James Hamilton, the Earl of Arran, was heir to the throne of Scotland, should Mary die childless. He sought the regency, and would take it by force if necessary. And what better way to rid herself of her troublesome cousin, Katherine Grey, thought Elizabeth, than to marry her to the earl and send her hundreds of miles north into the wilds of Scotland? A small smile curved her lips at the thought.
The boats had lazily cruised on the river, up on one tide, down on the other, until moonrise. The new moon was a silver sliver lying on her back, cupping a star. The night sky shone with stars; she wondered if they truly were windows that vouchsafed men a glimpse of Heaven.
Finally, the barge scraped the water steps and the sound of it told Elizabeth that the evening was drawing to a close. She yawned and stretched. At that moment, she desired nothing so much as to be divested of her clothes and jewels and gain her bed.
###
But alas, it was not to be; having bid Robert goodnight at her doors, the halberdiers uncrossed their weapons with a swish. But instead of finding her ladies in her privy chamber, waiting to undress her and put her to bed, she found gathered there Sir Thomas Parry and Lady Blanche Parry, Kat and Sir John Ashley, and Cecil. But for the presence of the Parrys and the Ashleys she would have thought it was some urgent matter, some state business. But she did not discuss matters of state with her household servants. And although the Parrys and the Ashleys had always been like her fathers and her mothers, especially Kat, she did not ask them for advice on matters best left to her Council, and they knew better than to offer it.
She was just about to ask what the meaning was of their presence in her room, and at such an hour! …when Kat threw herself at her feet and began to weep. A sudden deadly fear gripped her. What on earth had happened? What was amiss? But they all remained silent and Kat continued to sob uncontrollably. Blanche wrung her hands and the men would not meet her eyes.
Elizabeth knelt and placed her hands gently on Kat’s shoulders. “Good Kat, please tell me that which has you so distressed.”
Kat looked up at her with a tear-streaked face. “Oh, Your Grace,” she sobbed, mopping her eyes with a linen square. “In the name of God, please, I beg you, we all implore you,” and with this she waved an expansive hand at the others seated about the room, “please, please, Your Grace must marry and put an end to all these scurrilous rumors!”
Elizabeth drew breath to speak but Kat forestalled her.
“Your Grace,” cried Kat, her hands clasped under her chin, “know you not the terrible things that are being said about you? We, who love you as no others, can sit by silently no longer whilst you bring such awful calumnies down upon yourself! The manner in which you treat Lord Robert Dudley is scandalous! It is as if you were married! But even worse, because Lord Robert is married, Your Grace is looked upon as a wicked, sinful adulteress! All see you caress him like a lover. By doing so, Your Grace lowers yourself in the eyes of others. I fear me that Your Grace is losing the respect that is your due as queen. Can Your Grace not see where all this should lead? Your Grace’s subjects will love you no longer, and once they have withdrawn their affection, it shall not be long before they withdraw their allegiance, as well. Your Grace could lose your kingdom, and there would be civil war amongst those rival claimants for the throne; the throne that Your Grace would no longer be fit to hold! The horror of it, the bloodshed, would be on Your Grace’s head. Oh, do please listen to us, Your Grace, before it is too late!” Kat’s eyes streamed and her head shook as if with a palsy; her chest heaved and she was breathless from her outburst.
The room was oddly silent except for the sound of Kat’s snuffles and hiccoughs.
And then the calm, serene voice of Lady Blanche said, “Your Grace, should all this come to pass, thy subjects shall curse thy name, and God shall hold you to account for it.”
“Aye,” sobbed Kat. “It would be an ignominious end to a reign that was begun in such rejoicing! And rather than see such a calamitous thing, I would I had strangled Your Grace in the cradle!”
No, thought Elizabeth, that does not describe my reign; it more aptly describes my sister’s follies, and their result! She had listened stunned to Kat’s outburst; she attended, chastened, Lady Blanche, whom she loved and respected, and whose good opinion she craved. The Tudor temper, never far from the surface, was lurking, but she knew that these beloved people, who had taken the place throughout her life of the mother she had lost, had only her good, her well-being, her welfare at heart. It was impossible to be angry with them. And what they said…she hated to admit it, even to herself…was true. But that did not make it any more palatable to hear.
Elizabeth took Kat’s face in her hands and kissed her cheeks, then wiped away the tears with her thumbs. “Dearest Kat, Lady Blanche,” she said. “I am not unmindful of all that you say. I should be willing to marry, if only to set your minds at rest. But the marriage of a monarch is a weighty matter, requiring much forethought.”
“Then for the love of God, my lamb, my precious one, take a husband soon!” cried Kat. “Why, just see all the worthies who clamor for thy hand! Surely there must be one amongst them that pleases you?”
Elizabeth took Kat into her arms and held her. “But that is just what they do not do,” she said. “They see not myself, but only my crown. And I have no wish to change my state. God has seen fit to bend my mind to the unmarried state.”
“But think you, Your Grace,” said Lady Blanche carefully. “Without marriage withal, there can be no child of your body, without which, someday, thou shalt leave thy realm in discord and confusion.”
Elizabeth looked directly at Cecil. He had not said a word. She had no doubt that it had been he who had worked her ladies into a froth of anxiety, and then set them to do what the Council and the Parliament dared not do; implore her once again to marry. They had already harangued her once about marriage and the succession; they dare not even mention the situation with Lord Robert.
Elizabeth sat on the floor, rocking the still-weeping Kat in her arms. “Rest assured that the outrageous gossip concerning Lord Robert and myself is without foundation,” she said. “I have given no one cause to accuse me, and I hope I never shall. I only show Lord Robert such favor because of his goodness to me when I was in trouble during the reign of my sister. In those troublous times never did he cease his kindness to me, yea, even though he had such dire troubles of his own to bear. He even sold his possessions in order to provide me with funds, at a time when showing favor to one such as me could have been most dangerous for him. It seems to me only just and meet that I should now give him some reward for his fidelity and constancy. So if I have shown Lord Robert kindness, it is because he is deserving of it. His nature is honorable and he performs his duties well. And has not God preserved me through many perils and made me queen? Fear not but that He shall continue to provide for England that of which she is needful, just as He has always done.”
Suddenly, inexplicably, her eyes glittered with tears. She cried on a sob, “In my life I have had much sorrow and known great tribulation. I have known so little joy! I have earned a thousand fold what happiness I have, and if that happiness comes from such a friend as Lord Robert, who is to say that nay? There is nothing dishonorable in our relationship. Indeed, Good Kat, Good Blanche, how could there be? I, who am watched with Argus eyes? Princes are set as it were upon stages in the sight and view of the world. Nothing happens but that one of you or some other of my ladies, or my court, is there to see it!”
Elizabeth’s tears fell unheeded. The smoldering temper at last gave way; she narrowed her eyes and said, “Beside all of that, if ever I had the will, or found pleasure in such a dishonorable way of life, from which God preserve me, I do not know of anyone who could forbid it!”
Cecil raised his eyes for the first time and regarded her; their eyes met. He for one believed that her flirtation with Lord Robert was innocent, if ill-advised; he knew Elizabeth too well to think that she would compromise either her honor o
r her royal position. But that was not the only consideration. It was time to speak.
“Your Grace,” he said, “It is not simply a matter of whether or not any grievous evil has actually taken place; what also matters is the appearance of sin. If you continue to treat Lord Robert with more favor than is consistent with the maintenance of your honor, your good reputation, and your royal dignity, you may not be able to find a husband should you change your mind and become desirous of one.”
Elizabeth’s eyes were dry now, and she bristled dangerously. “I have told you, sir, that I have never been forgetful of my honor. Do you doubt my word?”
“No, Your Grace,” said Cecil. “I do not. But do you intend to marry Lord Robert? For many think that is so, and your behavior towards him says that it is.”
“God’s teeth!” expostulated Elizabeth. “Has it escaped everyone’s notice that Lord Robert is already married? No, I suppose that it has not, if I am to be accused of adultery! Do you not see? That he is married is the beauty of it! I cannot marry him, and have no intention of doing so. Does no one take me at my word when I say that I do not wish to marry?”
“But Your Grace, the rumors!” cried Kat. “Terrible, they are! I have even heard it said that Your Grace has an illegitimate child of Lord Robert. We know this to be so much nonsense, but your amorous behavior towards him gives your claims of innocence the lie. Your Grace runs the risk of irretrievably sullying your good name.”
“I suppose that such rumors balance neatly the reports that I choose not to marry because I know myself to be barren!” cried Elizabeth.
“All such shameful talk should be put to rest if Your Grace would simply choose a husband and bear a child,” said Cecil.
“And that is just what I shall not do!” cried Elizabeth.
“There is more to it than that,” said Cecil. “There are rumors that Lord Robert plans to do away with his wife.” That rumor he had, very, very carefully, started himself, through his trusted agents; it served to blacken his rival’s name all the more. Surely the queen would not want to be implicated in such deadly gossip along with her paramour?
“Jesu!” shouted Elizabeth. “Does everyone think Lord Robert so simple, that if there were such a plan he would make it known? I care nothing for such speculations, such gossip from lewd tongues, and such lies! I cannot understand how so bad a judgment can have been formed of me!”
But their words reached her; she thought at that moment of the debacle that her affair with Thomas Seymour had been. She had been only a child, and in the end held blameless, but she had been imprisoned in the Tower along with Kat and several other of her servants. Thomas had been convicted of treason and had lost his handsome head, and she had been called upon to use all of her wits to keep her own head upon her shoulders. It had been a grim experience. This time it was her good name, rather than her head, that was at stake. But what was she to do? A day without seeing Robert, being with him, was a day without the sun.
“If Your Grace insists on continuing this sort of conduct, I regret to say that I shall have to resign,” said Cecil. “The thing touches me too near. I had hoped to be lauded for my ability to help Your Grace make wise policy; but now I find myself condemned for my inability to advise Your Grace effectively against such rash behavior.”
Elizabeth stood up, raised Kat to her feet, and smoothed her skirts. “That, sir,” she said, “would be a wicked waste.”
Cecil shrugged. “It is a bad sailor, Your Grace, who does not make for port when he sees a storm coming on.”
Elizabeth’s eyes bored into his. “I need you here.”
“Then I beg of you, Your Grace,” he said, “not to throw away your good name, as you are doing. Your behavior breeds contempt at home, and is the talk of foreign courts. It injures not only Your Gracious Majesty, but reflects upon England as well.”
She believed Cecil’s threat to resign to be an idle one, meant to dismay her and to shock her into making promises of improved decorum. Very well, there could be no meaningful progress in any negotiation without compromise. And in her heart of hearts she knew that all of these dear friends were sincerely devoted to her. None but they would have dared to confront her in this manner, and the courage it had taken for them to do so was not lost on her.
“Very well,” she said. “I make no promises about marriage; that is a matter of state in addition to being a personal choice. But as I told the Parliament, I have not ruled it out. We must just wait and see. A mistaken choice could be as bad as none at all. But I do promise that I shall endeavor to curb my overt enthusiasm for Lord Robert.” An empty vow; she had no intention of doing so. But the declaration would keep the hounds at bay for a time.
“And now,” said Elizabeth fondly, I think we have all earned our beds!” She would go to hers and dream of Robert.
Westminster Abbey, December 1559
The coffin sat atop the catafalque at the high altar, draped in swathes of black cloth. It was flanked by six tall silver candlesticks, each of which stood on the floor, three on each side of the bier. The uncertain flames of the thick white tapers flickered wildly as a frigid draught made the rounds of the cavernous nave and choir. A mournful dirge played on the massive pipe organ by unseen hands; the haunting sound of it filled the great abbey.
Atop the coffin sat the disconcertingly lifelike effigy of the Lady Frances Grey, Marchioness of Dorset, Duchess of Suffolk, and at the time of her death, plain Mistress Adrian Stokes; for she had married her horse master after Henry Grey’s death. Let that be a lesson, thought Elizabeth, with a wry smile. But regardless of her base marriage, her cousin Frances was still the granddaughter and niece of kings, and the daughter and cousin of queens. She should be laid to rest with all the pomp of royalty. Indeed, just two days before the funeral was scheduled to take place, Elizabeth had commanded that Frances’s arms be augmented by quartering them with England’s royal arms.
She and Frances had never been very close; Frances had been more of an age with her sister Mary, and the difference in their ages had proved something of a barrier to true friendship. But still, Elizabeth was much moved by the death her cousin; she recalled the halcyon days when she and Mary, Frances and Margaret, the Fair Geraldine, and all their girlish companions, had sailed on the royal barge up the river to Syon to visit Dame Agnes and the nuns in that peaceful place. There they had been able to abandon their royalty and its demands for a short time and enjoy making potions and potpourri in the still room, gathering the golden honey from the monastery hives, or tending the sick in the infirmary.
How in God’s name, mused Elizabeth, had her headstrong cousin Frances ever begotten such daughters? She had an inkling of understanding for Jane Grey, she who had been executed for attempting to usurp the throne. Many believed that Jane had been an unwitting tool in the hands of her parents and in-laws in her unsuccessful bid for the crown of England; but Elizabeth did not believe that for a moment. Jane had been as headstrong and opinionated as her mother, and would have suffered herself to be no one’s tool.
Katherine and Mary Grey she simply did not understand. Mary was cold and standoffish, probably, thought Elizabeth, because of her grievous physical deformities. Frances had not left Mary well-provided for; the girl had received only a small inheritance from her mother, an annuity that would yield only a modest income. Elizabeth, still feeling somewhat guilty about demoting Katherine to the Presence Chamber, had, at Frances’s death, appointed Mary Grey as one of her Maids of Honor, taken her into the Privy Chamber, and granted her a pension. That had tweaked Mistress Katherine’s nose well and good! Even now, looking down from the royal pew into the transept, Elizabeth could see her cousin Katherine fidgeting in her seat. It was unfortunate that propriety dictated that Frances’s eldest daughter should be her cousin’s Chief Mourner; no one was less suited to such a serious responsibility than her empty-headed cousin.
The girl was a simpleton, and no mistake; did she truly believe that the Queen of England would remain ignora
nt of a subject going behind her back and plotting with the Spanish ambassador? Elizabeth’s envoy at the court of Madrid had a very efficient system of spies; her ambassador there kept her informed regularly of the plan to spirit the girl out of England and marry her to Don Carlos. This was treason, and no less; if it were not for the current scandal at the court of England caused by her dalliance with Lord Robert, she would have clapped her foolish cousin into the Tower without delay.
As it was, she was having second thoughts about sending the chit to Scotland as the Earl of Arran’s bride; heaven only knew what mischief she would get into there! No, better to keep her silly cousin at the English court. Perhaps she would even call her back into service in the Privy Chamber. But the very thought of doing so caused her to shudder with disgust. No, she would keep her cousin in England, but she would have to keep her at arm’s length for the sake of her own sanity. For now, she would inform the girl of nothing; let her stew in her juices, thinking that she was bound for Scotland or that her pitiful little plan to sneak out of England and go to Spain was viable.
Katherine stole a glance up to where the queen sat. She had at first felt nothing but disdain for her haughty, arrogant cousin. She had been raised to view Elizabeth as a bastard with no right to the throne; she had, after all, been declared illegitimate by her own father, who had murdered her mother for adultery and treason. But her cousin seemed to be making a success of her reign so far; she was very popular with the people… at least for now! …despite her peccadilloes with Lord Robert Dudley.
And Katherine would never, ever forgive Elizabeth for refusing to name her as Heir Presumptive to the throne, and for sending her out of the privy service. And to add insult to that injury, the queen had given her crooked sister Mary a position as Maid of Honor and a handsome pension! It was so unfair! And now her self-important, conceited cousin thought to send her to Scotland to marry the Earl of Arran! Hah! But the truth was that she was afraid of her formidable cousin.
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