Queen Elizabeth's Daughter: A Novel of Elizabeth I

by Barnhill, Anne Clinard

  “There is one more thing you should know. Oxford asked the queen for my hand in marriage. She told me and wanted to know whether or not I would wish such a match. She reminded me of Oxford’s prestige and how fond she was of him,” said Mary. She leaned into John and his steadiness gave her strength.

  “And how did you answer Her Majesty?” said John quietly.

  “I told her Oxford was not the man for me. So she gave him my refusal. Before his marriage to Mistress Anne, he begged me several times to reconsider,” said Mary. “I fear I have made an enemy.”

  Sir John kept quiet for a moment. Then he turned Mary to him and kissed her, a deep kiss that possessed her.

  Thirty-six

  April 1572

  Time once again brought spring weather to London, with lambs and ducklings crowding the already bulging alleys and streets, birds nesting in chimneys, and hoards of kittens squalling for milk. The sun, no longer pale as in winter, shone down, and its warmth was welcomed by one and all: from undercooks to scouring maids to porters and clothiers, the people welcomed spring. Many a lad’s fancy turned to lust, if not true love.

  Mary and the queen were not immune to the charms of more pleasant weather and Mary found herself out and about more often than not. The queen played tennis and bowles, rode out to the countryside with Sir Christopher Hatton, danced, and tried to put the decision of whether or not to execute the Duke of Norfolk off for another day. Mary missed Lord Robert, who had run afoul of the queen over the question of the duke, and was licking his wounds at Leicester House.

  On this fine morning, Mary and Mistress Eleanor were tidying up the queen’s bedchamber when Old Catspaw hobbled in with fresh sheeting, folded nicely, though the stack was quickly slipping from Catspaw’s grip.

  “Allow me to help,” said Mary, jumping to save the linens before they hit the floor. She stacked them in the linen press. She then saw Catspaw about to fall into a swoon, ran to her, caught her underneath the arms, and helped her to Mary’s own pallet.

  “Are you all right?” said Mary. “Nora, bring a cup of wine, will you?”

  Mistress Eleanor quickly poured a glass of wine and handed it to Mary. Mary brought the rim to Catspaw’s lips and the old woman sipped a little.

  “Getting old … too old to carry such a load,” sputtered Catspaw.

  “I shall speak to the queen when next I see her. I shall ask that you be excused from all duties, old dear. I think the queen will grant my request,” said Mary.

  “If it be you who ask, she well may. Now, if Lady Douglass were to beg for it, Her Majesty would spit in her eye,” said Catspaw.

  “And why would that be?” said Nora, who had joined them on the pallet.

  “Surely you know. Lady Douglass will be Lady Leicester ere long,” said the old woman.

  “What? This is just another of your gossips—you should know better than to pay such tales any mind,” said Mary.

  “Shows what you know—I heard them a-talking in the linen hall. Lord Robert told her he couldn’t marry her, and if she expected such, she should break off with him. She said that she would never do. And then they played the beast with two backs,” said Catspaw with a grin. Her mouth looked like a gaping hole, so many teeth were gone from it. Mary turned away.

  “I have a cordial which will give you ease from your pains and also revive your energy a little. Would you like some?” said Mary.

  “If’n it ain’t poison,” said Catspaw.

  “Have no fear—I know of no foul cordials. The taste is good and sweet. There, drink it down,” said Mary. She allowed Catspaw to rest on her pallet until the cordial had taken some effect. She helped the old woman to her feet. Once she was certain Catspaw was steady and able to walk, she sent her to the servants’ quarters, promising to speak to the queen about lessening her duties. When she returned to the queen’s bedchamber, she found Mistress Eleanor waiting for her.

  “Do you think her story is true? Do you think Lord Robert means to marry Lady Sheffield?” said Nora, rising from the pallet.

  “Fie, Catspaw is always spreading tales—like jelly on manchet. I give her words no credence. Lord Robert loves the queen, of that I am certain,” said Mary.

  “I have no doubt of that, either. But I have seen how Lady Douglass chases after him, like a hound on the hunt. She is pretty in a common sort of way,” said Nora.

  “Yes, and younger than the queen. But the queen is a rare jewel. None can compare with her,” said Mary.

  “I hope you are right in this—I would hate to see what would happen if Lord Robert ever married again!” said Nora.

  * * *

  The queen called Mary and Mistress Eleanor to her in the Presence Chamber where several courtiers had gathered. It was late afternoon, before time to sup, but after the queen had finished her business of the day. Sir Christopher stood on one side of Her Majesty while Lord Robert knelt in front of her. Mary was surprised and happy to see Lord Robert there, taking his rightful place as the queen’s favorite. Lord Burghley stood behind the throne, talking with Sir James Croft. Next to him stood Sir John, looking at Mary. Mary gave him a slight smile. The queen crooked her finger at Mary and Nora.

  “Mistresses Mary and Eleanor, welcome. This is a special day, for on this day I will recognize and reward my faithful servants. First, the Earl of Leicester is to be commended for his efforts on my behalf in my marriage negotiations—this is a difficult task for him, for the love he bears me. Yet he is doing a superb job. The French duke is still asking for my hand, though I do not think to give it to him just yet,” said the queen to much laughter.

  “I give the French duke my sympathy, for I, too, know what it is like to serve a fickle mistress,” said Lord Robert, staring at Sir Christopher.

  “Have no fears, Robin—I shall always need my ‘Eyes,’ but my ‘Lids’ are important, too,” said the queen, nodding to Sir Christopher, “so I can be blind to what lechery I know goes on at my court.” The queen’s mouth curled down. “And now, Sir John Skydemore, please step forward.”

  Mary watched as Sir John walked to the queen, bowed deeply, and stood waiting.

  “For your courage on the Thames, I am making you one of my Gentlemen Pensioners. You will bear, with all of them, responsibility for my safety. You shall be paid fifteen pounds a year,” said the queen. “You will have little time for your studies, I fear.”

  Sir John knelt on one knee and thanked the queen graciously. Mary thought he looked handsome as he gazed into the queen’s face. Of course, most of the Gentlemen Pensioners were tall and fair of countenance. She was not surprised John would be selected for such service.

  “And now, I would have music and dancing before we sup. Come, good fellows, by God’s breath, play a happy tune!” said the queen, clapping her hands at her musicians, who were ever ready to please Her Majesty. “Now, Sweet Robin, you may have the first dance!”

  Mary watched as the queen and Lord Robert took the floor in a spritely galliard. The queen’s feet moved as lightly as fairies’ wings, fluttering here and there. Lord Robert jumped and lifted Her Majesty effortlessly, so it seemed. Soon, the room was awhirl with swirling skirts and lords a-leaping.

  Sir John made his way to Mary, held out his hand, and led her into the mayhem.

  “Congratulations, milord,” said Mary, smiling at him.

  “Thank you, Mistress Mary. Follow my lead and we shall escape this crowd for a more intimate celebration,” said Sir John, twirling her across the floor and behind a large pillar into an alcove hidden from most of the dancers.

  “You had better twirl me right back into the crowd. Someone will see us, surely,” said Mary, looking behind her.

  He embraced her, checking first to be sure none could see, and then he kissed her.

  “We must stop this at once—we are under the queen’s nose!” said Mary.

  “She is dancing with her ‘Sweet Robin.’ Believe me, she takes no notice of who is on the dance floor. But you are right—we must be very care
ful. Kiss me once more and then we shall rejoin the crowd,” he said. He pulled her to him and she felt his tongue in her mouth, a passionate kiss to which she responded without thinking.

  “You are in such high favor, John. Should we not ask Sir James to speak for us now? Is this not the perfect time?” said Mary, her head spinning.

  “Sir James will let me know—the queen is not happy with any of her advisors at present. They want her to rid herself of the Scottish queen and the treacherous Duke of Norfolk. They are at odds. Give it time, dearest—you are not yet old,” said Sir John.

  “I have turned eighteen—old enough, sir. Many are married by the time they reach this age,” said Mary.

  “But many are not—you must trust me on this, sweetheart. I would do what is best for us—we want to avoid the ‘dragon’ Dr. Dee warned us about,” said Sir John.

  “Then kiss me again so I will not forget that for which I wait,” said Mary, pulling him to her.

  * * *

  The Parliament met and argued all summer about what was to be the fate of the Queen of Scots and her intended husband, the Duke of Norfolk. Finally, after the queen refused to execute her kinswoman, her advisors pressured her into ridding the realm of the duke.

  “Majesty, you must know the lords are grumbling because you have allowed this female to be a snake at your bosom. Mark me, she will cause trouble for you as long as she lives. She is not one to sit idle while you rule. Since you have decided to allow her to live, you must determine against Norfolk. The Lords and Commons are calling for blood and blood they will have,” said Burghley, kneeling at the queen’s throne. Lord Robert knelt on the other side and added his thoughts.

  “Lord Burghley and I are in complete agreement on this matter, Majesty. The duke has proven several times now that he cannot be trusted. He signed an oath pledging to have nothing more to do with the Scots’ queen, yet we find him plotting and planning with her, much as before. Your Majesty is merciful by nature, being a weak woman, but now you must play the man,” said Dudley.

  “How dare you speak to me thus! All right! All right! I shall sign his death warrant. But by God’s breath, I shall blame you both for it and shall put it about in the public square that the duke’s blood is on your hands!” said the queen.

  The queen rose abruptly.

  “Come, ladies. I would retire for the day,” said the queen, stalking out of the Presence Chamber with Mary and Mistress Blanche behind her.

  The queen stormed into her apartments, routing those ladies who sat sewing and playing cards. She paced up and down the rushes, scattering debris as she went. Her fingers were restless, twisting and clenching together.

  “I do not wish to have him killed! Why do they force me? I do not wish to marry, yet they would force a husband on me as well. Aye, there is need for an alliance with France, yes. But since when did an alliance include a marriage? The devilish de’ Medici woman seeks to solidify our friendship in blood—I know her machinations. I will not! I will not!” said the queen.

  “Majesty, please be seated. Let us take your mind from these troubles—shall we play at cards?” said Mary.

  “Tut-tut. Cards do not solve problems. Remember when you thought gooseberry tarts could fix anything!” said the queen, slowing down and smiling.

  “I still believe a good gooseberry tart can work miracles,” said Mary, scratching Tom’s head behind his ears. Tom had grown old. His muzzle was gray and he no longer had the energy to run across the fields. Now, they walked.

  “Oh my Fawn, how long ago it seems since you were that sweet child who showed up all alone on my doorstep … now you are a woman, and always a comfort to me. Whatever shall I do when you marry and leave me?” said the queen. Mary looked into the queen’s face and saw sadness in her dark eyes. Her heart moved in sympathy for this woman, who, by the condition of her birth, was forced to be more than a woman and, yet, less.

  “I shall always be near you, Majesty—for I love you as well as you love me,” said Mary.

  “And our love is true. Unlike the love of men, which is as changeable as the winds. My Robin does not think I know where he goes, when he sulks about Sir Christopher. I know full well he runs to the arms of Lady Douglass, who is bound to give him the comfort I cannot. Yet, I must dissemble—act as if I do not know of his treachery. And allow him to advise me, for I do trust in his good judgment. But his faithlessness rankles in my heart, Fawn. And I grow colder and colder to him,” said the queen.

  “Have you told him thus?” said Mary, removing the queen’s slippers and rubbing her feet with almond oil.

  “No. What can I say? That I love him but will not marry him? That he must not be a man because I will not be a woman? Oh Fawn, better never to marry than to face the inevitable death of love that marriage brings with it. If I were to marry Robin—he would not be true to me. He would still dally with my ladies, just as my father dallied. I think there is not a good man in all the world,” said the queen.

  “I hope Your Majesty is wrong in this. For I hope to marry one day and I would have my husband be true,” said Mary.

  “Humph. Men have little honor in such areas. But enough of this foolish talk—let us send for gooseberry tarts, lots of them!” said the queen, motioning for Mistress Blanche to get them.

  “And while she’s bringing them, let us remember days gone by. Do you recall how you got your name, dear Fawn?” said the queen, finally relaxing as Mary continued to rub her feet.

  “No, Majesty. I only know you have always called me ‘Fawn,’ though I did not know why. Except that you have special names for those you love—I was happy to have such a name. How did I come by it?” said Mary.

  “Do you remember the picnics we used to go on—you, Robin, and I?” said the queen.

  “Of course. I always loved going! We were like a little family then. You and Lord Robert would laugh and play with me—those are some of my favorite memories,” said Mary, smiling at the thought of those days.

  “Well, you had just come to us, barely three years old. Such a beauty you were! We’d run and played all day and you were tired, so we spread out a coverlet and the three of us lay down upon it. You were sleeping in just a few minutes. Robin and I were looking at you, admiring your beauty—he said you looked very much like my mother’s people. Your dark eyes and hair … and then, he said you reminded him of a little fawn, such a delicate creature with those soft, brown eyes. And ever since, you have been my Fawn,” said the queen.

  Mary looked at the queen. Was she imagining it, or were there tears in the queen’s eyes? They fell silent until Mistress Blanche brought in the tarts with some light ale.

  As they enjoyed the food and drink, Mary remembered Old Catspaw.

  “Majesty, there is one small favor I would ask of you—it is not for myself,” Mary said.

  “What is it, Fawn?” said the queen.

  “Old Catspaw has served Your Grace well for so many years. She almost fainted the other day while carrying clean clothes to Your Majesty’s bedchamber. I had hoped Your Majesty could lessen her load. Perhaps give her more time for rest?” said Mary.

  “God’s blood! I told her months ago she could work when she liked and retire to her room whenever it suited her. I thought she would quit her duties immediately. But she told me she saw no need to stop doing what she’d been doing her whole life. I made her promise to rest more. She seems determined to keep going—I hope I shall be as determined when I have a head of gray hairs,” said the queen.

  Mary smiled at the queen. She realized she should have known that Good Queen Bess would know everything about those who served her. She should have known the queen would have the best interest of her servants at heart.

  June 2, 1572

  The Duke of Norfolk paid for his folly with his head this day. The queen was melancholy and spent most of the day in her bedchamber. Mistress Mary stayed with her and tried to distract her with cards and music. But nothing could assuage Her Majesty. She spoke bitterly about the f
oolishness of men and the scheming of those close to the throne.

  Thirty-seven

  August 28, 1572

  God’s death! The world has gone mad, indeed! The French king has massacred his own people—men, women, and children—slaughtered in their houses! Ten thousand Huguenots met their death on St. Bartholomew’s Day! Laid low in the very streets of Paris! How can Madame de’ Medici think I would ever align myself with the house of Valois? She is as mad as her ganymede son!

  Our friendship with France is ruined—how can we expect such a vile people to honor their treaty? Oh Parry, I had thought to marry Anjou—I shall never marry now.

  Yes, I know he was not a prize but I still hoped … one day … God’s blood, it matters not! I cannot marry the man I love, though he vexes me with his clandestine romances, conducted in the dark, secret passages of my own palace. Under my very nose.

  He expects me not to notice how Lady Douglass bats her eyes at him, smiling at his every glance, looking at him as if he were a god! What man can resist such adoration? Such obvious desire?

  I see the man himself, the man in all his parts, not just the noble elements of his nature, but I see his lesser qualities as well. And still, I find that man worthy of my love. I do not seek to win him with elevated praise—that I love him should be praise enough. Douglass has lasted longer than some, I’ll give her that. Between her and her sister, my Sweet Robin has his fill while I waste away in endless negotiations and ceaseless longing. My own womb remains empty while he gets who knows how many children on lesser women. I have made him jealous with Hatton. Oh, it is so true—Hatton moons over me like a schoolboy. But he is not my Rob! He is not my love!

  Forgive me, Parry. This business with the French has me overwrought. I believe Catholics must be a bloodthirsty lot—the Inquisition in Spain, the massacre in France, attempts on my own crown! Perhaps my ministers are right. Perhaps I should draw up a list of all the known Catholics and keep a steady eye on them. Maybe I should hang them all!