‘Young Rob is Ambrose’s heir, Uncle. The only Dudley left.’ Lettice’s voice was tight, flinching as she heard Ralph avoid the word ‘widow’.
‘Then you must pay what you can. I will go through these and compile a list to pass on to your lawyer. You let him act on your behalf. You do not entertain any of these people.’ Ralph lifted the sheaf of paper and waved it, then looked at her kindly.
‘My dear, I have some advice you won’t like, but this is the lawyer in me speaking, not your Uncle who both liked and admired your husband.’ Lettice looked at Ralph and felt her eyes film with tears again. She took deep breaths and listened closely.
‘Marry again, Letty. If you have a husband, he cannot be held responsible for the debts of his predecessor, but he must support you. And as you become your husband’s property, your income becomes his income, and you will not be beggared by your creditors.’
Tears began to cascade down Lettice’s cheeks and she pressed her lips together as hard as she could, so the sobs that welled in her throat didn’t consume her. She knew Ralph was giving her the best advice he knew, good practical things to do to resolve her situation, but she was so encompassed by her grief that she couldn’t bear to think of the things he was suggesting. Ralph patted her hand again.
‘I know it is hard, my dear, I know it is the last thing you want to think about, but for your own sanity, and Lord Robert’s honour, find yourself another husband.’
Chapter 52
etty, it was awful.’ Kit, gowned in dark grey for her brother’s passing, patted Lettice’s clasped hands as they sat in Lettice’s solar at Leicester House. Lettice gazed at Kit with blank eyes and looked round the room absently. It was Essex House now, she realised, and she was in Frances’ solar. A guest in her own home. She forced her mind back to listen to her sister-in-law.
‘Cathy Howard kept knocking at the door, begging to be let in, and was either answered with screams or silence. The Queen wouldn’t open her door for food or to admit anyone. Burleigh tried too. He and Cathy spent every day in the Privy Chamber, speaking to the Queen through the keyhole and trying to persuade her to open the door.’
‘And of course, Royal grief is so much more painful than the grief felt by ordinary people. Like mine, like yours and that of his family and true friends.’ Lettice’s voice was tight and hard with the weight of tears she had yet to shed. She knew she was being unkind, and knew that Elizabeth’s grief was as genuine as her own. And yet….
‘Lord Burleigh had the guards break down her door, Mother.’ Nell sat rocking her baby in the large fireside chair, and Lettice swung her gaze round to her daughter.
‘The Queen was collapsed in a heap of pillows by the hearth, in the wreckage of the room, much worse even than last time. She couldn’t speak, and was barely breathing when they found her.’ Lettice’s brows rose in surprise; she had not thought Elizabeth would reveal such a depth of anguish to the rest of the court.
‘That level of collapse is caused by regret, poppet.’ Lettice heaved a deep breath and fixed her daughter with a dry-eyed look.
‘Regret is a dreadful mistress, Nell. Nothing eats at your soul like regret, things left undone, things left unsaid, paths not followed.’
She shook her head and swallowed the tears that were coming back. She was so tired of tears, of feeling exhausted every moment by the grief that crippled her, that stopped her from finding any peace, even in sleep. Lettice dragged a breath.
‘I don’t regret one single moment of my life with Robin. I hope you find a love like that, which will continue to nourish your soul even when the object of your love has gone.’
Kit wiped her eyes as she listened to Lettice speak of her brother, and Nell sniffed loudly.
‘And the Queen will find a way to live with the regret she has caused herself. As I will find a way to live without Robin. But we must both move forward. As much as both of us, for our own reasons, would give everything to be able to go back, for a day, an hour, even a minute, we cannot.’
Tears were cascading from Lettice’s eyes as she spoke, but her voice remained more firm than it had since Robert’s death.
‘We are Howards, Nell. We overcome.’
***
Jane moved carefully round her mother’s kitchen, a huge white apron covering her brocade gown. The reason for her deliberation was her concentration on her mother’s recipes, written in Meg’s loopy hand, and Jane wished she had paid more attention before her mother moved to the country.
She had some plant stalks boiling on the range, much to the disgust of the Cook, and she had persuaded Jennie to grate some peach kernels, while Jane herself ground some comfrey with a mortar and pestle to mix into a waiting concoction of fresh honey and lemon juice. Lettice had asked her to make another remedy for Thomas, whose cough and tight chest were worsening despite the fine weather.
On the window ledges she had trays of lavender heads drying in the sun, and over all the flat surfaces there were hundreds of rose petals steeping in bowls of warm water. Jane wanted to get lavender sachets made ready for the winter storage of their summer clothes, and some rosewater for their toilette. She had promised Nell some more tinted salve, and she made a mental note to go into her father’s study to find some of his sealing wax pigment for the tint.
Jane pushed strands of damp hair out of her eyes with her wrist, and felt the presence of someone standing behind her, their breath ghosting over the top of her head. Strong sinewy arms stole around her waist and she was pulled backwards into what felt like a wall of leather, hard and fragrant and creaking. Her mouth twisted wryly and she let out a breathy giggle as she wrinkled her nose.
‘Oh Dickon, you smell of the stables. Horses and muck and tack polish.’ She rested her head backwards onto her husband’s broad chest and sighed contentedly. She felt the rumble of a laugh build in his chest, and then squirmed as he dipped his lips to her neck, brushing his lips over her skin and whispering in her ear.
‘And you, my love, smell of honey and peaches. Will there be pie later?’
Jane laughed and turned in her husband’s arms, standing on tiptoe to kiss his lips briefly. ‘I have poultices to make, Dickon, and salves and tinctures and linctus and a hundred other things that Mother used to produce without a second thought. I don’t have time to make pie.’
Dickon’s face fell as he gazed down at Jane’s upturned face, and he bent his long frame to whisper in her ear, ‘But I can see the sliced peaches, Jane. So I shall ask Cook, when you have finished decimating her kitchen, if she could find it in her heart to roll a batch of pastry. To save the poor condemned slices of peach and put them to good use. In a pie.’
Jane laughed and swatted him on the arm, pushing herself back from his embrace and moving to pour him a cool cup of ale from the cold room just off the pantry.
‘The Cook adores you, Dickon. You eat everything she puts in front of you without complaint, and you often ask for more. If you were to ask her for pie, she would move heaven and earth to make it for you.’
Dickon smiled into his cup and then proffered it for a refill. ‘She’s a good cook,’ he shrugged, and Jane smiled and shook her head at him.
‘And she’s glad to have someone that will appreciate her efforts, now Mother and Father have gone to see Anne and we have moved in here.’ Jane sat at the scrubbed kitchen table and put her hand over Dickon’s, squeezing his fingers.
‘I am pleased we are here, Dickon. Pleased that when I have finished my duties with Letty, I can come home here and be peaceful, with you.’
Dickon gazed lovingly at her, and put out a hand to smooth some more damp hair escaping her net with the humidity in the kitchen.
‘And I, my love. As much as I adore Letty, I would have fou
nd it hard to stay there now Essex has bought the house from her. Living here with you, sharing the house with Tom and Ursula, is much the best solution, I think.’
Jane nodded firmly, ‘We have our own home here, Dickon. We are helping by keeping the house open for Mother. Leicester, I mean Essex House is so close that both Ursula and I can be there early, and Margaret can be in the nursery with Henry and Charles and the others. I think having the children is helping Letty so much, and now Frances has produced her son she has a tiny baby to care for, while Frances returns to the Queen.’
Dickon swallowed his ale and stood, preparing to go back out to the stables. He smiled across at Jane, stirring her saucepan of plant stalks as they rendered down into a sticky mess that would become salve when cooled and sieved and spooned into pots.
‘It helps that I am in the household of Lord Hastings, Jane. I do not have to see Essex at court if I don’t choose to, and the fact that your father found Tom a place in Parliament before he left means that we are not beholden to Letty or Essex for our income.’
Jane nodded as she stirred, and Dickon strode across the room to plant a firm kiss on her cheek, and then he nuzzled into her neck.
‘Don’t be too long in here, my love.’ Jane raised a smiling face and looked at him enquiringly, brows raised as he swept his hat on his head and walked to the door.
‘Cook has pie to make.’
Dickon sketched a laughing bow and went back to help in the stables, and Jane took the pan off the range to let her mixture cool. She wanted to get the linctus and poultice ready to take to Thomas next time she went to Lettice, and Nell needed the powder and salve for the Queen. She sighed and read another of Meg’s recipes, deciding to try a different one next time. There wouldn’t be time now, she thought, as Cook had pie to make.
Jane popped a slice of peach in her mouth and went back to folding the comfrey into the honey and lemon, and gazed round Meg’s kitchen for a suitable bottle.
Chapter 53
ooking across the Queen’s Presence Chamber as he entered from the gallery door, Rob spied Eliza stitching with the Queen’s ladies, clad in a bronze silk gown with a delicate lace ruff and matching cuffs. His heart soared that she wasn’t in attendance on the Queen and he made his way quietly across the room to catch her eye.
The room was filled with people, chatting, playing cards, practicing the lute, practicing their dancing to other instruments, and the colours and jewels sparkled in the light from the mullioned windows. He knew the Queen was in a council meeting, and he was relieved to observe that Essex and his group were absent.
He leaned against the window sill and gazed out over the parkland towards the lake, and suddenly his head was filled with a delicate rose fragrance and the whisper of a silk gown.
‘Good morrow, my Lord.’ Eliza dipped a curtsey and gazed out of the window beside him.
‘Good morrow, beauteous lady. I was hoping for the opportunity to see you today.’
Eliza turned her head and beamed at him in delight, then turned her head back to admire the view. ‘And why did you hope to see me, my Lord?’
Rob took her fingers and brushed them with his lips. ‘I always hope to see you, beautiful Eliza. I would see you every day, every hour, every minute.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper and tilted his head slightly towards hers, ‘I would see your head on my pillow if you but would allow it, from the hour of dusk until the dawn creeps in. Every moment spent with you is an eternity of delight.’ He pressed her hand and let it go as she dragged in an enchanted breath and danced on her toes at his words.
‘You are very wicked, my Lord.’ Eliza couldn’t keep the giggle out of her voice.
‘I would love to be wicked with you, Eliza. Say you will, I beg you.’
Rob watched as a flush crept up Eliza’s neck above her ruff and she turned shining eyes on him.
‘We must be careful, my Lord. I wouldn’t want my Grandmother’s anger, or the Queen’s. She is in such a dreadful temper all the time now, she makes us all afraid.’
‘Does Essex not entertain her, then? I see him striding about court, followed by his cronies, de Vere, Mountjoy, de Burgh, the others. And when she is on her throne in here, he never seems far away. When is he going back to Ireland? Isn’t he supposed to be quelling a rebellion somewhere?’
Rob knew his tone sounded bitter, but he couldn’t help it. He missed his father’s companionship at court, and although his Aunt Kit was kind, and he had a friendship of sorts with Dickon and Tom, he still felt very much alone.
‘Frances says he will return to Ireland when the Queen commands him to, and not before. And she hopes he won’t return until she is with child again.’ Eliza’s mouth quirked in distaste, and Rob shook his head in sympathy.
‘I would have thought Frances anxious to be left alone, dear Eliza. At least his eyes seem to have moved from you.’
Eliza nodded. ‘He has other ladies to grace his bed when Frances has her duties elsewhere, and he has the Queen to enchant when she is here. He does find himself so ….entrancing, he cannot imagine others find him less so.
Rob gazed at Eliza, drinking in her delicate blonde beauty, and he took her hand again, brushing his lips over the knuckles. ‘You are all the enchantment I want, Eliza. Tell me you will be alone with me sometime soon, my love.’
Eliza dimpled at him in excitement. ‘As soon as I am sure I will not be observed, or missed, I promise. I will send a page with a note, perhaps tomorrow or the day after.’ She dipped a curtsey at him, and met his sparkling eyes with a smile of her own, then moved back to her stitching and the group of ladies.
Rob stayed gazing through the window for a while, then made his way back to the gallery door. The Queen was still in Council, and he thought he ought to go and speak to Master Dee. He had decided to make plans for his own future, now his father was gone. He knew his Uncle had made him the Dudley heir, but that still didn’t give him the title; his illegitimacy prevented that. Rob decided that his future lay in his own hands, and the sooner he started making plans, the better. He wanted Eliza with him, and he had to find a way to make that happen.
***
‘You really do have exquisite taste, Mother. I am so glad I bought the house from you.’ Essex lounged in the solar in the newly re-christened Essex House, gazing round at the luxurious drapery and sumptuous furnishings as Lettice sat in the chair holding her baby grandson, another Robert.
‘I’m pleased you approve, my son,’ said Lettice softly, not wanting to disturb the baby.
‘Your taste is so much better than Frances’, I’m relieved to say,’ he flicked his hand negligently, and Nell, in another chair stitching at a garment for the babe she was currently expecting, sucked in a breath.
‘Brother, that’s unkind.’
Essex wrinkled his nose at her, saying, ‘Well, the merchant classes seldom have taste, sister. We mustn’t expect her to be more than she is. We must teach her to be better.’
‘She is the mother of your child, my son. She deserves your consideration and respect for that, at least.’ Lettice looked anxiously at Nell, who shook her head.
‘And you are pleased with him, then?’ Essex nodded his head towards his infant son, and Lettice stroked the baby’s downy head gently with one finger.
‘He is beautiful, don’t you think so?’ Lettice smiled up at her son, and Essex shrugged negligently.
‘He is a baby, Mother. My heir. He doesn’t need beauty until he is grown and needs to find favour with the monarch.’ Essex snorted a laugh at the expression on his sister’s face. ‘Nell, I get what I can with the tools at my disposal. She likes me, likes what I tell her. She’s given me the wine revenues as a reward for my …..beauty.’ He guffawed in la
ughter as Nell made a face at him. Lettice raised her brow at her son, and shook her head warningly.
‘Be careful, my son. She is a volatile monarch. Those she loves one day can be cast aside the next. I wouldn’t lose you to her caprices.’
Essex jumped up and kissed Lettice on the cheek abruptly, ‘You won’t lose me, Mother. Besides, you have him,’ he nodded down at his son, ‘another Robbie for you to devote yourself to.’ Nell shot her brother a disgusted look as his tone changed from careless teasing to a spiteful sarcasm in an instant.
‘We are to call him Robbie then?’ Lettice was careful to keep her voice even; despite what Nell might think, she wasn’t in such thrall to Essex in her grief that she didn’t know he would exploit any weakness she might show.
‘It’s not being used at the moment, Mother. We might as well.’ He reached the door and sketched a bow as Nell breathed a huge gasp at his insensitivity.
‘I am away to court, ladies. The endlessly boring meeting should be over, and the Queen will need to be entranced for a while. That’s who I am, I find, Essex the Entrancer.’ He laughed and left the room, and they could hear him laughing as he strode down the corridor to the stables.
Lettice looked across at Nell, unshed tears at his thoughtless words sparkling her lashes but not being allowed to fall. She shook her head.
‘I worry about him, Nell. He doesn’t seem to realise how dangerous this game he plays with the Queen actually is.’
Nell nodded at her mother. ‘I know, but no matter how I try to warn him, he just says he enchants her.’ She snorted derisively. ‘If she knew how he really thought of her, she wouldn’t be so enchanted, Mother.’
‘No, poppet, she wouldn’t. For his sake, let us hope she remains enchanted. He has a long way to fall if the enchantment wears off.’
A gentle knock sounded at the door, and Kytt entered, with a worried look on his face. He bowed towards Lettice and she looked at him and smiled, waiting for him to speak.
On the Altar of England (Tudor Chronicles Book 4) Page 40