Queen Elizabeth's Daughter: A Novel of Elizabeth I

by Barnhill, Anne Clinard

  No! I care not for wine! I must have my wits about me. You think these shifting humors are related to the changes in my monthly course? But I am not yet old enough for the great cessation. I am still young—still pretty. God’s blood, you would have me ready for my winding sheet!

  I know not what to do with Mary—if I am not careful, one of these daring young men will woo her and she will be lost to me. I would not wish to live without seeing her smile each day or hearing her sing to me. She is full of vinegar sometimes, like you, Parry. But even so, her company is better than most. Oh, I do not doubt her love, nor do I doubt your own. Even though she is young, I know she loves me deep in her heart. She could not help doing so—I am the only mother she can remember.

  Men may think me monstrous, as I show no desire for a husband or children. But they do not know Mary is mine own little lamb—she is the child of my heart.

  But her future … what man is worthy of her? Oxford? He seemed taken with her. And he has position and wealth. He could be a good match, with the right woman. Pakington? Heavens, no! Hunsdon? That pompous peacock? Oh, so much rides upon making the right choice—Mary’s entire future happiness.

  What to do? What to do?

  I have it! I shall summon your cousin Dr. Dee. I shall have him cast a chart for Mary. Then we shall see what the stars can tell us. Then I shall know in which direction to head. I’ll find her a fine husband, a man who can give her as much comfort as she finds in my court. She shall marry well and she shall be happy. By God’s teeth, I shall make it so!

  Ten

  Late August 1569

  The queen and her ladies walked earlier than usual to escape the heat of late summer. The queen had taken Mary by the arm and insisted the young woman walk with her, leaving the rest of the maids to linger among the flowers while the queen and Mary made haste to the far end of the gardens. The sun beamed down and the green fields surrounding Whitehall already showed a hint of brown as the summer season drew to a close. Mary could smell the stench of the court, but overlaying that odor was the sweet scent of late roses and lavender. Already, Mary could feel trickles of sweat stream down her ribs beneath her shift. She hoped it would not blotch her white silk gown and silver sleeves.

  “Pick up your pace, little Fawn. You must step high if you hope to keep up with your queen,” said Elizabeth.

  “Your Majesty sets a difficult task,” said Mary, struggling with her skirts.

  “Just be certain you never try to outpace me. Have no worries, child. I did not bring you with me to scowl at you,” said the queen. She stopped in front of a large yew tree and sat on the stone bench beneath. She patted the spot next to her and indicated for Mary to join her.

  “I have been wondering what to do with you, Mary. You are now at an age to return to Shelton Hall if that is your wish, although your brother, Ralph, is very happy there with his family. I do not know how he would feel about shouldering the expense of your care. And I fear that after growing up in my court, you would find life in the country terribly dull. No, do not speak. I would finish my thoughts,” said the queen, holding up her hand as if to stop Mary by physical force if need be.

  “If you choose to stay at court, which is the choice I hope you will make, I shall make a good match for you, one that will please you and raise you up. You are my kinswoman and, as such, could marry a foreign noble if you wished it. You are accomplished and have a level head—a gentle temperament, most of the time. But, alas, you have little ability to dissemble—you are as honest as the noonday sun,” said the queen.

  “Your Majesty has too high an opinion of my poor abilities, but I thank you for your kindness. If it please you, I have no desire to unsettle my brother and his family. I should like to stay here and continue to serve Your Majesty,” said Mary.

  “Good. I have consulted our esteemed Dr. Dee about your future and he casts a fine chart for you. Would you like to hear?” said the queen.

  “Yes, Majesty, I am most interested in the patterns the stars make on our lives. I have studied some with Lord Robert—he promised to take me to Mortlake to see the stars through Dr. Dee’s great glass. As of yet, he has not found time to do so,” said Mary.

  “And I imagine you would like to peruse Dr. Dee’s library; he has more books than all of the universities. I, too, should like to do nothing but read from those great tomes of knowledge … but I have a people to rule,” said the queen. “Here is what he saw in the stars about you, dearest Fawn.”

  The queen settled herself more comfortably on the bench and searched Mary’s face. Mary felt herself grow warm under Her Majesty’s gaze.

  “First, you are born under the sign of the water bearer, Aquarius. You are friendly and would serve humanity, as would I. Dr. Dee then spoke of your loyalty and honesty, qualities Rob and I have endeavored to instill in you. I believe you to have both traits in great strength—these are characteristics I admire and need in those who would serve me. You are inventive and intellectual, not a follower but a leader like myself,” said the queen as she handed Mary a fan and motioned for her to begin fanning them.

  “I do not recognize myself in these words, Your Grace,” said Mary, slowly moving the peacock feathers in front of their faces, stirring a small breeze that felt good against Mary’s damp cheeks.

  “We seldom see ourselves as others see us,” said the queen, patting Mary’s knee. Mary noticed a rivulet of sweat sliding down the queen’s cheek.

  “There is more, Fawn. If your sign is out of balance, you become stubborn and aloof, showing little emotion. You also become quite unpredictable—I am remembering when you were a child and fought with Master Wotton when he said girls had no business learning Greek. How outraged you were at his words!” said the queen, chuckling. “God’s blood, I thought Master Nowell would never allow you to return to the class after you let Wotton feel the sting of your hand against his cheeks. I had to pay him a pound to let you return, for he agreed with Master Wotton—what was the point of educating a girl unless she was going to rule a kingdom someday.”

  The queen paused and took hold of Mary’s hand.

  “I hope by now you have forgiven me for sending Master Wotton away,” said the queen.

  “Yes, Majesty. Now that he is gone, I can see why we were enemies for so long. He held women in low regard, as so many young men do. I believe God hath appointed all to our place, but that is no reason to fail to see God’s spirit within each. Some still debate whether or not we women have souls—such an attitude should not surprise Your Grace,” said Mary.

  “Hah! I should like to hear them say such rubbish in front of me! Well, Fawn, let us not make ourselves any more heated. My only concern regarding Dr. Dee’s chart is in reference to our friendship—for he said it would be unlikely for us to endure each other’s company. However, he was quick to say that the stars cannot tell us all. They are sometimes wrong. At any rate, for the most part, he confirmed what I already knew—I can trust you and you shall be of great service to this realm,” said the queen.

  “By serving Your Majesty, I serve the realm,” said Mary.

  “I have it in mind to put you to a much greater service than folding my linens. I hope to make a strong ally by marrying you to a foreign dignitary, perhaps even a prince. No, no, clamor not to know the man I have in mind, for I do not yet know myself. You may be set to soar higher than an eagle, my Fawn. You are my cousin, of my blood. You are fit for a king,” said the queen.

  Mary shook her head. She could not believe what she was hearing. A foreign prince? Surely the queen was joking.

  “You are also levelheaded and thirsty for knowledge; you care about people and you are honest, dearest Fawn. These are the qualities of a highborn lady. Do not gape! You shall catch a fly with that open mouth. Remember, though we have spoken of many things, I have told you nothing. The words that pass between us are never to be repeated,” said the queen.

  “I shall never tell, Your Grace,” said Mary. She did not feel she could move—the queen
’s words had frozen her and she shivered a little, though the sun overhead beat down on them. She could not imagine leaving England for a foreign court.

  “I meet with Master Secretary this afternoon, along with Leicester and a few other advisors. I would have you come with me to observe. Later, in private, give me your thoughts. If you are to marry a foreign noble, you must still serve England. You must learn what concerns us on our little isle. Then, you can use your high position to give us aid if need be,” said the queen.

  “As you wish,” said Mary, struggling to rise and follow the queen as she marched through the garden, a woman on a mission.

  * * *

  Before Mary was to join the queen and her advisors, she had time enough to take old Tom for a run. She had been too busy lately to attend to the dog, but she felt the need to see him, feel his welcoming licks and escape the pressures she felt at the court. She wanted time in the sun, in the cool shade of the nearby woods, so she could clear her head and digest all the queen had told her. And, though the day grew ever more warm, she hurried to the kennels, quickly soaking her undergarments. She’d made quick time from the castle, past the barns where the horses and ponies were kept, and was headed up the slight rise to the kennels. She could hear the dogs baying at her, welcoming her.

  She noticed a figure walking toward her, but the sun shone in her eyes, making it impossible to distinguish any features. She could tell by the silhouette it was a man and, by his brisk walk, she guessed him to be a young man.

  “Can the gods have smiled upon me? Can this be Mistress Mary Shelton, the beauty of Elizabeth’s wondrous court?” said a familiar voice.

  Mary shaded her eyes with her hand so she could see who addressed her.

  “Milord Oxford. What has brought you to the kennels on such a hot day?” said Mary. She could not hide her lack of enthusiasm at seeing him. Something about him put her on her guard. She would rather have run into the blustery Pakington, though neither man particularly appealed to her.

  “One of my bitches dropped a litter of eleven pups last week. I came to inspect them and leave instructions with the kennel boy. I am happy to say each is splendid and I shall train them for the hunt,” Oxford said, pausing in front of her, blocking the sunlight.

  “Oh, I should like to see them!” said Mary, gazing at him. He was barely taller than she and his body was wiry and quick.

  “Then, by all means, allow me to introduce you to the little darlings,” Oxford said, offering her his arm. She took it and they headed toward the kennels.

  As they entered a conclave of various-sized buildings, Mary looked to find Tom. There he was, in the small hut he shared with two other dogs of similar size. He had seen her and was barking and leaning his front paws against the wooden slats that fenced him in.

  “Just a minute, Tom. I want to see the puppies first,” she called to him. At the sound of her voice, he jumped, eager to escape his confines.

  “He cannot understand you, you know. He’s just a dumb animal,” said Oxford, leading her to a larger pen, one in which they could stand. The space was dark and Mary could make out four smaller cages, each roiling with squirmy pups.

  “Tom is anything but dumb—God’s blood, you ought to see him chase a pheasant! Fast and very smart,” said Mary, her voice edgy.

  “I did not wish to offend—I simply see no reason to become sentimental over a cur. They are a halfpenny a dozen,” said Oxford.

  “I paid more than that for Tom—I paid with a year’s worth of Greek and Latin. He was my reward for good marks from Master Nowell,” said Mary as she leaned over the pen and gazed at the pups. “Oh, they are darling!”

  “I shall make you a gift of one if you like,” said Oxford, standing very close to her.

  “That is very kind but I fear Tom would be very jealous—I barely have time to spend with him these days,” said Mary.

  “I can understand his feelings of envy. I would feel that way, too, if you were my mistress,” said Oxford. There was no mistaking his meaning.

  Mary straightened up and faced him.

  “You flatter yourself, sir. For I shall be no man’s mistress. God’s teeth, I should rather remain a maid!” Mary said.

  “God’s teeth. You sound exactly like our esteemed queen—I do believe she has forced her unnatural ways onto you! Surely you know a woman’s best use is as a wife and mother, to be subject to her lord, her husband,” said Oxford.

  “I know that is preached from the pulpit, but I have also noticed that is not the true way of things—at least, not at Elizabeth’s court. As I am her ward, it is only right I should reflect those ways she has taught by her example,” said Mary. She turned from him and strode over to Tom. She opened the gate and Tom jumped on her. She went to her knees and hugged him around the neck, accepting his canine kisses with smiles and sweet words. She noticed Oxford still standing near the puppies.

  “I shall take my dog walking now, milord. Thank you for showing me your pups,” she said flatly.

  “Perhaps I shall see you this evening after we sup. I should enjoy very much dancing with you again,” he said.

  “I do not think so, milord. I have much work to do on the queen’s behalf this evening,” said Mary as she tied the leash around Tom and sauntered out of the kennels.

  * * *

  A fortnight later, Mary had joined the queen to listen and observe as Her Majesty met with her councillors. That particular afternoon, Master Cecil was going on and on about how Parliament had given the queen permission to marry whomever she pleased, whenever she pleased years ago, and still the queen remained unwed. Mary sat on cushions at the queen’s feet and stifled a yawn. The afternoon was hot, though the windows were open and a slight breeze drifted in and out. Cecil continued to prate about the unhappy Catholics in the north and the one beacon who drew them to her, Mary, Queen of Scots. Mary watched as his face grew more and more red, up to the very hairs of his head. She glanced up at the queen, who was also pinkish, the familiar look of a rage about to erupt on her features.

  Ever since the queen had hinted she might make Mary a noble marriage, the girl had felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her appetite had left her and she had grown pale. At times, she felt haughty and proud; then, quickly, terrified. Now, the queen insisted she meet with these men of import and listen as the problems of the realm were discussed. Even Sweet Robin seemed more solemn than usual—he didn’t wink his eye at her or even smile. The one consolation was that Mary had noticed a new young man among those gathered around the queen. He was incredibly handsome with yellow hair that hung rakishly over his forehead, almost into his eyes. And those eyes—the same shade as the aquamarine jewels in one of the queen’s necklaces. He did not seem to notice Mary at all, but kept his gaze on the queen and her councillors. Mary began to imagine speaking to him, but her reverie was quickly ended when the queen erupted in anger.

  “God’s breath! You continue to plague me about getting an heir. And how has getting an heir helped the Scottish queen? She sits at Tutbury all but in prison while her babe sits on her throne,” shouted the queen.

  Her Majesty rose and pounded the table in front of her with the palm of her hand.

  “I shall seek to marry at the time God chooses—God and no other!” said the queen.

  “Your Grace, if you wait for God, you will be past the time for childbearing,” said Sir James Croft, a longtime supporter of the queen. An older man with thick gray hair on his head and a full, white beard, Sir James spoke in a voice that sounded like one of the desert prophets—low, deep, and resonant. And behind Sir James stood Mary’s mysterious young man, who seemed to be smothering a smile.

  The queen stood, silent as a stone. No one moved.

  “While I am assured of your love for us, Sir James, you abuse that love we have for you! Gentlemen, He who placed me in this seat will keep me here. That is what you must believe. Let me comfort you—I will marry when God leads me to it, for I know full well the needs of my people and I
do not wish bring war upon us,” said the queen.

  With that, she arose, nodded to Mary to accompany her, and left the men standing, their caps in their hands.

  * * *

  Later that night, Mary sat on the queen’s bed, rubbing Her Majesty’s feet with almond oil. The queen had cleared her bedchamber of all but Mary and Mistress Blanche, who was busy emptying the night stool.

  “What think you of my advisors, Fawn?” said the queen, her long red curls spread out on the pillow and her pale face gaunt.

  “Master Cecil is quite forceful in voicing his thoughts, ma’am. I found Sir James Crofts a handsome old fellow, kindly. Does he sing?” said Mary.

  “God’s teeth, girl! What has singing to do with anything?” said the queen.

  “Majesty, calm yourself. His voice was so sonorous—I should like to hear him sing,” said Mary.

  The queen laughed. Mary joined in.

  “What has the two of you cackling like geese?” said Mistress Blanche.

  “Oh Parry, I wanted to see how astute our Fawn is with matters of state. But all she can think about is Sir James’s baritone! If I had only such worries,” said the queen.

  “I have no head for state matters, ma’am,” said Mary, her face flaming.

  “Your head is as good as any, better than most. But the night grows dark. Let us to bed,” said the queen.

  Mary put away the almond oil and crawled into the trundle bed beside the queen’s imposing bedstead. She still wondered about the handsome young man she had seen earlier. She decided to ask the queen about him and hoped she would be able to conceal the level of her interest.

  “Majesty, who was that young man standing behind Sir James?” Mary said.

  “Oh, that was his son-in-law, Sir John Skydemore. A handsome devil, is he not? I do not wonder why you ask about him,” said the queen, laughing.

  “I … did not notice how he looked—it’s just that I had not seen him before and was curious as to how he arrived in the Privy Council,” said Mary.