by Alexa Schnee
We all laughed and cried. The tension that had been present in our every interaction these past months was released, and we were able to relax. The queen would be home soon, riding triumphantly into Whitehall. Life at court would once again be as glorious as it once was.
I HADN’T EVEN BEEN born the day the queen was coroneted, but I know that it was a day of much celebration and happiness. Her subjects cheered the young queen and lined up along the streets to see her ride in on a litter trimmed with mink-and-ermine fur.
The thanksgiving feast that the queen put on to commemorate her Armada victory was even grander. It was said to be the biggest celebration England had ever seen. The queen made it very clear that this would be her finest hour. This victory would be her legacy.
Henry gave me a new dress and jewels for the occasion. Everyone seemed to be in a jubilant mood. I will always remember that victory celebration. There was so much dancing, and there was a parade and such a feast…. No expense was left unspent. We all knew that court would never be like this again.
Henry brought his wife to Whitehall for the celebration. She was an old woman. Fine clothing wrapped tightly around her rotund body, and the hair that sat on top of her head seemed to be a creature unto its own. Stray hair protruded from her wig, and the jewels she had placed in it looked like a pair of eyes. I now understood why he had given me the gifts—to make up for the awkward situation of having his wife at court. I felt strange about seeing her there, for I knew they were a much better match than my master and I. I was surprised that I felt guilty when looking at them. If she knew who I was, would she still be smiling and dancing with her husband?
Frances and I sat together, watching the dancers twirl and step in time to the music. Everyone was smiling as they paraded around the hall. Henry spun his wife around again, and her brilliant jewels caught the candlelight.
The bench I sat on was hard, and I could hear Frances sighing as she looked upon the queen and the attractive Robert Devereux.
“You have not danced this evening,” I said to Frances. “And I cannot imagine your not being asked.”
She shook her head, and her hair rippled along the back of her royal-blue gown.
“I don’t want to tonight.”
I looked over at Her Majesty. The Earl of Essex was at her side. She whispered something in his ear, and he laughed heartily.
Frances sighed again.
“I think I shall retire for the evening,” she said suddenly. “I’m feeling tired.”
She patted me on the shoulder before she crossed the Great Hall, her steps slow. I watched her until she disappeared into the hallway and I could no longer make out her blue dress. Only then did I look back to the throne at the far end of the room.
Elizabeth was seated on the high, raised chair. Covered in golden carvings, it had seated her father and her ancestors before her. She leaned out from her throne and kissed Essex. She traced a finger along the side of his neck, smiling suggestively at him and clearly marking him as hers.
No one could object. She was our sovereign and not to be disputed.
She was our beloved ruler, our gift from God, our virgin queen.
ENGLAND, 1589
DURING THE REIGN OF QUEEN ELIZABETH I
GREENWICH COURT
THE COURT WAS FULL of gossip and news in this time of peace.
Margaret hoped that maybe now the queen would let her go to her home in Cumberland to be with her husband. The queen had not asked him to court in many months. He waited at their estate, not knowing when Margaret would return home. We all wished it for her; she had a life that no one wanted to live forever.
When she was refused, she fell into a sadness that we hadn’t seen her in before. We all knew that her greatest desire was to have her own children and her own home.
“Oh, Margaret.” I hugged her ample waist.
“I am contented, Emilia,” she said, smiling halfheartedly. “The queen needs me, and that is a great honor.”
Even though we wished Margaret could return to Cumberland, there was no doubt that we needed her too.
One day I caught Frances alone in the chambers. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we had all agreed to pick strawberries in the court’s garden. But I had forgotten to bring a hat. I could not risk getting burned—the sun turned my skin dark. Henry waited for me while I went back up to the chambers to fetch it.
I grabbed my pillbox hat decorated with a veil and a feather and was about to walk out when I heard a noise coming from the other side of the chamber. I followed the whimpers and whines to the corner of the room, where I found Frances huddled in a corner. Her face was buried in her skirts, and her shoulders shook in obvious distress. I had never seen her cry, and the sight frightened me.
“Frances…” I rushed over to her. “What is the matter?”
Her eyes were swollen and red, and it looked as if she had been crying the whole time the party had been out in the garden. I could barely recognize her. I only knew it was her by her golden hair and small frame.
“Do not come closer,” she screeched and stood up with a start. “Get away from me.”
Her eyes were wild and her voice harsh. She looked as if she had been locked up in the Tower for ten years and gone mad.
“Frances,” I began in the calmest voice I could muster, though I could feel my hands beginning to shake.
“You always were Her Majesty’s greatest supporter,” Frances spat at me. “The one who always thought kindly of her. Is she so great now that you see what she has done to me? Is Her Highness thoughtful and loving towards her ladies?” She picked up something as she circled me. I did not know what it was. I tried to keep my eyes on her face.
“Frances, calm down.” I chose my words carefully. “What happened?”
“You are weak, Emilia. You can’t see how being so close to the queen, being so close to Margaret, can hurt you.” Her words dripped with hatred. “Do you not understand? The queen does not care if you serve as Henry Carey’s mistress till the end of time. She does not care if Margaret is lonely and wants to go home. All she cares about is—”
She threw the thing in her hand with such force that I had just enough time to step aside. I heard a crash behind me and cautiously turned. The jewelry box I had given her last Christmas lay smashed on the floor, her necklaces and rings spilled out onto the polished wood. Seeing it hurt me more than if she had hit me with it. I had sold some of my own necklaces to afford that box.
I felt tears well up in my eyes too, and I turned toward her. I couldn’t believe that she would hurt me like this when I had done nothing to her.
She sank down to the ground and dropped her head in her hands.
My anger lessened when I saw how small she looked on the floor. I lowered myself to the ground and crawled over to her. It was harder than I thought it would be, but I made my way over to her without ripping anything. My hat was crumpled. I placed a hand on her back to let her know I was there. Her sobbing continued for several minutes. I thought of Henry, waiting for me…but Frances needed someone there for her. I had never seen her in such a state.
“He does not notice me,” she choked out. “I have done everything.”
I wrapped my arm around her small shoulders. Margaret would have known what to say.
“That’s all you can do,” I offered.
“You don’t understand,” she said, continuing to cry. “You have never had love that is not returned. How would you feel if every attempt you made was empty?”
Even still, I felt Frances was luckier than me. She had at least tasted what love was like, while I had never had that opportunity.
Frances gave a small chuckle. At least that lightened the mood a bit. “I don’t understand,” she finally said, looking at me for guidance. “How could he love her? He is far too handsome and she too old.”
I shook my head. I had never understood why youthful men flocked to the queen. It was true that she had once been stunning, with her red hair and pale ski
n. She was intellectual and had a fiery personality, but her time for flirting with courtiers was long past.
I could not answer, but I held Frances and wiped away a few tears that had journeyed to her chin. The sobbing slowed, and the wild look in her eyes abated, simply leaving a sad girl whose love was unrequited. It must have been terrible, to have to compete with a queen.
Frances must really love him.
“He will want to marry,” I continued. “He won’t be at her beck and call until she dies.”
“I hope not.” Frances smiled halfheartedly.
I gave her hand a quick squeeze and then stood up. “Come. The strawberries look delicious,” I said, reaching down and pulling her up. “And there are many men down there wondering where you are.”
I WAS RIGHT. ESSEX wanted to marry. The queen had been supplying him with money for his gambling habit, but she had grown tired of his ever-growing need for more and now refused to grant him anything else. A reasonable dowry was incentive enough for him to try to find a bride.
He was very handsome, and once he started to distance himself from the queen’s sight, many girls were interested. I, of course, was hoping he would forget Frances and her invitation to visit us in our rooms. Although I wanted her to be happy, I did not want the queen angry with her.
But he came to visit the chambers one day. Rain pattered on our windows, so none of us ventured outside, but we were all in good spirits despite the dark weather. I had taken out my harp and began to sing a song about Spain’s defeat that one of the young poets had taught me. It was a lively tune, and soon the other ladies were singing along. Then we heard a knock on the door.
I stopped playing and we listened. At first I thought the noise was simply the thumping of our feet, for it was unlikely that any man would call at that hour. But we heard a knock again, and I placed my small harp on the ground.
“Lady Emilia, will you get that, please?” Margaret asked.
I nodded and made my way to the door. All eyes were on me and the solid, wooden door. I pleaded to God that it would not be Henry. He had been coming after lunch almost every day and asking for me almost every night. I did not want him coming at other hours too.
But when I opened the door, I found the Earl of Essex. He was as handsome as ever, wearing a crimson doublet and a large silver cross around his neck. Rings decorated his fingers, and his cape was made of the finest mink available. He looked past me into the room.
“Is the lady Sidney present?” he asked.
The last thing I wanted was for Frances to be connected to him, but the ladies-in-waiting were all watching me. I had no choice but to be truthful.
“Yes, my lord,” I said. “I shall see if she would like to have you in.”
I left him at the threshold and went to Frances. She sat on the ground with her sewing in her lap, her skirts ballooning about her. She kept her focus on her needle, which was flashing in and out of the fabric.
“The Earl of Essex wishes to speak to you.” I looked down at her.
I expected her face to light up. Instead, her face was as blank as a canvas, and she kept her eyes on her hands and her mending.
“Good,” she said. “Send him away.”
The whole room had been watching the scene unfold, and I heard several ladies gasp as she spoke those words. I myself was taken aback. Why on earth would Frances send him away now? Was she serious? When she did not look at me, I moved back to the door. Perhaps she had changed her mind. Maybe she would avoid the danger the earl brought after all.
“The lady Sidney says she does not wish to see you,” I spoke slowly.
The earl gave a surprised look and blinked once or twice before trying to look past me to see her.
“Did she say why?” he asked.
“No, my lord, just that she wishes for me to send you away,” I replied.
He gave me a gruff look and shuffled his feet. He looked uncomfortable, as if he had been slapped in the face. I doubted that he had been refused before.
“Tell her I will come back tomorrow at this time,” he said, and then he made his way down the hall.
I closed the door and took a long glance at Frances. She continued to work on her sewing, but with a smile on her face.
“DO YOU THINK THE Earl of Essex cares for Frances?” I asked Margaret. She had agreed to accompany me on my way to Henry Carey’s bedchambers so I wouldn’t have to go on my own. Only a single candle lit our faces. Every now and then my eyes would catch a glimpse of the tapestries on the walls or the moon shining through a window. The halls of the palace were eerily dark, and our whispers were joined only by the sound of our quiet footsteps.
“I wish Frances’s fate on no one,” she said simply.
“I fear for her as well,” I agreed. “But she is happy.”
Margaret’s face wore wisdom. It was easy to see every line of worry on her face in the flicker of the candlelight.
“The earl has been the queen’s favorite for several months now,” she explained. “When she finds that her favorite is looking for a bride and a substantial dowry, she won’t be satisfied until she has made their lives miserable.”
“Doesn’t the queen have anything better to do than to ruin courtiers’ marriages?” I asked.
Margaret smiled. “You were once so devoted to her….” I heard the strain in her voice.
“I still am,” I replied. “But I don’t see why she needs to be so possessive about the men at court. They still admire her; they think she’s a righteous queen. What more should she ask for?”
Margaret sighed. “The queen is in love with Essex.”
At first I thought she was jesting. The queen did not fall in love with courtiers. The only person she had been in love with before was Robert Dudley, long ago. The Earl of Essex was just a pastime.
“She is?” I whispered.
Margaret sighed again.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“She speaks of nothing but him. Even the lowest maids of honor know. It’s only time before the news reaches the other ladies. And she has noticed that he has been preoccupied lately.”
“What would she…do?” I asked. My eyes were open. Was Frances in danger?
“I don’t know, but whatever she would choose would not be good for Frances.” Margaret shook her head. “Frances cannot be involved in this. We must talk to her, for you know he’s only after her fortune. If the earl were to propose…” She trailed off.
We reached Henry’s large oak door.
“Of course,” I said. I would need to make sure that Frances was safe.
She smiled and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek like a mother might and then sent me on my way to Henry Carey’s bed.
THAT SUMMER, HENRY BROUGHT my father’s troupe to court to entertain the queen. War with Spain had delayed any artistic endeavors, but now in this time of peace, Elizabeth had agreed. We looked forward to them with eager anticipation.
I had been given a seat of honor in the Great Hall, for it was my suggestion that Henry support them. The troupe played on the far side of the room where everyone could see them. They stood with their lyres and flutes; the whole room swayed to the music.
Wine and food had been laid out for us. The sun peeked through the stained-glass windows, warming everyone at court. The queen was much entertained and pleased. Her eyes looked favorably upon her cousin that day, and, in turn, Henry’s eyes looked favorably upon me. The queen invited the troupe to stay for the rest of the summer season. They played several songs—one of which I knew was the queen’s favorite, since she had requested it at Twelfth Night. Some young ladies-in-waiting even convinced some courtiers to dance.
I rejoined Margaret and Frances after the performance. They had both enjoyed the music and noticed one thing in particular: the harpist.
“Do you know who that is?” Margaret asked.
I took a closer look at the dark young man, who was talking to the other musicians.
“He seems familiar,” I s
aid.
“He quite resembles you.” She narrowed her eyes. “My, he is handsome, isn’t he?”
He was. His angular face was tanned very dark from traveling in the sun.
“You must introduce him to us,” Margaret encouraged.
I agreed. I wanted to find out who this was. The other two ladies followed me as we made our way over to the musicians, who were packing away their precious instruments. The young man had his back to us, and I felt it would be rude to touch him when I did not even know him. I waited until he turned around.
I recognized him as soon as he turned to face us. He looked like my mirror image. There were a few differences; I had inherited my mother’s frame, and my eyes were darker, almost black. His were more of a deep brown.
“You’re Alfonso Lanier?” I asked. He was my cousin. I had known he was a member of the troupe, but I hadn’t seen him in years.
“Indeed,” he replied. “And you would be…?”
“Emilia Bassano.”
Once I said my name, he nodded like he remembered who I was. I needn’t curtsy for him; I was in a higher position than he. He gave a quick bow.
“It’s been many years,” he said stiffly. “Was it not at the Countess of Kent’s that I last saw you?”
“Yes,” I replied. I noticed that his eyes traveled to my bodice as I spoke. “These are my friends, the lady Sidney and the lady Russell.”
He bowed to each one of them.
“You play beautifully,” Margaret said. “It must run in the family.”
“Yes, my lady. Lady Bassano’s family and mine have been musicians since the beginning of time,” he said.
“The queen seemed to be delighted by your performance,” Frances added.
He looked to her, but he did not run his eyes up and down her figure or eye the expensive rings around her fingers. Most men were infatuated with Frances from the moment they laid eyes on her.
“It is an honor to play for Her Grace. It could not have been possible without the help of our patron, Baron Henry Carey.” His eyes connected with mine. He knew that I was mistress to his supporter. Did everyone know?
