“This wind is blowing bitter—I fear I shall have to leave you, as I cannot bear it,” said Mistress Eleanor, withdrawing her arm from Sir John’s. “Do forgive me.”
“We shall not be long away, Nora. For the cold is bitter, indeed,” said Mary.
Mary and Sir John walked farther into the gardens. The hedges were still green but the grass was brown and tinged with light frost. They approached a small glass building and Mary indicated for Sir John to open the door. Once inside, boldly colored flowers filled the shelves of the room.
“This is wondrous! I have never seen the like,” said Sir John.
“Yes, it’s quite amazing, isn’t it? Dr. Dee calls it a ‘green house,’ though I don’t know why he doesn’t call it a house of glass. He designed the construction of it and selected the flowers from his time traveling in Europe. He gave instructions to the queen’s gardener about how to care for these delicate blooms. Some are even from the New World—like this one. Isn’t the white flower pretty?” said Mary.
“I have heard of the famous Dr. Dee. Perhaps I shall meet him while I am at my studies,” said Sir John, sniffing a large red blossom.
“His library holds over four thousand books—I have not yet seen it but have heard about it from Her Majesty,” said Mary.
“So you like science?” said Sir John.
“Yes, especially the study of the stars and the night sky. And Dr. Dee knows about the layout of the earth and where each great country lies. He wishes for England to navigate the world and become an empire. And he is an alchemist and a scryer and—” said Mary.
“You enjoy ideas! That much is clear,” said Sir John.
“Is there a reason I should not? Surely you do not believe that because I am a woman, my head should be empty of everything but children and house chores,” said Mary, her face reddening. She thought of Tom Wotton and his taunts. And then she thought of his kisses.
“I believe a woman should think about what she will. I, too, am intrigued by the study of science. That is one of the reasons I have come to London—I would learn more about this world before I am called upon to leave it,” said Sir John.
“You won’t be leaving it soon, I hope,” said Mary.
“I have learned one can never know when that moment will come—we are never ready for it,” said Sir John.
Mary saw a look of sadness pass over his features.
“But this is Christmas Day and I am in London looking at flowers in full bloom with a beautiful woman! Let us make merry!” said Sir John.
“You do not have to hide your sorrow from me. I understand such grief. I lost both my parents within two weeks—the sweating sickness. But, though I lost them, my life has been blessed. The queen became my guardian—she’s like a mother to me. And I have lived here with her since I was but three,” said Mary, looking at him.
“Then you do understand,” said Sir John, staring into her eyes. “Thank you.”
They stood for a silent moment and Mary thought the air had become thick and too warm. She removed her hand from her muff and smoothed her hair. She smiled up at Sir John.
“Shall we return to the Presence Chamber? The queen will miss us before too long,” said Mary.
Fourteen
New Year’s Day, 1570
The dinner for New Year’s Day filled the halls of the palace with delicious odors: roast boar, baked pastries filled with mincemeat and spices, rich cakes and confections, tarts and other sweet delicacies. The queen ate in the Presence Chamber where she entertained important guests. The citizens of London were allowed to watch the meal from special galleries installed for that purpose.
Mary and Mistress Eleanor, along with the queen’s other ladies, waited while the tablecloth and salt cellar were carried into the chamber. Trumpets and kettle drums announced the entry of each dish. The servers bowed three times to the currently empty throne beneath the canopy of estate.
“Come, mistress, we must place the cloth upon the table now,” said Mary as she walked to pick it up. She and Mistress Eleanor spread it over the table and then Mistress Frances and Mistress Dorothy placed the food on the table. Countess von Snakenberg, dressed in white silk, followed Mistress Anne Cecil, who had recently been created a maid-of-honor, as Mistress Anne held a large tasting fork in front of her. The countess bowed reverently to the empty throne and then rubbed the plates with bread and salt. Then Mistress Anne offered “the assay,” bits of meat from each dish, to the guards to eat to make certain there was no poison. The ladies left after their duties were completed and everyone waited for Her Majesty to appear.
Mistress Eleanor leaned over to speak in Mary’s ear.
“I see Sir John Skydemore of Holme Lacy is invited to dine with us today,” she said.
“And I see your Master Nicholas is not here. Did the queen neglect to invite him?” said Mary.
“He was called home—his father is ill. I hope he shall return by the Feast of the Epiphany,” said Mistress Eleanor.
“I’m sorry. I know you would like to spend the festivities dancing with him,” said Mary.
“There are others—there are always others. Remember that, Mary,” said Mistress Eleanor.
“I find my attentions cannot shift from one to another as easily as yours do. I have not found any to my liking since the queen sent Tom Wotton from court,” said Mary, suddenly aware she had been staring at Sir John the entire time she had been conversing with Nora.
“Are you certain? Your eyes seem to have found something to like,” said Nora.
Mary straightened.
“Pffft! Untrue! But look, here comes the queen,” she said.
The trumpets and drums played again, and this time the other musicians joined them. The guards shouted, “Make way for the queen!” and the crowd separated as if the queen were Moses and they, the Red Sea. Lord Robert walked directly behind her, then came a few of her ladies.
“Happy New Year’s Day! Ah, my good Master Cecil, how fine you look in your new suit. Such a lovely wine color, and if you make a spill, it should never show!” said the queen, laughing. Master Cecil bowed and smiled.
The queen sat at her table and selected a few choice pieces of chicken, some greens from a sallet, a thick slice of manchet spread with marmalade, and a glass of lightly brewed beer. She then waved her hands and the ladies cleared the dishes away, sending servants to bear them to the Great Hall where the court would eat after the queen had finished dining.
Meanwhile, the courtiers and ladies chatted while the musicians played a new piece written for the occasion by Master William Byrd.
“I see the queen is broad of mind when it comes to her musicians,” said Sir John Skydemore as he approached Mary and bowed. She gave him a brief curtsy.
“What is your meaning? The queen is liberal with all her subjects,” said Mary.
“I meant only that Master Byrd is a known Catholic and has enjoyed Her Majesty’s protection upon occasion,” said Sir John.
“Her Majesty has often said she has no desire to look into men’s souls, sir. Are you one of those Puritans who wish to bend the world to his own way?” said Mary.
“No, mistress. I am merely surprised, after the recent unrest in the north, that Her Majesty tolerates any Catholics at all,” said Sir John.
“You will find our queen is most gracious—those who were not involved in the Northern Rebellion should not be punished, no matter their religious views. Only the guilty deserve death,” said Mary, her head turned resolutely away from him.
“You are a most remarkable woman, mistress. Would you care to sup with me?” said Sir John. He continued to look at her—she could feel his stare and she faced him again.
“I should be most happy to do so,” she said, her heart beating fast.
The queen finished her meal and called for the subtlety, an enormous creation representing the royal arms in marchpane. Everyone applauded as three manservants carried the confection to the queen’s table. Her Majesty waited for them to cut
her a large piece and then proceeded to eat. She dismissed her court, indicating for Lord Robert and Mistress Blanche to stay.
Sir John offered Mary his arm, which she took carefully. She could feel his strong muscles holding her own arm easily. She caught a whiff of his scent—he smelled like yew trees mixed with a manly odor, not strong or disagreeable, just a sharper odor beneath the fragrance of yew.
A large crowd walked toward the Great Hall. Mary noticed Mistress Eleanor walking with Oxford. She was laughing and his arm caressed her waist. But his eyes, his weak, watery eyes were on Mary.
* * *
After dining, the courtiers and ladies awaited the queen for an evening of revelry. The musicians played several saucy tunes, the words of which were too indecent for the ladies to hear, let alone sing. But the men called for ale and drank, then sang and drank some more. Several played at dice while others challenged each other in chess or cards. The ladies chatted and a few were busy with their needles. Every woman was surrounded by four or five men, or so it seemed to Mary. She thought how hard it was to keep one’s virtue in such a situation.
Finally, the queen arrived. She and Lord Robert led the dance, beginning with the daring la Volta. Mary watched as Lord Robert lifted the queen higher and higher, often touching her very near her most private places to get his leverage. Mary had never danced this particular dance with a man. She and the other ladies had practiced it in the queen’s chambers, but only Lady Essex and Mistress Frances had performed the dance for the queen. But Lady Essex had been sent home to her husband months ago and the queen had not called for the dance since.
“I would ask you to join me in the dance, but I fear this one is beyond my skill. Would you care to walk outside instead?” said Sir John.
Mary was grateful he had not asked her to dance and she quickly assented to a stroll under the night sky.
“Look! A falling star! Make a wish, quickly!” said Mary as she closed her eyes and wished for good health for Her Majesty.
“What did you wish for, Mary?” said Sir John, standing very close to her.
“The queen’s health. And you?” said Mary.
“I wished for someone to fill up the hole that is in my heart,” said Sir John.
Mary gazed up at him. In the dim light, he looked young, but the sadness that hugged him like a heavy cloak clung to him, making him seem older than his years. Somehow, this made Mary tender toward him.
“How long has it been since your Eleanor died?” said Mary very softly.
“A little over two years—it seems a lifetime some days. But on others, it seems as if I heard her voice only yesterday. I am sorry. This is not what I intended…” said Sir John.
Mary stepped away from him and gently picked up his hand and kissed it.
“I fear there is no cure for your pain, Sir John. You put a brave face on it, but I know that ache only too well. I fear you and I have a streak of sorrow in our natures that, perhaps, was not there before we lost our loved ones. And while we may wish for the joys we could have had, now we must accept our sadness and allow it to work through our spirits. For with this grief comes compassion for others who suffer. And with compassion comes love, which Our Lord commands. There will be a happier time for you, sir. Tears may last all the night but joy cometh in the morning,” said Mary.
“You are very kind, mistress. I hope this means we shall be friends. Please call me John,” he said.
“We are friends. And you may call me Mary,” she said.
Silence fell between them but there was no discomfort in it. Mary felt as if she had known this man her whole life. She felt his strength and sensed his tender heart. And she felt the pull of his body on her own, something she had never before experienced. She was actually leaning toward him.
Before she realized what she was doing, she embraced him, her arms around his neck and her face against his chest. She could feel his beating heart and hear his quickened breathing. His arms wrapped around her and they stood together without speaking.
Finally, he pushed her away from him.
“I hear them playing a country jig. Shall we give it a try? Just out here, where no one will see us,” he said.
“I would be happy to attempt it,” she said. They embraced and he spun her quickly around. Though they had never danced together before, their bodies moved as if they had always been joined in motion.
* * *
As winter gripped London, the Thames froze hard enough for the queen to ride her carriage across the ice and a Frost Fair was held on the river. Mary and Mistress Eleanor made their way from Richmond Palace where the queen had moved her court after celebrating the New Year. Pebbles were strewn across the slippery paths for traction but the foot traffic had worn them down and now the way had become treacherous.
“Do not let me fall. I had no idea this path would be so slick,” said Mistress Eleanor as she held on to Mary’s arm.
“If you fall, I’ll go down, too. But smell the gingerbread baking—shall we buy a piece?” said Mary.
“That must be the stand over there—see, where all the people are lined up?” said Mistress Eleanor.
“Truly, I have not seen so many on the ‘regular’ streets of London—this strange Frost Fair brings them out. I suppose it is the novelty of shopping on a frozen river,” said Mary.
The two ladies made for the small stand where several large ovens stood, and watched as the baker brought forth steaming gingerbread in enormous pans. He took a knife and cut the bread into large squares. A boy, his apprentice, stood at the front of the stand, singing out, “Gingerbread! Hot gingerbread!” and handing pieces to those who had given the woman in a dark blue woolen dress a farthing.
People of a humbler sort allowed the queen’s ladies to step to the front of the line. Holding the hot gingerbread in their gloved hands, Mary and Mistress Eleanor walked away while biting into their treat.
“Delicious! Better than we get at court!” said Mistress Eleanor.
“Oh, it is really good. I am going to tell the queen about this baker—he should be at court!” said Mary who headed toward a small wooden crate. She picked it up, emptied it of what dirt was inside, turned it over, and sat down.
“Do you see another box?” said Mistress Eleanor.
“No. We can take turns,” said Mary, finishing her food and brushing the crumbs from her hands. “I hope I haven’t stained these gloves—the queen gave them to me.”
“She’ll give you another pair. She keeps you dressed royally. The rest of us are jealous, you know,” said Mistress Eleanor.
“You aren’t jealous when I must attend those infernal meetings in the Presence Chamber with all those serious old men,” said Mary, smiling.
A voice thundered behind them.
“Old men? Old men? What old men?” he said.
Mary turned to see Sir John Skydemore coming to join them, his face serious but his eyes looking full of mirth.
“Old men like you!” said Mary, laughing.
“I suppose I do seem old to such a child as yourself,” said Sir John. “I am but twenty-eight.”
“It is your serious manner that makes you seem old, Sir John. Many of those older than you act like braying donkeys. You, however, are modest and mature,” said Mistress Eleanor.
“You make me sound quite dull, mistress. Do I seem so to you, Mary?” he said.
“Well, when you are dull, I simply introduce a new topic for discussion—that seems to bring out the life in you,” said Mary.
“I had hoped to invite you to visit Mortlake with me this afternoon, as Dr. Dee has asked me to come by to discuss astronomy, but I suppose that might be too boring for such a lively lass,” said Sir John.
“Mortlake! Honestly! Oh John, I would love to go! You know that,” said Mary, rising from the crate.
“Well, then, I shall meet you in the Great Hall at three o’clock. Do dress warmly—it is quite a walk,” said Sir John.
“Have no fear—I shall wear my heaviest cl
oak,” said Mary. She watched as he bowed to them, then walked away, almost slipping on the ice as he rounded the gingerbread stall.
“You have been keeping secrets from me—I think you care for him!” said Mistress Eleanor.
Mary said nothing. Then she grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her onto the ice.
“Let us skate, Nora! Let us slide like slippery eels,” she said as the two young women slid onto the path, laughing and gasping for breath all the way to the palace.
Fifteen
January 1570
The sun glinted off the mounds of snow that had been shoveled in order to make a path wide enough for those on foot as Mary and Sir John made their way to Mortlake. Mary’s cloak flowed behind her, billowing out like an ocean wave, the fine green velvet the color of the sea. Sir John walked beside her, carefully holding her elbow in case she should slip. He was much taller than she and his long strides caused her to half skip, half run to keep pace with him. Finally, they came to a long house which looked as if rooms had been added again and again.
Sir John knocked on the heavy wooden door and it opened immediately. A young serving woman looked at them, motioned them to hurry inside, and shut the door quickly against the cold air. She took their cloaks and hung them on a wooden peg next to the door. Then she brought them to a blazing fire in a large hearth. Mary stood with her back to the flames, feeling the delicious warmth crawl up to her hair. Sir John faced the hearth and rubbed his hands together.
“Ah, my friend, I see you have arrived. What? And brought a pretty girl with you?” said Dr. Dee, dressed in black robes and carrying a large book in his hand.
“May I present Mistress Mary Shelton. Mistress Shelton has an avid interest in science and I thought she might enjoy seeing your instruments and, especially, your magnificent library,” said Sir John, presenting Mary.
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