‘Because he is a Papist.’ Walsingham dropped the word like a lead shot, and Robert glared at him.
‘A Papist, my Lord? I think not. He has never shown any…..’
‘Then you do not know the members of your household as well as you ought, my Lord. He was raised in the Catholic faith. He may not now practice that faith, indeed he may worship with your family in the Protestant way. But it is his background we are interested in.’
‘And the fact that he is an unknown face to our enemies, my Lord.’ Burleigh interrupted Walsingham’s speech, which was threatening to become a tirade towards Robert and his household. ‘That you ennobled him as you did helps our cause, because it proves to us that his bravery in the service of England cannot be questioned. That you recommend him to us so absolutely also helps our cause, because of your own unquestionable loyalty to your Queen.’ Burleigh grasped his lapels as he spoke.
Robert’s mouth quirked slightly as he caught Elizabeth’s eye. He watched her smother a smile as Burleigh slipped into his Privy Council demeanour, striding round clutching his lapels and booming out his voice as if they were in a cavern rather than a small anteroom. Robert was pleased the hangings were over the doors and he glanced to see that the casement windows were closed.
‘So, my Lord,’ continued Burleigh, ‘we want Sir Christopher to journey to France, then Spain, and infiltrate this plot. But we need someone with the right level of piety, who can be perceived as a secret Papist in a staunchly Protestant household. We need to know if the Scots Queen is directly involved in this plot, of her own choice, rather than a figurehead and a victim of others’ ambitions.’
‘Will he do it?’ hissed Walsingham.
‘He serves his Queen, my Lord, as do I. We would be honoured.’ Robert replaced his cup and bowed towards Elizabeth, even as his words were directed at the men in the room. Elizabeth smiled at him and rose from the chair, offering her hand. He brushed the back of it with dry lips.
‘Thank you, my Lord. It is a relief to know I still have loyal servants, surrounded as I am with plots and threats to my kingdom.’
‘Always, Majesty. I live to serve.’
***
‘Mama, Mama, you must come.’ Robbie cannoned into the sunny room, bouncing the door on its hinges as Lettice and the others looked up from their embroidery. Closely following Robbie was Henry on his sturdy little legs, and looming over both boys was Thomas, as watchful of his mistress’ son as he was of her.
‘Come where, poppet?’ Lettice fastened her needle safely and then swept Robbie to her side in a hug, holding out her other arm for Henry, who stepped cautiously into the embrace then grinned shyly as he chewed his thumb.
‘To see the new puppies, Mama. And Thomas has said I might have one when it can leave its mama, and Henry too, and we can train them to the hunt.’
Lettice’s brows rose and she looked up at Thomas, standing behind the boys and almost vibrating with repressed amusement.
‘Train them to the hunt, poppet? You want one too, Henry?’
‘Ess,’ whispered Henry round his thumb, ‘ess prees.’ Lettice squeezed him to her side and looked again at Thomas for an explanation.
‘The lurcher dam has whelped her litter, my Lady. Six strong pups she’s had. I thought the two little Lords might like one each.’ His mouth twitched behind his beard and he supressed a cough that threatened to bubble forth. Jane quietly poured a cup of ale and brought it to him, and he sipped gratefully, clearing his throat.
‘I thought they could choose the ones they wanted, and when they’re weaned, they could look after them.’
‘May we, Mama? May we really? We will look after them, we promise, don’t we Henry?’ Robbie was bouncing with excitement in Lettice’s grasp, and Henry regarded her with solemn eyes around his thumb.
‘Ess.’
Nell, sitting in the window with Meg, Jane and Ursula, looked over at her mother.
‘If he has one, Mother, it will have to live here. Riche wouldn’t want the inconvenience of a puppy in our apartment.’
Lettice smiled at her daughter, aware that Henry had begun to tremble as his mother spoke about his father. ‘Of course, poppet. They will stay here together, and I am sure Thomas will help the boys train them to the hunt.’ A giggle threatened to burst from her throat as she considered the two tiny boys teaching the pups, who would grow almost to the size of wolfhounds within twelve months.
‘It would be a pleasure, my Lady,’ bowed Thomas and Lettice dimpled at him.
‘So, boys, shall we all go and look at these wondrous pups? See which ones you choose?’ Lettice stood and shook out her voluminous amber silk skirts, then took each boy by the hand. Jane and Meg both rose, but Nell stayed seated, with her hand on Ursula’s arm.
‘You go with them, Mother. I’ll stay here with Ursula and rest. I’m sure I’ll see it soon enough.’
‘Come, Mama,’ commanded Robbie, pulling a laughing Lettice by the hand, ‘I shall show you which one I want, and the one Henry has chosen. I shall call mine Storm, because he is grey all over, like storm clouds. Henry is thinking which name he will choose.’
Lettice stopped and swung Henry into her arms, settling him on her hip and then taking Robbie’s hand again. Henry buried his head in her shoulder and continued to gnaw his thumb.
‘Do you want me to take him, my Lady?’ Thomas’ terse voice came from over her shoulder and Lettice smilingly shook her head. Henry burrowed further into her neck, putting his arms around her and holding tightly.
‘No, Thomas. He weighs hardly anything, and I rather think Robbie will need help choosing his pup.’ She nodded down as the boy pulled harder at her hand as they neared the stable which housed the new litter.
Thomas swung Robbie up in a powerful grip and Robbie grinned at his mother, who beamed back. She adjusted Henry in her arms and whispered quietly in his ear.
‘Do you know which one you want, sweetheart?’
‘Ess, Gamama,’ he whispered back, ‘whitest one. Nowy.’ Lettice bent her head nearer the boy’s mouth.
‘The white one, sweetheart?’ Henry nodded firmly. ‘Nowy, Gamama. Winter nowy.’
Lettice smothered a laugh and looked over Henry’s ducked head at Thomas, who was swinging Robbie up and down with much hilarity as they crossed the courtyard.
‘Is there a white pup, Thomas?’
‘Almost, my Lady. I would say silver grey, but it could be white I suppose.’
‘That’s the one Henry wants, Thomas. He is to be called Snowy.’
‘My Lady.
***
‘Thank you for sitting with me, Ursula.’ Nell reached out for Ursula’s hand and squeezed gratefully.
‘It is no trouble, my Lady. Do you feel unwell? With the babe, I mean.’ Ursula smiled towards Nell’s distended stomach beneath her gown.
‘Not really,’ Nell shook her head, ‘I just couldn’t trouble myself to look at pups.’ Nell sighed and looked out across the garden to see the little group disappearing into the shade of the stable block. Robbie’s excited squeals and Lettice’s joyful laughter drifted towards them on the breeze. Sudden tears filmed Nell’s eyes and she tried to blink them away, pressing her mouth into a firm line as she did so.
‘What has you so upset, my Lady. If you would choose to tell me, of course.’ The sympathy in Ursula’s voice completely shook Nell’s composure and the tears began to course unheeded down her cheeks.
‘That Mother takes such a joy in her child, that I am unable to find in my own,’ she whispered, and Ursula squeezed her hand gently. ‘It isn’t that he looks like Philip,’ Nell glanced quickly at Ursula to see if she was shocked, but saw only con
cern in the girl’s gaze, ‘because I only see myself when I look at him. And I have no way of knowing who his father is.’ Nell shrugged wearily and shook her head.
‘But he reminds me of that time. All the time. Every time I see him, I remember how happy I used to be, and how hopeful. Charles, I can ignore because he is a baby still, and he is his father’s son. This little one must be a daughter for me to love. But Henry….. he shows me every day what could have been.’ Nell’s voice broke and Ursula gathered her into her arms as Nell sobbed.
‘He is still your son, my Lady. You must love him for who he is, not dislike him for a time he represents, over which he had no control. Philip lives in your mind, and forever in your heart he will be your husband. But your son is a living, breathing little boy who yearns for his mother’s love and doesn’t understand why she doesn’t give it.’
Nell sobbed harder as Ursula spoke, realising that she would have to make peace with herself and put away her heartbreak. Otherwise it would poison the rest of her life, preventing her from sharing love with anyone. Nell already knew that Henry Hastings had promised her brother to Philip’s widow, and she had felt a brief pang of sympathy for Frances, exchanging a kind, gentle man as Philip had been for one as unpredictable and as unthinkingly cruel as her brother.
She sat up and took the cotton lawn kerchief Ursula offered her, blotting her eyes and wiping her cheeks. Blowing out a breath, Nell stood and held out her hand to Ursula.
‘Shall we go and look at some pups, Ursula? See which one my boy has chosen?’
Ursula beamed at Nell, who returned the smile tremulously. ‘I shall try and see him simply as my little boy. A person in his own right, not the ghost of a past that can never be recovered. I shall try and move forward with my own life, and I shall try to love him because he is mine, I promise.’ Ursula nodded and Nell looped her arm through the other girl’s, tilting her head to whisper, ‘I hope Tom knows what a wonderful wife he has, Ursula. And I hope you will soon have a boy of your own to love.’
Ursula dimpled at Nell’s words and replied, ‘So do we, my Lady. But a daughter will be just as welcome.’
Chapter 40
ettice gazed across the grass as she sat beneath the shady tree, watching the boys’ antics as they raced and chased with their pups, listening to the excited barks and yelps of laughter. The pups were still uncoordinated bundles of grey and white fur, with bright eyes, enthusiastically wagging tails and lolling tongues. The boys both delighted in playing with them on the meadow that led down to the lake, and Lettice and her friends had taken to sitting beneath the tree with their sewing, listening as the birds fluttered in and out of the leaves delivering worms to the newly hatched chicks.
Meg had taken the girls into the still room to show them how to prepare plant stems and render the sap into salve. Nell had asked for a new supply for the Queen and Meg thought she should pass her recipes on while she still had the energy, so Lettice was outside with the boys. Beneath the rowdy play noises coming from the long grass, she heard the unmistakeable slap of leather on leather, and she shaded her eyes as she looked up from her sewing.
‘Sir Kytt,’ she beamed, as Kytt bowed gracefully then deposited himself on the grass at her feet so she wasn’t gazing into the sun.
‘My Lady. I have come to give you my farewell.’ Kytt pulled some grass and began to shred the stalks, and Lettice was reminded of her earlier conversations with him, when shredding blades of grass was his distraction.
‘Robin told me you were leaving, Kytt, but I had no idea it would be so soon.’
Kytt shrugged as he kept his gaze on the grass between his fingers. ‘I serve at the pleasure of my Lords Burleigh and Walsingham. I had hoped not to leave until Essex set off for Ireland, but it seems I am needed sooner.’
‘Oh, Kytt. I had hoped to see you at the wedding next week. Essex would have wanted you there, I am certain.’ Lettice’s mouth quirked in sympathy for her son, whose best friend would be unable to attend his wedding.
‘I sail on tomorrow’s tide, my Lady. I wanted to say goodbye to my Uncle, and of course to you.’ Lettice leaned forward with a huge smile and squeezed Kytt’s arm. He caught her hand and brought her fingers to his lips, pressing a soft kiss upon the back.
‘I can never, ever repay you and my Lord Robert for everything you have done for me, my Lady.’ Lettice smiled and tried to draw her hand back, but Kytt’s grip on her fingers increased. ‘And although I go to serve the Queen, and England, know this,’ He brought her fingers up to his lips again and kissed them gently, ‘I shall always serve you first, my Lady. If you ever have need of me, for whatever reason, send for me and I shall be at your side, on your side, without delay.’
He pressed another kiss to her fingertips and held them against his chest, then his forehead before relinquishing them and standing in one fluid motion. He swept her another courtly bow, and replaced his hat on his fair curls.
‘My Lady.’
Lettice watched him retreat back towards the stable block with wide eyes, her breath caught in her throat and her fingers touching her lips. The unexpected intensity with which he had spoken had taken her unawares and she was quite shaken.
***
Rob strode through the gallery towards the Presence Chamber clutching a roll of parchment. As always the gallery was full of members of the court not summoned into the royal Presence Chamber, but hopeful that one day they might be. They lined the walls, talking openly or whispering behind their hands. Ladies sat on cushions or on window seats with their sewing or reading, while the men played cards or spoke about horses. Musicians were in small knots up and down the length of the corridor, all playing different tunes, practising their new composition, teaching companions a new note construction or just playing popular tunes in the hope of being noticed by a wealthy patron. Rob blinked at the cacophony of noise and tried to breathe through his mouth at the smell of so many bodies enclosed in such a confined space.
He hastened his stride, nodding greetings to those who spoke to him, whispering a word in the ear of some of the young ladies who gazed up at his dashingly dark beauty with wide eyes. All the time his focus was on the huge doorway to the Presence Chamber. He knew he would be admitted, for he brought a message from John Dee.
Just as he reached the portal, the door opened slightly and Eliza Southwell exited, sparkling in her white and silver silk court gown and carrying a covered basin.
‘My Lady, a happy surprise,’ bowed Rob gracefully, sweeping his hat from his dark hair as Eliza dropped a curtsey, eyes lowered and a small smile playing with the corners of her mouth.
‘My Lord.’ A breathless whisper.
‘Is the Queen well, my Lady?’ Rob gazed down at Eliza’s upturned face and tried to drag his mind from her lips to attend to her answer. As one of Elizabeth’s ladies, she would be perfectly aware of the real question behind the words. Was Elizabeth in a good mood? Would she listen without falling into a towering rage over some perceived slight? Would his silver-tongued flattery be enough to allow him to deliver his message without the risk of censure?
‘She appears to be in a particularly good humour today, my Lord. A little regretful that Essex will be in Ireland after his wedding next week but so ….. elated that your father has returned from the Low Counties.’ Eliza dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘And when Essex has gone, we might see more of you in the Queen’s presence, my Lord?’
Rob took Eliza’s hand and brushed it carefully with his lips, leaning forward as she rocked on her toes towards him. He straightened abruptly, realising they were probably being observed by all the idle members of the waiting court.
‘Indeed you might, my Lady.’ His mouth quirked in a wry smile as she dimpled at him and moved to walk past him on her errand. As the guard parte
d and the door opened, he heard her whisper, ‘I shall look forward to that.’
He stepped inside the Presence Chamber and gazed round. The Queen had yet to make an appearance but he spied his Aunt Kit organising her girls for dancing practice in one corner, so he made his way over, smiling at the well-ordered group of youngsters taking their places for a dance recital.
‘Good morrow, Aunt.’ He dropped a brief kiss on her cheek and Kit smiled up at him from her chair.
‘Rob, how lovely to see you. We don’t see enough of you here, my dear.’ Kit patted the hand Rob had rested on her shoulder.
‘I might be here more often soon, Aunt. When Essex has gone to Ireland, there will be less opportunity for conflict.’ Rob regarded the knot of little girls, who were becoming restless and noisy as they waited for Kit’s attention to return to their practice. Kit turned her gaze on them and raised one eyebrow. Instantly their faces became solemn and they all stood with straight spines and raised chins, waiting for their instruction. Rob smothered a smile and Kit gave him a surreptitious wink as he dropped another kiss on her hair and strode towards the door to the Queen’s Privy Chamber. Behind him he heard the notes of the lute and the shuffle of the girls’ slippers as they commenced their practice without another word from Kit.
As he reached the door, he told the guard that he had a message for the Queen from John Dee, and the guard opened the door. Elizabeth was seated in her huge chair by the hearth, sipping from a cup of ale. Rob bowed low, hat in hand and then straightened and held out the parchment.
‘Majesty. From Master Dee as you requested.’
Elizabeth looked at the paper in his hand and then flicked her hand towards the ladies moving quietly around the room, putting away the rejected gowns and accessories from the Queen’s dressing.
‘Leave us.’
Instantly, the ladies put down whatever they held in their hands and filed out of the door, shepherded by Lady Howard. Silently she stood holding the latch of the door until the room had emptied and then she dropped a graceful curtsey.
On the Altar of England (Tudor Chronicles Book 4) Page 31