Cor Rotto: A novel of Catherine Carey (20 page)

While William Cecil was in Scotland hammering out a new treaty with the rebellious lords, Elizabeth and her Court were on the annual summer progress. Elizabeth hunted and hawked across the countryside with her master of the horse attached at her hip. It was rare to see them separated from each other, especially since the only man who dared to come between them was across the border. The rumours of Robert Dudley’s familiarity with Elizabeth reached a fever pitch when a Mother Annie Dowe of Essex was locked up for spreading a rumour that Elizabeth was carrying his child. The ladies of Elizabeth’s bedchamber knew the folly of that statement as they changed the blood-stained sheets during the queen’s courses that month, but the men in her service were not privy to such private matters. Rumours such as these needed to be stamped out immediately. Unfortunately, Mother Dowe’s imprisonment did little to stop the slander against them and Elizabeth did herself no favours by carrying on like a love-struck princess.

By the end of August, Francis was at the end of his tether.

“Does she not realise what danger she brings with this behaviour? No one will take heed of our overtures for marriage agreements and the ambassadors laugh behind her back. How does she ever expect to get a consort who will give her an heir when she behaves like a silly girl?” he ranted as he paced the floor of our bedchamber at Windsor. “Cecil will be furious when he returns to this news.”

“I agree with you, Francis, but Elizabeth has been denied much in her life. She will take affection where she can get it and Robert Dudley is showering her with it. He is your friend, have you tried to talk sense into him?”

Francis shook his head. “He will hear none of it. He thinks that she will marry him and make him her consort.” He threw his hands up. “And she might for all we know. She refuses to share her mind on the matter. But it may not be for the best. We need alliances and Dudley cannot bring us that. I love the man as though he were my brother, but he can bring nothing to the table except pretty words and strife to the council. The last thing the queen should do is isolate herself from the eligible princes of Europe.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and hung his head in frustration. I sidled up behind him and wrapped my arms around his strong chest, laying my head on his back.

“Francis, at this moment Robert Dudley is a married man and Elizabeth would never agree to bigamy. Let her have her fun and worry about this if, God please forbid it, something happens to Amy.”

Francis wrapped his arms around mine and bent down, kissing my hand.

“Catherine, Amy Dudley is very sick and not likely to make it through the winter.”

“I hope that when I am on my deathbed, you wait until I am cold to start looking for my replacement.”

Francis turned and laid me down on the bed. “Dudley is a fool.”

He leaned over me and kissed me passionately. When we finally came up for air, Francis whispered in my ear, “Promise you will never leave me, for I could never replace you.”

We had been hearing for almost a year that Amy Dudley was on her deathbed, but as the months carried on with no word of her passing most of us assumed that her sickness was just a convenient rumour that was passed around any time Dudley wished to remind Elizabeth of his impending widowhood, or she wished to disentangle herself from whatever marriage negotiation was on the table that week. So when news arrived two days after Elizabeth’s birthday celebration that Amy had indeed left her earthly body, the court was thrown into shock.

The morning was like any other that early autumn. Lettice and I sat near the fire in Elizabeth’s privy chamber, busily embroidering a counterpane for her impending wedding. My fingers were stiff from working the W and L patterns through the heavy fabric and I had to stop momentarily to flex and straighten them. Lettice hummed quietly while she worked – a hymn I had taught her as a child.

Elizabeth laughed heartily at some joke Dudley told her. I could not hear what they were saying, but they had been speaking in hushed lovers’ whispers for hours while they played cards.

A short rap at the door brought us all to attention. Elizabeth did not like to be disturbed in her private time with Robert Dudley, so we knew that whoever was waiting on the other side of the door was either brave or stupid.

Lady Jane Howard sprinted from her cushion towards the door. She propped it open slightly and spoke to the yeoman guards in hushed tones. After a moment, she nodded and stepped back to let in the visitor.

Dudley nearly fell off of his seat. “Bowes! What are you doing here?”

The man, Bowes, bobbed a low bow and kept his face to the ground. “Please forgive me, Your Grace. I do not mean to intrude, but I have word regarding Sir Robert’s wife,” he stuttered, ignoring Dudley and addressing Elizabeth.

She kept her seat and threw her arms out towards him. “Well? What was so important you had to disturb us?” she asked irritably.

Bowes finally raised his head and looked at Dudley. “There has been an accident. Lady Dudley sent her servants to the fayre yesterday and when they returned, they found her lying at the bottom of the stairs. Her neck was broken.”

Dudley puzzled over this revelation as the colour drained from Elizabeth’s face. She stood up quickly, drawing herself to her full height. “Tell us man! Is she alive or dead?” she said in a commanding voice.

Bowes’ hands started to tremble. “I do not know, Your Grace. I left Abingdon as soon as we found her. By the looks of it, I do not believe she survived the fall.”

Dudley found his voice. “You left her unattended?” he roared, throwing his hands in the air. He started towards Bowes, fists clenched, but thought better of it and turned away at the last moment. The man’s hands were shaking so violently I worried that he would fall over from fright.

Elizabeth stepped in. “Go back to Cumnor and await further instructions. You are dismissed.”

Bowes nodded and made haste for the door. A deep silence filled the room. My eyes darted around the other ladies in attendance and, like Lettice, they all stared at the floor making no sound.

The silence was broken by a guttural groan from Dudley.

“I will be the one to blame for this! My reputation will be destroyed,” he cried.

Elizabeth looked at him with steely eyes, as if she were witnessing his vanity and self-centredness for the first time. His only thought upon hearing of his wife’s demise was of self-preservation.

“Robin, you must write to your cousin, Thomas Blount, at once. As your chief officer, he will need to take charge. Luckily he is already on his way there. You are dismissed to your home at Kew to arrange your affairs. Do not return to Court until I summon you.”

Dudley stared at her, his mouth agape at his dismissal. When she turned away, he clenched his jaw shut, made an overly exaggerated bow and backed out of the room.

“Lettice,” Elizabeth called over her shoulder. “Get me Cecil. Now.”

The ladies who served Elizabeth in her bedchamber took turns spending the night on a small pallet beside her bed. As much as we loved her, we all looked upon our nights in her bedchamber as an exhausting duty. If she did not sleep, neither did we. And it was many a night that she had far too much on her mind to find any rest. I was certain tonight would be no exception.

It was to be Lady Carew’s night on the pallet, but Elizabeth chose Kat Ashley for the job. I was not surprised by this. Mistress Ashley had been a confidante of Elizabeth’s during her childhood at Hatfield and, more than once, had risked her life to come to her aid when her Elizabeth had overstepped her bounds during Edward’s short reign. The two had been inseparable for most of Elizabeth’s life and, inwardly, I felt relieved that Kat would be there to comfort Elizabeth. I was taken aback, then, when she turned her eyes to me and said, “No ... Catherine will serve me tonight instead.”

Kat, Blanche Perry and I helped Elizabeth out of the layers of damask and linen she wore. Then Kat stood behind her and plaited her long golden red locks into a braid as Elizabeth stared off into space. Once the evening ritual was over and Kat and Blanche had been excused, she bid me goodnight and crawled silently into her bed, drawing the black silk hangings shut. I wriggled down into my quilt and waited. Sure enough, an hour later the silken curtains began to sway back and forth with her agitated tossing and turning. Finally, they burst open and Elizabeth launched herself out of bed, already chewing her fingernail.

I scrambled to get up, but she held out her palm, “No, please do not get up on my account, my lady. I will be all right in a moment.”

I let her pace until she tired herself out, throwing herself back onto the bed, her long, delicate fingers a ragged, bloody mess.

I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest. “Please, Your Grace, is there anything I can do for you?”

She waved her hand dismissively and drew herself up to a sitting position. She gazed at me sadly. After a moment she said, “Yes, actually. Tell me what to do.”

I made light of her request. “Your Grace, I could never presume to give you advice. You are God’s anointed - what could I possibly have to offer you?”

She shifted. “What would you tell your children? What would you tell Lettice if she were in love with a man like Dudley? If she were in love with a man that could tear her world apart?”

Her question was too close to the truth. Lettice
was
in love with a man like Dudley. In fact, she was in love with Dudley. Should he choose her over Elizabeth, Lettice’s world would crumble. She would be banished from Court, her prospects dried up. My only words of advice to Lettice had been to stay away. I couldn’t very well tell Elizabeth to stay away from her favourite courtier and master of the horse. It would be impossible for her to do. I had to tread lightly in my answer.

“The world is full of men who are vain, egotistical and scheming. But those same men can be quite endearing, full of love and tenderness. Your father was that way. He had no hesitation or reservation about setting Catherine aside, banishing her to the most remote fortresses the crown owned. But ... he did it out of his deep and sincere love for your mother. Does his heartlessness towards one woman negate the devotion he had to the other? No. Is he dangerous? Possibly ... your father adored your mother above all others. He tore apart his
own
way of life to satisfy her. He broke with the church, put his close councillors to death and angered most of Christendom in his pursuit of her. But in the end, she too lost it all ... on the scaffold.”

I paused, checking Elizabeth’s reaction. She was still, her face passive, but listening.

“If your mother was here, right now, and we asked her if she would do it all over again. If she knew that the outcome was her death, would she still have aspired to be the king’s wife? I know her answer would be yes, because seeing you on the throne would have been worth it. The fact that you now rule England has made every sacrifice worth her blood. You can have Robert Dudley, but is it worth the possible sacrifice of your crown?”

Her eyes were bright, but she blinked the tears back hard, refusing to shed even one.

“Why must it be one or the other? Why can I not choose whom I marry? My father chose five of his wives. My sister chose that insufferable Philip.”

I sighed. “You are right, but they both suffered the consequences. You must find a new way if you want to have Dudley and secure your throne.”

I paused while she considered this. Then I had a bolt of inspiration.

“If there is one lesson you could learn from your mother, that lesson would be to never expose your true mind. You do not have to make your intentions known, now or ever. Have Dudley. Keep him close as your favourite, but do not ever let him know where he stands. You are the queen. You do not have to justify your intentions to anyone. This may be the only way you can have both.”

Elizabeth’s face finally relaxed. She even ventured a very small smile. “My mother would do that wouldn’t she?”

“Your mother had her fair share of emotional displays, but I don’t think any of us ever truly knew her intentions. She knew the power of mystery and played it well.”

She nodded, her face drawn into a frown. “I wish she were here to guide me. I would give anything to know what she was like or even just to remember the sound of her voice. After seeing my father execute two of his wives and almost arrest a third and watching Philip abandon my sister, I do not know that I shall ever marry. Marriage does not seem to be an enviable state.”

I thought of Francis and my heart longed for him. “Oh but it can be, Your Grace. It can be wonderful.”

The next morning, I stumbled back to my own rooms and fell exhausted into bed while Elizabeth headed out into the park-lands with a small retinue to hunt. Chasing down that stag was a way for her to chase down her fears and conquer them. I was certain that Elizabeth would arise victorious. In the afternoon her lord secretary, William Cecil, admitted the Spanish ambassador, de Quadra, into the presence chamber to see her as she settled in from her morning hunt.

She told the ambassador that Lady Dudley was either dead or imminently so from her fall down the stairs, but swore him to secrecy because she had not released that information to the court. He narrowed his beady eyes and pledged his discretion, but I could tell from the way he eagerly licked his lips that he was eager to dash off a missive back to Spain.

After their conversation, Cecil led the dismissed ambassador out of the presence chamber. It was not long before word got out that Cecil had told the ambassador of the rumours going around that Dudley had planned to poison his wife so that he could marry Elizabeth. Cecil vehemently denied it, of course, but the damage had been done. Even if Elizabeth wanted to marry Robert Dudley, there was no way she could now. I saw the pleasure on Cecil’s rosy cheeks now that his closest competitor for Elizabeth’s confidence had been brought low. An opportunity had presented itself and Cecil, like any other nobleman, had spun it to his advantage.