‘Are you well, my Lord? Did that find favour?’ Nell was hesitant, but found his tight-lipped scrutiny uncomfortable. She regarded him levelly until he spoke.
‘You think I am so naïve that I am unaware how a maid would act with the unfamiliar touch of a man? The unknown feel of his body?’ Nell gasped at his words.
‘My Lord? You were not pleased?’ Nell looked at him enquiringly and he grasped his shirt and pulled it over his head, leaping up from the bed and pouring himself another cup of wine. With a trembling finger and a shaking voice he pointed at her.
‘You, Madam, were no virgin. But I am your husband and I will have you in my bed whenever I choose.’
‘As is your right as a husband, my Lord. And as your wife, I will submit. My Lord.’
Disgruntled with her response, Riche threw himself into the chair by the fire and poured himself more wine. Nell gazed at him for a while and then, pulling her shift down, turned over and went to sleep.
Chapter 30
ess than a week later, Nell was witness to the moment Philip married Frances Walsingham. She stood white-faced beside her husband, resplendent in the outfit he had worn for his own wedding. Nell couldn’t bring herself to wear the gown in which she had been married, so she chose the darkest one she owned. It was an iridescent dark blue silk, with maroon accents and matching garnet jewellery; she wished it was unrelieved black to match her mood.
Riche wasn’t particularly cruel or unkind, and her marital duties were performed in a brisk, business- like manner. He lifted her shift, she made herself available for him and then they slept; Nell felt that in her mind she was going slowly insane. She longed for Philip’s touch, his kiss, even a word from his lips. When she saw him in the Queen’s chambers, he was always surrounded by the other young noblemen, and she was always with the Queen’s ladies. She laughed and gossiped and stitched and played the lute and sang, and she was aware, in her very soul, of every movement Philip made and every word he spoke.
That she had to endure endless speculation from Frances Walsingham about the wedding night to come had shredded her nerves mercilessly. Thea had done her best to divert Frances’ attention to other topics, gowns and poetry and other people, but like a tongue finding a sore tooth, Frances had returned to the topic of her intended husband relentlessly. In her innocence, she had no idea that Nell was in love with the man she was to marry, and she wanted to discuss every aspect of his behaviour with her group of companions.
Now her face was glowing into a semblance of beauty in front of Nell’s eyes as she spoke the responses required to complete the service. Nell heard Philip’s deep voice answer in a monotone and her heart wept for his pain as well as her own. Frances clung to his hand and arm after the service was over, beaming at the congregation in her triumph, and as Philip drew level with where Nell was sitting, she turned away so he wouldn’t see her eyes.
The banquet afterwards was as much a mockery as her own had been. Philip danced with everyone but her, and she danced with her husband and her step-father and her uncles, or sat and gossiped with her mother and aunts. The Queen had been invited, of course, but had suffered a sick headache at the last moment, and had been unable to attend. She could see that this fact alone took a weight from her mother’s shoulders, and Lettice flirted with Robert as if they were newly lovers instead of much married. Nell was happy for her, even over her own anguish.
Then the bride and groom left the banquet, among applause and cat-calls from Philip’s friends, with the bride’s cheeks blushing a deeper red as she lifted shy eyes to her bridegroom. Philip, courtesy and kindness inherent in his character, smiled gently down at the girl by his side and kissed her hand, then turned to leave the room. Suddenly his gaze fell on Nell as she gazed at him and their eyes met for the first time in over a week.
Nell felt her stomach turn over with excitement and desire, and her breath caught in her throat. That her husband was discussing business elsewhere in the room was a relief, and she felt her sister grasp her hand and press her fingers in sympathy. Unable to drag her gaze from Philip’s, she saw him bow his head to her in a gentle acknowledgement before he turned and led his bride away from the court to their bed. She blinked the sudden tears away and returned Thea’s grip gratefully, bending her head to listen to whatever nonsense her sister was telling her to distract her from her sorrow. She would not, could not weep.
***
Nell crushed the parchment Thea had thrust into her hand and ran down the gallery, heedless that she was in her court gown and as such should be with the Queen. She flew down one flight of stairs and turned along yet another gallery, further and further from the Royal Apartments into a maze of doors hiding lesser accommodation for mere Lords and Ladies. Unexpectedly a door opened a crack and a hand shot out to grab her wrist, then suddenly she was in Philip’s arms again and he was kissing her. When sheer lack of air forced them to part, Nell looked around.
‘Your mother’s apartment? Philip, this is so wicked.’ She laughed softly and gazed at him with wide eyes as he pulled a rueful expression and lifted his shoulders as he twisted the large key in the lock.
‘I cannot care, my love. I had to see you today and I couldn’t think of anywhere else we might be alone.’ He pulled her further into the room and pressed her back towards the bed, trailing kisses down her throat to the top of her gown. She tipped her head back in ecstatic abandon and ran her hands through his hair, growling her pleasure in her throat.
‘How I have missed you, Philip. I can think of no-one else. None but you.’ She sat on the edge of the bed, then lay down as he pushed her back with a kiss and swept his hand up underneath her gown.
‘I have longed for you too, sweet Nell, but I swear I shall take care and not mark your gown. I see you should be with the Queen.’ She snorted derisively.
‘Rip it to shreds if you wish, my love. I care not. I am tired of doing the right thing, being the dutiful daughter, the caring lady-in-waiting. They have imprisoned me without my consent. By God, I shall not obey them any more than I must.’ Nell shifted her position on the bed, sweeping her skirt out of the way and pulling Philip down onto her, and then into her. He shuddered a sigh and kissed her again, moving gently and carefully. He pushed himself up and looked into her eyes.
‘Before we continue, my love, and while I still have breath to speak, I must tell you something.’ Nell gazed back at him and smiled, reaching her head up to kiss his neck below his ear. Neither of them were undressed so she couldn’t run her hands over his skin, as much as she might long to. She brought her attention back to his words.
‘I have petitioned the Queen and she is allowing me to travel to the Low Countries to lead the troops until Lord Robert joins me.’ His words came out in a rush, and Nell stopped squirming against him and met his gaze, tears pooling in her eyes.
‘You are to leave me?’ she whispered, body stilled beneath his, ‘How will I bear it?’
Philip closed his eyes briefly at her sadness, then began to tease her neck and ear with tiny nibbling kisses as she again began to move and squirm beneath him. There was silence for a while as they took pleasure in one another, punctuated with cries and gasps and shuddering groans. They rocked and clenched as they both found their release and Philip kissed Nell deeply again as their breathing returned to normal and their hearts slowed.
‘How will we bear it, Philip?’ Nell whispered, and he shook his head despairingly.
‘I know not, my love, but bear it we must. I just know I can no longer stay at court and watch you with him.’ He dragged a breath, ‘And I can no longer bear to be around that child they married me to.’ Nell felt her teeth clench at the thought of his wife.
Before she could stop herself, she blurted, ‘But you have had her, Philip. You consummated your marriage and s
he isn’t such a child now.’ She bit her lip in dismay at her own outburst and met Philip’s eyes, seeing the pained, anguished look they held.
‘I’m sorry, my love. I shouldn’t have said that. Of course you have. She is your wife.’
‘And you are his.’
‘Yes.’
‘And he …. he is …. he acts as a husband would?’ Swift tears sprang to Nell’s eyes and she nodded wordlessly. Philip pressed his forehead against hers briefly and she felt a shuddering sigh escape his lips.
‘I am a coward, my love. I cannot stay, for I would dishonour your marriage and my own if I remained. I would not have you disgraced.’ Philip moved from the bed and righted his clothing, passing Nell a kerchief so she could cleanse herself before she returned to her duties.
‘Will you write to me, Philip? You could send your letters to my mother at Leicester House. She is well aware of the state of my marriage.’ He looked at her sadly.
‘At every opportunity, my love. And you can ask Lord Robert to enclose your notes with the diplomatic packet. Neither your husband nor my wife need know.’
She shook her skirts out and smoothed her hair, pulling her necklace forward and settling her bodice and ruff into place. He took her hands and pulled her into a tender embrace, bending his head to kiss her deeply and leaving her trembling when he broke the kiss.
‘We must go back to our lives, my love.’ She nodded, unable to speak with the tears in her throat. She drew a ragged breath and swallowed, then swallowed again before she was able to answer him.
‘Know that while you are not with me, Philip, I hold you in my heart. Wherever we are, whatever we do, know you are always with me, inside my heart.’
He took her hands and kissed them gently, then he unlocked the door and Nell went back to the Queen’s apartment, not knowing when she would see Philip again.
Chapter 31
ady Howard, we have come to see the Queen. Is she well?’ Robert took both of Cathy Howard’s hands in his and kissed the knuckles, pressing them to his forehead before he rose from his bow. Cathy Howard laughed merrily at Robert’s familiar flattery. Clad in pale blue silk, Lady Howard looked as serene as ever, and as one of the Queen’s favourite ladies, she had no need to dress in virginal white as the younger attendants were expected to. She gazed up at Robert in his grey court finery, jewels gleaming and a jaunty feather in his hat, and smiled ruefully.
‘She is well, my Lord, but surrounded as always.’ Cathy turned her gaze to Rob, standing by Robert’s shoulder, equally as tall and dressed in his own court finery, with a jewelled dagger at his belt and an elegantly wrought golden clasp holding his cloak onto his shoulder. She tilted her head and smiled.
‘Who, might I ask, is this fine young man?’ Cathy raised her eyebrow questioningly and then took hold of the hand of the girl by her side, stilling her excitement with a shake of her arm. Robert grinned, and bowed again slightly.
‘Lady Howard, I would present to you my son, Robert Dudley. Rob, this is Lady Catherine Howard, chief Lady of the Bedchamber to her Majesty.’
Rob swept off his hat and bowed low for more than a few seconds, then raised his eyes and took the extended hand, kissing the knuckles briefly. He took the hand of the girl and brushed his lips over her knuckles too, eyes gleaming as the flush crept up her cheeks. He turned his eyes to Cathy.
‘My Lady, it is truly an honour, and I see now why the Howard women are famed for their beauty. I thought only my mother was so blessed but now I see the truth of it.’
Robert smothered a smile at his son’s words, and Cathy burst into peals of laughter while the girl at her side blushed and shifted her feet excitedly.
‘Lissey’s boy. I should have recognised you.’ Cathy clasped him on the arm and squeezed excitedly, ‘You look like your father, it is true, but I see your mother in your smile.’ She beamed at Robert and then looked back at Rob. ‘Might I present my granddaughter Eliza Southwell? She is newly come to court into the Queen’s service.’ Eliza curtseyed first to Robert, who nodded in response, and then to Rob, gazing up at him through her lashes and smiling broadly. Rob bowed again.
‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mistress Southwell. I am gratified that I shall not be the only new face in this court of strangers.’ Eliza returned his grin eagerly and gazed into his eyes as he spoke, while Robert and Cathy both hid their smiles. ‘I should be honoured to receive your advice at how to proceed with the Queen. I am overwhelmed by unfamiliar faces, and I am pleased to find a friend so soon.’
‘How lovely that you have someone to take advice from, sir. But you must excuse us,’ Lady Howard interrupted Rob quickly, ‘we are on an errand for the Queen, and we need to find Lady Nell. The Queen would have her assistance with her maquillage before she meets the Ambassador after the noon meal.’ Both Eliza and Cathy dipped curtseys before proceeding along the gallery and Robert and Rob watched them briefly, then Rob met his father’s eyes with a quirk of his mouth.
‘Is that all that I am now, my Lord? “Young Rob” or “Lissey’s boy”?’ His tone was light, but Robert could see the genuine uncertainty in his son’s eyes. He clapped him on the shoulder as they walked forward through the throng of people in the gallery, nodding from side to side as people called a greeting.
‘You will make your own mark, my son.’ Robert was confident that his son would make the most of the opportunity being presented to him. As his illegitimate son, Rob would have to carve his own path in life. Robert would smooth his way as much as he could, but the title and inheritance would fall to the baby. Rob nodded.
‘That I will, my Lord.’ The two men reached the vast door to the Queen’s Presence Chamber and Robert turned to look at his son, raising his eyebrow.
‘Are you nervous, lad?’
Rob met his father’s gaze levelly, and gave a negligent shrug, ‘Do I have reason to be, my Lord?’
Robert considered his answer carefully. ‘Well, the Queen liked your mother when she was at Court. She enjoyed her quick mind and her ability to converse at length about a great many subjects.’ Robert snorted in amusement at the memory and lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘She couldn’t stand your Aunt Frances though.’
Rob chuckled at the remark. ‘My Aunt Frances, if indeed she has a mind at all, and no-one is sure about that, my Lord, couldn’t converse about any subject other than does her gown match her jewels. Even Mother thought her tedious.’
Robert nodded his agreement and the doors were opened by the Palace guard. He lowered his voice so only Rob could hear.
‘The Queen enjoys challenging and stimulating conversation, my son.’
‘The Queen is a woman, my Lord. I have never met a woman I couldn’t enchant, even if only for a short while.’
Robert stopped walking and turned to look in amazement at his son’s self-confident manner. He wondered if he had been as self-assured at that age, and decided that, in his own way and in the very different circumstances he had found himself, it was his confidence that had brought him to the life he currently enjoyed. His mouth quirked as he listened to his son.
‘And sometimes, my Lord, a short while was all I intended,’ he laughed briefly, ‘so no, my Lord, I am not nervous.’
They had reached the dais on which sat the Queen, with many of her ladies sat at her feet on cushions with their sewing hoops in their hands, glowing like a string of pearls in their light silks. Essex had been whispering in the Queen’s ear, making her chuckle while Raleigh and de Vere were in conversation behind him. As Robert and Rob approached her, she tapped Essex on the arm with her fan and then waved him away. Reluctantly he retreated to the corner of the room, followed by his group of friends. The two men looked up at the Queen and bowed low, hats in their hands. Robert
straightened first and smiled at Elizabeth, whose brows were raised enquiringly.
‘Majesty, might I present my son Robert Dudley, lately come to court in my service, and therefore of course, in yours.’ Rob bowed again, more briefly and Elizabeth huffed a laugh.
‘God’s blood, my Lord. Has that much time passed for us both, that your son is grown and at Court?’ Robert took a breath to answer the Queen, but before he could speak Rob began to address the Queen.
‘Time has no meaning in your life, Majesty. Your Majesty is timeless.’ Elizabeth’s brows rose as he pressed on, ‘Does the sun shine less brightly now, than it did years ago? Does the passage of time dim the stars in the sky? So it is with your Majesty.’ Elizabeth was smiling broadly now, and Robert had to suppress his amusement as his son continued to enchant the Queen with his words, as he had said he would.
‘Age has no impact on your glittering presence in our lives. You are as the sun, around which we, your satellites spin our little lives, while you remain a constant and unchanging beauty.’ He made another courtly bow at the end of his speech, and Robert had to stop himself from applauding. Elizabeth, still smiling, nodded approval, then spoke.
‘That could be called heresy, young man. Have a care what you say. We wouldn’t want one as handsome as you to suffer an accusation like that.’ Rob looked at her aghast, and shook his head at her words.
‘No, Majesty,’ he breathed, ‘just a poor attempt at analogy. My tongue is overawed in your presence and runs away with me.’
Elizabeth snorted and looked at Robert knowingly, ‘He has inherited your silver tongue, my Lord.’
Again Robert took a breath to respond, and again Rob began speaking before he could, sketching another bow.
‘Forgive me Majesty, but the truth takes no telling. It is the lies that require thought.’
On the Altar of England (Tudor Chronicles Book 4) Page 24