A Favorite of the Queen: The Story of Lord Robert Dudley and Elizabeth 1 (16 page)

When he came she demanded haughtily: “What means this? Have you not guards enough that you must send to my sister for more?”

“Your Grace refers to Sir Henry Bedingfeld and his company?”

“I do indeed.”

“Your Grace, this is not a matter for alarm, but for rejoicing.
Sir Henry will soon present himself to you and tell you of his instructions. You are to leave the Tower.”

“To be freed?”

“You will be in the charge of Sir Henry, but no longer a prisoner in the Tower.”

Elizabeth was relieved. She was to change one captivity for another, but the Tower was a place of ill omen. But after a while she was conscious of some regret, for the Tower still held Robert Dudley.

The barge carried
her from Tower Wharf to the Palace of Richmond, a strong company of guards accompanying her.

Her sister sent for her when she arrived at the Palace.

Mary, so recently recovered from what many believed would be a fatal illness, looked exhausted. She was nervously awaiting the coming of her bridegroom, with feelings which alternated between eagerness for him and apprehension as to what he would think of her.

The sight of her young sister—so healthful in spite of her recent imprisonment—filled her with melancholy and envy. What would Philip think when he saw this sister? Would he wish that she were the Queen of England and his bride?

But it was absurd to envy Elizabeth, whose life was in the utmost danger; and if Mary were wise, according to Gardiner and Renard, she would not hesitate to send that young lady to the block.

“So you are recently come from the Tower?” said Mary coldly.

“Yes, Your Majesty. By your great clemency, I come hither.”

“Many have spoken against you,” said the Queen.

“They lied who spoke against me,” said Elizabeth. “But Your Majesty is wise and recognizes the lies of a liar—as she does the poor babblings of those under torture—for what they are worth.”

“I am not convinced of your loyalty.”

Elizabeth opened her blue eyes very wide. “Your Majesty cannot mean that!”

“I am not in the habit of saying what I do not mean. Now, sister, I know you well. Remember we have spent many years together. When there was trouble in your nursery, as I well remember, you had little difficulty in proving your innocence.”

“Your Majesty, it should be an easy matter for the innocent to prove their innocence. It is only the guilty who face an impossible task.”

The Queen waved a hand impatiently. “I have a husband for you.”

Elizabeth grew pale. She was tense, waiting.

“It is Philibert Emmanuel, the Duke of Savoy.”

“The Duke of Savoy!” echoed Elizabeth blankly.

She had expected death and had been offered a duke. To die would be the end of life, but to marry a foreign duke and leave England would mean abandoning all that she had hoped for. Only now did she fully realize how she had always longed to be the Queen of England. To resign her hopes would be as bad as death.

She said firmly: “Your Majesty, I could never agree to the match.”

“
You
could not agree!”

“
I
could not agree, Your Majesty.”

The Queen bent forward and said coldly: “What right have you to object to the husband I have chosen for you?”

Elizabeth was thinking of Robert Dudley as she had seen him through the bars of his cell—tall, dark, handsome … and those passionate daring eyes. If it were Robert … she thought. No, not for him would she abandon her dream. But she was not being offered Robert. She was offered a foreign prince whom the Queen favored because he was a vassal of Spain; and all things connected with Spain were good in the Queen’s eyes since she had taken a look at the picture of a short, trim young man who was destined to be her husband.

“There is only one reason why I could object to your choice, Your Majesty, and that is because I feel within myself that the married state is not for me.”

Mary looked cynically at her sister. “You … to be a spinster! When did you make up your mind to this?”

“I think, Your Majesty, that it is something I have always known.”

“I have not noticed that you have shown much maidenliness toward the opposite sex.”

“Your Majesty, it is because I have always felt thus that I have perhaps at times appeared to be unguarded.”

“Do you feel then that there is no need to guard that which you have determined at all costs to preserve?”

“Your Majesty, it is only necessary to put a guard on that which one is in danger of losing. My inclination for virginity being what it is, I had no need to restrain myself as have some maidens.”

“I would not have you come to me in frivolous mood.”

“Your Majesty, I was never more serious.”

“Then we shall contract you to the Duke of Savoy.”

Elizabeth folded her hands on her breast. “Your Majesty, I am of such mind that I prefer death to marriage.”

“I should not talk too readily of death. It could be reckless talk.”

“Your Majesty, I
am
reckless. I prefer death to betrothal to the Duke of Savoy.”

“We shall see,” said Mary.

She summoned the guard, and Elizabeth was taken back to her apartments, believing that her end was at hand.

She lay on
her bed staring up at the tester. Her ladies were weeping quietly. She had come back from her interview with the Queen and had told them: “I think I am to die.”

Did she really prefer death to marriage with the Duke of Savoy?

For so many years she had dreamed that she would wear the crown. How many times had Kat Ashley read it in the cards? She could not give up that dream. But would she in truth rather die?

Once during the night she half rose. She thought: Tomorrow I will go to the Queen. I will accept Savoy. I am a fool to go meekly to death.

Wait, said her common sense. Has there not always been safety in waiting?

The next day
she left the Palace, but not for the Tower. The Queen was undecided what to do with her sister, and finally she resorted to the old method. Elizabeth should go back to Woodstock, where she would remain a captive, although living in the state her rank demanded. The people would be appeased if the Princess was in one of her country houses; they had been restive while she was in the Tower. Elizabeth, sly and cunning, appeared to them young and pathetic; and she had the people on her side as always.

Even when she sailed up the river the people lined the banks to watch her pass. They called cheering words to her; they had gifts for her. At Wycombe cakes were brought to her, and so numerous were these that she could not accept them all. She thanked the people prettily, and all along the river their cries resounded: “God bless the Princess. God save Her Grace.”

She felt happy now. She had done the right thing in refusing Savoy. Time would always be her ally, for she was young and the Queen was old.

She arrived at Woodstock, yet even there she was not given the royal apartments but taken to the gatehouse. This was surrounded by guards, and Sir Henry Bedingfeld told her that his instructions were that she was to be kept under strict surveillance.

She wept a little. “Like a sheep to the slaughter I am led,” she said, as her ladies helped her to retire.

As she lay in her bed unable to sleep, the door of her room was quietly opened; the curtains of her bed were suddenly divided, and she found herself held tightly in a pair of loving arms.

“Kat!” she sobbed in relief. “How did you get here?”

“Hush, my love! Hush, my little lady! I am free once more. This prisoner is released, so what did she do? When she heard her lady was on the way she arrived before her. I reached the house before Master Bedingfeld and his merry men. And what do we care, sweetheart, since we are together!”

“What do we care!” said Elizabeth and began to laugh.

Kat lay beside her on the bed; and through the night they talked of what had happened.

Elizabeth said suddenly: “And, Kat, what do you think? I had an adventure when I was in the Tower. You remember Robert Dudley?”

“Remember him! Who could forget him! The loveliest man I ever saw … except one.”

“Except none!” said Elizabeth.

And they pulled the bed coverings over their heads that they might gossip and laugh together without being overheard.

Elizabeth’s captivity at
Woodstock passed merrily enough. Kat was with her, and Sir Henry Bedingfeld did not think it necessary to report this matter to the Queen. Perhaps he knew that if he did so Kat would be removed and that removal would mortally offend the Princess Elizabeth. He could see no harm in Kat’s being with her.

So they were together as they had been in the old days. There was laughter and gossip and talk which if overheard might have been called treason.

When they were alone Kat whispered: “Your Majesty!” and that was sweet music to Elizabeth. Kat read the cards with that flattering skill which provoked much laughter.

“Here is that dark, handsome man again! See how close he is to your little Majesty. We shall hear more of him, I doubt not.”

It was like the old days when Kat had seen another handsome man in the cards. They had recognized him as Thomas Seymour. Kat reminded Elizabeth that she had been wont to say there would never be one like him, never one so charming.

“But then,” said Elizabeth, “I did not really know Robert Dudley.”

W
hen the Princess Elizabeth was taken from
the Tower, Robert fell into deep melancholy. There were times when he felt he would go mad if he were left much longer in his dismal cell. He would look through the bars at the grass on which she used to walk, and he would remember others who had spent a lifetime in the Tower. Shall I be here until I am old and gray? he would wonder. But he did not really believe that could happen to Robert Dudley.

There was nothing to do but brood. If Elizabeth were Queen … ah, if Elizabeth were Queen, she would not suffer him to stay long in the Tower.

But at length change came.