth is very careful of her honour. It doesn’t matter that I may have needed her support. These calumnies against me would not have dared to have been spoken if she had kept me with her.’

  ‘Can we not go over this again?’ Henry pleaded. ‘Once the coroner has declared Amy’s death an accident, you can go back to court. The queen specifically instructed Mary to send her word of how you are. So you see, she hasn’t deserted you.’

  Just then, the door opened and Sir Anthony Blount strode in with a huge smile upon his face.

  Robert jumped up from his seat. ‘What news?’ he demanded.

  ‘Accidental Death, my lord.’ Blount said.

  ‘Oh, God be praised,’ Robert gasped as Mary threw herself against him. He clutched her tight and buried his face in her neck. Beneath her arms, his body shook with sobs.

  Embarrassed, Henry led Blount outside. Mary pushed Robert back into his chair and she knelt at his feet.

  ‘Rob,’ she said, holding his hands, when they had gone. ‘It’s over now.’

  ‘I know,’ he nodded. ‘I don’t know why I’m crying.’

  ‘It’s grief and relief, you idiot. Now, Rob, look at me. It’s over. Say it.’

  ‘It’s over.’ He took her face between her hands and kissed her. ‘Oh, Mary, what a time it’s been.’

>   ‘I know. It can’t have been easy.’

  ‘Being suspected of murdering your wife?’ He laughed sourly. ‘No, it hasn’t.’ He pulled out a handkerchief from his doublet and wiped his eyes. ‘Will Elizabeth send for me now, do you think?’

  ‘Of course she will. There’s no reason for her not to, is there? Maybe Cecil will come and get you.’

  Robert snorted. ‘Cecil! I’ll wager this verdict will not please him.’

  ‘He came to see you last week. You told me how kind you thought it was of him.’

  ‘My brain wasn’t working then, Mary. I was so lonely and distressed, I would have welcomed the Devil. He came to gloat. Elizabeth had got rid of me and he was back at her side. He’s no friend to me.’

  ‘Oh Rob, you see enemies where there are none.’

  ‘Mary, how is it possible to have spent your entire life at court and still think good of people?’

  ‘I do not know, Rob,’ she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘I cannot think where I get my good nature from.’

  He laughed and pulled her towards him, embracing her so tightly she protested she couldn’t breathe. Henry and Blount returned and the hours passed happily in their company. At eight o’clock that evening, a messenger arrived. He had a letter for Robert from the queen, informing him his presence was required at court.

  23

  Greenwich Palace, London, November 1560

  Elizabeth thundered ahead of him, her horse kicking up great clods of earth. She headed for a clump of trees that provided cover from spying eyes and waited for him.

  Robert slid down from his saddle and stood by Mirabelle. Elizabeth stood by her horse, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Then Elizabeth’s face crumpled, and through her tears, headed towards him, her arms wanting, needing to hold him. He let her press against him, before he relented and cradled her in his arms.

  ‘Oh, Robin, you can’t imagine what I have had to endure while you were gone.’

  ‘I think I can imagine it, Bess. I wasn’t exactly enjoying myself exiled at Kew, you know.’

  ‘I was all alone.’

  ‘You had Cecil.’

  She pulled away him from him. ‘What is Cecil to me? A trusted councillor, someone I can depend on. Not a ...not a...’ she faltered.

  ‘A what? A lover?’ he suggested. ‘Well, no more am I.’

  ‘No, not in the physical sense,’ she admitted as she wiped her cheeks. ‘But what we have is so much more. True love, Robin, true and enduring.’

  ‘True love is all very well, Bess, but I need more.’

  Elizabeth made a gesture of despair. ‘Why must you have more? I don’t need it.’

  ‘Because men are different.’

  ‘Why can’t you understand? If I were to have a child –’

  ‘All the country would rejoice at that if we were married, Bess.’

  ‘How can we marry with things as they are?’ Elizabeth had quite recovered herself and her eyes were blotchy, but dry. ‘It may have escaped your notice, Robin, but you are hated the country over. I would be despised as well if I were to marry you. They may even turn against me.’

  ‘Never. The people love you.’

  ‘I wish I could be as sure as you. Perhaps in a few years’ time, the situation would be different.’

  Robert turned to Mirabelle and stroked her neck. ‘Will it ever be different? You will always be queen and I will always be that traitor who isn’t fit to kiss your feet.’

  Elizabeth didn’t disagree. ‘The others will catch up soon. Help me mount my horse.’

  He bent down and cupped his hands for her to put her foot into. He heaved her up into the saddle. ‘Don’t be angry with me,’ she begged.

  ‘What good would it do me?’ Robert climbed back onto Mirabelle and nudged her sides, goading her to a gallop, leaving Elizabeth to follow.

  24

  Whitehall Palace, London, December 1561

  ‘It’s not right, you know,’ Mary said, shaking her head. ‘Ambrose is the elder. He should be ennobled before you.’

  Robert grinned at her. ‘It’s not my fault. It’s the queen’s decision.’

  ‘I haven’t heard any protest from you.’

  ‘Mary,’ Ambrose scolded, slipping an arm around her waist. ‘Don’t fret so. My time will come. Quiet now, she’s coming.’

  Elizabeth strode into the room, her brow heavily creased and her mouth so pursed that her thin lips had turned almost white. She headed straight for the desk where the ennoblement documents were laid out, ready for her signature.

  Robert wondered at her expression but now was not the time to ask questions. He sank to his knees before the table and looked up at her.

  Elizabeth seemed to study his face for a long moment and Robert couldn’t guess what she was thinking. She picked up the topmost document and squinted at it. ‘Robert Dudley, to be raised to the peerage and given the title of....’ She stopped, tapping her finger rhythmically upon the wood.

  Robert glanced at Mary and frowned. Mary gave the slightest shake of her head, not knowing what Elizabeth was thinking.

  ‘No,’ Elizabeth said, suddenly picking up a paperknife and stabbing the centre of the document. She drew the knife down, tearing the paper in two.

  Robert scrambled to his feet, barely registering the rising murmur of the watching courtiers whispers. ‘What...why?’

  ‘I have my reasons,’ Elizabeth replied coolly, quickly signing the other documents.

  Robert was speechless. Why was she humiliating him so? As she finished and rose, moving around the desk, he grabbed at her arm.

  Elizabeth shrugged him off angrily. ‘You want reasons? Very well, here they are then. Your family have been traitors to the Crown through three generations. You have been suspected of murder throughout my kingdom and Europe. Your arrogance and ambition threaten my throne –’

  ‘I would never,’ he declared. ‘Elizabeth, why are you doing this?’

  ‘I’m your queen, Lord Robert. Take care you never forgot that.’

  There was a sternness in her eyes he had not seen before. He released her and Elizabeth left the chamber, Cecil trotting after her.

  Then heard the laughter, the scoffs, the jeering and God’s Death, how they hurt! But he was damned if would lose control for them all to see. He raised his chin a little higher and walked back to his room.

  But once inside, his control left him. He yanked off his cloak, throwing it on the floor. His fist hit the bed post, and he had to swallow down the sickening pain as the wood struck against bone.

  There came an almost tentative knock on the door. For a moment, he actually thought it might be Elizabeth, come to explain herself.

  The door opened and Mary poked her head around. ‘Rob?’

  ‘Leave me alone, Mary.’

  ‘No, I won’t,’ she said, entering and closing the door. ‘Oh, Rob, that was so cruel.’

  ‘I’m well enough.’

  ‘Don’t pretend with me. I know how much that hurt you.’

  ‘How dare she!’ he exploded. ‘How dare she humiliate me like that?’

  ‘Perhaps someone advised her to do it?’ Mary suggested.

  ‘Don’t make excuses for her, Mary. She doesn’t need anyone to tell her to be cruel. It comes quite naturally to her.’

  ‘Well, don’t think on it. Let her think you don’t care.’

  Robert laughed sourly. ‘Turn my back on her if she comes calling, you mean? My, what an innocent you are! She’s the queen, Mary. Like it or not, I have to take her insults, her taunts, and thank her for them.’

  ‘No, Rob, don’t accept this insult. Let her know that she can’t treat you so.’

  ‘Our family’s future rests entirely upon the queen’s good graces. To relinquish her favour would be to relinquish all my hopes.’

  ‘Well, maybe that is true,’ Mary agreed ruefully. ‘But I don’t have to like it. What are you looking for?’

  Robert was rummaging through a trunk. ‘My riding
boots. I have to get out of the palace. Why don’t you come with me?’

  ‘I expect the queen will notice my absence. I should get back.’

  ‘She won’t want a Dudley around her.’

  ‘I’m a Sidney, Robert,’ she replied, teasingly.

  ‘You were a Dudley first, sister, never forget that. Oh, come riding with me, Mary, don’t make me get down on my knees.’

  ‘Very well, Rob, but you must defend me if the queen demands to know where I’ve been.’

  ‘I may very well need defending myself. Come on, let’s leave before we’re noticed.’

  At that moment, came a loud peremptory knock. Robert’s body sagged, as if he knew there would be no riding today.

  ‘Come in,’ he called.

  A page entered and said, ‘The queen demands your presence, my lord.’

  ‘You see, Mary. The queen demands and I, as her minion, must obey. Come along with me, sister.’ He grabbed her hand and dragged her along behind him, all the way back to the Presence Chamber.

  Elizabeth turned as Robert and Mary entered, a sly smile playing upon her lips. ‘Robin,’ she purred, holding her hands out to him.

  He, dutiful as a dog, he thought, went to her. ‘Your Majesty,’ he greeted her coldly.

  ‘Now, Robin,’ she said, adopting a mock scolding tone, ‘your face is as sour as vinegar.’

  ‘With reason, madam.’

  ‘Oh, nonsense. Are you so easily overthrown?’ she asked, laying her long fingers upon his cheek. The gesture was curiously sensual and intimate. Robert could hear no laughing now.

  Henry Sidney, sensing an advantage, spoke up. ‘So great a man is fit for a greater place, do you not agree, Your Majesty?’

  ‘Indeed, Sir Henry? What greater place would you suggest?’

  Henry gave a broad smile and shrugged as if the answer were obvious. ‘At your side, Your Majesty, what other would suit?’

  ‘You mean, none other would satisfy him.’ Elizabeth gave a sideways glance at Robert. ‘No, I will not marry a subject, for then men would come to ask for my husband’s favour and not mine.’