Thomas, tears streaming down his own weathered cheeks, caught her.
Chapter 50
ady Howard stood in the Queen’s privy chamber organising the troupe of ladies on duty with the Queen, making sure they had what was required, warm water to bathe the Queen’s skin, clean linens and new silk stockings, a tray of ale, fruit and bread to break her fast. Seeing everything in place, she turned to knock on the Queen’s bedchamber to enter, when the door behind her to the Audience Chamber opened and a messenger strode through with a letter in his hand.
‘Lady Howard. I have a message for the Queen from Lord Robert. Could you take it to her, my Lady?’ He bowed and handed Cathy Howard the letter, with the Queen’s name scrawled on the outside in Lord Robert’s own hand.
‘Thank you, Master Tracey. Put it on the breakfast tray.’ She felt in the pocket of her gown for a silver coin and pressed it into the young man’s hand. He grinned and bowed again before turning and leaving the room.
After a brief rap on the door, the line of ladies attired in shades of silver and white entered the Queen’s bedchamber and began the process of getting the Queen ready to face the day.
Elizabeth scanned the letter with her sharp dark eyes as the ladies moved about her, and she smiled at Cathy, shaking her head.
‘He asks after my health, Cathy. He remembers I had a toothache and he hopes I am free from the pain. He tells me the medicine I sent does him more good than anything else he has tried, but that he hopes the waters at Buxton will make him well again.’
Elizabeth sighed and laid the parchment on the table at the side of her bed as she moved to her dresser. Now she was washed and clothed, it was time for her makeup and hair, then the jewels that matched the gown she had chosen. She glanced at Cathy through the mirror, organising the jars and pots ready for Nell Riche to mix and begin to cover her skin with powder.
‘He is at Rycote in Oxfordshire, where we used to stay sometimes, and young Tracey arrived with the other physic before he left, so he thanks me for that, too.’ She burst into throaty chuckles and shook her head as she laughed, ‘He says he humbly kisses my foot!’ Elizabeth tittered to herself at Robert’s foolish attempt at a jest as Nell began dusting the brush around her forehead and cheeks, and she closed her eyes.
A knock sounded on the door of the Queen’s bedchamber, then a louder one. Cathy Howard made her way slowly across the room and opened it a slight crack – the Queen was unwigged and not ready to face the word, and no-one had permission to enter her inner sanctum until all her toilette was complete. Cathy’s eyes widened when she saw Burleigh at the door, with a breathless Tom Sadler by his side.
‘Lady Howard, could we have a moment of your time, and then speak to the Queen?’ Burleigh’s voice was unnaturally low, and Cathy slid out of the door and pulled it closed behind her.
‘My Lord? Why are you disturbing the Queen so early?’ She looked at Burleigh, and then her gazed passed to an obviously upset Tom. She gazed back to Burleigh and raised her brows for an answer.
‘My Lady. I hardly know how to say this. Sir Tom has ridden hard from Oxfordshire to bring a message to the Queen, but we don’t know how to tell her.’
‘A message, my Lord? Then surely that will tell her, if it is written down.’ Cathy raised her eyes at the two men and began to sigh impatiently. ‘Give me the message, Sir Tom, and I will convey it to the Queen.’ She extended her hand.
‘You need to know what the message is, Lady Howard. You need to tell the Queen, before she reads the words, what the message contains.’ Burleigh’s voice was getting more and more hoarse as he spoke, and his hand was starting to tremble on his staff.
‘Then tell me, my Lord. I cannot tell the Queen her message until I know what it is, so tell me.’
Tom Sadler gazed down at Lady Howard with such a crushing sadness in his eyes that she gasped and took half a step back.
‘Lord Robert is dead, my Lady. He died last night at Rycote, and the Countess is taking his body to be buried in the family vault at Warwick.’ Tom’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard to force the words out about his friend and mentor.
‘You must tell the Queen that Lord Robert is dead. The message is from his Master of Horse, because the Countess is unable to communicate at the moment, but Sir Kytt knew the Queen would need to know as soon as possible.’ Tom stopped speaking and pressed his lips into a line.
Cathy’s hand flew to her throat and her eyes closed at this dreadful news. That she had to tell the Queen terrified her, but what frightened her even more was how the Queen would react. Silently she took the piece of paper Tom offered and retreated back into the Queen’s bedchamber, closing the door quietly behind her.
Elizabeth was still at her dresser, and Nell was just putting the finishing touches to her lips, while Thea waited with one of the Queen’s less elaborate wigs for her sister to finish her task. Cathy swallowed hard, realising how her news would upset these two girls, not to mention Robert’s sisters who would be making their way to the Audience Chamber to wait for the Queen. Cathy hoped that Tom found the words to tell Kit and Mary, and offer them comfort. She watched as Thea fitted the wig over the Queen’s own short greying hair, carefully tucking the thin strands away so they couldn’t be seen.
Before Anne de Vere and Frances Devereux, great with child, could bring the tray filled with jewels for the Queen to select from, Cathy cleared her throat.
‘Ladies, leave us for a moment, please.’ She clapped her hands to emphasise her urgency, and the ladies laid down whatever they were carrying and left the room, whispering together about the abruptness of Cathy’s command. Absently Cathy hoped Tom would tell Nell and Thea too, and save her from their grief. The storm about to break over her head paralysed her with fright.
She met Elizabeth’s questioning gaze through the mirror of the dresser and she moved quickly to Elizabeth’s side, falling on her knees before the Queen.
‘Majesty, I have bad news.’ Cathy clutched the paper in her hand and thrust it towards the Queen, who looked down at the note, trembling inside Cathy’s grasp.
‘Just tell me, Cathy. You don’t need to tremble. Whatever it is, the fault won’t lie with you, so you don’t need to be afraid. Just tell me.’
‘Lord Robert is dead, Majesty.’
Cathy watched as emotions flitted across Elizabeth’s face; disbelief, then a narrowing of her eyes as if someone would make this a kind of jest, then, as Elizabeth gazed at Cathy and saw the real emotion brimming in her eyes, Cathy saw a gradual realisation dawn that the news was real. That Robert, the man Elizabeth had loved since she was ten years old, but whose love she had sacrificed for England, was no more.
‘Leave me.’ Elizabeth’s voice was a hard, choked sound.
‘Majesty, you should ….’
‘Leave me!’ Elizabeth’s voice was a command, brooking no opposition. Cathy scrambled to her feet amidst welters of pale blue silk and hurried to the door, opening it and slipping out as quickly as she could. Behind her she heard the lock turn sharply, then a scream. And another. And another.
Cathy hurried the ladies from the Privy Chamber out into the Audience Chamber, but she could still hear the terrible screaming coming from the bedroom. She climbed onto the dais where the Queens’s chair of state stood and looked at the surprised people filling the room.
‘The Queen is not available today, my Lords and Ladies. You must go elsewhere today. You cannot stay here.’ All through her words Cathy could hear the screams from two rooms away, and saw the incredulous and anxious faces from the court members turn toward the door every time the dreadful sound ensued.
Cathy stepped down from the dais and clapped her hands, hurrying people through the door. She caught Anne Cecil, now Anne de Ve
re, by the wrist.
‘Where are Nell and Thea, Anne?’
Anne blinked at Lady Howard as another piercing scream filled the air. ‘Tom Sadler spoke to them, my Lady. And Lady Sidney and Lady Hastings. They all left with him.’ Another scream punctuated her words and Cathy nodded.
‘Find your father, Anne. Bring him here. I will stay in here and wait for him. He brought me the news, so he knows already, but tell him I need him here, Anne. Tell him,’ another scream, louder than the last, rent the air, ‘tell him I don’t know what to do.’
Anne bobbed a curtsey and hurried away to find her father, Lord Burleigh. Cathy went over to one of the large chairs in the corner of the room and sat wearily. The screaming continued, and Cathy couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Lettice was dealing with the death of her husband. Somehow she doubted it. Lettice’s sorrow, great though it would be, wasn’t threaded through with a lifetime of regret at opportunities sacrificed.
The screaming continued, and Cathy Howard closed her eyes and waited for Burleigh.
Chapter 51
ettice sat in Robert’s huge chair in his study, gazing at the piles of parchment toppling from the surface of the oak desk. Upon hearing the news of his death, his creditors had all submitted their accounts and she was surrounded by bills and promissory notes, all demanding settlement with money she did not have.
A soft rap on the door broke into her thoughts and she looked up to see Kytt bring a tray laden with fruit and soft bread and cheese. She gave him a small smile.
‘My Lady, you must eat something. You have hardly touched your food since we returned from Warwick.’ Kytt poured a small cup of ale and brought it to her, pressing it into her fingers gently and nodding approval when she sipped the brew.
‘I’m not hungry, Kytt. I feel as if I’ll never be hungry again,’ she bit back a sob, although her eyes brimmed with tears, ‘never feel anything again, except frightened.’ She turned a damp face to Kytt, who passed her his own snowy linen kerchief to wipe her eyes.
‘You shouldn’t be frightened, my Lady. Everyone wants to help, all your friends.’
‘Everyone we don’t owe money to, Kytt. I don’t know what to do. I never imagined this.’ She shook her head as she swept her hand towards the piles of paper in the room and Kytt nodded.
‘Then we ask for help, my Lady. Sir Ralph will help, I’m sure. Lady Jane tells me they are going to see their other daughter in the country, but I could send a message telling them you would like to see them before they leave? He is a wise man, my Lady. He will know what to do.’
Lettice visibly brightened as she thought of her Uncle Ralph and asking his advice. She nodded and her smile was noticeably more genuine.
‘That’s such a good idea, Kytt. I should have thought of it sooner. Send a note to Aunt Meg to expect us, and have the carriage readied.’ She looked up quickly.
‘How is Thomas, Kytt?’
‘Sorrowful, my Lady. He is struggling with his cough, which makes him ill-tempered, and his sorrow, which makes him worse. He is in the stables at the moment. Caring for the horses distracts him, I feel.’
‘Keep an eye on him for me, Kytt. I shall ask Aunt Meg for some more linctus for his cough, perhaps a poultice for his chest.’ Lettice sighed and sipped her ale, thoughts drifting away again as tears fell unnoticed down her cheek.
‘I shall send the message, my Lady, and prepare the carriage. If you could perhaps put this paperwork into a satchel to show Sir Ralph, then he will know what you are dealing with.’ Kytt bowed and left the room, and Lettice stood, dashing the tears from her cheeks with Kytt’s kerchief, to find a satchel to contain the papers that surrounded her. She was grateful to Kytt for suggesting her own distraction.
***
‘Forgive me for hurrying to see you, Aunt Meg, but I am at my wits’ end.’ Lettice carelessly bundled her cloak at the maid and walked into the cool hall of Sutton House.
‘I am always pleased to see you, sweetheart. Particularly before we go to the country.’ Meg hugged Lettice closely, and Lettice felt the tears swamp her eyes and throat again at this small act of affection. She nodded dumbly until she could clear her throat sufficiently to speak.
‘I need some of your remedies for Thomas, Aunt,’ Meg nodded equably, pressing Lettice’s hand in sympathy, ‘but most of all, I need Uncle Ralph’s advice. Jane said he wasn’t well, but I hoped he would be well enough to advise, at least.’ Lettice dabbed at her damp cheeks and blew out another breath, frustrated that her sorrow crept up on her unexpectedly. Meg nodded again.
‘He is frail, sweetheart, but will advise the best he can.’
Lettice pushed her sadness away for a moment and looked sharply at Meg.
‘Frail, Aunt? Is he truly ill then?’ Lettice didn’t think she could bear more sorrow, yet here it was, waiting for her at the house in which she had spent her childhood. She pressed her lips together firmly.
Meg patted her hand and led her through the hall to the back of the house.
‘He is very old, Letty. We both are, sweetheart. So we are going to stay with Anne on the de la Warr estate in the country for a little while. She wants to help me take care of him, and I can help her with her children. If the worst should happen, I will have some family round me.’ Meg stopped in front of a large door, and Lettice noticed the faintest glimmer of tears in her Aunt’s kind eyes. ‘You need your family, sweetheart.’
‘You are my family.’ Lettice grasped Meg’s hand quickly and held it to her breast tightly, swallowing hard and trying not to let yet more tears fall. Meg caressed her cheek and smiled.
‘Yes, sweetheart. And you have always been ours. But you have your daughters and grandchildren. Henry misses you, and the others need you.’ Meg chuckled softly and shook her head, ‘Even Essex needs you, though he might not admit it. You must stay to support them. Tom and Jane will stay in London with you, and I’m sure Ed will come when he docks, and your sisters are all here. You are surrounded by love, sweetheart. Never forget that.’
Lettice fumbled in her pocket for Kytt’s kerchief to blot her eyes before seeing her Uncle, and Meg embraced her as she opened the door to her husband’s office, stepping back to allow Lettice, still tearful, to pass through.
Lettice entered the familiar room and saw her Uncle Ralph seated at his desk, covered as always in pieces of parchment, seals, ink and sticks of wax. Round the huge wooden bookcases that lined the room were pinned drawings that the children had given him over the years. Lettice spied the one of lilies and roses she had done for him, so many years ago that the paper was yellowing round the edges. Her throat closed again, and she took a few deep breaths before she could speak. She bent and kissed Ralph’s papery cheek, and placed the satchel at his feet.
‘I don’t know what to do, Uncle. I have read most of these, and they are all demands for money. I had no idea Robert lived on so much credit. I thought we were wealthy. He never said ….’ her voice trailed away, and she pressed her mouth into a line once more.
Ralph put out a thin hand and took out a sheaf of papers from the satchel, glancing at each briefly before laying it aside and looking at the next. Lettice sat silently in the chair beside him and tried to keep her mind carefully blank, so she wasn’t ambushed by another bout of tears. Concentrating for more than a few moments was difficult for her, and she wanted a clear mind for when Ralph was ready to speak.
After some considerable time, Ralph let out a sigh and Lettice looked up at his kind face. He leaned forward and patted her clasped hands.
‘You owe a great deal of money, my dear. Lord Robert has left considerable debts, and as his widow,’ Lettice closed her eyes and swallowed hard at the hated word, ‘you will be pursued by his creditors for recompens
e.’
Lettice blew a breath and dragged another, then opened her eyes and gazed at Ralph. ‘What should I do, Uncle?’
Ralph picked up a few of the sheets of paper and shook his head.
‘You need cash, my dear. You need to sell everything you can, for the best price you can get. It is called liquidating assets, horses, jewels, anything you don’t need. I can recommend a lawyer to act for you, one who will help and not line his own pocket with your misfortune.’
Lettice nodded, and Ralph wrote a name and address on a small piece of paper.
‘Sell the house, Letty. That will raise the most money, and quickly. Ask Essex to buy it, and rename it Essex House.’ Lettice gave a small squeak that even Robert’s legacy of the Earldom of Leicester would be lost, and she swallowed hard to prevent the feelings that threatened to overcome her from surfacing.
‘It will be hard for you, my dear. I understand that. But prevail upon his vanity that he needs a grand house for his wife and prospective son. One befitting their station instead of a cramped palace apartment.’ His mouth quirked slightly as he spoke, and Lettice recognised that her son would revel in the opportunity to own such a grand residence as Leicester House. He would see it as a triumph over his stepfather. She dragged her mind back to the words her Uncle was speaking.
‘You cannot sell the estates, Letty. They no longer belong to you, but pass to Lord Ambrose and then to his heir.’
Lettice cleared her throat, ‘He is childless, Uncle. The Dudley line will end with him.’
‘Then whoever he names as his heir will inherit. But you cannot use the money from their sale, my dear. I’m sorry about that, because it would have made a great deal of difference. You will keep the income from them for your lifetime, as Lord Robert’s wid…Countess, but they will revert to the heir after that.’
On the Altar of England (Tudor Chronicles Book 4) Page 39