by Jean Plaidy
But no one took her seriously. They knew that she was waiting and hoping for something, and that Robert Dudley was concerned in those hopes.
The French King had died unexpectedly during a joust, when a splinter from a lance had entered his eye. His young son, François, was now King of France, and Mary Stuart the Queen. She styled herself Queen of France and England—an insult Elizabeth determined to hold against her.
But she was not seriously annoyed, it seemed to those about her. She would smile to herself and continue in great good humor while Lord Robert was beside her.
The Spanish ambassador, furious at the trick which had been played on him by the Dudleys (for he had written to his master and told him that it was certain the Queen would take Archduke Charles), now wrote bluntly to Philip telling him of the rumors which were circulating throughout England, and which, he assured Philip, seemed to have a firm foundation.
“The Queen,” he wrote, “gives much time and attention to Robert Dudley still; and it is the opinion of many who are close to her that she hesitates to marry only to gain time. She is waiting for Lord Robert to dispose of his wife, which many think he will attempt to do by means of poison. He has circulated rumors that she is slowly dying of a fatal disease, and this has proved to be untrue. He wishes, of course, that when she dies, there will be little surprise, and it will be believed that her death was the natural outcome of her malady. The Queen’s plan is to engage us with words until the wicked deed is done. Then it is thought she will marry Lord Robert.”
And all through the spring and summer the rumors multiplied.
Amy so enjoyed her stay with the Hydes at Denchworth that she prolonged her visit; and the Hydes were pleased to have her company. Amy quickly formed a friendship with Mistress Odingsells, Mr. Hyde’s widowed sister, and this lady became her constant companion.
They all petted Amy. It was the delight of the cook to make her favorite sweetmeats. Nothing could please Amy more for she had a fondness for all sweet things; while she was at Denchworth, bowls of sweetmeats were kept in her room; and the kitchen maids took pleasure in making new flavors for her delight. They could not do enough for Amy. Although she was the wife of the most talked-of man in the country, they were sorry for her. The Hydes urged her to stay on; and Amy, feeling that the atmosphere of the house was rather as her own had been in the days when her mother was alive and her half-brothers and half-sisters had made a pet of her, could not resist the invitation.
Pinto was glad that they stayed at Denchworth. She too liked the atmosphere of the house. Here, reflected Pinto, she felt safe.
Often she thought of Lord Robert and wondered of what he talked with the Queen. Did they discuss marriage? What a King he would make! There was that about him which must conquer all—even one as proudly royal as the Queen of England, even one as determined to hate him as humble Pinto.
As long as she lived she would remember the moment when he had come upon her as she bent over the press. What had made him kiss her? What had made him notice her for the first time? Had she betrayed her feelings for him? He would have forgotten the kisses, for he would have given so many. Often she thought how different life would have been if Lord Robert had never come to Norfolk, if little Amy had married a pleasant gentleman like Mr. Hyde.
“Oh God, let us stay at Denchworth where it is quiet and safe!” she prayed.
At Denchworth all wondered what was happening in the gay world of London and the Queen’s Court. It was being said now that the Queen would marry the Archduke Charles and that he was coming to London for the betrothal.
“Even so,” said Amy to Pinto, “we shall see little of Robert. I doubt not that he will continue to be occupied at Court.”
“It may be that the Queen’s husband will not wish to have him there.”
Amy agreed that might be so. “Then perhaps he will be banished to me as he was before. Do you remember, Pinto, how happy I was during those two years when he could not go to Court? That was before this Queen was Queen and when there were so many rumors that she would lose her head. How did she feel, I wonder, to be so near death as she must have been?” Amy’s eyes had grown wild.
Then she has heard the rumors! thought Pinto. Oh, my poor little mistress. God preserve her!
“Do you know, Pinto,” went on Amy, “I believe that to be near death would make a woman feel that she must live every minute of her life to the full because life is, after all, so precious. Bring me my new purple velvet gown. I will put it on. I think it needs a little alteration. I should like to know that it was ready…”
Ready? thought Pinto. Ready to wear for the husband who so rarely comes?
But at least, here at Denchworth, they must be safe.
They did not stay at Denchworth. It was while Amy was trying on the velvet dress that Anthony Forster and his wife arrived.
Amy, hearing their arrival and hoping it might be Robert, went down clad in her velvet. It hurt Pinto, who followed her, to see her disappointment.
Anthony Forster, whom Lord Robert had made his treasurer, had come for a purpose, Pinto surmised.
“My lord thinks,” he told Amy, “that you should not stay so long the guest of Mr. and Mistress Hyde. He would like you to remove to your own house; and as you so like this district he says you may go to Cumnor Place which, as you know, is not such a great distance from here. There you can live in state and entertain Lord Robert and his friends when they come to you.”
Amy, always eager for excitement, accepted the plan with enthusiasm. The idea of Robert’s bringing his friends for her to entertain had always attracted her. There would be something to do besides lie on her bed, eating sweetmeats, chattering to Pinto, and trying on her dresses.
Cumnor Place! Why, of course. It was a lovely old house, and Robert had leased it a few years ago from the Owens. It had been a monastery at one time, and had been given to the present Mr. Owen’s father by King Henry the Eighth for good services as the King’s physician. It was only a few miles from Denchworth, and about three or four from Abingdon.
She would prepare to go there at once; and when there she could entertain the Hydes as they had entertained her; then she would prepare for grander company—all the ladies and gentlemen whom Robert would bring from the Court.
Pinto seemed disturbed when she told her of the plans.
“Cumnor Place. You remember it, Pinto?”
Pinto did remember it. A lonely house, surrounded by trees, a tall house with views of the downs from the top windows. Pinto did not let her mistress see the shiver which ran through her.
“I remember it,” said Pinto.
“You do not seem to be eager to leave here. Have you become attached to Denchworth?”
“Mayhap I have. Who will go with us to Cumnor Place?”
“Mr. Anthony Forster and his wife will be there for a while to prepare for my husband. And I think that Mistress Owen will be there. She is much attached to the place, and Robert allowed her to stay. We shall not be lonely, you see.”
“And my lord…suggested this move?”
Why did suspicions leap to her mind? wondered Pinto. Cumnor Place was so lonely. His servants would be there—men and women who would not hesitate to do anything the future King of England demanded of them.
“Yes. It is my belief that he wishes to entertain his friends there. Oh, Pinto, the lonely days will be over. We shall have many guests to fill the house. I must have some new dresses.”
Pinto said on impulse: “Mistress Odingsells is very fond of you. Why not take her with us? She would be a pleasant companion for you, and you know how you hate to be alone. When you have not me to talk to, you will have her. And it will be doing her a good turn. Take her as your companion.”
“Why, I like that idea, Pinto. Yes. I shall take her as a companion.”
Pinto was glad. She could not get out of her mind the thought that it would be good for Amy to have as many friends as possible in lonely Cumnor Place.
The Queen was
worried. She was wondering how much longer she could stave off a decision. It seemed that unless she acted quickly she would be forced into a position which she was determined not to accept.
There was war in Scotland. The Scottish Protestants were in revolt against the French, who, under the Dowager Queen of Scotland, Mary of Guise—mother of Mary Queen of Scots, who was now Queen of France—were taking too prominent a part in Scottish affairs. They determined to rid themselves of their Gallic masters, and in this Elizabeth must help them, for if the French gained possession of Scotland she would have a very powerful enemy on her borders.
Her ministers advised war, and she saw the wisdom of this. Philip of Spain was watching and hesitating according to his custom, not caring to throw in his lot with the French, yet, stern Catholic as he was, finding it impossible to aid the Protestants.
But when he saw how well the war was going for the Protestants, he ordered his ambassador to deliver an ultimatum. Unless the peace was made and kept, he declared, he must send aid to the Catholics. The Queen was in a panic. Philip must be held off at all costs, so she placated him by the only means at her disposal: she promised she would marry the man he wished her to—Archduke Charles.
Philip was well pleased, for if Charles should be King of England he foresaw the return of England to the Catholic fold; but he was beginning to know Elizabeth, and he would not be put off as he had previously been.
Plans, he commanded, should be made at once for the coming of the Archduke to England.
Robert and Elizabeth met secretly and alone.
“I am afraid of what may happen,” she told him. “With Charles here my hand may be forced.”
Robert exulted. Never before had he realized how completely she needed him. She was appealing to him now. Something drastic must be done.
The question they were asking each other was: What?
Robert knew that he had many deadly enemies. The Queen was popular enough to withstand the scandal their relationship had set in motion; but the people did not like to think that their Queen was conducting a dishonorable association with a married man. They therefore blamed Robert.
In the streets harsh things were said of the Dudleys, and in particular of Lord Robert. Who is this upstart? it was asked. It is true that he is the son of a Duke, the brother of a King, and the grandson of a Knight; but his great-grandfather was a farmer, and he was the only one who died in his bed an honest man. Let Lord Robert get back to his farm, and sowing his crops reap the family honesty.
Would they accept such a man as their King? And what would their reaction be if he divorced his wife in order to marry the Queen?
Elizabeth looked at him, seeing in him all the manly vigor of his twenty-eight years. She yearned for him; but even as she yearned, she cried out angrily: “Why did it have to be you…you with your blood tainted with treason, with your father, grandfather, and brother all dying by the axe…you, a married man with a wife between us!”
Robert gripped her arms, and her heart beat faster as she felt the strength and power of him.
“My beloved,” he said, “something shall be done…and soon.” She looked at him expectantly and he went on: “If I were free to marry and we married, our troubles would be over. All will be reconciled to our marriage when our son is born.”
She nodded, still keeping her fearful eyes upon his face.
“Nothing must stand between us,” he said. “Nothing!”
“But, Robert…”
“I know…I know what you think. We cannot thrust this aside just because it seems impossible. It is the most important thing in the world that we should be together…important for us and England. None but I shall give you your sons.”
She said faintly: “That is how I would have it, my sweet Robin. But how can it come about?”
“It shall come about…and speedily.”
She saw the set of his mouth and she understood.
The days of Amy Dudley were numbered.
She told him to leave her, for she felt she could bear no more. After he had gone she sank onto a stool and sat there in silence. What was one death in a great destiny? she asked herself. How many times had she come near to losing her own life? She was a Queen, and any who stood between her and the sons she would bear, must surely die.
William Cecil returned from Edinburgh where he had signed a treaty with the French. He was triumphant. England had come satisfactorily out of the affair. Now he would receive the gratitude of the Queen, which he hoped would take a practical form, for his family was growing and he was a family man who looked to the future.
Cecil was the cleverest man in England; he had come successfully through the difficult years. Although he had served Protector Somerset he had not fallen with him, but had transferred his allegiance to Northumberland; and when Northumberland had ceased to be a power in the land he had worked for Mary, never forgetting that he must remain the friend of Elizabeth. And because he was both calm and bold and never hesitated to set forth what he believed would be the best policy for the country, he continued successful; and Elizabeth—more than any who had gone before her—appreciated his qualities.
So now he came to Court to receive the Queen’s most grateful thanks.
Elizabeth’s twenty-seventh birthday was on the seventh of September and the Court had gone to Windsor Castle that the important event might be celebrated there.
So to Windsor came Cecil, for it was necessary to discuss with Elizabeth the arrangements for the coming of the Archduke Charles.
Cecil was pleased. The war was satisfactorily ended and Elizabeth was committed to the marriage. He believed that, once his mistress had a husband to guide her, the management of affairs would be easier, for when the Queen began to bear children she would be ready to leave affairs of state to her husband. Charles would steady the friendship with Spain and, in view of the French claims through Mary Queen of Scots, there was safety in Spain’s friendship.
He was therefore feeling very satisfied when he was shown into the royal apartments.
He knelt before the Queen, but even as he did so he was aware that all was not well. She looked older and there were signs of strain on her features. She did not congratulate him on his clever statesmanship in the arrangement of the treaty, which was the least she might have done. He told her that the Spanish ambassador had accompanied him to Windsor and was awaiting audience that the arrangements for her marriage might be discussed.
“There is too much haste concerning these arrangements,” she said sharply.
“Too much haste, Your Majesty! You will forgive me if I say that the Archduke has shown the utmost patience in this matter.”
She snapped: “I am in no mood to see the ambassador.”
“Your Majesty, if you fail to make these arrangements you will incur the wrath of the King of Spain.”
“What care I for that man! His feelings seem of little importance to me.”
“Madam, they are of the utmost importance to England.”
She stamped her foot. “Have done! Have done! Are we vassals of His Most Catholic Majesty as we were in my sister’s time?”
Cecil knew then that the state of affairs had not changed in the least. She had the look of a woman deep in desperate love; and that meant she still hankered after Lord Robert and was determined to have him or none other.
Cecil could see ahead quite clearly. This was what came of having a woman on the throne. Her personal feelings, her personal emotions were to put the country into jeopardy. If she were a King she would take a mistress and none think the worse. But she was a Queen, and the scandals concerning herself and Dudley were rampant.
Would that man were dead! thought Cecil.
Then he made a decision. His success was due to his consistent frankness. If he had served Protestant and Catholic irrespective of religion, he had never failed to serve his country. As he saw it, England’s relationship with foreign powers was all-important, and at the moment the most powerful ally England co
uld have was Spain, and Philip must not be offended.
“Madam,” he said coldly, “I see you are so far gone in love for Lord Robert Dudley that you are neglecting your business, which is to rule this realm; and if you continue in your neglect you will ruin this country.”
Elizabeth gasped. Her impulse was to order Cecil to the Tower; but she quickly saw the folly of that. What would she do without Cecil? She honored him; and such was her nature that, even in that moment of anger, she knew that he was speaking the truth and that he was the one man—even more than Robert, whom she loved passionately—to whom she wished to entrust her affairs.
“You overreach yourself, Master Cecil,” she said, with a coldness that matched his. “None could prevent my marrying where I wished.”
“You are wrong, Madam,” said Cecil wryly. “Lord Robert’s wife prevents you.”
“Nothing else?” she said, and her words were a question. “Nothing but that?”
“Madam,” said Cecil, “if Lord Robert were in a position to be Your Majesty’s husband, your ministers would doubtless have no objection since your heart is set on this, and the country needs an heir.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Your insolence is overlooked on this occasion. I think that soon we shall reach a settlement of these matters. Lady Dudley will not live long.”
“Madam,” said Cecil aghast, “I see trouble ahead.”
“Go now,” she said, “and rest. You have had a long journey.”
He bowed and retired.
His thoughts were in a turmoil. Did he understand aright? Were they planning to rid themselves of Lady Dudley? But what a scandal that would be! Did they not see that? Even Queens—young and popular Queens—cannot with impunity connive at murder.
As he was leaving the Queen’s apartment, he met Alvaro de Quadra, the Spanish ambassador who had replaced Feria. De Quadra, spy for his master, ever on the alert, noticed the strained look on the face of the Secretary of State.
Falling into step beside Cecil, de Quadra asked: “And when may I have audience of Her Majesty? There is much to discuss concerning the marriage.”
