by David Field
This gave Philip even more motivation to ensure that in either event he was on good terms with the Lady Elizabeth and he increased the pressure on Mary to have her sister brought back to Court, where Philip might meet her. Mary was less reluctant now that she believed herself to be pregnant, since Elizabeth’s claim to the throne would effectively die at the moment of the child’s birth, and it was an overjoyed and finally vindicated Elizabeth who received the welcome news in April 1555, almost a year after she had been escorted through the crumbling gateway of Woodstock Palace, that she was to pass back out through it in order to be received at Hampton Court Palace, to which Mary had relocated for her lying in.
Before she could fully prepare herself for the long anticipated reconciliation, Elizabeth had much to acquire in the matter of recent knowledge of State affairs, fresh Court quality clothing and moral courage. While Blanche Parry could organise the seamstresses, hairdressers, grooms and outfitters, it was only Cecil who could bring her up to date with the latest Court gossip, and only Cecil who could ensure that when finally reunited with her older sister she did not crumple into a weeping heap of pitiful gratitude for her release, but conducted herself as one who had been done a grievous wrong but had retained her forgiveness and dignity.
Thomas Ashton was delighted when advised by Cecil that he was to meet the lady towards whose benefit all Cecil’s recent efforts had been focussed, efforts that had resulted in successes for which Thomas himself could take much of the credit. With hopes of rich reward he took particular care of his appearance and bodily fragrance, prior to his being led by Cecil under the gatehouse porch of Woodstock, where he could shelter from the bright midday sun until advised that he might step inside, preferably with clean boots.
Cecil was admitted by his cousin Blanche Parry into the chamber with the brightly burning fire, in which Elizabeth stood waiting for him with an outstretched hand to be kissed, looking more beautiful and radiant than he had ever seen her. He had previously advanced a considerable sum of money into the management of his cousin against the forthcoming rental income from the Hatfield estate of which Elizabeth was still the beneficiary and it had been put to breath-taking use. Elizabeth stood beside the fire in a long gown of pale yellow, embossed with silver tracery that not only reflected the glow from the flames, but also threw into contrasting relief the luxuriant dark red hair that had been carefully washed and perfumed before being interlaced with matching silver ribbon.
‘Will I do, uncle?’ Elizabeth asked teasingly as Cecil raised his eyes from her hand to gaze in stunned admiration at the transformation in the crumpled and despairing young woman he had visited monthly during the entire time that she had been under the sullen guardianship of Henry Bedingfield.
‘Dear Lady, you look radiant!’ he told her. ‘It would seem that the prospect of returning to Court has given you new life.’
‘A life which I almost certainly owe to you, Cecil,’ she murmured appreciatively as she guided him to a seat by the fire and asked Blanche to order wine. ‘Had it not been for your efforts in persuading my sister that the letter allegedly sent to me by Courtenay was an impost, I would now be fertilising Tower Green. As it is, I am summoned to Hampton, there to attend upon my sister at her happy event.’
‘You do not resent that the throne of England will, by this means, slip further from you?’ Cecil asked.
‘Indeed not, Cecil. The events of the past two years have resolved in me a determination to live simply on my estate, perhaps with a husband of my choosing and several children. Pray God my sister will allow me this at least, after all I have suffered.’
‘If I might counsel on that score, my Lady, you should not seem too eager to withdraw from public life, nor should you appear too anxious to become a wife and mother.’
‘Why not, pray?’
Cecil coughed in slight embarrassment. ‘Forgive me, but there is no other way of adequately advising you of the truth of the matter, my Lady. First, you are so ravishingly beautiful that you could attract the hand of any prince of Europe and not simply the only one to ask. Secondly, you are young and healthy and likely to bear many children, whereas the Queen...’
Elizabeth looked puzzled. ‘But surely, within the month...?’
Cecil looked down at the carpet and shook his head. ‘There is much talk at Court that the Queen’s condition is more in her mind than in her stomach.’
‘But how to explain what is said to be her huge belly? Forgive my indelicate language, but that is how it is reported to me by your own cousin, who still retains friends at the Court.’
‘I have spoken with more than one physician, my Lady, one of them being attendant on the Queen. Apparently cases have been known in which the desire to bear children has led to the display of all the bodily symptoms without any birth and the royal physician who took me into his confidence speaks of a lack of signs of impending childbirth that I would be embarrassed to enumerate and you would be nauseated to learn of.’
‘But I am summoned to the lying in!’ Elizabeth reminded him. ‘Say you that it will, instead, be an occasion of grave embarrassment and grief for my sister? If so, how am I to conduct myself? And how am I to know for certain? It is hardly a matter in which she will confide in me, even though we are sisters after a fashion.’
‘God forgive me, I had forgotten that I do not come here alone. You once expressed a desire to meet the young man who ferreted out the truth regarding the letter from Courtenay allegedly found among your jewels. That same young man has lost none of his capacity for underhanded dealing and the stealthy acquisition of truth and it is my suggestion that he be taken to Hampton Court with you as your attendant and allowed such freedom as he may need, in order to learn from Mary’s own attendants what may be the reality of her condition.’
Elizabeth smiled in faint disbelief. ‘You send a young man to acquire confidences from mature ladies sworn to secrecy?’
‘He is no ordinary young man, my Lady. Perhaps if I might be permitted...?’
‘Yes, by all means bring him in, Cecil. I would meet him and give him my thanks for his invaluable service already.’
‘And you will no doubt inspire his future devotion, my Lady. Please allow me a moment.’
Cecil walked out to the porch, brushed dust from Thomas’s tunic, nodded grudgingly at the condition of his boots and instructed him to follow him inside. Led by Cecil, the two walked into the chamber, where Elizabeth had turned momentarily to gaze out of the window at the open sky that somehow symbolised her impending freedom. She turned at the sound of the two men returning and Thomas gazed for the first time at the woman in whose interests Cecil worked so diligently.
‘Permit me to introduce Thomas Ashton, my Lady,’ Cecil announced as Thomas stood spellbound at the face that had turned to smile warmly at him.
‘I understand that I have much to thank you for,’ Elizabeth purred as she held her hand out towards him.
Thomas stood open-mouthed and silent, tongue-tied for the first time in his life.
‘You’re permitted to speak,’ Cecil muttered as he stood by his side. ‘In fact you’re encouraged to do so. And the Lady Elizabeth is offering you her hand to kiss.’
When Thomas still didn’t utter a word, Cecil dug his elbow into Thomas’s ribs and hissed, ‘Say something, for God’s sake.’
Thomas opened his mouth, which felt to him as if it was crammed with sawdust. ‘I — I — you’re beautiful!’
Cecil chuckled. ‘You’ve already achieved something that has proved impossible for me, my Lady. He’s finally being honest.’
As Cecil and Thomas Ashton rode side by side along the London track, each lost in his own thoughts, it was Cecil who broke the silence.
‘If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, don’t think it.’
‘Think what?’ Thomas asked in the vain hope that his recent behaviour had not been totally transparent.
‘You know to what I’m referring,’ Cecil said. ‘Your undoubted attra
ction to the fair sex must be confined to domestics — like the one at Hatfield who proved so forthcoming once you’d penetrated her defences.’
‘That wasn’t all I penetrated,’ Thomas replied with a smirk.
Cecil smiled. ‘Thank you for proving my point and admitting your shameful exploitation of your good looks. But the Lady Elizabeth will one day be your Queen and to think of her in carnal terms will almost certainly lead you to the Tower.’
‘How can I possibly resist her beauty?’ Thomas asked in a pleading tone.
‘By seeking the beauty that lies beneath the surface. She is of course physically exquisite — every man with functioning eyesight will tell you that. But I have had the privilege of knowing her since she was a young girl, when the management of her estates was thrust upon me, almost as a penance. Take my word for it that an even more beautiful person lies underneath that peach like complexion, that lustrous red hair and that engaging white-toothed smile. But of late she has been shown nothing but disfavour and injustice and I fear that her beautiful nature may be hardening somewhat. She has learned that it is best to mask one’s true feelings in that serpents’ nest they call the English Court. She has become a pawn in the game of political intrigue and Mary both fears and resents her popularity with the people.’
‘Are you in love with her?’ Thomas asked bluntly. ‘If so, out of deference and respect for you I will not ply her with my charm.’
Cecil burst out laughing. ‘Your conceit is quite beyond comprehension! Look at her — about to become the object of desire of every prince of Europe, with thrones thrown open to her in exchange for a mere glance of favour. Then look at yourself — a penniless adventurer dressed like the humble clerk that you are. The son of another adventurer, and the wayward black sheep of a family of farriers in an obscure Nottinghamshire village.’
‘I think you’ve made your point,’ Thomas grumbled. ‘But a black sheep, nevertheless, whose dark wool you employ to hide your devious schemes. What next do you require of me? And do I have a choice?’
‘As to your choice, you may always return to Attenborough and resume your old life, of which, by my guess, you would be destined to spend half behind bars. Or you may finally accompany me to Court, in attendance on the Lady Elizabeth as her Clerk of Estates.’
‘And then what?’
‘As yet I do not know. But given your undoubted abilities in that regard, it will almost certainly require you to inflict your charm on some lowly wench in a privileged post.’
XII
‘This is an unexpected pleasure,’ Cecil announced as he was admitted into the main chamber of the London residence of the Spanish Ambassador. ‘You and I have rarely had private converse and this is the first time you have invited me to supper.’
‘It will almost certainly be the last,’ Renard told him glumly as he waved for the server to bring wine, ‘since I have requested that I be allowed to return to Madrid.’
‘You grow tired of England?’ Cecil asked.
Renard shrugged his shoulders. ‘Let us say, rather, that I miss my wife, who chose not to travel to this wet place. I myself shall not mourn the loss of your weather once I am back in the warmth of Spain. Even where I was raised in Burgundy was drier and warmer than this place. But if the truth be known, Master Cecil, I am no longer relied upon by my master Philip as I once was, since he seems to prefer to communicate through that smooth snake da Silva.’
‘So you have chosen a series of suppers by which to say farewell?’ Cecil asked suspiciously as he glanced sideways at a table set for only two. ‘By the time you have worked your way through all the lowly servants of the Crown such as me, you will be more qualified for the grave than for a return to Spain.’
Renard smiled. ‘You should have chosen the life of a diplomat, Master Cecil, rather than waste your days playing with numbers on a sheet of parchment. You have great powers of perception, but an even greater power to persuade men to loosen their tongues. As you have deduced, you are my only guest this evening and you are now asking yourself why, are you not?’
Cecil nodded and Renard led him closer to the fireplace with one arm draped conspiratorially over his shoulder.
‘What I have to impart is for your ears only, but it has great implications for the nation you serve and in particular the important Lady whose interests you are renowned for always promoting with a loyalty that is commendable.’
‘May we dispense with the oil, Ambassador?’ Cecil requested with a kindly smile, ‘since I imagine that it will be much in evidence once the supper is served.’
Renard allowed himself a chuckle as he indicated for Cecil to take the chair opposite to his in front of the blazing fire that had been lit against the damp of yet another wet summer. ‘This is an extremely delicate matter, but you are the only man I may raise it with,’ Renard began quietly.
Cecil was anxious to make him more relaxed and comfortable, given that a departing diplomat was often more forthcoming than one still in the height of favour. ‘I assume that it has to do with the Lady Elizabeth?’ Cecil asked encouragingly.
Renard nodded. ‘You may have heard doubts expressed regarding the Queen’s current condition?’
‘To put it in diplomatic terms, Ambassador, I have heard rumours that Her Majesty may not be about to deliver England an heir.’
‘From whom have you heard this?’ Renard asked, to be met by an ironic smile from Cecil. ‘Quite,’ Renard conceded. ‘It is not always wise to rely upon the loose tongues of servants.’
‘My source was a little more reliable than that,’ Cecil assured him.
Renard leaned forward in order that he might reduce the volume of what he had to impart. ‘My source is even more reliable, even if you bribed one of the Queen’s physicians. It comes from my master himself.’
A stunned Cecil took in the implications as he raised two eyebrows at Renard. ‘You mean...?’
Renard nodded. ‘Unless England has been chosen by God as the place for the next Immaculate Conception, then there will be no royal heir — at least, not on this occasion. And if the Queen does give birth, then my master will wish to know why and by whom.’
‘And how does this affect the Lady Elizabeth?’ Cecil asked.
‘If there is no heir, then the people of England will look to her as the next in line.’
‘That much is obvious,’ Cecil conceded, ‘but why may there not be an heir in the future? Even if Her Majesty’s present condition proves not to be a fruitful one, may there not be future opportunities for an heir? Or do you shrink from telling me that there is no congress between your master and the Queen?’
Renard blushed and it was unlikely that his red face was the result of being too close to the fire. ‘I do not say that there is no congress and you must understand that my information is no greater than my master chooses to divulge, but sometimes he is too free with the wine and ... well, you understand...’
‘Indeed I do,’ Cecil said encouragingly, ‘and now I understand why your master could be so certain that there is no offspring of Spain currently within the royal womb. So let us assume for one moment that Queen Mary dies without issue. I believe that the reason for my presence here this evening relates to the desires and intentions of the Lady Elizabeth?’
‘Indeed and I do not anticipate for one moment that you can be as forthcoming regarding the goings on in her bedchamber as I have been regarding those in the royal withdrawing rooms. But you can perhaps advise me if your mistress has declared any interest in a future match and if so, with whom?’
‘I could, were there any to impart and were I in a mood to impart it. But you will be well aware that the Lady Elizabeth’s existence this past two years had hardly been one to inspire in her any thoughts of romance. Quite the contrary — she has been badly used, not only by Her Majesty, but also those who hang around her like bees to a flower that is past its best and anxious to perpetuate its species by being generous with its pollen.
‘A wonderful analogy, Mas
ter Cecil.’
‘Analogy or no,’ Cecil continued as he warmed to his theme, ‘Elizabeth grows understandably suspicious of everyone about her and one can almost watch her heart hardening and her resolve stiffening that she will be no-one’s easy conquest, whether that be in matters of religion, politics, or the heart. Can one blame her that she has not yet thought in terms of her own womanly weaknesses and any desire for the delights of the marriage bed and motherhood?’
‘So she remains uncommitted?’ Renard asked eagerly.
‘Not only uncommitted to any man, but even uncommitted to the thought of a man,’ Cecil confirmed assertively.
To his surprise Renard sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.
‘This is excellent news!’
‘How so, Ambassador?’ Cecil demanded.
Renard sat back with his hands forming a pyramid in front of his chest as he explained, ‘Should Mary die childless — as seems now to be likely — then the natural progression, as prescribed in King Henry’s will, will be for Elizabeth to take the throne. She is known to be Protestant in her religious observances, but there are many here in England who would wish to continue the progress back to Rome that is already well under way. Put another way, Elizabeth’s accession will be all the smoother if she has a husband who is known to be of the Catholic persuasion.’