The Queen's Favourite

by Laura Dowers

  Robert shook his head. ‘No, she would have said. She just wants to get away from here. Damn her, all the money I’ve spent.’

  ‘I won’t be able to see you tonight,’ Lettice pouted, poking her finger inside his shirt and stroking his chest.

  ‘No,’ Robert agreed ruefully, ‘but there’ll be other nights.’

  ‘Will you be coming to Chartley?’

  ‘It depends. Elizabeth may not want me with her.’

  Elizabeth did want Robert. At Chartley, she thought she would find some peace, but not solitude. One thing Elizabeth never wanted to be was alone.

  ‘I came on ahead,’ Robert explained to Lettice when he arrived at Chartley, ‘to make sure everything was ready for her.’

  ‘She’s coming already?’ Lettice asked despairingly. ‘I thought she wouldn’t be here until tomorrow at least. Just look at the place.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Robert said, looking around. ‘Just have your servants throw fresh rushes down, and all will be well.’

  ‘Rushes? Oh, yes, rushes. I will tell them.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Robert put his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. ‘You haven’t said hello properly.’

  ‘Robert,’ she protested weakly, as his kisses trailed down her neck, ‘my children might walk in.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot your children. Your husband is a most fortunate man. He has you and four children to carry on his name.’

  ‘I really believe you mean that,’ Lettice said in surprise.

  ‘Of course I mean it. What else did God put us on this earth for if not to have children?’

  ‘Walter would agree with you,’ Lettice said, settling herself onto a couch. ‘Honour and family are all he thinks about.’

  Robert smiled down at her. ‘And you have other things on your mind?’

  ‘Several other things. Oh, there are the children.’

  Four youngsters tumbled into the room, and stopped dead at the sight of Robert. ‘Who are you?’ the tallest demanded.

  ‘Robert Devereux,’ Lettice scolded, ‘that is no way to address the Earl of Leicester.’

  The young boy stared up at Robert. ‘The Earl of Leicester?’

  Robert nodded. ‘That’s my title. My name is Robert too.’

  ‘What do you say?’ Lettice said to the boy.

  ‘I am most honoured to meet you, my lord,’ the boy answered dutifully.

  ‘Now, my darlings,’ Lettice said, ‘the queen is coming to visit. She will be here shortly, and I want you all to be on your best behaviour. Is that understood?’ The children nodded. ‘Very well. Now, all of you, go and play somewhere. I don’t want you back in the house before six o’clock. There is a lot of work to be done, and I don’t want you underfoot. Now, go on. Go and play.’

  ‘You were very strict with them, Lettice,’ Robert said after they had gone. ‘And what work have you to do? I told you all you have to do is lay down fresh rushes…’

  Lettice twined her fingers into his and pulled him towards the stairs. ‘Sometimes, Robert, I believe you are the stupidest man in England.’

  52

  Greenwich Palace, London, February 1576

  Douglass shifted her son on her hip as she strode along the alley. The child was getting heavy and she would gladly have put him down, but he couldn’t walk as fast as she and she was determined not to be slowed down. She ignored the stares of those who passed her by; a small child was an uncommon sight at court. There were a few glimmers of recognition, but Douglass wasn’t prepared to be waylaid by friendly greetings. She kept her eyes on the path before her and her feet moving fast. She was going to find Robert.

  But she had no idea where Robert would be. The court was so large, it seemed ridiculous to try and find him, but Douglass suspected that where the queen was, Robert would be too.

  But then two ladies passed by, and one said ‘That must be Lord Leicester’s bastard’ to the other and Douglass’s courage left her. She hurried on, now hearing whispers all around her.

  ‘Boy,’ she stopped a young page. ‘Where are the Earl of Leicester’s rooms?’

  The page directed her and she set her son on his feet and holding his hand, they walked slowly to Robert’s apartments. She half-feared seeing a guard on the door, but there was none. She knocked and the door opened.

  ‘Is your master here?’ she asked of the servant who answered.

  ‘No, my lady, he’s at council.’

  ‘I’ll wait,’ she declared, stepping through the doorway. ‘Perhaps you could take a note to him?’

  Douglass’s note told Robert she was waiting in his chambers to see him. She was prepared to wait however long it took, but Robert appeared within fifteen minutes.

  ‘Douglass, what the devil are you doing here?’ he erupted upon entering the room. Then he saw his son playing with his pack of cards on the floor by the bed and he picked up the little boy and held him close. ‘Hello, Robbie,’ he kissed the pink cheek. ‘How does my little man?’

  ‘He does well enough,’ Douglass said. ‘Which is more than can be said for his mother.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Robert asked with a sigh.

  ‘The matter is I haven’t seen you for months.’

  ‘I’ve been busy.’

  ‘You’re always busy.’

  ‘I see you as often as I can, Douglass.’ Little Robbie laid his head against his father’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Robert pressed his cheek to the top of the little head, feeling his warmth. It was worth risking the queen finding out just to have his son in his arms like this. He wouldn’t admit it to Douglass, but she was right; it had been too long since he was with them.

  ‘As I came here, a woman called our son Lord Leicester’s bastard.’

  ‘Douglass!’

  ‘You see what people think? They do think I’m your whore, not your wife. Why, why can’t you admit we’re married, after all this time?’

  ‘It’s not the right time –’

  ‘Oh, it’s never the right time. It won’t ever be the right time.’ She fell onto a wooden bench and began to cry. Her tears had worked on Robert before, but not this time.

  ‘Stop crying,’ he said sharply. ‘That won’t do any good.’ He hitched himself up onto the bed. ‘You should go home, before anyone else sees you.’

  ‘Home to Kenilworth, I suppose?’

  ‘Leicester House. I’ll come there tonight. You can stay for a week. But then you must go home, Douglass.’

  ‘Why? Afraid I’ll be in your way?’ she turned to him, her tears drying.

  Robert looked at her. ‘What’s got into you?’

  ‘I’ll tell you, shall I? Lettice Devereux.’

  Robert started, jerking the slumbering boy awake, who began to cry. ‘There, there,’ he said soothingly. He looked back at Douglass. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Don’t pretend with me. I know she’s your mistress. There’s no point lying.’

  ‘Very well,’ he said, laying Robbie on the bed, ‘so you know.’

  ‘Is that all you can say? Don’t you care that you’re hurting me?’

  ‘Of course I care,’ he snarled. ‘But I can’t change what’s done.’

  ‘You can stop seeing her.’ She saw the look on Robert’s face. ‘But you won’t, will you? After all, you’ve killed her husband so you can see her more often.’

  ‘What the devil are you saying? Killed Walter Devereux, I? Of course I didn’t.’

  ‘It’s what’s being said. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘I don’t know where these rumours start, but they’re a pack of lies. He died of the flux. What good would it do me to have him killed?’

  ‘So you can marry her. But of course, you’d have to have me killed too.’

  Robert bit his tongue, not ready to disillusion her about their so-called marriage. ‘Go to Leicester House, Douglass. I’ll come there as soon as I can.’

  He strode past her and left the room. Douglass curled up on the bed, curving her
self around her now-sleeping son and held him close. She’d lost Robert, she realised. Perhaps, she thought, I never really had him.

  53

  Greenwich Palace, London, April 1576

  ‘Oh, Christ’s blood, is this nonsense to be resurrected?’ Robert flung the letter he had been reading across the table to Francis Walsingham, the new Secretary of the Privy Council, whose thin lips curled up in distaste.

  ‘It appears so, my lord.’

  ‘I had thought it all dead and buried.’

  ‘The queen and Cecil believe it expedient to pursue the matter.’

  ‘It amazes me that anyone can still believe the queen will ever marry. This charade has been played out so many times before.’ Robert sat down heavily and pointed at an empty chair. ‘Is Cecil attending the council today?’

  ‘I fear not. He has sent word he is unwell again.’

  ‘Hmmm. Ah Hatton, there you are.’

  Christopher Hatton, the tall, elegant chancellor entered the Privy Chamber, munching on a crust of bread. ‘Good morning, Leicester, Walsingham. What business today?’

  ‘Have you heard about this?’ Robert demanded, pointing at the offensive letter.

  ‘About what?’ Walsingham passed the paper to him. ‘Oh, Alencon. Yes, unfortunately, the queen has mentioned it to me.’

  ‘No more than a mention?’

  ‘No, not really. She wondered if he is really as ugly as everyone claims, that is all.’

  ‘I wish I knew her thoughts on the subject,’ Robert smacked the table irritably.

  ‘She has not confided in you then?’

  Robert shook his head.

  ‘Negotiations would be easier to carry out if we knew the queen’s mind,’ Walsingham said. ‘Does she wish to marry or no?’

  ‘Walsingham, I tell you, this is a charade, like all the others,’ Robert insisted.

  ‘I hope it is, my lord,’ Walsingham said sincerely. ‘It would be a black day for England were a French Catholic sitting on the throne beside the queen.’

  Robert and Hatton exchanged a glance. Walsingham had been in Paris when the massacre that became known as St Bartholomew’s Eve sent shockwaves of horror throughout Europe. French Catholics, whipped into a frenzy of religious hatred, pulled Protestant women and children from their homes and hacked them to death in the streets, while the corpses of the men were thrown into the Seine, their blood turning the river red. Walsingham had taken refuge, along with Philip Sidney, in the English embassy, but even from behind its walls he had still heard the screams. Any wonder then, that he had no liking for Catholics, especially those that were French?

  ‘This will be just for policy, Francis,’ Robert said. Walsingham nodded a curt appreciation.

  ‘Perhaps it would be better to ask the queen,’ Hatton suggested.

  Robert laughed. ‘You mean ask her outright if she means to marry the ugly dwarf?’

  ‘Well, perhaps not couching it in such terms, but yes.’

  ‘You may be right. Anyone know where she is?’

  ‘I left her in the gardens,’ Hatton said.

  The other council members trooped in as Robert left, and he gave them all a cursory greeting. The sunlight hurt his eyes as he entered the gardens. They were full of courtiers, the day too lovely to spend indoors. Several people plucked at his sleeve, requesting an audience with him at some convenient time. He told them all the same thing; that they should contact his secretary to arrange the meeting. It never annoyed him, these calls upon his person. Indeed, he feared the day when people did not ask him for help, to intercede for them. He cherished his closeness to the queen. In council, the other members looked to Robert to speak for them when they did not have the courage to persuade the queen and sometimes, feel the sharp edge of her tongue on their behalf.

  He turned corner after corner, before he came upon Elizabeth. She sat upon a wooden stool, three of her ladies upon the ground, each with a book in their hand.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ Robert bowed.

  Elizabeth looked up and frowned.

  ‘Yes, Robin?’

  ‘The Duke of Alencon.’

  ‘What of him?’ she muttered, keeping her eyes upon her book

  ‘You are considering marriage with the Duke?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  Elizabeth looked up at him slyly. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘There is no need for such a marriage, Your Majesty.’

  ‘No? Cecil seems to think so.’

  ‘Cecil is wrong.’

  ‘And I agree with him.’

  ‘For God’s sake, why?’

  Elizabeth closed her book and looked up at him. ‘You have been saying for months England should get involved in the Netherlands and protect those poor people from the Spaniards. My marriage with a prince of France would do that.’

  ‘I proposed sending men and money to the Netherlands. I never countenanced you sacrificing yourself.’

  ‘All I sacrifice is my virginity, and that is mine to do with as I please.’

  ‘To which there are dangerous consequences, madam,’ Robert said carefully. All three of the women at his feet glanced nervously up at him.

  Elizabeth bit her lip angrily. ‘Enough of this, Robin. This is for discussion in the council chamber.’

  ‘There was a time when I had your ear, madam.’

  ‘And there was a time when I had your love,’ she retorted, standing suddenly, her book falling to the ground.

  ‘Your Majesty?’

  ‘I said enough, and I meant it, Robin. Now leave me.’

  ‘Not until you explain,’ Robert insisted.

  ‘How dare you!’ Elizabeth sneered. ‘Must the queen answer to her horse master? You will learn your place, my lord.’

  ‘Have I not learned my place well enough, madam?’ Robert burst out angrily. ‘Have I not been the recipient of your scorn more times than I can remember, endured your displeasure without complaint, denied myself …’

  ‘Denied yourself?’ Elizabeth repeated incredulously. ‘I have never known you to deny yourself. Where do you think you are going?’ she demanded of her ladies, who had tried to slip unobtrusively away. They about-turned abruptly and resumed their places. ‘Denial would mean no fornication with Douglass Sheffield. Or my own damn cousin, Lettice.’

  Robert was stunned. She knew about Douglass and Lettice! ‘Madam,’ he began to protest.

  ‘Make no excuses.’ She waved him silent. ‘I know what men are.’

  ‘Why then condemn me for it?’

  ‘Because you try to stop any chance of happiness that may come my way, while you enjoy yourself shamelessly.’

  ‘You told me once, madam, that you would have no master. Has that changed?’

  She raised her eyebrow contemptuously. ‘I said that to you. I may not say it to a prince.’

  ‘I am nothing to you then?’

  She hesitated, a mere moment. ‘You are nothing to me, as I am to you.’

  54

  Leicester House, London, April 1578

  Robert went home, unable to remain at court after the quarrel. He went straight through to his private parlour, and was surprised, and extremely pleased, to see Lettice there, sitting before the fire with a glass of wine in one hand and a plate of sweetmeats in the other.

  ‘Lettice, why didn’t you tell me you were coming here today? I only came home by chance.’

  ‘Well, I would have sent for you’ she said, tugging at his arm to sit down next to her.

  ‘Why? Is something wrong?’

  ‘Not wrong exactly,’ she shook her head, ‘it’s just that I have something to tell you. I’m pregnant again, Rob.’She laughed as Robert embraced and kissed her. ‘You’re pleased then?’

  ‘Of course I’m pleased. It’s wonderful news.’

  ‘Is it?’ she frowned. ‘I wonder. After last time. I lost that baby. Who is to say this time will be different?’

  ‘It’ll be fine this time.’

  ‘You say that
, but we are still in the same position we were before. I still have the same worry.’

  ‘What worry?’

  ‘That I may end up in the Tower. Or worse.’

  ‘You won’t.’

  ‘If the queen finds out …’

  ‘There is no need to worry anymore, my love. Elizabeth already knows about us.’

  Lettice stared at him. ‘She knows? How do you know she knows?’

  ‘She told me.’

  ‘Oh my God, Robert,’ she cried, grasping his hand.

  ‘And she doesn’t care.’

  ‘Doesn’t care? She does care, if I know my cousin.’

  ‘Well, you’re not in the Tower, are you? Nor am I, so she can’t, can she?’

  Lettice looked down at her hands, two fingers playing with her rings. ‘Would she care if we were husband and wife?’

  Robert rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. ‘When is the child due?’

  ‘October.’

  ‘Let me think about it.’

  ‘We haven’t time,’ Lettice protested.

  ‘We have. A few months at least.’

  ‘Oh, Robert,’ Lettice pushed him away and moved to the fireplace. ‘What are you still hoping for?’

  ‘I…I don’t know,’ he admitted.

  ‘Or is it Douglass? Do you want to pretend to be married to her still?’

  ‘Douglass hasn’t anything to do with us.’

  ‘So, deny your marriage to her, Robert and marry me. Answer me this. Do you ever believe the queen will marry you? Yes or No.’

  Robert was silent for a long moment. ‘No,’ he admitted finally.

  ‘Then why should you not marry when and whom you please? I am to have your child. I shall pray for a boy, and you shall have your heir.’

  ‘I already have a son, Lettice.’

  ‘Douglass’s bastard.’ Lettice said sharply. ‘That’s hardly the same thing.’

  Robert looked at her. He loved her, he wanted to be married, and he wanted a son, her son. ‘Very well, Lettice. We’ll get married.’

  ‘When?’ she asked, breathlessly.