The Queen's Favourite

by Laura Dowers

  ‘Bess, I can explain –’

  ‘I hope for your sake you can.’

  ‘Norfolk approached me. He said it was because of Cecil’s contriving that we had not married, that it was Cecil’s idea to marry me to Mary Stuart and –’

  ‘And you believed him?’

  Robert gestured helplessly. ‘He sounded plausible. Cecil has done me many an ill turn over the years. I know that to be true if nothing else. And I was angry with you at the time, all that business with Heneage and Lettice, I suppose I wasn’t thinking properly. You can understand that?’

  ‘I suppose I can. But what an idiot you must be to think I would ever give up Cecil. He is worth ten of you, all of you, and let me tell you, any mistakes he makes, I will forgive, as I would forgive them in you.’

  ‘You mean -,’ he reached for her hand and she didn’t draw it away. ‘You mean I’m not to be punished?’

  ‘Oh, you’re quite safe. It’s Norfolk I blame. Oh, why am I plagued by such cousins?’

  ‘Why don’t you send him away? Back to the north, where he belongs?’

  ‘Because he could cause more trouble for me there than here. No, I want him under my eye.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Bess, truly. Tell me, does Cecil know about …about what we were planning?’

  Elizabeth threw his hand away with a snort of contempt. ‘Of course he does. Who do you think told me?’

  40

  Hampton Court Palace, Surrey, March 1566

  ‘Rob, Rob,’ Elizabeth shook him roughly. ‘Oh God, please wake up.’

  Robert opened his eyes. ‘Bess?’

  She was leaning over him, strands of hair escaping from her nightcap and hanging down to tickle his face. The moonlight darkened the hollows of her face. ‘I need you.’

  ‘What time is it? What’s the matter?’

  She propped herself on the edge of his bed. ‘I didn’t know it would happen like this, I swear to God, I didn’t.’

  ‘Bess,’ he took hold of her arm, ‘tell me what’s happened.’

  ‘David Rizzio has been murdered. Cecil just told me.’

  ‘But we knew that was going to happen. We saw a copy of the murder bond the Scottish lords signed.’

  ‘I know, I know, but they killed him in front of her.’

  ‘They did what?’ Robert was aghast.

  Elizabeth shifted on the bed to face him. ‘They were having supper, Rizzio and Mary. The lords burst in on them and told Rizzio he was to die. Rizzio clung on to her skirts and begged Mary to help him but they dragged him into the next room and stabbed him, again and again.’

  ‘My God!’

  ‘Mary must have heard his screams. They held her back. Those brutes took hold of their sovereign queen and used force against her.’

  ‘Was her husband there?’

  ‘Oh, he was there, the miserable wretch. He watched as Rizzio was killed and did nothing to protect her, not even when Ruthven held a pistol to her swollen belly and threatened to shoot. His wife and unborn child threatened and Darnley did nothing.’

  ‘Is Mary hurt?’

  She buried her face in her hands. ‘I don’t know. Bothwell helped her to get away. He had horses and they rode to ... somewhere..., I can’t remember.’

  ‘She’s seven months gone with child,’ Robert said in astonishment. ‘To take to horse at such a time –’

  ‘Could kill her and the child,’ Elizabeth finished. ‘Think how desperate she must have been.’

  ‘So, she has Bothwell with her?’

  Elizabeth gave a short, hard laugh. ‘And Darnley.’

  ‘Darnley?’

  ‘She had to take him with her. She convinced him the lords meant to kill him next, so he would help her escape. By Christ, if I had been her and had a dagger, I would have stabbed him for his treachery.’

  ‘So, it seems Mary is safe for the moment, Bess. What upsets you so?’

  She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Is it my fault? Is it, Rob? I sent Darnley to her. I wanted him to cause trouble. Did I make this happen?’

  ‘Bess, that’s ridiculous, how could you have foreseen this? Darnley, of his own accord, made himself a friend to the Scottish lords. He may not have wielded a dagger himself, but he signed their bond to murder the little Italian. All your council knew of it and decided not to act. This is not your fault and I don’t want to hear any more such nonsense that it is. You hear me?’

  He wrapped his arms around her and she leant against his chest. ‘Oh, none other can comfort me as you can,’ she said. ‘I thank God for you, Rob.’

  ‘I’ll always be here for you. But Bess - not that I mind, you understand - but I think it will do your reputation no good if you stay much longer in my chamber at this time of night.’

  She laughed and gave a small nod. ‘I’m sorry for waking you, Rob.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. Come,’ he gestured for her to move and he threw back the bedclothes, tugging his nightshirt down to cover his legs. ‘I’ll take you back to bed.’

  He put his arm around Elizabeth’s waist and led her back to the bedchamber, past the two Ladies who had been searching the corridors, wondering where their mistress had got to in the middle of the night.

  41

  Greenwich Palace, London, June 1566

  ‘How is she?’ Cecil asked anxiously as Robert emerged from the queen’s chamber.

  ‘Better, I think,’ he sighed.

  Cecil rubbed his forehead. ‘I had no idea the news would distress her so, else I would not have told her in such a way.’

  Elizabeth had been dancing in the Great Hall when Cecil had delivered the news that Mary Stuart had given birth to a son.

  ‘Don’t blame yourself, Elizabeth seemed merry enough.’

  ‘Do you know what she meant by it? ‘I am of barren stock’?’

  ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? The Tudors were never good breeders, Cecil. Mary Stuart now has a son and heir, and Elizabeth does not.’

  ‘Maybe now she will look to remedy that,’ Cecil said hopefully. ‘With a suitable nobleman,’ he added.

  ‘Of course,’ Robert replied sarcastically. ‘Come, there’s no point loitering outside her door, she will be abed soon enough. Do you care for a drink before turning in, Cecil?’

  Cecil would not ordinarily be inclined to spend time with Robert, but he wanted news of his concern for Elizabeth to get back to her. He followed Robert to his chamber and they settled before the fire, each with a cup of Rhenish wine in their hands.

  ‘It’s a wonder Mary didn’t lose the baby really,’ Robert mused. ‘That long ride after Rizzio’s murder. I suppose it is healthy?’

  ‘The report from Sir Nicholas says the child is quite robust, and more importantly, Darnley has acknowledged it as his, which should put down the rumours about Rizzio being the father.’

  ‘So the boy is confirmed legitimate.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Cecil nibbled at his bottom lip. ‘The queen will be all right, won’t she?’

  ‘Cecil, Elizabeth will be fine. She has these sudden moods, you know, ever since Rizzio’s murder.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve noticed.’

  ‘Talking of which, what has happened to the Scottish lords who killed him?’

  ‘They’ve been imprisoned, all except Mary’s half-brother, James Moray. He’s on his way here because he is not safe from his sister in Scotland.’

  ‘Is Mary Stuart safe on her throne?’

  ‘It appears that she is.’

  Robert rubbed his chin. ‘I can’t quite work out whether that’s a good or bad turn of events for us.’

  ‘Well, it means that Scotland does have a stable government once again, but it also means that it is ruled by a Catholic with affiliations to both France and Spain. Oh, if only Moray had been born on the right side of the blanket and he was King of Scotland.’

  ‘What a lot of problems that would solve,’ Robert agreed.

  The Rhenish was making Cecil languid; he slouched in his chair. ‘What is it, Leicest
er, that the queen has against Mary Stuart? Do you know?’

  ‘Other than the political reasons, you mean? In my honest opinion, Cecil, vanity and jealousy. Mary Stuart is reputed to be a great beauty, a great charmer of men. She is a rival to Elizabeth and Elizabeth has never liked competition.’

  ‘Was she like that as a child?’

  ‘She certainly liked to have her own way,’ Robert laughed, ‘but then, what royal child doesn’t? I remember Edward could be almost uncontrollable at times, demanding this and that. Barnaby Fitzpatrick would often have to take a beating for Edward’s behaviour. Elizabeth was a little different. She knew what liberties she could take and never went beyond the, but she always had to win, that I do remember.’

  ‘And of course, you let her.’

  ‘Not always,’ Robert replied with a grin. ‘Well, she was a girl, and royal or not, I had my pride too.’

  ‘I’ve met Mary Stuart and she was very charming and quite lovely. She might be different now, of course, after what she’s been through. She had a softer appearance than Elizabeth, I think. More womanly.’

  ‘Elizabeth will be interested in your opinion,’ Robert said, hiding his smile behind his cup.

  Cecil sat bolt upright in the chair, holding his hand out to Robert. ‘Oh, no, I didn’t mean-’

  ‘Cecil, I’m teasing,’ Robert said, his eyes twinkling. ‘She’d box my ears if I said that to her.’ His face became serious. ‘Is Darnley back in the conjugal bed?’

  ‘I wonder,’ Cecil shrugged. ‘Is Mary Stuart a forgiving woman? I don’t think so. Her great love for him seemed to die almost as soon as they had married. She had little time for him before the Rizzio murder and she stuck with him out of necessity. It is rumoured that Darnley has the pox.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me. I hear he was as great a frequenter of the Scottish brothels as he was of the English ones.’

  ‘He certainly took no pains to conceal his visits.’ Cecil looked down at his empty cup. ‘There is another rumour bruited abroad. That of a relationship between Mary Stuart and the Earl of Bothwell.’

  Robert’s mouth fell open. ‘Is it true?’

  ‘It’s a rumour. I can get it neither confirmed nor denied.’

  ‘But if it is true?’

  ‘Then the future may be very bleak indeed for Darnley.’

  ‘You don’t mean –’

  ‘The Scottish are very fond of murdering people, Leicester, and they don’t care if they’re seen to be doing it.’

  ‘You think Darnley’s life could be in danger? But even if Darnley were out of the way, Mary would surely not marry Bothwell. He’s a Protestant and only an earl.’

  ‘You are only an earl,’ Cecil pointed out, ‘and yet you were considered suitable as a husband for her.’

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ Robert muttered. ‘But what then? I mean, if she were to marry Bothwell?’

  ‘Who can say?’ Cecil said. ‘I think we’re looking a little too far in the future to speak with any accuracy. Now,’ he put down his empty cup and rose. ‘I must get to my bed. You will, no doubt, see the queen before I do tomorrow. You will convey to her my concern for her wellbeing?’

  ‘Of course I will, Cecil. Get you to bed.’

  ‘Thank you. Goodnight, Leicester.’

  42

  Hampton Court Palace, Surrey, May 1568

  ‘I think you must be a master of the dark arts, Cecil,’ Robert whispered in his ear, making him jump.

  Cecil looked at him, shocked. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, don’t you remember, you predicted this - why, it must have been nearly two years ago now. You predicted that Darnley would be in danger and before long, Darnley is dead. Mary Stuart promptly marries Bothwell, who probably killed him, with or without her knowledge or instigation.

  ‘I merely prognosticated a chain of events based on experience, Leicester. I do not appreciate accusations of necromancy being hurled in my direction.’

  ‘It was only a joke, Cecil,’ Robert protested with a laugh. ‘But you got it right, didn’t you? If only you hadn’t stopped there and foretold the rest.’

  ‘I could not have predicted what followed,’ Cecil assured him.

  The Scottish lords had risen up against Mary and Bothwell, and defeated them. Mary had been imprisoned at Lochleven Castle and Bothwell fled to Denmark. But then Mary Stuart managed to escape and she made her way to England, foolishly thinking that her English cousin would be sympathetic to her plight and help restore her to her throne.

  ‘What a convenient memory that woman must have,’ Robert mused. ‘To have forgotten all the insults and trouble she has given Elizabeth over the years, and to think Elizabeth would too.’

  Cecil grunted. ‘Must you hover about my shoulder like a bad angel?’

  ‘Prickly today, aren’t we?’

  ‘This situation makes things very difficult.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘What are we to do with Mary Stuart?’ Cecil gestured hopelessly. ‘The Scottish don’t want her back, which suits us very well. Catherine de Medici won’t have her in France; Spain may offer her a place to live in view of her Catholicism, but the truth is they don’t want her either.’

  ‘We’ll have to keep her,’ Robert shrugged.

  ‘I suppose we will, but at a very great expense. And it’s a dangerous situation to find ourselves in, Leicester. With Mary in England, it is a perfect opportunity for the English Catholics to try and put her on the throne. You know how they feel about our queen. I promise you, Elizabeth’s life will not be safe as long as Mary is here.’

  ‘Have you told the queen this?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ Cecil said, stiffening.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And she told me that if I was thinking of having Mary Stuart done away with, she would get one of her guards to run me through with their halberd.’

  Robert burst out laughing. ‘So that’s why you’re so touchy. And were you?’

  ‘Was I what?’

  ‘Thinking of having Mary Stuart killed?’

  ‘No, my lord, I was not.’

  ‘Well, I don’t care what’s done with her, as long as I’m not expected to marry her again.’

  ‘She’s still married to Bothwell.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. So, the queen’s in an ill temper, is she? Well, I’ve suddenly remembered I’ve got some work to do. If she asks, tell her I can’t be found, will you, Cecil? There’s a good fellow.’

  Robert patted his shoulder and sauntered away. Elizabeth looked up and crooked her finger at Cecil. Cecil took a deep breath and headed towards her.

  43

  Whitehall Palace, London, August 1571

  Robert stroked the smooth white thigh laying over his own. It caused the owner to moan and turn over, presenting him with a full, rounded buttock. He smirked, raising his hand to give it a playful slap, but changed his mind. Let her sleep, he thought.

  He yawned as there came a knock at the door. ‘Wait,’ he called, easing his legs to the floor. He retrieved his shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head, where it barely covered his nakedness. ‘Come in,’ he said, pulling the bed hangings together.

  Peters pretended not to notice the dress thrown over the chest at the foot of the bed. ‘My lord, the Duke of Norfolk is in the antechamber. He wishes to speak with you.’

  Robert groaned. ‘What the devil does he want?’

  ‘He didn’t say, my lord. I did tell him you were not to be disturbed, but he insisted.’

  ‘Very well.’ Robert pulled on his hose and slipped his feet into shoes. ‘But he shall have to take me as I am.’ He followed Peters into the adjoining chamber, closing the door behind him. ‘You wanted to see me, Your Grace?’

  Norfolk looked Robert up and down, his lip curling at his disarray. ‘Did I get you from your bed?’

  ‘Just a short nap. The queen didn’t need me.’

  ‘A nap? Really?’ Norfolk raised a sceptical eyebrow. He sighed impatiently and gl
anced around the room, anywhere, but at Robert and his naked legs. ‘There is a rumour bruited about the Court that I should marry Mary Stuart.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard that rumour. But isn’t she still married to Bothwell?’

  ‘The Pope has already agreed that the marriage was forced upon her. An annulment could be easily arranged.’

  ‘You sound as if you want to marry her.’

  ‘If it would serve Her Majesty, I am prepared to marry the Stuart woman.’

  ‘Well, I would wish you luck. Her husbands are not the most fortunate of men.’

  Norfolk waved that concern aside. ‘I am, of course, eminently suitable to marry with someone of her rank. I am the highest peer in England, I have royal blood in my veins –’

  ‘And you are a Catholic,’ Robert interrupted, bored with the pedigree, ‘which should make you all the more agreeable to Mary Stuart.’

  Norfolk’s eyes narrowed. ‘I am of the New Religion, Leicester –’

  ‘No, you conform to it, Norfolk. You hide your true allegiance poorly.’

  ‘I don’t care what you think you know about me –’

  ‘Oh, come now, you must care a little.’

  Norfolk stepped up to Robert. ‘Let me make one thing clear between us. We care not a jot for one another, and if it wouldn’t mean my head on a block, I would gladly kill you where you stand. But the queen has a misguided attachment to you, and I admit that you have your uses. That is the only reason I am standing here now.’

  ‘What do you want from me?’ Robert asked.

  ‘Nothing, but your support for this marriage.’

  ‘You want me to join forces with you again, after the fiasco of your Cecil intrigue?’

  ‘We were foolish to think that the queen would turn against Cecil,’ Norfolk admitted. ‘But she will see the sense in this.’

  ‘Well, I don’t see the sense in it.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Leicester, if I were her husband, I would tame Mary Stuart. There would be no need for the queen to fear her. With England’s help, Mary Stuart could be reinstated on her throne –’